#or at least it’s slightly more coherent

[succubusvalentine]

Part two of Simon Riley with a user who kidnaps herself. CW: Cunnilingus, Somnophilia, PiV, they're both a bit crazy, brief mention of blood (in a ring) part one here if you missed it!

Simon was currently stood over his bed. Staring at you. Under his covers.

You smelled so good too. Simon didn't want to get in bed and disrupt the scent of you with his own. He'd never forgive himself.

It was strange. Simon thought that if you found out he was stalking you, you would scream, call the cops, anything but this.

Maybe you were as crazy as he was. A thought that both terrified and excited Simon. Although the excitement definitely weighed out.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Simon merely watched you as days went by. He watched you eat, watch tv, sleep, bathe. And it didn't creep you out in the slightest.

You knew there was always an adjustment period when two people moved in together. So you let him watch you. He was like a wary cat. It was rather cute.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

"You can get in bed, you know" you hum tiredly one night. Opening your eyes and looking up at the behemoth of a man that would have terrified anyone else if they saw him watching them sleep.

"Don't want to make the bed smell like me when it smells like you"

"If you cuddle me you'd be close enough to smell me really good"

Simon stared. Brows furrowing in thought. Before he gives in.

Simon awkwardly slid into the bed next to you, tensing slightly when you grabbed his arms and wrapped them around your waist.

But as soon as Simon seemed to understand that he was touching you and you wanted him to keep touching you, he grabbed the backs of your thighs, pulling you flush against him with your legs around his thick waist so he could bury his face into your chest.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

After that, Simon could barely keep his hands off you. As soon he got home from base, he would find you somewhere in his home and wrap his arms around you. Refusing to let go for at least ten minutes.

He also gave you the best head you'd ever received. Definitely a bonus.

Every guy you'd been with before Simon, treated the act like a chore. Lazily licking you until raising their head and asking if you'd finished yet.

Simon though? He does it for his own pleasure.

Simon will find you wherever you're lazing about the house. Drop to his knees. And go to town.

Sucking on your clit until your legs shook, moving his head down to lick the wet slick coming from your hole. The first time he shoved his tongue in your hole to taste more of you? You nearly screamed as you came unexpectedly.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

And the way Simon fucks? You could barely think a coherent thought afterwards.

Sure, the first time you two fucked Simon came almost as soon as he thrust into you. But you couldn't blame him. He was fucking the woman he'd been stalking for over a year. He was bound to get overwhelmed.

Now though, Simon could fuck you for multiple rounds. There'd been times you had to call out of work because you either couldn't walk, or your body was so exhausted afterwards.

And after telling Simon it was okay to fuck you while you were asleep? He was even worse. The amount of times you woke up to Simon fucking into you while cuddling you and drooling into your shoulder was immense. But you loved it.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Simon's favourite part of you being his sweet little stalker, was that sometimes he would tell you he's going out. And then he would see you in the corner of his eye.

But Simon's favouritest part of his favourite part, was when he would go out with his team, and they'd point it out. Unfortunately it only happened a few times. The team getting used to seeing you watching Simon from afar. But whenever Simon noticed you, he got the stupidest smile on his face. Knowing he was definitely going to marry you. Propose to you with a ring where the gemstone was made of his own blood.

"tha' lass been followin' us bar tae bar all nigh'" Soap muttered. The rest of the team being concerned.

"Yeah" Simon grinned dumbly "she's the best ain't she?"

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Simon was just over the moon that you were just as obsessed with him as he was with you. And you moving into his home unannounced had to be the most romantic thing Simon had ever experienced in his life. You were perfect for him.

⛧°. ⋆𓌹♰𓌺⋆. °⛧

Tag list ~ @thefutureastronaut @illyanam1011 @likewhyareyousoobsessedwith-blog @hbaasaad @idknowwhattdowhitmylife @maybe-a-bi-witch @thatpersonnamedrook @miss-chanandler-bong @nicki-lovesolderfictionalmen @baduzzxy @skeletonsucker @drewsuncrustables @milanriol @aceywaycy @jooba @morallygrayboys @logansblackgf @dreamland08 @nicolebarnes @spacecola7 @teapartydreams @callsignao3 @garejuremuzum @laduenadelswing @xxkay15xx @simonsslut @princessbitchybucket @unclearblur @emily-roberts @nightreverie @huehuehuehuehehe @stayblinkarmyatinymoafearnot @wandabillywrites @mcira @klttn @ditzydoefx @vmaxis @keldeleine @persephone-kore-law @adrislibrary @arcvenes @thicksexxualtension @ltrileys @tbhiddlestan83 @lia-36 @happyficlibrary @eatingtheworldsoffanfiction @hellshire-harlot @saturnspector @foo1ishs3renity @fishsinsareacknowledged @werebear-roams @cutedumbbunny @masterclassofescapism @lovelylocs @lady-of-death @fwoarmachine

guys I was even super nice and tagged a few reblogs that seemed super into this + made me giggle when reading. So so sorry if some of the tags didn't work/if I forgot someone. Feel free to scream at me in the comments if I did <3

just wanted to credit @feline-flame-fatale for the second last paragraph of this. Their comment was honestly perfect for this. Thank them in the comments RIGHT NOW.

[starlightseraph]

communism is when transgender operations on illegal aliens that are in prison

[aingeal98]

You would think that since Bruce and Cass's morals are so aligned I'd be rooting for Bruce in his confrontations against Jason but you'd be wrong. If it's Cass vs Jason I'm team Cass she has the moral high ground and I like her more. If it's Bruce vs Jason neither of them fully have the moral high ground even though technically Bruce and Cass's codes are quite similar. Because unlike Cass Bruce has been used as a mouthpiece by multiple right wing writers and also just plain bad writers to the point that you have to ignore a LOT to simplify his morals down to "Killing bad." Like yeah if Jason's going around murdering people I'm rooting for say, Cass or Dick to take him down. With lots of angst and challenging their codes and making sure everyone has a bad time. But Bruce is just such an asshole and yeah, bad person, in so many other ways. (You can ignore the comics where he's horrible if you want but they exist and there have been so, so many of them it's a consistent character trait post Jason's death. And it's never character assassinating him for anyone else, he's always presented as the Protagonist even when he's going through his edgy punch the kids moments. Which sucks but that's what DC chose.)

And also Jason was sacrificed for Bruce's pain and meant to just stay dead and smeared to let Bruce get the angst without the bad dad allegations so hell yeah son. Come back to life and torment your father. Be more than just a costume in a cave. Just get better comics and better fans because when you're not fighting Bruce you've been Lobdell's pet for so long that most casual readers associate you with his godawful writing right after the UTRH movie.

[sammygender]

the leviathans were ridiculous but that’s their worst crime and like. pretty much every spn big bad after s6 is ridiculous, at least the leviathans were fun. that if the seasons even HAVE a big bad. at least s7 felt like a coherent season which is something a lot of the seasons after didn’t manage so well

[forgaeven1]

GENERAL HIGH FANTASY VERSE *based on httyd setting

berk is a thriving viking village whose main professions are dragon-hunting, among other things.

ruffnut was born ranveig thorstondotter, the older twin sister to tuffnut. they are mainly called by their childhood nickname, which ruffnut prefers anyhow.

ruffnut is hailed from one of the first founding clan which discovered and built berk — they are responsible for scavenging and maintaining the availability of resources across generations — with the twins intending to one day inherit their father’s seat.

though women are held marginally higher in berk than the usual medieval tradition, allowing them to be warriors and upholding positions of power, ruff is still expected to marry as early as fourteen years old, and thus, all expectations of inheritance fell on tuffnut.

this does not deter ruff though, for she loves her brother, and knew that they would carry their family’s name as equal anyhow, even if she were one day to be wed to another.

ruffnut's first betrothed had been to hiccup* at the age of fourteen, on the account that they were the few eligible young people who were available at that time and house hofferson had refused the match between the son of the chief ( hiccup ) to their daughter, astrid, the only other young lady available on berk.

the engagement, of course, fell through — or rather, was never mentioned again, at the wake of hiccup's effort to integrate dragons into the daily lives of berk and his romantic entanglement with astrid later on.*

ruffnut will be one of the few to initially oppose hiccup’s revolutionary mission to bond with dragons, though she and her brother eventually quickly agrees, deeming the challenge to exciting to ignore.

ruffnut and her brother were eventually bonded with a hideous zippleback ( can be conjoined as per in the original franchise or a separate dragon altogether ) — with her own, named lovingly as barf, can breathe a large amount of green gas. this gas tends to confuse and disorient people [ with which the zippleback's other half, tuffnut's belch in this case, can ignite explosives with ], though the thorston twins eventually built a resistance towards the gas.

ruffnut then became apart of the first generation to study, explore, teach, and assist in the integration of dragon within berk, and on dragon's edge. she, alongside tuffnut, quickly rose to become one of the more important members of hiccup's councilmen as he rose as their chief. she will also hold a prominent role in the newly established league of dragon warriors of berk.

how to interact: in an effort to expand their influences and establish berk as a rising and powerful kingdom whose alliances can be useful, ruffnut ( along with others ) were often sent as a representative.

personality: ruffnut could be described as foul-mouthed, crass, mischievous but sharp-witted and far clever than she lets on. she is extremely protective of her brother, her dragon, and her clan, and incredibly proud of the skillset she's acquired regardless of the reputation people usually saddled her with. she will grow to be loyal to hiccup, though she maintains her harsh honesty and confrontational values even with berk's chief.

* indicates that details are not set in stone and can be adapted with respective writing partner(s).

ASOIAF AU * with more details possibly incoming / thanking dorian a ton as i haphazardly shape this au with the grace of a flightless pigeon

a blood of the old valyria, the thorstons was one of the more powerful family of dragonriders. their house sigil are two warhammer slung in the shape of an X, slithered around the hilt is the familiar shapes of a zippleback’s (a type of dragon species) head, with rich green and yellow being their main combination of colour.

during the doom of valyria, magmar thorston, his wife, and a brother, was in asshai conducting a trade. the destruction had led the remaining thorstons to eventually resettle on the hills of norvos, where they eventually establish a small clan in the mountainside.

sometime after the conquest, a hagelin thorston would come to re-establish a connection once more with the remaining descendants of old valyria, that being the targaryens, velaryons, and the celtigars. when the member of the thorston family refuses to kneel to a targaryen nor agree to marry one of their members into the house, the two houses eventually amicably part - though not without hagelin establishing a small seat in the mountains near deep den.

ranveig 'ruffnut' thorston is born in berk, on the mountains of norvos. she is a skilled warrior, a fearsome dragonrider ( the few in her clan who are left ), and a mischievous, but intuitive young lady. at the age of fifteen, ruffnut and her brother chose to leave their village in pursue of accumulating more knowledge to sate their never-ending curiosity.

her dragon is a narrow, long-necked dragon with green-scales of the zippleback species whom of which she named barf. this version of the zippleback is independent-bodied rather than conjoined, though it is always born in set of twos. instead of breathing fire, a zippleback makes explosions. ruff's own breathes a poisonous gas, while tuff ignites it with sparks, eventually producing the explosion it is famous for.

people who have interacted with the thorston twins would often describe them to be blundering and ill-mannered, though both possessing a keen intelligence rarely seen in an average person, let alone a mountain clansmen.

other details can / will be elaborated depending in which timeline ( whether got or hotd ) ruffnut will be thrown in.

[aliteralsemicolon]

Thinking about how Spencer takes care of you when you're too exhausted to take care of yourself.

He walks into your bedroom to find you on the brink of sleep, carelessly curled up on your end of the bed and his brows raise in slight concern as he scans you. You couldn't even be bothered to change out of your day clothes. He chuckles lightly at the sight, as he makes his way to you.

"Baby?" He gently calls to you, rubbing your calf with his hand as he takes a seat next to your legs. You're unable to respond to the sound of his voice despite hearing it. He tries again, this time kneeling on the floor next to your head.

"Angel?" His fingers lightly brush through your hair as he whispers near your ear.

"Hmm?" You reply hazily.

You wait for him to speak so you can go back to sleep but all that follows is silence. He resumes his motions in your hair and it keeps you aware of his presence. He's waiting for you to gain some more consciousness. You rub your eyes, fluttering them open and Spencer's quick to guide your hand away from your face.

Right. Your makeup.

"What's up?" You mumble, stifling a yawn.

"I know you're tired, and I'm sorry for having to wake you up," he tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "but you do know why it's bad for you to fall asleep like this?"

This is a topic the two of you have discussed before. You're usually quite meticulous about removing your makeup before bed, but you're also no stranger to nights when you can't find any energy to do so.

"Mhm. Clogged pores, risk of infections, bacteria spread, discomfort…" You trail off, summarising his extensive research.

Getting you up and off this bed is a losing battle tonight and Spencer graciously accepts defeat, sporting an endeared grin.

"Can I at least help you get comfortable? Would it be alright if I took these off for you?" He tugs at your top and waits for your response. You nod, letting out a barely audible hum.

Spencer moves off the floor and begins to remove your clothing. "You're gonna have to help me just a little bit, Angel. Lift your hips for me."

You blindly follow his commands, wanting to get it over with so that he can relax and you can go back to sleep. He doesn't relax, though. As he rids you of the last of your clothing, he mentally fights himself on letting you sleep with your make-up. There are so many risks involved, but hygiene aside, Spencer knows that if you wake up with your pillow stained– or God forbid…a pimple– you're going to be beyond pissed with yourself.

The sudden dip in the mattress slightly startles you, as a cool feeling drags against your cheek and you whine.

"Shhhh, sorry, it's just me." Spencer coos.

"What're you doing?" You groan, squeezing your eyes shut, still in a sleepy haze.

"Just wiping off your makeup, sweet girl. You're going to thank me tomorrow." His finger hooks under your chin and he soothingly rubs his thumb just under your lips.

"Spence…" You begin whining but you're unable to pronounce anything else coherently.

He can tell you're slightly irritated, but he doesn't mind. He knows that it's the exhaustion talking.

"I know, I know." He sympathises with his continually gentle tone. "I'm almost done. You're being so good for me right now."

Your lips pout, but you don't complain any further, his words calming you. By the time he's finished ridding your face of cosmetic residue, you're knocked out again. Light snores can be heard from you. He chuckles to himself at the sight of you. So peaceful. So adorable. He leans in closer and plants a firm, lingering kiss on your forehead before he disappears to get ready for bed himself.

"Spence?"

He turns around at your groggy voice, still half asleep. "Yes?"

"Thank you."

"Anytime, my pretty girl."

[milksnake-tea]

❀ ˎˊ- prompt: wise likes you, and just about everyone on sixth street knows. ❀ ˎˊ- wise x gn!reader ❀ ˎˊ- wc: 1.3k ❀ ˎˊ- warnings: slightly ooc wise idk im still lvl 26 okay ❀ ˎˊ- a/n: thanks you stellaronhvnters for plaguing my mind w wise. anywho this my mini break from the series LMAO wise. i love you king.

Wise can hardly focus, and for once, it isn’t because of you.

Not that he minds being distracted by you - quite the opposite. He could spend hours just watching you talk and getting lost in your eyes, occasionally nodding or agreeing with whatever you were talking about the day. He liked hearing your voice; it was soothing like a cool river, especially after a grueling day.

But this time, it’s him who’s being stared at, and to his disappointment, the one burning holes into him isn’t you (although he severely doubts he could handle it if it were to be you).

No, instead, General Chop stares at him from the corner of his eye as he prepares other customers’ orders, a hint of knowing in his usual smile. Wise can see the excitement in the chef’s eyes, and it doesn’t take a genius to know why.

“Wise?”

He seizes up, bumping his chopsticks. He’s quick to fix himself as you shoot him a nervous, but questioning smile.

“Sorry, you were saying?” he says smoothly (at least he hopes it’s smooth, he still doesn’t know how to talk to pretty people), eager to move past his minor mishap.

“Oh, it’s nothing,” you laugh. “I was just saying that you have a little something on your face.”

Wise feels his cheeks warm. “Oh, really? Thanks for telling me.”

He moves to grab some napkins, but you beat him to it. Wise swears something in him malfunctions when he turns and suddenly you’re all too close to him, your hand reached out to clean up his face.

“Wha- Wait, what’re you-” he sputters, nearly falling off his stool as he lurches back.

“Hey, stand still,” you scold, your slight annoyance only serving to speed up his heart rate because who in the world said it was okay for you to be this cute.

At this point, he wouldn’t be surprised if steam was coming from his head, with how fuzzy his mind feels. He can’t think, can’t breathe, can’t do anything but just sit there, dazed as you dab obliviously at the corner of his lip.

As you pull away, he lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, mentally thanking whatever deities reigned above that he hadn’t fainted on the spot. That would’ve been embarrassing; Belle would never let him live it down.

His face feels cooler - hopefully it isn’t so red anymore. By the time he’s able to think coherently again, you’ve started chatting again. Wise nods along (he has no idea what you’re talking about), and goes to slurp up some of his noodles when he sees General Chop again.

The chef, obviously holding back a cackle, grins encouragingly at him and flashes him a thumbs up in support. Wise internally groans. Would it be a bad idea if he drowned himself in his noodles right now?

And this isn’t the first time either - Wise is pretty sure the entirety of Sixth Street is aware of his… ugh, crush on you (saying it out loud both hurts him and makes him feel warm inside. Which is a terrible feeling. He wants to throw up).

Just last week, he’d seen you at the Coff Café, and Tin Man, being both a gracious cafe owner and a huge romantic, had decided that that day was a good day to have a 50% off deal specifically for pairs if they bought two or more items.

Wise hadn’t questioned it at first, since it was normal for shops to occasionally hold discounts like these to attract more customers. Even he was guilty of it, being a business co-owner himself.

But then you had to call him out in the line, excitedly waving him over as you were at the cashier ordering. Tin Man was behind you, a smile in his eyes that Wise wasn’t sure he liked, but he begrudgingly made his way over.

He still remembers the way your eyes sparkled as you explained the discount to him. They reminded him of the stars he’d see at twilight, when he couldn’t sleep and would climb to the roof just to watch New Eridu’s nightlife.

Naturally, he had accepted your offer of buying him a free drink (no one refuses free food), but he quickly learned to regret it when he saw the mischievous gleam in Tin Man’s artificial eyes.

He still gets flustered thinking of it now - the heart-shaped whipped cream and the whisper of “good luck” haunts him, especially when he thinks about how confused you were at the impromptu decoration.

The amount of times he’s caught his neighbors playing matchmaker, he can’t count on both hands - and that’s not including what Belle has tried. It’d be funny if it wasn’t also incredibly humiliating.

“Master, if you were planning on drifting off, perhaps you should’ve stayed home to take a nap.”

Wise sighs. “Be quiet, Fairy. I’m in public.”

“What?” you blink. Wise blinks back before realizing he’d been a little too loud.

“Sorry, I was talking to myself,” he chuckles awkwardly, hands fiddling with each other - it’s a nervous habit of his. You smile understandingly.

“No, it’s okay,” you say, pushing your bowl towards General Chop to signify you were done with it. “You’ve been out of it today, Wise. Something on your mind?”

You, Wise wants to say, but he doesn’t feel like embarrassing himself further. “I guess I’m just tired. Long day today.”

“I can tell,” you laugh, the sound music to his ears. You hop off the stool after sliding your share of the payment to General Chop. “Come on, I’ll walk you home. You look like you’re about to fall asleep.”

Wise’s heart does a little tap dance at your offer, but he manages to keep his cool. He hastily pays General Chop before eagerly joining you in your short walk to Random Play.

“Bro!” Belle greets him enthusiastically as he opens the door. Her eyes light up when she sees you, and she raises her eyebrows suggestively at her brother. Wise shoots her a glare when you aren’t looking. “[Name], too? How was your da- mmghhifjk-”

Wise smiles innocently as he slaps a hand over Belle’s mouth. You can’t help but laugh at the two, and Wise admires the crinkle the corners of your eyes.

“Ignore her,” he says nonchalantly, wrinkling his nose as Belle licks his hand like the little rat she is. “Do you want to come in, or…?”

“No, I shouldn’t.” You wave your hands bashfully. “It’s getting late, so I should be getting back home.”

Wise nods in understanding. Belle pries herself free and he wipes his spit-covered hand on her sleeve, ignoring her sputters and protests (she chose this path. She will reap its consequences).

“Well, I guess this is goodbye.”

You nod, shifting your feet. “I guess it is.”

Wise’s brows furrow at your behavior - what’s on your mind. But thankfully, he doesn’t have to wait long before his inquiry is answered.

You take a step forward, and Wise feels your arms loop around him in a tight hug. Suddenly, his senses are elevated, and it’s almost as if everything is enhanced tenfold. He can feel your heartbeat against his chest, the soft sound of your breath, your hair tickling his face and the heat that radiates off of your body against him.

“I really enjoyed today,” you say, stepping back with a smile that could rival an angel’s. “Thanks for hanging out with me.”

Wise tries to formulate a response, but all that comes out is a squeak like a dying balloon. God, if his face was red before, it must be flaming now. You giggle at his response, before you wave both him and Belle goodbye and leave for your home.

It takes a good five minutes before he can speak again.

“Hey sis?”

Belle sounds as shocked as him. “Yeah?”

“I think I’m going to faint.”

He hears his sister sigh.

“Wise, you’re helpless, you know that?” she shakes her head exasperatingly. “And just when you finally made progress too.”

reblogs w comments are appreciated !!

[rene-darling]

Hi hiii

How do you feel about Choso from jjk? He's literally so fucking pretty, maybe it was the cool lighting in the episode but bro is majestic. I need to fuck him dumb so bad until he's babbling and his mind is so gone.

Yeah but that's me, how do you feel about him?

(⁠ ⁠ꈍ⁠ᴗ⁠ꈍ⁠)

DUMB- choso

...I feel the same ml, pretty sure this is gender neutral since I didn't use any pronouns for the reader, if I did feel free to inform me!...pic credits..sybbatra

...choso...

Choso is a pretty tame person, he's had limited contact with people so Imagine this hundred of years old curse who has never slept with anyone,

He's so pretty, isn't he? He definitely throws his head back while you're fucking him. Deep breathy moans and when he's really far gone he starts whining and pleading with you, what's he pleading for? He doesn't know. He just is.

Fuck him on your lap facing him towards a mirror, he's far too embarrassed to look. Throwing his head back onto your shoulder, his hot breath tickles your neck while he moans and whines right into your ear.

Getting too embarrassed by moaning into you, he's forced to look forward, to look at himself being fucked dumb it's so embarrassing he starts crying from shame! Cute darling is now crying into your neck, hiding his face in shame.

"aww... what's wrong soso-..? Hm?" fuck. He hates that nickname- no, he loves it. What? He hates it when you act dumb. "..so mean..y-you're-..s-so meAN-!" cutting off his babbling by suddenly grabbing and jerking his sloppy dick

It's tip is a raging red. It looks so silly.

His long hair flows down his neck and over your shoulder and back as he rests his head there. You jerk his dick a few times before letting it go, his hard-on slaps against his stomach with a wet sound, it makes you chuckle, while he whines at the sound. You're really so mean!!

His muscles tense up, he's really so close! You can tell. It's like clockwork how his body acts the same way before every release, you have its pattern memorized.

Tensing up, his mouth falls dry, and his breath hitches. He convulses, slightly shivering as his body slumps back into you.

His hand reaches out towards yours, and he grabs at it, tugging it, shaking his head he mumbles out "Mhm..n-no more...please, I've-...I've had enough, it's enough experimenting- f-..for today." He finds the energy to turn his head and look over at you. His eyes glossed over as he tries finding mercy in yours.

Sighing, you shake your head, getting a strained whine from him "I told you, we'll fuck until you can't speak- but it seems my pretty boyfriend here is quite coherent and able to make sense of things. We can't have that can we?"

You're so mean, so very mean. But he loves you, and he loves how you make him feel, so he takes a deep breath as he nods squeezing his eyes shut as he pouts his lips, he at least wants a kiss from you before you ravage him again!

[shycoconutt]

“Plea-oh god-please Kento, I can’t, I have nothing left.”

Feeling Nanami breathe into the skin of your neck, he gives you a small hum of encouragement.

“Oh, darling, but I know you can give me more. Be a good girl fr’ me yeah?”

You find yourself in this situation often. Body worship is what some call it. You are at the complete mercy of him, and he treats your body as if it is an extension of his own.

Nanami Kento knows everything about you—what makes your toes curl, your legs shake, your pussy pulse—and he revels in it.

On nights like this, Nanami props himself up against the fabric headboard of your king-sized bed, your back flush against his chest. Your legs rest on the outside of his widely spread thighs. His arms settle on the small of your waist, elbows squishing into the plush there. Chin resting in the crook of your neck, he guides you through every movement, every caress of your soft flesh.

All while his cock is buried deep inside you and his large, strong hands worship your most sensitive parts.

“So beautiful. So good to me. All mine, all mine, all mine.”

His member is tucked so deeply inside you, tip resting right against your cervix, giving it a little taste of his salty pre. Nanami never lets himself release until the very end, needing to feel you cum around him at least five times before he’s satisfied. He says it’s his favorite feeling in the world.

“Shhhh, shhhh, last one baby. Give me just one more, then I’ll give you my cum, okay?”

You don’t know how he does it, and you feel too cock drunk to form any coherent thoughts determining why he’s such an expert when it comes to you. He knows the exact amount of pressure to apply when he pinches your nipples, exactly what pace to rub your clit, exactly where to bite, nip and kiss your skin. Most impressively, he knows exactly what to say when he wants you to let go.

“Mmm you’re so messy, darling. Look, you’ve gotten me and the bed all wet.”

While one hand kneads your breast, he brings the other down between your legs, using his fingers to gather up your nectar.

“Such a good pussy.”

After spreading your wetness around your folds, he brings his hand back up and out in front of your faces, rubbing and separating his fingers so you can both watch the strings of your release stick to him.

“Open.”

You immediately obey his command without a second thought, you always do.

Nanami brings two of his cum-soaked fingers to your mouth, and you invite them in with ease. You feel yourself pulse when your essence hits your tastebuds and you suck needily at his skin.

“Save some for me, darling.”

Gentling hooking his finger on the inside of your cheek, he brings your face to the side to meet his, his dark brown eyes boring into yours with hunger. You release his fingers slightly from your suction, and he brings them out in between both of your mouths. Together, you begin to suck at them, every so often wrapping your lips around them to give each other sloppy licks and kisses.

It’s so hot and erotic, and you are too entrapped in it all to notice your final orgasm creeping up on you. But Nanami notices, he always does.

“That’s a good girl. Where do you want my hands?”

Your head falls back onto his shoulder as you feel your core tighten. You are so close, that you’re surprised you can give him an answer.

“My pussy.”

Nanami quickly brings both of his hands down to your core. He lays two fingers on either side of your sensitive bundle of nerves, rolling it gently between them.

Everything immediately goes white as you let out a cry of intense pleasure. Giving yourself over to him completely, your body goes limp against his as waves of your orgasm crash over you.

“Yes, yes, amazing darling. You’re giving me such a good one.”

Feeling yourself rhythmically pulsing around him, Nanami starts to lose all prior restraint as he lets out a moan from deep within his chest. Hooking his arms under your thighs, he holds them up and to your chest. Bearing all of your weight effortlessly, he begins to simultaneously pound into you while moving you up and down on his cock.

“Ah, fuck, fuck, fuck,” he grunts into your ear.

All the sudden movement is starting to make you feel dizzy, still dumb from your release. Feeling him pound over and over again all the way to your cervix, you begin to match his moans.

“Such a pretty slut for me. You love when I use you like this huh? Like my own personal fleshlight.”

He’s becoming more relentless with each thrust, signaling what’s coming next.

“Should I give you what you want, darling?”

Bringing your hand back behind you to play with the hair of his undercut, you whimper slightly.

“Mmm, yes, I’ve been so good. I deserve it, Nami, please.”

You can feel his smile against your neck, canines poking at your skin.

“Yes, yes you do.”

With one final thrust, Nanami clamps you down, pushing you as far as you can go onto his length. Hearing his head hit the headboard, he cries out as he begins to release rope after rope of his thick cum into you, coating your plush walls.

It takes you a couple seconds to come to, feeling absolutely full of him. Completely spent, Nanami gently brings your legs back down to rest on his own, then wraps his arms tightly around your shoulders.

It takes a little while longer for both of your breathing to come back to normal, the rise and fall of his chest lulling you into a state of pure bliss. You thank the universe every day for bringing him to you.

“I love you so much, darling. You have no idea. I’m completely and utterly obsessed with you,” he whispers in your ear.

Hiding your smile in his forearms, you feel a faint blush crawl up your cheeks.

“Let’s stay like this for a while, yeah?” you speak into his skin.

He happily hums to you, nuzzling his face into your neck.

“How about forever?”

a/n: to all my fellow nanami sluts out there, can I get a “hell yeah!”

mdni banner by @kithsune

[yanderedrabbles]

What are yours OCs fetishes/kinks? What type of scenarios will make them go mad?

Also how big are they?

Sweet and Sour - yandere boys and their kinks

Warning: slightly dub-con content, blasphemous misuse of a crucifix, lots of anal Shoutout to all the anons who asked for this. I love you, ya little pervs.

Yandere! Cowboy wants to fuck you in the ass. He might try and prep you a little at first, working his fingers in and opening you up. But once he's got the tip in, all his care goes out the window and he's ramming himself into you like a goddamn stallion. Part of him just wants to make you cry again but mostly he wants to be the first in all your holes. They say you always remember your first time right? And he wants to burn himself into your mind. Over and over again.

Yandere! Soldier has the biggest cock by far. A solid twelve inches and thick as a fist. He's got a thing for getting head. He'll sit with his legs spread and his head thrown back, muttering in his native language. He loves popping it out of your mouth and feeling the soft tissue of your cheeks rubbing against his tip.

Mostly, he tries to be nice to you. But sometimes - after a long day or if you give him just a bit too much attitude - he'll stop holding back. He'll grab your neck and squeeze and his lips will just barely brush yours. He loves the way your cunt flutters around his cock when he does it. And some sick part of him likes the way you push at him so desperately and still can't manage to move him. I suggest you be careful. He wants to treat you well but he's still a soldier and there's a deeper depravity to him than either of you know.

Yandere! Boyfriend can definitely last the longest. He's also probably the only one who can successfully stop himself once he's inside of you. Your pleasure and comfort outweighs his own and if you even flinch, he's almost immediately pulling out and making sure you're alright. But trust me, it sure as hell isn't easy.

He adores breeding. The thought of filling you up and starting a family is the only coherent thought he has when he's inside you.

And it's so intimate. The fact that you're letting him spill himself inside you, letting him invade your body like that, is like the ultimate declaration of trust. He also likes wiping up any spilled cum with your panties and then keeping them with him for the rest of the day.

Sometimes he can get a bit mean. Like he'll keep eating you out even when your clit is a swollen, aching mess. Its the one guilty pleasure he allows himself.

Yandere! State Trooper is such an exhibitionist. He wants you to fuck him in the back of his cruiser while he's still on duty. When his dispatcher calls in, he'll press his hand over your mouth and try to sound professional. Even if his voice is nothing more than a growl at that point.

If he doesn't have time for even a quickie, he'll make you get on your knees and suck him off while he sprawls across the driver's seat. With nothing but his open door to keep away prying eyes.

He really loves putting his fingers in your mouth. Even when his other hand is busy finger fucking you, he'll have at least three fingers pressing against your tongue. He loves seeing the drool dripping down your chin and wet fingers are all the better to fuck you with.

And if you don't want to indulge him? He's got his handcuffs and his baton and he sure as hell can make you. So just be a doll and make it easier on yourself, all right?

Yandere! Cop loves chasing you down. Usually it's just for fun, a little teasing between the two of you. But sometimes his eyes go dark and dangerous and some animal instinct makes you run like hell. He'll fuck you wherever he catches you - against a tree, on the hood of his car, against your neighbour's fence. And trust me, he always catches you.

After a night out, he wants nothing more than to fuck you on your stomach with your wrists held together in the small of your back. It's by far his favourite position and he likes ramming you into the mattress so he can fuck your party girl makeup right off.

He likes eating you out when you're on your hands and knees in front of him - so he can grab your ass cheeks and spread them and draw his tongue down across your cute, puckered ass all the way to your shivering clit.

He doesn't say it, but sometimes he thinks about breaking in when he's disguised as your stalker and wrestling you to the floor. Tearing your clothes off and using them to tie your wrists together. Just to teach you a lesson about stranger danger. Maybe then you'll be more careful when you're out partying.

Yandere! Gangster gets hard at just about anything you do. Literally just touch him and he's a goner (gooner?) He's got a major weakness for stockings and heels. They make your legs look so damn good and all he can think about is being on his back with your stilettos pressed against the delicate arch of his windpipe.

Yandere! Incubus wants secret rendezvous. He wants to pull you into the shadowed alcoves that dot the abbey and fuck you against the wall, your habit pushed up around your waist and your rosary jumping against your chest with every vicious thrust. His biggest kink is making you go about the day with his cum still inside you, leaking back into your panties as you kneel for mass and light the votives.

His biggest turn on? The thought of fucking you while he forces a crucifix up your tight little ass. He wants to feel your ass and cunt pulsing, trying to shove him out and take him in all at the same time. And the cross buried all the way to the outstretched arms of the Saviour? He wants to watch it twitch and shudder as he rams into you.

He's a demon after all. What did you expect?

Yandere! Desert Bandit might be the second biggest. He doesn't have Yandere! Soldier's girth but he almost beats him in length at twelve and a half inches.

He's got a thing for feeding you. Most of the desert cuisine is eaten by hand and he gets so rock hard watching your suck his fingers clean.

He secretly wants to share you with his second in command. Him in your cunt and his second in your mouth so they can spit roast you. He's too possessive to ever let the man near your pussy though. And a dangerously proprietary part of him wants to watch you suck the other mans dick while you're down on your knees. Both you and his second in command belong to him, either through marriage or loyalty. And he gets so turned on watching you both and knowing it's only happening because he's allowing it to happen.

Yandere! Academic Rival is surprisingly kinky for such a nerd. He has a whole draw full of toys he can control from his phone. He gets off on making your use them when you're supposed to be studying or taking a test. When he can see you're stressed or thinking too hard he immediately turns them on, usually to the highest setting. If you ever get pissy about it, he claims he only wants to sharpen your focus. If having a shatteringly good orgasm in the middle of a term paper is a distraction, that's not his fault.

He wants you to dress up a bit like his favourite characters. Not really full on cosplay, but usually something dirty inspired by their aesthetic. By the time you graduate, you have a closet full of luxurious and exotic lingerie.

Maybe it's his upper class upbringing, but he has a thing for pearls. He spent a fortune on an extra long necklace that doubles as a leash. He'll stand behind you when you play the piano, tugging at it every time you make a mistake and with his cock growing harder every second.

Yandere! Apocalypse Survivor is a voyeur, make no mistake about it. In addition to sneaking glances while you bath, he'll tell you he's going out to check the perimeter or stand guard but instead double back just to watch you change. Sometimes he'll get lucky and watch you play with yourself, your head thrown back and one hand across your mouth to stifle your gasping.

He's totally into squirting - especially if you'll do it in his mouth while he eats you out. It's filthy and depraved but there isn't really a society left to judge him, is there?

He's big on biting, which is pretty ironic considering the circumstances. He isn't quite sure how to explain it to you without sounding like he's turning into a zombie himself, but he's going to keep trying until he gets it right and you let him sink his teeth into your ass cheeks.

[spitdrunken]

HIAHA I LOVE HOW YOU WRITE MR SCARLETELLA CAN YOU WRITE MORE. so odd and unsettling and obscene m just giggling with delight

HIIII thank you so much for the high praise <3 this has kind of a different vibe from the last one but plays with similar-esque concepts!!!! this is 'weird and obscene' LMAO

Notes: Suggestive, mild body horror, bolded = dialogue in the Other World's language.

==========================

How do you touch a man without a physical form? Or, you suppose, 'man' isn't quite the correct term. 'Apparition' would perhaps best describe him. Though he can reach out to you and make you feel the illusion of touch, you can't actually make contact with him. Your hand passes through him as if he were nothing but air.

You don't think he minds. It's always a bit hard to tell, with him. Mr. Scarletella ususally just stares you down with a dead look, communication relatively limited. But you would like to touch him! So you experiment a little, an action for which no mutually intelligible word exists. Still, he doesn't move as you poke and prod at different parts of his body, coming up short every single time.

You crouch down before poking at his ankle, just in case. When you look up, your heart stops for just a moment. Mr. Scarletella's neck is snapped back, folded in on itself in order to observe you. Vacant-seeming eyes are trained on your every movement. The sight makes you feel squeamish. "God... Not do," you tell him. "Head look hurt. Not funny." There's no other way you can think of to put it. You get up and stick your hand down, waving your hand in the other direction at the side of his head. He seems to understands what you mean, as his skull snaps back in its usual direction. You circle around him. "Sorry. Not want upset you." He says, although you know he'll never really listen or learn, not when it comes to these things. "Me like you. You like me." As if you'd ever forget. You beckon him. Rather than simply leaning down, his form flickers, distorting, before reappearing in the desired position. There's just one place you haven't touched yet. Once again, you extend your hand, the tips of your fingers brushing against the top of his umbrella. The surface is smooth to the touch and wets your skin, accompanied by a small burst of static ringing in your ears. It takes a moment for the significance to register. "Oh! I can touch your umbrella!" You say, forgetting the Other World's language in excitement over your discovery. Even though it's relatively small. You can't touch Mr. Scarletella himself, but the umbrella appears to be 'realer' than the rest of him. ...Actually, maybe the umbrella is a part of his body? He's not human, after all. He doesn't have to exist according to your logic. Your brow furrows. The puzzle pieces of language move in your mind, until they're slotted together semi-coherently. You point at his arm. "Arm you." Then, you do the same for his leg. "Leg you." You wave your arm up and down. "Body you." Finally, you lift your hand in the direction of the umbrella. "Object you? Me can touch object. Touch you?" Mr. Scarletella's smile widens. It reveals a little bit of the void that stretches on behind his lips. "I see. Correct. Object me. Object is..." After which he lowers his umbrella and says a word you haven't heard before. You try to repeat it, and he says it once again, pointing the umbrella in your direction. "Touch umbrella. I want."

It's definitely... Weird. It's genuinely like touching an umbrella. Cold and smooth and slightly wet. But Mr. Scarletella wanted you to do it, and you're kind of intrigued yourself, so you do it. Because there's clearly something happening. As you trace your fingers over the outer canopy, making sure to at least touch every panel a little bit, his visible form starts to flicker and fade. When you apply a bit more pressure, move a little faster, parts of him start to distort and change colour. His arm appears a little dislodged from his shoulder, static rising in the background.

When you pinch one of the metal tips in between your fingers and rub it, he lets out a laugh that is far more high-pitched than you would've expected it to sound like. Clearly, there's some kind of link between the umbrella and the rest of himself. Though you can't envision what it must be like, he's feeling something. Your hand pauses. In the blink of an eye, Mr. Scarletella has materialised even closer to you, nose close enough to touch yours, if it could. The inky darkness of his pupils makes up most of what you can see.

"Me like. Like like like like." He sounds breathy despite not breathing. "Touch more. Again. Me want you."

[starlightseraph]

me when i’m an illegal venezuelan alien in a springfield, ohio prison and communist kamala forces me to have a transgender operation performed by newly aborted 10 year olds on steroids who don’t know they’re alive.

[the-offside-rule]

S.G, M.S, J.L (Moonknight) - The Three of You & Me

Requested: gotta love the moonknight ppl

Warnings: not really no

Steven Grant fumbled with his keys at the door of the flat, the heavy thunk of the lock finally giving way as the door creaked open. His face showed a mixture of exhaustion and that unmistakable, endearing Steven charm; hair a bit tousled and his shirt wrinkled from a long day at the museum. He stepped inside with a weary sigh, tossing his bag by the door and kicking off his shoes, not caring where they landed. “Ridiculously tired doesn’t even cover it.” He muttered as he spotted his girlfriend, Y/n, sat on the couch with a blanket draped over her legs. He trudged over and collapsed next to her with a gentle thud, head immediately falling onto her lap. Y/n chuckled, her fingers tussling through his hair as his eyes shuttered shut, his body relaxing into the comfort of her presence.

“Love, you wouldn’t believe the day I’ve had.” Steven groaned, his voice tired yet animated as he began to recount the day’s events. His hand traced absentminded patterns on her arm, seeking comfort as much as he was giving it. “So, yeah, Donna’s been on me all day. She goes, ‘Steven, I need you to catalog all these artifacts before lunch,’ right? And I’m thinking, that’s impossible. She’s giving me-" He paused dramatically, lifting his head slightly to make his point. "Mummified cats! Actual ancient felines, Y/n. Who just tosses that at someone before lunch?” He shook his head in disbelief before lowering it back against her shoulder. “And the tourists, don’t get me started. Asking me questions like I run the whole museum. I’ve had to tell people ‘I'm not a bloody tour guide’ at least six times today, because Donna like, freaks out when I go about 'nattering' on about Egypt.”

Y/n smiled softly, letting him rant, knowing he needed this space to unwind. She ran her fingers through his hair as he spoke, his voice growing softer with each complaint, the day clearly catching up with him. His eyelids drooped, his words becoming slower and less coherent. “I don’t know how you put up with me.” He mumbled sleepily, already half-asleep in her arms. She kissed the top of his head gently. “Because I love you, Steven.” He muttered something unintelligible, trailing off as sleep finally claimed him. His body relaxed completely, his breathing becoming slow and steady.

But after a minute, Y/n felt the subtle shift she had come to recognize. Steven’s body tensed slightly, his muscles twitching in a way that was different from the usual sleep movements. His breathing changed, becoming deeper, more controlled. When his eyes fluttered open again, they no longer carried the soft, dreamy expression she knew from Steven.

Marc Spector was awake now.

Y/n smiled knowingly as his gaze met hers, his expression focused and alert. Marc gave her a small, almost apologetic smile as he stretched, cracking his neck with a quiet sigh. “Hello, Marc.” She greeted him softly. Marc’s lips tugged into a brief smile. “Hey.” He replied, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sorry about that. Steven was exhausted.” He chuckled. “Yeah, I could tell.” Y/n said with a chuckle, watching him stand up from the couch and head to the kitchen. “You hungry?” Marc asked, already rummaging through the fridge, pulling out ingredients without much thought. “I can make something.”

“Sure, I could eat.” She replied, leaning back into the couch, content to watch him move around the kitchen with the ease of someone used to taking over when needed. In a matter of minutes, Marc had whipped up a plate of grilled cheese. He sighed as he plopped down beside her, handing her the plate and grabbing the control for the TV. "I expected some alfredo or something." Y/n joked. "You said you were starved, pasta takes too long to make." Marc replied, the quiet hum of the television filling the space. "How righteous. You sure it's not because you can't cook?" He scoffed. "Steven can't cook, I made our food before you came along." He said, putting the control down and grabbing a half.

After dinner, Marc flipped through the channels yet again, landing on something mindless, and sat back down, pulling Y/n close as they watched TV. But even Marc couldn’t stave off sleep forever. He yawned, stretching as he set the remote down and leaned back into the couch. “Guess it’s my turn to knock out.” He murmured, his voice rough with fatigue. Y/n smiled, brushing her hand through his hair. “Goodnight, Marc.” He mumbled something in response, already slipping into sleep. But it didn’t last long before that familiar shift happened again—his body changing, his posture becoming more relaxed yet somehow more confident. When his eyes opened this time, they held a sharp, mischievous gleam.

Jake Lockley was awake.

Y/n couldn’t help but smirk at the sudden change in his demeanor. “Buenos días, Jake.” she said with a teasing smile, despite the fact that it was still very much night-time. “Buenos días.” Jake replied with a chuckle, heading straight for the coffee machine. He moved with a smooth, confident ease that was completely distinct from either Steven or Marc. “Coffee? At this hour?” Y/n asked, raising an eyebrow as he poured himself a cup, the rich aroma filling the room. “I’ve got a job to do.” Jake said, taking a sip and leaning casually against the counter, his dark eyes focused on her. "Cab driving or cab driving." He chuckled. “Don't worry about it, cariño. Won’t be long.” He said finishing the cup of coffee and placing it in the sink. "Marc will clean this later, right?" She chuckled. "He won't like it but probably." He nodded along, the corners of his lips tugging upward. "Vale, hasta luego, cariño." He was about to reach for the door handle when he felt a delicate hand on his arm. “Be careful, okay?” Jake’s grin softened just a bit, his rough exterior giving way as he leaned down to press a gentle kiss to her temple. “Siempre tengo cuidado. No te preocupes por esa carita bonita.” He murmured, his voice low and full of quiet reassurance. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

She nodded, watching as he grabbed his jacket and headed for the door. He gave her one last glance, his expression full of unspoken promises, before slipping out into the night. The flat felt a little quieter with him gone, but Y/n knew better than to worry. Jake always came back, and she’d be waiting for him.

[bluekidchaos]

Silco x Reader

i have nothing coherent to say but i've been rotating this man inside my mind like a microwave dish for a week straight and need it out of my system, so here is huh, sucking silco off while he smokes

Pairing: Silco x Reader

Warnings: 18+, blowjobs (turns into face fucking??), pet names (pet, love, dear), hinted dacryphilia, dirty talking (mix of praise and degradation), boot humping (huh ?? what ? who said that, guys i think there's a ghost here), no use of pronouns but female parts mentioned

Words: 1.5k

Can also be read on AO3!

Back to masterlist.

silco coming back to the last drop after a meeting with the other chem-barons notably frustrated, huffing and muttering under his breath about "imbeciles and morons"

as he sits himself down in the big leather chair behind the desk trying to light a cigar but the lighter won't work in his angry grasp, getting him on edge even more until he throws it across the room in a fit of rage

you sigh as you get up from your position on the couch, so far seemingly unnoticed by the man, and pick up the lighter

making your way over to the desk silco finally looks up at you, his eyes softening a little when they land on you, you perch at the edge of it and hold the lighter up to him

he puts the cigar up to the flickering light and takes a long drag before exhaling, already feeling more relaxed as he inhales the tobacco. silco leans back into his chair and takes another slow drag while looking you up and down closely

"bad meeting?" your foot coming up to rest in between his spread thighs on the chair, the question of what he needed from you unspoken but understood

he grunts in response, "bad week overall.." the hand not occupied with holding the cigar lands on your foot, stroking up and down the expanse of your calf giving you your answer

almost like it was instinct you slide down from the desk and down on your knees in front of him, now trapped between him and the desk

his hand comes down to stroke a stray strand of hair back behind your ear and you nuzzle your cheek into his warm palm

silco leans down in the chair to your level, nose almost touching yours, "how about you make me forget what a bad week it was, pet?" the heavy smoke envelopes your senses for a second before you jump into action

you start by slowly dragging your hands up his thighs, letting one hand graze over the bulge in his tight pants while the other comes up to unbutton them

silco raises his hips slightly off the chair to help you lower his pants and underpants for easier access while you grab his cock out of its confinement, giving it an experimental stroke you hear silco gasp above you

the hand left on your cheek moves around your head and tangles in your hair, his eyes never leaving yours as you finally lean forward and lick his entire length

when you reach his tip you stay there giving soft kitten licks, you make sure to keep eye contact with silco while doing it, you loved seeing his reaction while you pleased him

his grasp on your hair tightens a bit and he sucks in a sharp breath as your tongue flicks at his tip, you can tell he's about to chastise you for teasing him so before he can get a word out you take his full length into your mouth, well as much as you can at least

silco finally breaks the eye contact, throwing his head back with a grunt as you take him down your tight throat, "fuck, good pet"

the pet name makes your pussy throb and you can't help but to clench your thighs to try and create some friction

he lets you set the pace at first, bobbing your head at a comfortable pace while letting one hand stroke what doesn't fit in your mouth, you trace your tongue along the veins decorating his dick and give his tip a couple of flicks whenever you come up for air

the hand not occupied with helping your efforts travel up his shirt, letting it rest against his stomach, using your nails to scratch at him from time to time to aid the sensations and you can feel him shiver under your touch

silco is now completely relaxed in the chair, head leaned back and cigar in his unoccupied hand, inhaling and exhaling thick smoke, the almost indifference he shows you makes you even more turned on somehow

to anyone else, it would look like he's ignoring your efforts but you know him better, the hand clenched in your hair, the heavy breathing, and the few noises that escape him give away how this is really affecting him

you decide to tease him more, not going down fully this time, just keeping the tip in your mouth to suck on while your hand jerks him off lazily while looking up at him

silcos head snaps down to look at you, his eyes burning with desire and frustration, "now, now, pet.." he growls out at you, "let us not get lazy when you were doing such a good job before" he adjusts the grip on your hair to a makeshift ponytail before searching your eyes for consent

you give him a small nod and try to smile up at him but he presses your head down on him fully now, nose pressed into his pubes, and holds you there

he leans his head back again and lets out a low moan at the feeling of your throat constricting around him, he revels a bit in your small struggle, the feeling of one hand scratching his stomach and the other desperately clinging to his thigh before letting you up for air

when he finally pulls your head up you take a deep breath and cough, you try to blink the tears clouding your eyes away so you can meet his gaze

silco groans at the way you look up at him, lips red and swollen, tears running down your cheeks, but it's the way you smile up at him that has him throbbing for you

he pulls your head down again, this time setting a brutal pace that has you barely catching your breath and you can't stand it anymore, the ache between your thighs is getting too much and you need something, anything

you whimper around his cock, the vibrations send a jolt of electricity up his spine, you look up at him and try to make a pouty face, which considering your mouth is stuffed full of his cock is pretty hard

silco knows your every expression however and you get your point across either way, he chuckles at the desperation in your eyes, "hm, poor you, need something to soothe you? is my cock in your mouth not enough for you?" he mocks you

but he moves one of his legs between your legs and you feel yourself get wetter at the display, "there, there, pet, make yourself feel good while i use your throat as i please"

you can feel your cheeks heat up at his words, you can't believe this is happening but you're honestly too turned on to think about it for too long before you roll your hips against his boot

the feeling of finally getting some friction against your clit makes you moan around his cock and you roll your hips again and again and again before you've set a pace likewise to the one silco is guiding your head at

silco was already close but the vision of you brings him to the edge, eyes closed and tear-stained cheeks while you were humping his boot, your noises muffled around his dick but the vibrations are making him go crazy

you feel yourself getting closer to ecstasy with every roll of your hips, you're sure you've made a mess on his boot by now but you couldn't care less, all you could think about was dragging your tongue around silcos cock while his hips meet your face and humping his leg like an animal in heat

both of you could tell the other is close now, you hollow your cheeks around him and that's enough to bring him over the edge with a shout, emptying himself into your mouth and you try to swallow every drop of him but there's too much and it spills out and around his cock

the feeling of your mouth tightening even more as if that was possible makes silco tense and he pushes his leg into you more, putting unexpected pressure on your clit just as you made contact with him again and you feel yourself being pushed over the same edge, warmth spreading through your whole body as you ride out your orgasm

silco carefully lifts your head off of him after a little while and you take a deep breath again, you start coughing as some of his cum slides down to wrong pipe

he rubs and pats your back until you've calmed down and brings you up into his lap, letting you curl up against him as you both catch your breaths, "thank you dear, are you alright?"

you snuggle into him more as he brings his jacket over you as a makeshift blanket, you can feel soreness in your jaw and thighs creeping in but you were too tired to care right now, "hmm, sore, tired"

silco smile agaisnt your head before giving it a quick peck, "rest my love, i'll be here when you wake up to take care of you" and with the sound of his smooth voice whispering in your ear you finally fell asleep

[ihopeinevergetsoberr]

cw: angry (unprotected) sex, afab reader, ungodly amount of tension, some dirty talk. you’re fucking viktor after a fight with him. that’s it. pretty much plotless — just some poetic filth written on a whim (well, i tried, at the very least). very, and i mean very poorly proofread — but i’ll fix that a bit later.

word count: 1850~

“Fuck you.”

It’s a clumsy, uncoordinated thing — hissed through gritted teeth and suffocatingly stinging exhales — a threat you spat out with the sole purpose of poisoning, of mingling gall with thick saliva and shoving it down that pretty throat, secretly aiming for the heart instead; if only he possessed such a thing, that is. 

The arrogant prick pants into the havoc of tangled tongues and bleeding bottom lips, the inviting stretch of his mouth utterly helpless against the sharpness of tortuous canines — you’ve crossed the line where a kiss turns into a bite, choking each other with liquid sounds and gawky clashes of teeth. 

He grins into the sweet heat of you, forces a wheeze out of what feels like the very depth of your lungs, and a pair of narrow hips nails a resonant snap into the pliant curve of your ass. 

“No,” he shakes that irritatingly wise head, “no, I suppose— ah,— that’s my job.”

Damp foreheads press against each other in an angry search of proximity, eager fingers gagging to crawl under his scalp, pulling at those disheveled strands with desperation — as if trying to find an entrance into Viktor’s very brain — to rearrange it in whatever way he does it to your guts and dignity. 

The handfuls of you — well, the weight of one breast and still burning under his handprint hip, to be precise — were melting. He reduced your body to a hundred sensitive pieces, demerging something whole and coherent you were presenting before he first had you in his damned bed. He dragged you in, acquaintening with exceptional filth he’s capable of producing — and you hated just how much better having his mouth on you felt than merely shutting it in ways that involve rivalry.

“Oh, save it,” you lick the metallic taste of him off the sharp angle of his chin — tongue wiping a glistening stripe in a rush to destroy the tiny evidence of your a little overly enthusiastic nibble, but Viktor — oh this utterly revengeful creature — brings a cruel palm to the smaller of your back, demanding you bend in half for him. Demanding you drown your face in the pillow as he fucks from behind; sweetly humiliating and sloppily hard — it’s the kind of sex making you arch in whatever ways you can manage. And so your spine forms just that delicious curve, slightly changing the angle of penetration — and Viktor moans a quiet curse, somehow pulled even deeper into the divine warmness of your pretty cunt, tip buried so deep inside it you might have to arch even more — to avoid the not so pleasant experience of it roughly slamming against your cervix. 

His thrusts are precise; well-aimed enough to benefit from that slight curve of his cock, had your spite for him drooling onto the sheets, each moan sweeter than the previous one. He stiffens for a split second; most likely to reposition the sore knee into a softer gap of the mattress, and you whine at the loss of him, hips wiggling backwards in a needy seek of his girth. Involuntary vulnerability — all squints, and flushed cheeks, and threatening ‘pleases’ — the embodiment of impatience. 

He laughs. He fucking laughs, letting a sly hand crawl under you, then dive in between widely parted thighs, and his fingers snake down your navel, travelling lower, preciser, filthier — just where you throb for them, just where you need assistance to collapse boneless onto the mattress. It’s a compromise, of sorts — an apology to your abandoned for a few minutes clit, and you’re shamefully thankful for it, awarding Viktor with a single, reluctant ‘yes’. 

“My, such impressive… eagerness. I almost feel flattered,” Viktor quips, but a jab earns him just a single furious glance thrown over your shoulder. “I wonder just how frustrated you’d get if I were to leave you unsatisfied.” 

You scoff. “That would be an ultimate guide for never sleeping with me again.” 

That lie is half-assed, unconvincing. Your tongue betrays you — oh that pathetic excuse of a nimble muscle; and you decide to quit relying on it for verbiage in his bed. And his desk. And his workshop. Though that part required reticence nonetheless. Both in moans and semantics. 

Viktor doesn’t comment on the treacherous stumble of your words or the pitifully quivering delivery. You’re gagging to note that he’s losing his grip, but he proves you wrong — letting two deft hands grab your waist, then sinking back into you. No, his grip is as sturdy as ever — digging into your skin, pulling closer, sliding inside with ease; cunt an embarrassingly wet mess wrapped around him tight enough to strangle. 

He’s a quick learner — even quicker now that he has to keep up with you, to chase the frantic pace you’re setting, to not get too distracted with the waves roaming all over the skin of your ass whenever it hits his pelvis, offering a delicious view of just how perfectly you swallow him to the hilt. 

“Are you threatening me, miláčku?” he’s chasing your skin like a man starved to death — desperate to lick, to touch, to devour, chest falling flat on your back — narrow, and flushed, and sweatslick, ribs digging under the space of each one of your shoulder blades. It’s a cry for proximity — a literal one, vibrating against the nape of your neck when he sharply thrusts forward, hips jerking upwards to become one with you, rapidly trembling fingers circling your clit hard enough for it to be sweetly sore in the morning. 

“Ah— Yes,” you gasp, abandoning your attempt to master a dangerous enough warning, “yes, I am threatening you.” 

“I see,” it comes out of him choked up — almost equally breathless to your pathetically rushed outburst. “Then I shall refrain from — mh,— tormenting you. I would grow quite miserable if you decided to rid me of sojourning my favorite place in the world.” 

Your fucked out brain short-circuits, clearly reduced to its most primitive state; you’re going to cum and you need to dig your fingers into something — anything, eyes roaming all over the messy bed, choosing your victim — but your options are limited either to tangled sheets or a handful of Viktor’s hair. You instantly pick the latter — just as eager to touch him, to ignore the sharp angle your arm caught when it reached for him, grabbing the back of his neck and pressing his face to yours, thick eyelashes tickling your damp temple. It’s a distorted position; all contorted limbs and pre-orgasm spasms — can’t have him pounding you from behind and licking into his mouth in the meantime; but it doesn’t stop you from at least trying. You turn your head to whatever extent possible, pulling at the havoc of dark hair, struggling to cage his tongue into the sweet lock of your lips. 

“What- What did you just say?” your tone is demanding; urgent. You’re almost halfway through your climax, and he knows it — feels it when you clench around him hard and tight, lavish slick drying between parted thighs. 

“I- I meant… you. My favourite place in the world is… inside you. And I would hate to upset you in any, ah, way—” but you don’t listen past that part. Oh no, you don’t let that man ruin you any further — which, at this point, would be beyond recognition — and your tongue attempts to crawl into his mouth again, fingers tangling a rough tug into a handful of chestnut strands. 

“Kiss me,” you plead, hot and breathless against his lips — a sloppy thing, open mouthed and trembling. “Viktor, please, kiss me.” 

The last syllable rolls off your tongue straight into his throat — Viktor is at your whim even before you managed to form that request, suckling swells into your bottom lip with an occasional whimper — shy and gentle, just so utterly him — arousingly subtle, flavourful, nimble. Heavy on the nimble part, since the mere presence of him in your mouth helped you capture your undoing — beautifully clumsy; wet hot pleasure running down shaky legs — a mess of arching hips, pretty foreign swears and swollen under the thorough touch of his fingers clit. He broke you like he was made for it, vowing to never stop, to never let that weary wrist pressed above your clit rest — you’ve deemed him worthy of being the one whose cock you cum around, and Viktor — so intelligent, incorrigible, yours — would never waste such a privilege. 

He does, however, regret his greediness when his own orgasm impatiently reminds him of its approach. It had him moaning your name almost deep enough to sound devastated — and that he was, in a way, uttering one last hissy curse into that bruising kiss before abruptly pulling out, frantic fingers rushing to be wrapped around his width. Your vision — blurry, incompetent and drunk on bliss — still allowed you a pretty view of him pumping that throbbing cock, its heaviness palpable on your lower back even in this state of divine afterglow. 

He came to the sight of you — still bent over, half-lidded, ruined. Painted your skin in his release yet still stared at you in the most beautiful awe ever, amber eyes radiating complete devotion — so sweet and picturesque, cheeks the softest shade of pink as he cried, cumming on your pretty back — a pair of hot tears rolling down his face as you let him pour himself on your very body.

Rushed, unexpected climaxes — one might even assume they probably lacked in gentleness. And perhaps they would have — if only it wasn’t Viktor you’re fucking tonight; hands just as tender as they’re exhaustive. He collapses beside you — still careful, invariably contemplative, gaze needled into your face looking for any signs of remaining anger; touch explorative, approbatory. Lazily slipping underneath you and pulling closer, inviting into a loose knot of limbs — and you allow it, letting your hand wander to languidly count his ribs, then stopping to deliver an occasional tickle. 

He hums and tucks you under his chin. Probably hinting at a truce. A temporary one, at least. 

“I’m still mad at you though,” you decide to inform him, letting a curious index finger press into his dark nipple — earning yourself a quick yawn and a crooked little smile. 

“Hm, are you really?” he insists — the ever attentive devil, always catching that particular tremble of your words. He did a great job in fucking you stupid and now demanded you admit it: the fight is over, you’re appeased and completely witless. 

But you don’t budge. Not this time. You’re not any less vengeful and always so persistent on dragging the cheekiness out of him — either with fighting or with fucking. Both were equally entertaining nonetheless. 

“Yes. Really,” you finally reply, submitting to the chain reaction and yawning back, rubbing the watering eyes with a free from pinching at Viktor’s chest hand. 

“Hm, how inconvenient. In that case, I must’ve failed as a lover.”

“How so?”

“Well, my only intentions were to leave you senseless enough to forget about the incident. And, well, since you’re still perfectly capable of being spiteful—“ 

“How about you shut up before I smother you in your sleep?” 

[dearest-nell]

here comes your man

s. harrington x f!reader, 2.1k

summary: you go to pick up your very drunk boyfriend from the bar after a well deserved night out warnings: alcohol consumption, swearing, reader uses she/her pronouns

a/n: i was half asleep when i wrote this so all i can say is my bad, and i hope my three am deleirum brings you some joy

Hey… you might wanna come pick up your Stevie-Boy. He’s a bit wrecked...

It was a phone call you had half expected, though you didn’t mind admitting that you wished it had not come at 3am on your Saturday night. Steve had been so excited for a night out with the boys – work seemed to be piling onto him more than usual, and more often than not you’d find him half asleep on the couch by 8pm, arm propped uncomfortably beneath his head and back twisting awkwardly. This night came along with the extra TLC you prescribed him this week, taking on a little extra responsibility around the house so he might relax even just for a moment. Steve was a caretaker by trade, and doing things for himself seemed to hark back to a time where he only did things for himself. It took a lot for him to rewire that belief in his brain – self care did not mean selfish, he was a good person. 

You thought that the time out with his friends would remind him of that; how wonderful he was, how loved he was. He could be without responsibility for a night and simply enjoy himself. And enjoy himself he was… you hadn’t heard such an amused lilt to Eddie’s tone for a long time. You spent the drive over pondering just what kind of state your boyfriend might be in, your eyes heavy, body cooling with the iced air that blew through windows opened in an attempt to keep yourself awake. Eddie at least had sounded coherent, so you figured you would not be alone in the battle to try and haul your boyfriend into your beat up car. 

Dressed for the comfort of your own home, it took one disgruntled look towards a stubborn bouncer to let you past without paying an entry fee. You wondered how often this happened – half asleep partners turning up moments before closing to take their inebriated darling home. The thought made you chuckle softly to yourself, body weaving through the stragglers of the night still dancing to a wrapping up DJ. 

Eddie had told you they’d meet you by the lounges when you arrived, though Steve was nowhere to be seen as you approached your tired looking friend, his face pleased, if not a little weary. 

“Where is he?” You questioned, letting Eddie lean down to wrap his arms around you tightly, his weight pressing heavier on you that you had expected under the influence of what you assumed had been many, many shots. 

“At the bar. I thought he’d crashed half an hour ago, but he’s had a second wave.” 

You felt the short burst of laughter bubble up, an unsurprised uh-huh leaving your lips at the notion, eyes drifting towards the thinning crowd collected for the last call. Eddie let you go with a shrug, stepping back to let you go. 

“Alright, I’ll go get him. I’ll wave if I need you, ‘kay?” The nod you received was answer enough, and you set off leisurely towards your unsuspecting boyfriend. 

Steve was half hunched over the bar, palm rolling an empty shot glass flatly across the sticky surface as he waited for an already busy bartender. You couldn’t see his face, but you could picture the expression with such clarity – eyes heavy, blinking slowly as they tracked blearily across the back of the bar, that sweet, contented smile plastered on his lips for no reason at all. 

Following suit, you leaned yourself up against the bar beside him, elbows propping you up to rest your head in your palms. 

“You getting another drink, handsome?” 

Steve made a soft sort of mumbling sound, his head lulling to the side as he leaned away ever so slightly. “Mm, yeah… think so.” 

You nodded, smiling at the way he swayed on his feet. “Oh, I see. You wanna have some water with me?” 

Steve rubbed harshly at his face, eyes screwing shut tightly before blinking hazily at you. “No, thanks.” 

His gaze turned away, his grip on the shot glass faltering for a moment, reflexes only just catching it before rolling over the edge. You reached slowly to pluck it from his hand, though he recoiled sluggishly at the contact, forcing your brow up into a curious arch. 

“How about I take you home, then? Seems like they’re wrapping up.” 

Steve sighed, hands running through his hair in that same familiar flustered motion you were so acquainted with. Ordinarily, Steve would have been bouncing out of his skin to see you, but right now, he seemed like he wanted to be anywhere else. 

“Look, it’s nice of you to ask, but ’m taken. My girlfriend’s comin’ to get me.” 

Oh, how sweet. You’d never seen Steve so far gone that he hadn’t recognised you, but now that you focused your own tired eyes, you could see that his own were barely open to begin with. Your smile widened, amusement settling over you at the sweetness of him. 

“Really? You’re not even gonna look at me? Maybe I’m worth breaking the rules for.” 

He scoffed at that, body straightening up as much as his addled state could allow, his feet stumbling beneath him to put another feet of distance between the two of you. 

“I’m sure you are f’someone else, but ‘m not interested.” His tone was more clipped now, friendliness falling away in the hopes of deterring you. “Not another girl in the world for me but her.” 

God, he was sweet, and more in love with you than you could have ever hoped for a person to be. Your heart ached, entirely overwhelmed with adoration for this man who was waiting for you. 

“Well that’s very lovely.” You cooed, turning sideways to look at him, one arm dropping to your side while the other hand continued to prop your chin up, helping to hide that rosy blush that seemed to stain your cheeks. “I really think you should look at me, though, Stevie.”

You watched as the thought crossed his mind, a slow understanding that something about this interaction seemed out of place. It seemed to take another moment for reality to set in, his body turning and eyes widening comically as they came into focus. 

“Honey!” 

It had you in hysterics, the way his arm gave out from under him, narrowly avoiding his torso from smacking down against the bar top as he lurched towards you. Your arms extended out to catch him, meeting him halfway until his body was pressed tenderly against yours, eager hands creeping up to cup your cheeks, holding your face towards his so he might really look at you. 

“You’re here!” 

Your laughter rang out happily, eyes crinkled at the delight mirrored in his own. 

“Yeah, baby, of course I am. Wanted to make sure you got home safe.” 

If an iris could change shape, then you were certain you saw Steve’s melt into delicate hearts just at the thought of you coming out to take care of him. His thumbs ran adoring lines across your cheekbones, trembling slightly with restraint. 

“S’good to me.” He mumbled, words drowning out within the still deafening music that surrounded you. “Missed you.” 

You felt him slump against you ever so slightly, still conscious of weighing too heavily against you even in his inebriated state, though how he was holding himself up anymore was anyone’s guess. It was your sign to wave Eddie over, though, who without fuss looped a supporting arm around Steve’s back. 

“You gonna let your girl take us home, then? I’m gonna pass out, man, I’m so wrecked.” 

Steve’s brow furrowed, alarmed to have been so suddenly pulled back from you to lean on Eddie, and he reached out a hand in a needy sort of motion towards you. “I wanna dance with her before we go.” 

Too sweet for his own wellbeing, you offered him a sympathetic look, slipping yourself under his other arm to help prop him up. 

“We can dance at home just you and me, okay? In our pjs too — won’t that be nice. We just don’t wanna keep Eddie waiting too long; he’s all danced out.” 

You watched the contemplative look cross his features, leaving him distracted enough for Eddie to start guiding the three of you towards the door without much fuss from Steve. 

“Did you have fun though Ed? Really?” Steve asked, genuine concern threading through his tone as he addressed his friend who managed an affirming nod in response. 

“Loads. We’ll all go out again soon, but I’ve gotta give you back to your sweetheart before she gets too jealous.” 

Steve’s nod was so serious as he processed the words, entirely missing the small look of amusement shared between you and Eddie as you pulled yourselves from the establishment. 

“Yeah.” He agreed, his head lulling sideways to rest on the crown of your own. “She needs me.” 

It had sounded like a joke when he said it, but even you could sense the small severity behind the words, almost reassuring himself of the truth behind them. Of course you needed him. 

“Yeah, she does.” You confirmed, kissing at his shoulder clumsily as you tried to focus on your steps, narrowly avoiding toppling the three of you right over uneven pavements underfoot. “I always need you, honey.” 

You did not need to look at Steve to know that he was smiling — you felt it as you held him, felt it in his touch and the heat of his body carefully wrapped around yours. At least this night felt like a success in your eyes. Steve was happy, and you had done your part to make him so. He’d be awfully hungover tomorrow morning, but he’d be happy, and that was all that seemed to matter to you in the moment. 

Eddie managed to hold Steve upright while you fiddled with the lock of your car door, the boy now contently distracted with regaling tales of the night to the man who had witnessed them first hand. Getting him into the car was easy enough, tucking him cautiously into the front seat, your body leaning over him to click his seatbelt into place, his hand lifting to rub at your lower back in thanks. 

“You’re the best, y’know, baby? The real best. The best best.” 

You paused to smile at him, head shaking in amusement before brushing your lips against his cheek, relishing in the way his hand gripped excitedly at you for the briefest of moments. “I could say the same about you, y’know.” 

“Nuh uh.” 

A groan sounded from outside the car, drawn out and exasperated beyond compare. “Jesus H Christ, I’m begging for someone to take me home. It’s so fucking late, guys.” 

You pulled back with a laugh to witness Eddie’s petulance, your hand coming out to gesture to the back seat. “Then get in the car, dingus, and I’ll take you home.”

“Yeah, what she said!” Steve slurred from the front seat, the battle against his weariness now long lost, eyes closed and head resting heavily against its back, unable to hold itself up any longer. 

Eddie clambered into the back with a half assed eye roll, splaying out across the work back seat until he, too, was one with the upholstery. “You guys aren’t gonna be gross and sayin’ i love you’s all the way home, are you?” 

Steve’s eyes widened in horror. “Oh shit, I haven’t said I love you yet!” 

The charming little frown that spread across his face was enough to melt you in your entirety, your hand reaching out to brush his check with affection, his nose nuzzling sweetly into the cup of your palm. “I’m not worried about it; I know you do.” 

“Yeah, but I do love you. I was thinkin’ it the whole time, thinkin’ you’re so pretty n’ all. So pretty that I couldn't remember to say it.” 

Eddie just huffed again in the back seat, his complaints overtly ignored despite the growing expletives.

“I love you too, Stevie. How about we get Eds home and get you some water, then we can be as sweet as we wanna be.” 

Steve’s lips pressed into your palm, his kiss unhurried and uncoordinated as the alcohol hindered his usual grace, a mumbled m’kay tickling your skin as he spoke. 

You looked up into the rearview mirror, dropping your hand to Steve’s knee for the boy to hold, keeping his neediness satiated for the time being as he grasped it between his own eagerly. “You hear that, Eds? You’re in the clear. Let’s get you boys home.” 

A grumbled thank god and the creaks of the backseat window being clumsily wound down was enough incentive to start your travels, a pleased smile gracing your lips to know that Steve had been given exactly the night he deserved after all.