#satisfying brush fires

[johnschneiderblog]

Up in smoke

Burning brush (my chief occupation in recent days) reminds me of my son-in-law's explanation for why he enjoys splitting my firewood:

The problem is the intact log; the solution is a splitting maul and muscle. The maul comes down, the log surrenders with a satisfying crack!. Problem solved. So simple - unlike most other of life's challenges.

Burning brush is satisfying in that same way, with the added bonus of appealing to our primitive fascination with fire.

But there's more to it than lighting the first twig, then watching the pile burn. A proper brush fire must be coaxed, encouraged and managed in order to reach its destiny - a puff of smoke and a layer of ashes.

It's practically magic.

[rubystims]

🍺 / 💸 / 🍺 🚬 / 🕴️ / 🚬 🎰 / 🕴️ / 🎰 An Alastair (name) stimboard for anon!

[ohimsummer]

GIRL, I NEED A TASTE ft. PUPPYBOY! SATORU

— minors dni, needy + lovesick + puppyboy! satoru x fem! reader, tít sucking, subby! satoru, humping (dryhumping??), breeding + creampie mentions

⭑ ࣪ ˖ sum’z notes.ᐟ i went a little overboard writing this <//3 strongest ‘puppy-dog eyes’ user everyone

wc 1.4k

you give puppyboy! satoru an inch, and he will take several miles.

he’s ready to pounce on you 24/7: when you wake up, when you return home, when you’re fresh out of the shower, when you come back from a 5 minute bathroom break during movie night. it’s insane the way, if it were up to him, your pussy would never know peace.

in satoru’s “defense”, he can’t help wanting to stuff you full of himself all the time. he loves you, he’s in love with you and, in his eyes, what better way to show it than the overwhelming amounts of euphoria he could put you both through? satoru loves to give, give, give to you; his heart, his attention, his affections, and his cum at the end of it all.

you suppose his reasoning is understandable, more so from satoru’s point of view, but fucking every minute of every day isn’t sustainable—it’s only fair you tell him ‘no’ sometimes. and that’s when satoru brings out the theatrics: whining, crying, whimpering and complaining about how he’s “sooo harddd” and he’ll “be super quick”. fluttering snowy white lashes to beg with those woeful, blue, puppy-dog eyes, glistening with tears that he seems to be able to summon on a dime.

satoru flashes you the cutest pout as he presses himself up against you, grinding his bulge against your ass as he nuzzles and nips at your cheek. slow, impatient sways of a fluffy tail, the perk of those twitching, adorable ears whenever you cast him even a glance. satoru whispers a hopeful “pretty pretty please…just once?” as he licks at the shell of your ear, raising goosebumps from your neck to spine.

it doesn’t matter, really. he can do it all for as long as his heart desires, because in the end…

…it’ll get satoru exactly what he wants every time.

the movie you put on isn’t nearly as immersive as you’d hoped. and even if it was, satoru keeps pulling your attention away with every nip and lick to your thighs.

“toru.”, you deadpan, and he instantly weaponizes those wide, doe-like eyes of his. paired with a slight wag of his tail, a friendly gesture which he aims to placate with, and satoru has easily dodged your annoyance once more.

you brush off his bad habit with a sigh before your attention returns to the screen in front of you. and then, not even five minutes later, the sharp poke of his fangs sinks back into the fat of your thigh. it’s always steady and deliberate; satoru wants to see just how much you’ll allow before jabbing an irritated finger to his forehead in disdain. meanwhile, once he’s satisfied with the depth of his teeth, he sucks harshly at the skin, glancing between you and the newfound hickey now blooming. then he goes in again, quicker but that’s only because he’s expecting a sure-fire dose of your wrath this time.

“satoru—“

“look!” he interrupts, tail wagging eagerly. “bit ya in the shape of a heart, because i love you.” technically not a lie, but not the full truth, either.

and you’re so distracted with looking at satoru’s little sign of affection, which is indeed adorably heart-shaped, you forget altogether your reasoning for addressing him in the first place: to chide him again on biting you so hard—which is all part of his plan.

it takes no time before satoru has squeezed way more out of you than you meant to give. when you stopped warning him about the biting, he readjusted to “cuddle” you. his head is on your chest like always, hands on your hips, but they quickly dip underneath the hem of your shirt to knead at your waist. and then they’re slithering up further, grazing at your underboob before finally squeezing one of your breasts.

“satoru.” he cowers under the angry heat of your stare. “if i have to tell you one more time…”

his tongue darts out to lap at your exposed neck, causing you to wriggle at the needy gesture. “ ‘m sorry, they’re like my little stress balls. can I touch, please?”

and you shouldn’t have relented and said yes. of course you shouldn’t have, you knew that. if you agree to this, he knows now that you’ll agree to pretty much anything. but satoru stares at you with those dreamy eyes, gleaming with stars to whisk you away to a bad decision. it takes a single, pleading blink as he gives you a small squeeze, and you have fallen victim to his spell once again.

your shirt is pushed up hastily to expose your tits, leaving them subject to satoru’s merciless greed. he pinches, pulls, and tugs with both hands and mouth, sinking fangs into every inch of your breasts since he cannot stand to not see signs of himself on them. because he thinks you’re pretty, duh, but he thinks you’re prettier when your body is spotted up with the marks he loves to leave.

not long after, he’s shed you of your pants, tossed somewhere over the edge of the bed. what started off as a slow grind has turned to satoru’s bare cock humping your thigh, searing and sticky as he leaks a mess of precum all over your skin. just the sensation of it sends an aching rhythm of throbs to your core, your painfully empty hole sporadically fluttering around nothing.

in your mind—buried beneath thoughts of this dreadful movie and the excruciating desire to have satoru’s cock battering your insides—are the very last remnants of willpower you cling to. you can visualize clearly the smug look sure to grace his face if you whine a single plea about satoru fucking you. after all, you’re the one who was all ‘no sex right now, ‘toru’. if you can’t keep your word for even one night, you might be just as sex-crazed as he is.

there is a nonstop background noise of his tail thumping and sweeping against the bed. satoru’s wags haven’t let up since you gave your first yes, and only grow stronger with each new whimpered plea you yield to. they pick up with the pace of his thrusts, a beat to harmonize with the sinful song of his desperate whimpers right before gojo reaches another high—he lets loose a muffled cry into your chest, still pathetically humping your leg like a lovesick mutt as he gushes yet another pool of cum to coat your thighs and panties. after that, his wags ease up to a slow, easygoing thud, now overpowered by the raspy heaves of air he sucks into his lungs.

and it’s the same song and dance every time. satoru takes a few minutes to catch his breath, and then he’s ready for another round. from the corner of your eye, you notice those teary blues have locked on to you. he tests the waters, gradually rutting against you again, mouthing at your breasts to see if you’ll tell him ‘that’s enough, ‘toru’. he is pleased when the words never come, and his actions only grow bolder the longer you let it go on; he licks at your jawline, down your neck before placing a few nips here and there. tweaks your sore nipples between his thumb and index, plunging his dick harder and faster along your thigh for another repeat of the last few hours.

with each daring action over the course of the night, satoru has dragged you a little closer towards the edge with him. first it was pushing your top up, next, it was taking off your shorts. then, it was a bold move of pawing at your clothed pussy, which almost turned into his hand in your panties if you hadn’t pinched his ear and told him no. though, he could just as easily get you to let him anyway if he asks in that very sweet voice of his, the one he always uses when he longs for something from you.

“can I take off your panties?”, satoru finally asks, tilting his head to stare you right in the face.

you won’t meet his eye, and he knows you won’t. because both of you know if you do, he will quickly shred that last bit of self-control at the tips of your fingers. a single bat of his lashes and you’ll be nodding your head, raising your hips so he can tear away your underwear. and then it will only be a matter of time before satoru’s pinning you down to stuff his cock in your walls as deep as you can take. it’s all he wants, all he craves. but as long as you avoid looking into his alluring eyes, you may hold off satoru and his contagious desires for just a little longer.

tagz: @blkkizzat @teddybeartoji @lxnarphase @hellkaiserinphoenix @cinnamoneve @satoruxsc @rosso-seta @sapphireandange @starlightanyaaa @manyno @sugu-love @leilalilox @sataraxia @apatauaia @luvvforliaa @purplegemadventures @v0ctin @kissesfrombelle @babytoshiii @biscuitsngravie @neptuneblue @staryukis ( HAPPY BIRTHDAY AGAIN LOGANNNNNN😼😼‼️‼️💚🩵💛💚🩵💛💚🩵💛💚🩵)

[pseudowho]

Full

Nanami Kento treats his pregnant wife like the goddess she is.

Warnings: 18+, relentlessly fluffy sex

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You were thoroughly fed-up. About as pregnant as you could possibly be, you spent your days in permanent tiredness; belly too heavy and round, and hips too sore to be comfortable in any position overnight, you knew your wonderful husband Kento would take the aches and pains from you if he could.

Lying in bed on your side, pillows wedged under your bump, between your legs, and behind your back, Kento reached a reassuring hand out to stroke your waist as you grumbled to yourself; a full hour in bed now and no chance at sleep. Holding your legs together to support your aching hips, you heaved yourself up sideways, feeling your bones and muscles creak in protest. With a lump in your throat and tears burning in your eyes, you sat on the side of the bed to gather yourself.

You heard the bed creak behind you, and soft footsteps padded round the bedroom towards you. Warm, large hands cupped your cheeks and temples, stroking you gently. You leaned forwards, resting your nose and lips against his lower tummy, nuzzling and planting soft kisses there.

"I'm sorry. You can't get any sleep with me thrashing around. I can go to the spare room if you like," you reassured Kento. You felt his disapproval rumble through his abdomen.

"Don't ever apologise. I'm sorry you're so uncomfortable. For what it's worth, you're doing an amazing job. Not long left, I'm sure. We can get you through it. I'll run you a bath."

You hummed your approval, his hand lingering in yours as he walked towards the bathroom. You heard various containers being clicked, and the bath water beginning to run, before Kento headed back to you, planting a soft kiss on your forehead. He grasped your hands and helped you to stand, before helping you to remove your pyjama bottoms.

You felt pathetic, useless, ugly, watching your gorgeous husband help you undress. As if reading your mind, he kissed his way playfully up your legs, blew a raspberry on your bump, and pulled you to him.

"You are just as lovely, if not lovelier than you've ever been. Watching you grow our baby has been a total delight and I want you to know that I still find you completely irresistible." You scoffed at him, dubious, puffy-ankled and tearful. He grasped your chin gently and pulled you to look up at him.

"I mean it," he said, voice low and so sincere you felt your eyes prick with tears. Sniffling, you rubbed your nose. "Come on. Your bath should be about ready."

Kento led you to the bath, and held your hands as you stepped in and lowered your body, sighing as the almost too hot water sank into your aching hips. Letting out a satisfied hum, you lay back in the scented water, looking at your swollen breasts and belly rising like islands out of the water. Kento watched you fondly for a moment, before slipping away to the kitchen. You faintly heard the click of the kettle, and the clinking of mugs.

Eyes closed, and slowly inhaling the steam, you watched your belly roll and jump, as your baby tumbled inside it. Stroking your tummy, you didn't notice Kento returning with a cup of tea for you. He knelt by the side of the bath, chin on one arm, as he gently splashed water over your moving bump. When his heavy hand rested atop your bump, fingers tip-tapping, your baby stopped as if listening. Kento chuckled.

"Only moving for mama again? Hello, sweetie. We can't wait to meet you." A moment of still, before Kento received a pronounced thump against his fingers. Kento continued to softly brush water over your belly and breasts, watching you intently, utterly besotted, believing with absolute certainty that he would walk through fire for you and your unborn baby.

You felt Kento's eyes bore into you, and you shifted uncomfortably, still feeling like a shadow of yourself, body taken over by something wholly undesirable. However, judging by Kento's gradually darkening eyes as he scanned your body, wet and full, he certainly did not feel the same. You felt your heart squeeze as his fingertips grazed ever so lightly against your nipples, which instantly tightened and pebbled. Kento's mouth watered.

It hadn't been his intention to become so aroused by you. His sole priority had been your comfort, to make you feel good in your body, but he felt his pyjamas growing tighter and tighter as he watched your body in the water, a Romantic-era goddess who deserved to be awash in flowers and adoration. Biting his lip, Kento mentally shook himself off, not at all wanting to bother you with his desire, knowing you were uncomfortable and exhausted, until--

"Kento, I...feel like as much as I want you right now, I just...I--" you hesitated, stumbling on your words as he frowned lightly at you. You reached a hand over the lip of the bath to stroke his bare chest as you continued, "All I mean is, in my current state, there is nothing I could possibly do to make...to make me...an attractive experience for you." You finished weakly, your words falling flat as Kento's dark eyes continued to stare you down, now hungry and, apparently, stubbornly determined to prove you wrong.

Kento hummed to himself again, remaining, as always, a man of few words. "I wish you could see yourself through my eyes," he mused, "because all I see is the love of my life, beautifully wet, carrying my baby, in a body I can taste in my dreams, telling me she's undesirable, while it's all I can do not to lift you out of this bath and sink my tongue and cock into you until you're too busy calling my name to continue thinking something so ridiculous."

You bit your lip, thighs squeezing together as you felt a familiar heat pool between your legs. Kento leaned into you, kissing you deeply, slipping his tongue into you and you gasped as he moaned at your taste. Without breaking contact with you, he reached down to the end of the bath, grabbing the shower head and adjusting its setting. You felt a warm water jet rush against your thighs, as he slowly raised it to the throbbing ache between your legs.

Your head fell back, mouth open in a silent cry and hands gripping the sides of the bath. The hot pulse of water on your aching clit hit you instantly and intensely, and Kento leaned half into the bath, taking your nipple between his teeth and holding your hips still with another hand. You whined and whimpered, hands tangling into Kento's hair, completely wordless with pleasure as he moved the shower head in small circles around your clit, licking your sore nipple.

Your tummy tightened almost painfully, as you felt your orgasm rapidly approaching, a violent one, overstimulated by the fierce rush of water and Kento's mouth on your sensitive nipples. Kento talked you through your pleasure, voice low and soft as velvet.

"Are you going to cum? I won't deny you. You've earned it. I'll make you fall apart a hundred times if that's what it takes for you to understand what you do to me." You gasped, hands furiously clutching his hair, his shoulders, his chest, your hip gripped tightly by him as you bucked and writhed in the water.

Kento pressed the showerhead firmly against your clit. "Cum," he ordered, and you shouted your pleasure as your orgasm hit you like a train, completely blinded by bliss, face screwed up and whimpering.

Throwing the showerhead aside and turning off the taps, Kento reached fully into the water and lifted you as if you weighed nothing, nose to nose with you before draping you onto your bed. Before you could protest about wet sheets, Kento dropped straight to his knees, bodily dragged your bum to the edge of the bed and placed your knees over his shoulders. You had barely a moment to gather your thoughts before Kento plunged his tongue between your folds and licked a fat stripe from entrance to clit.

You bucked, gasping, hypersensitive and senses on high alert. You craned your neck desperately as you felt Kento begin to suck on your clit, but were completely unable to see him past your bump. Your toes curled against his shoulder blades, hands reaching out, desperate to ground yourself with the pleasure overwhelming you, your second orgasm rapidly approaching, and you sobbed your pleasure into the dark warmth of your bedroom. As your hand reached down, Kento's hand reached up and his fingers laced with yours. You could have cried at the sweet intimacy of his thumb stroking your palm, as you came, crying out and twisting, calling Kento's name into the dark.

Kento lapped at you like a starving man, one hand already freeing his cock from the tight confines of his pyjamas. He couldn't help giving himself long strokes, squeezing at the tip and feeling pre-cum leak over his hand as his thumb swiped across his slit. He shivered, involuntarily groaning into your pussy, and he felt your thighs twitch around his head at the vibrations. By this point, he knew you could barely see straight, panting and gripping his hand, your anchor in the mist.

The thought of you writhing with pleasure above him spurred him on further, and, reluctantly letting go of his desperate length, he pressed two fingers deep inside your pussy, wet and fluttering, instantly able to locate the spongy spot inside you which would send you over the edge again.

You were a mess at this point, tears of overstimulation streaking down into your ears, gripping Kento's hand like a lifeline. You hadn't allowed him to pleasure you like this for weeks, feeling like your body didn't belong to you anymore, and guilty towards your unborn baby for feeling this way. So long had passed that you hadn't realised how desperately you had craved Kento while denying him and yourself.

"Please Kento I can't-- can't--" you babbled, completely incapable of stringing a sentence together. His hand squeezed yours reassuringly again, and you felt his fingers curl up inside you as his tongue flicked practiced circles over you.

Feeling your pussy clench around him again, and you whimpering weakly, thighs shaking around his head, Kento felt his thighs now sticky with his own precum. Squeezing the base of his cock as he gently brought you down from your high, he nuzzled at your thighs, planting light kisses and soft words of adoration. Kento tried to pant quietly, still unwilling to chase his own needs with your body, as long as you were sated and in full knowledge that he adored you still.

Kento felt his hand being tugged by you, insistently.

"Get up here. I'm not done with you." As Kento's face appeared above your bump, nose and chin glistening with your essence, you blushed at the mischievous look in his eyes. He crawled up the bed, hovering over you, caging you in, all broad planes of muscle and protection.

"Do you want to...I mean, I'm just happy if you're happy..." Kento stopped as you placed a finger on his lips.

"Just...help me flip over." Kento growled lowly in approval, and flipped you over onto your knees with ease. He reached up the bed to place pillows around and underneath you, until your bump was supported and your bum arched beautifully towards him. He ran his tongue languidly along the exaggerated 'S' of your back, before placing a playful nip on your bottom. You squeaked and waggled your bum at him, and he placed a firm slap on one cheek as you giggled. Warmth spread through him, delighted by your happiness.

Kento lazily fingered your folds, so wet and inviting, and you sighed, pressing back into his hands. He dipped one finger inside you again, using your wetness to lubricate his cock as he continued to pump himself at the view of you, so open and inviting before him. He leaned around you, caging you in again, now from behind, and you felt so deliciously vulnerable.

His voice, slow and sultry, rumbled through your ear; "let me know if I'm hurting you."

With no further warning, you felt every inch of Kento sheath within you, your swollen pussy sensitive and clenching instantly, and it took all of Kento's restraint not to cum right there. Holding your hips tightly against his, his head rolled back in bliss and he sighed deeply, grunting as he pulled out and sharply thrust back into you again, relishing your squeaks and gasps.

Kento wanted to hold himself back, but, desperate to show you exactly how desirable he found you, his hips took on a life of their own, slamming repeatedly into you. He groaned and panted, eyes fixed on where his cock sunk into you, watching your wetness coat his thighs until the room was filled with wet slaps and guttural moans. You had given yourself over to him completely, and lay prone, back arched and arse in the air, relishing in the deep aching pleasure of being utterly railed by the man who treated you like a captured goddess.

Kento felt so guilty that having only been pleasured by his own hand for weeks, through no fault of your own, he chased his orgasm like a needy virgin. Wordlessly, he arched over you like an animal, forearms caging your head. As you sank your teeth into one forearm, kissing, licking and mewling, he felt cum shoot through his cock with little warning, gasping and shaking as he came, feeling his seed drip out around your folds, so much after so long, and he was lost in a haze of pleasure for what felt like minutes.

Catching himself before he collapsed down onto your back, Kento gripped you to him and flopped sideways, still inside you as he spooned you, teeth sinking into your shoulder with unashamed worship. His lower arm snaked under your neck to rub lazy circles on your breast, while his upper arm cradled your bump, holding you, never wanting to let you go.

"I love, revere and adore you," Kento intoned into your neck, "even more so now you're sacrificing so much to give me everything I ever dreamed of." You felt tears prick in your eyes, completely awash with his sincerity. "So please, don't ever think you're ugly to me. I will love your body and mind with every change. I celebrate it."

Planting gentle kisses to your temple, Kento moaned as he slipped out of you. Lifting you into bed, he grabbed a soft cloth from his drawer and placed it lovingly between your legs before arranging your pillows with the skill of an expert, and covering you with a dry blanket.

You began to feel sleep roll over you as Kento replaced the wet sheets. As you began to drift, feeling your baby tumble within you, you knew without a shadow of a doubt that Kento would love you, and your baby, through any and every storm along the way.

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I post this fic in celebration of being blissfully married to my own Nanami, in advance of the birth of my 3rd and final baby ✌️ Every woman deserves a Kento to worship her.

[pyrodolls]

superfan! yandere boy x gn! popstar reader

✰ warnings: stalking, obsessiveness, breaking and entering, nsfw, masochist yandere, overstimulation, thigh riding, bondage, male masturbation, unhealthy behavior, average yandere tendencies, male yandere oc (he’s very pathetic and perverted, it’s giving “step on me” energy.) gender neutral reader

✰ a/n: heyyyyy guess who isn’t dead.. i literally open tumblr every 3 minutes i just haven’t been posting. but i’m hereeeee lol. here’s a random yandere oc post, sorry it’s not mortal kombat. (tbh i have faded away from my mk obsession and now i am obsessed with until dawn, the quarry, tlou, and rdr.)

part two here!

superfan! yandere boy that buys all of your merchandise and streams your music on loop 24/7. even while he sleeps.

superfan! yandere boy that commissions artists to draw you and him together in different styles. some of them may depict him on a cute date with you, and some are more explicit and depict you stepping on him or choking him.

superfan! yandere boy that sneaks into your concerts if he didn’t manage to buy a ticket. no matter how strong your security is, he will always manage to find a way in and pretend he's just a regular fan.

superfan! yandere boy that will even sneak onto your house and film you through your window for hours, and then he would go home and touch himself to the footage of you.

superfan! yandere boy that wants to buy meet-and-greet tickets to see you, and be able to feel your presence up close and be able to speak to you personally. but as much as he craves your attention, he knows he wouldn't be able to handle it and would crumble immediately the second you look him in the eyes.

superfan! yandere boy that pays people to stalk you and take pictures of you when he can't do it himself. especially ones when you have a wardrobe malfunction.

superfan! yandere boy that goes to sleep every night fantasizing and dreaming of you. his particular favorite wet dream is of you letting him ride your thigh, grinding against your skin as a desperate attempt to feel any friction on his cock. your hands would roam around his body as he relishes in your attention, no matter where you touch him. any small nudge or brush against his skin would set his heart on fire and oh no where'd his pants go-

superfan! yandere boy that thinks you could do no wrong. you said something offensive and got yourself cancelled? he is your number one defender and would be threatening your naysayers on the internet. he would even go as far as to learn to hack just so he could delete their accounts.

superfan! yandere boy that almost WANTS to get caught. he knows he wouldn't be able to handle your attention, so he avoids it, but a part of him wants to get caught and outed for his perverted, stalker ways. he wants to hear you cuss him out and degrade him. he wants to see the disgusted look on your face as he is exposed for everything he did. spit on him, kick him, treat him like vermin, he doesn't mind. he gets off on the thought of you punishing him. he has a particular fantasy where your punishment for him is by tying him up and overstimulating him until he is crying, whimpering, and almost fainting. but he would still beg for more. no matter how long it lasts. it could be a week long and he still wouldn't be satisfied.

[hoshifighting]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“cheol… whatthefuck?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“you’re so deep, it feels too good—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[yanderenightmare]

Gojo Satoru x darling

TW: NSFW, noncon, fantasy au

gn reader

Thinking about hunter Gojo and the pretty little nymph that gets themselves snared in one of his traps.

You can’t get your poor leg loose, having twisted your ankle in your fall to the ground – something’s wrong with your wing too, you can feel it – the thin network’s been folded, almost broken – so even if you did manage getting loose, you wouldn’t be able to fly away.

Branches snap around you along the crunch of old leaves – and your heart’s beating out of your chest in fear of it – knowing something large and dangerous is not far behind, that whoever set the trap is not something that wishes you well.

“You’re not a rabbit.” The man says, having crept in close before you’d even heard him approach – crouching in front of you with a hunter's grace. Hawk-eyes ice-blue and piercing, hair as white as pure snow.

He’s got three daggers sleaved in his belt – a fillet knife, a gutting knife, and a larger one you imagine is meant to slice throats. He doesn’t carry a sword like most men but has a bow and sack of arrows slung on his back. Otherwise, dressed lightly – brown leather boots, brown slacks, and a blue cotton shirt. You could have mistaken him for a woodland elf if it weren’t for the thick stench of man.

“Eating creatures from the holy forest is forbidden.” You snip, despite your wide eyes and the wobble of fear evident on your lip.

He only smiles at the quip, a grin like a predator humored by prey. “You wouldn’t tell a wolf not to hunt.”

He stalks you, leaning in closer, and you try shuffling away – but the movement only makes you wince.

“I’m just another hungry animal…”

Rope gnaws into your fine skin while his breath puffs hot and dewy on your face.

“And tonight… seems lady luck has favored me once again.”

He gags you and ties you further up before redoing his snare for the next unlucky creature – then carries you over his shoulder until he’s dropping you down on a bed of furs.

Your skin flushes with goosebumps at the thought of being skinned the same way – mouthing a little prayer around the cloth he’s split your teeth and lips with. He’s cut trees down as well; you hear their pitiful screams when he lights a fire with their bodies. You mourn them, too.

At his full height, the man must be two heads taller than any male nymph you’ve ever seen and at least three heads taller than you. You hope you’re enough to satisfy him tonight, to spare the forest of further bloodshed.

You shiver and sniffle when he starts prepping you – removing your clothes and groping your tender, fleshy places with a strength you’re not used to – hands large and crass – kneading you like dough – probably to assess the quality of your meat. He has a smile on his face while at it. 

Humans make you sick – to think he’s planning on roasting then eating you despite the soul fueling your spirit and the beating heart in your chest. But you’ve long known that all death but their own matters little to them – they don’t feel the same way nymphs do – they don’t regard life with the same respect they’ve donned themselves. It must be a sad and lonely existence, you think. It even makes you feel a little sorry for him.

You yelp when his gritty fingers brush the area between your legs – shimmying when he lowers his mouth down to the same place. Oh God – does he plan on eating you raw? While your body’s still hot and pumping blood?

But the bite never comes – not yet eating but tasting it would seem – licking and slurping and sucking on you.

He takes his shirt off. Probably to avoid spilling on it, you think.

You don’t really understand what’s going on until he’s got his fat manhood pointed toward your kernel-sized hole. Eyes wide as he splits you apart slowly and unabashedly – as though it isn't as deviant as a dog mating a cat – sinking in inch after meaty inch.

You whimper at the stretch – wincing when the plush mushroom-shaped head grinds against that special place inside you. 

It doesn’t fit more than halfway, but that doesn’t seem to bother him – rolling his head back with a rusty groan, even with just the tip gaining purchase within you – pounding into you like a beast in his rut.

“What's the matter, pretty nymph? Did you think I was gonna eat you?” He laughs, bearing over you – his hands steadying your hips to meet his sharp thrust – each hit deeper than the last. “I’m the only hunter in this forest; I can eat what I want when I want – but eating you?” He scoffed and snickered. “That would just be a waste.”

The blood on his breath makes you wrinkle your nose – squeezing your eyes shut as his tongue sweeps up the tear streaks on your cheek.

“My stomach’s already full. Time to empty my balls.”

[plutonianeris]

the late night thoughts…(their pov 18+) 🖤⛓️

pick a pile to read more about their late night thoughts about you (could be a past or future lover).

PILE ONE

You’re under my skin, deeper than I ever wanted anyone to be. I think about the way you touch me, the way your hands roam over me like you’re memorizing every inch of my body. I feel almost embarrassed about the way you had me groaning with my hands sinking into your skin as you bounced up and down. I close my eyes, and I can almost feel it—the heat of your skin, the weight of your body pressed against mine. God, I miss you. It’s terrifying, this need I have for you. I’ve never felt so out of control, so consumed by someone else. But with you, it’s different. You make me feel things I didn’t even know were possible. Every time you touch me, it’s like fire coursing through my veins, igniting something primal inside me. I tell myself I shouldn’t feel this way, that it’s dangerous to want someone this much. But every time I’m with you, the rest of the world fades away. You’re all I see, all I need. I want to lose myself in you, in the way you make me feel like I’m the only thing that matters. Even now, in the silence of the night, I’m aching for you. For your hands, your lips, your everything.And I know—no matter how hard I try to fight it—you own me. Heart, body, soul.

PILE TWO

The clock says it’s late, but sleep won’t come. Not when every thought I have is wrapped up in you. I’ve never felt this kind of pull before, this magnetic force drawing me to you, even when you’re not here. It’s maddening, really—how I can’t seem to think of anything else but your touch, your kiss, the way you make me feel like I’m losing control. You’ve awakened something in me. Something dark, something I didn’t even know I was capable of. And I want more of it. More of you.When we’re together, it’s like the air crackles with electricity. Every look, every word between us is charged, like the tension is about to snap. And when it does... God, it’s like nothing I’ve ever felt before. You undo me, completely. It’s like you see right through me, to the core of who I am, and instead of running away, you want more. I can’t get you out of my head. I can’t get the way you make me feel out of my system. The way your hands grip my body like you can’t get enough. The way you kiss me like you’re starving for it, like I’m the only thing that can satisfy you. I should be scared of how much I want you. But I’m not. Because with you, I’m more alive than I’ve ever been. I dont want that to scare you. I just want to make you happy. I want to make you feel so good. Those little faces you make I want to see them while you’re under me, eyebrows scrunched, clawing at me and begging to give you exactly what I’ve been dying to give you.

PILE THREE

I think about your hands—how they know exactly where to touch, how they ignite a fire inside me with just a single brush against my skin. The memory of your lips on mine still lingers, and I bite my lip, trying to stop the rush of heat that spreads through me at the thought. There’s something about you. Something I can’t resist, even though I know I should. You push me, challenge me, make me feel things I didn’t know I could feel. You’ve become a part of me, and I don’t know if I can ever go back to the way things were before you. I hate how much I need you. I hate that you’re always in my head, even when I try to push you away. How you always have the perfect response and always know what just to say. But more than anything, I hate that I can’t stop wanting you. How every time you roll your eyes and grin at something stupid I say I imagine your eyes rolling back with your face pressed in the mattress, your hands reaching forward, whimpering that its too much and me pulling you by the waist even closer mumbling how you’re doing so good, that its yours, and that your mine so you’re going to be a good girl and take it all…

[httpsserene]

Hiiii

I just got done reading your masterpiece with the Austrian bread and got an idea.

What about the making of Aussie kids? Reader would have a baby fever and Toto would immediately be like ‘let’s make one’ and reader would cry out ‘ but I’m on birth control’

Pure chaos and smut

Sending positive vibes

𝐚 𝐛𝐮𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐧 - 𝐭. 𝐰𝐨𝐥𝐟𝐟

𝐭𝐨𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐲 - 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐰𝐨

summary: don’t bake a man’s favorite bread unless you want to have his kids. it’s a good thing you’re desperate to do exactly that. content warning: 18+ only. mdni. explicit sexual content. kitchen sex. pregnancy kink. baby fever. unprotected sex. vaginal sex. creampie. implied masturbation. implied age gap. reader and toto are married. breeding kink (i guess)? birth control. actual pregnancy. beta read by @biancathecool pairing: toto wolff x fem!black!reader genre: written fic (1.8k words).

from serene: here’s the part two to toasty, i hope it satisfies the requests i got for this! i personally don’t understand the thirst some of you have for toto but, i do respect it. maybe one day i’ll see what y’all do or somebody can educate me on it but, i do hope y’all are pleased with this one xxx

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A switch has been flipped in your brain—you’ve become more than insatiable for your husband. After he railed you on the counter for making his favorite bread, baking has become your entire personality. The way Toto looked at you after he tried your first attempt at an authentic pumpernickel bread changed how your brain fires. The mix of love and lust that filled his gaze had awoken an innate instinct within you: you need to have this man’s babies.

You’ve always claimed to be an independent woman, your dream was never to become a man’s accessory, or housewife, or tradwife. But, for Toto? For the way he looked at you as he had his first taste of your pastry? You’d set feminism back for a hundred years to keep getting fucked like that for the rest of your life. You spent an ungodly amount of money (Toto’s money) on baking utensils and you’ve pretty much been running a bakery out of your kitchen. Every few hours you’re shoving a pastry down your husband’s throat, eagerly awaiting his praise for each creation you seem to bake perfectly. 

Off-handedly around a mouthful of cinnamon sugar knots you baked, Toto moaned at the dessert melting on his tongue, seemingly in a daze when he murmured, “I’m going to get you pregnant if you keep baking like this.”

You laughed at his unexpected outburst, brushing it off as Toto hyperbolizing how great the dessert was. However, it was like the words infected your brain–every waking hour, you constantly thought about having his kids. And it didn’t help that once Toto heard you set a timer for the oven, he’d be tearing your clothes off and fucking you on the nearest surface. The kitchen island is a favorite, but there was an instance where he took you on the floor. Afterward, he claimed to be too old for sex on tiled floors, but you were too busy imagining growing a baby in your belly to care.

The severity of your baby fever is only realized when you reach into your nightstand to take your birth control and...you hesitate. You’re on the last week of pills, you should message your clinic to get a refill. Imagine a child, a mixture of you and Toto. And, you’re aware that pregnancy can be rough but you’d finally be able to decorate that spare room into a nursery instead of letting it collect dust. A baby; a combination of your best halves. Would they have your deeper skin tone, or Toto’s height, or your curls, or his nose, or your eyes? You could have your baby cradled to your chest as you bake for your husband, their father—

“Schatz?” Toto calls in question from his side of the bed, eyes concerned through the lens of his glasses, “You froze, are you okay?”

You shake the thoughts from your head, the smile you give him is slightly strained. You complete the monotonous motion of swallowing tonight’s allocated contraception with a sip of water. Tossing the packet back in the drawer, you speak, “Yes, I’m fine. I just realized that I need to order more birth control.”

His eyes examine your expression for a moment before he nods and offers a simple, “Hm.” in response. Toto fixed his eyes back on the book in front of him, and you ignore the disappointment that burns in your chest. Sighing mutely, you grab your phone and request a refill in your clinic’s online portal.

The next morning you’re awoken by Toto sweetly petting you awake, his thumb tracing lightly along your cheekbone. He murmurs an apology as he reveals that he’s going to be trapped in the home office today with back-to-back meetings concerning the looming Formula One season. You pouted even while you nodded your understanding, pleading for a kiss before you lost his attention for the day, which Toto happily divulged.

You busy yourself, prepping Toto’s favorite pastry and setting it to bake in the oven as early as possible. As a caring wife, you prepare meals for him and slip into his room to deliver them knowing he would forget to eat if you didn't remind him. You make sure his coffee never runs low, even if you switched to decaf after the second mug—he shouldn’t have too much caffeine at his age, you’d like to grow old with him eventually. To your dismay, Toto did not lie about being locked in the office. He was sequestered within those four walls well past sunset and as a result, you’ve produced enough baked goods in your free time to power the entire Mercedes factory for a week.

“I think we are going to have to discuss a limit for how many things you can bake in a day, schatz,” your husband sounds from the kitchen entryway, an awe-filled look on his face as he sees the bakery you’ve created. 

“The pumpernickel bread is still baking—would you like a cinnamon roll instead? Or a chocolate chip cookie? Or could I interest you in a slice of apple pie?”

You’re well aware that your curls are a mess in the loosely fastened bun dangling low on your head, you probably have streaks of flour and other various baking ingredients on your face mirroring the dirty surface of your apron. The unhinged baker aesthetic you’ve suddenly adopted is pulled together by the wide grin splayed across your lips. 

“I could eat all three,” Toto hums, his eyes darkening as he approaches you in the kitchen, fingers rushing to untie your apron, “—If you can help me work up an appetite.”

Various baked goods are shoved out of the way to make space for you to be bent over the island. Your flushed brown skin is cooled by the marble surface, nipples hardening quickly at the temperature but, it doesn’t stop you from spreading your legs and helping Toto tug your panties to the side underneath your skirt. He’s quick to press a finger within your entrance and pauses when the slide is too easy.

You squirm desperately, whining when Toto halts your hips from rocking backward on his hand.

“Schatz,” Toto murmurs, his free hand palming at your ass, “Did you—”

“Yes!” You cut him off, stomping at the delay, “I got bored waiting for things to bake—I’m ready, just fuck me.”

Thankfully, Toto is quick to listen to you and substitute his finger for his cock, his slacks unzipped enough to pull himself out. At the stretch, your eyes roll back and you lose the strength to hold your head up, letting it fall to press against the cool marble. You feel your husband still his hips but you reach your hand backward to grasp at his pressed dress shirt, using your grip to tug him forward, a non-verbal cue for him to keep sinking into you. He curses lowly and leans downward to rest his head on the back of your neck, pressing the remaining few inches inside.

Twin moans of pleasure are exhaled into the kitchen, Toto’s hands move to hold your waist, his clasp on your skin tight, reflecting the force he’s mustering to refrain from fucking into you without your approval. The burn from his girth fades quickly replaced by the feeling of fullness you’ve become addicted to. You roll your hips softly, moaning shakily at the drag of his length within you and Toto meets your rhythm smoothly. 

He fucks into you deeply, grunting on every other thrust in, you feel the breath of his chuckle ghost across your back when you fall limp in his hands; he’s well aware that you enjoy sitting pretty and taking what he gives you. Your cunt clings to his cock, the plush heat trying its hardest to disallow Toto from exiting, urging him to stay buried inside of you as he scrapes directly over your most sensitive points. 

Your husband straightens himself upright, pressing you firmly down on the counter with a hand in the middle of your back, his other hand slipping around to rest on your navel while keeping your hips angled upward for a better angle.

His thrusts become rougher and you can only scramble to hold on to the island, hands slipping from the sweat accumulated on your palms and skin. Your mouth is parted, drooling from the corner of your lip, chest heaving as you struggle to breathe through his thrusts, moans and gasps punched out of your chest, his cock hardened and pulsing within you, and your curls bouncing out of your bun and sticking to your back and forehead from the heat.

Toto’s hand presses into your belly, and he pants lowly, “You feel me right in here—I’m going to put a baby in you, schatz.”

You shudder in his arms, eyelids fluttering as you struggle to reply, and you swear you feel yourself become wetter at the image your husband planted in your mind.

“You can’t,” you whine out roughly, whimpering as the force of his thrusts rocks you up across the island, the ledge digging into your hips, “ah—’m on birth control!”

He grunts dismissively, patting his hand on your belly as his rough thrusts are exchanged for deep grinds, hitting places that send tantalizing rushes of pain along with pleasure up your spine, “Okay,” Toto huffs, “Stop taking it.”

You mean to ask clarifying questions, but he doesn’t let you get a word in as he continues to ramble about getting you pregnant.

“Fuck, I’m going to give you a baby, yes?” “—Going to be so pretty carrying our child.” “You’ll be such a good mum.”

The last one pushes you over the edge harshly, your nerves burning at the white-hot flash of pleasure, the sounds of Toto following you muffled to your ears as your orgasm floods your senses. You feel a dampness on your cheeks and it takes Toto wiping it away to realize you’re crying. His hips continue to slowly grind deeply within you, his cum painting your walls, and he pulls you upwards to press your lips together.

“You were serious,” your voice cracks embarrassingly as you moan the words into Toto’s lips, “About the birth control?”

“Yes,” your husband answers confidently, his words supported by a firm thrust of his cock that makes your eyes roll and body shiver, “If that’s what you want, of course.”

You hum, pleased at his response, “You need to remind me to call the clinic tomorrow to cancel my refill order.”

Toto grumbles incoherently, more concerned with toying with your nipples and kissing along your collarbone, “Yes, schatz—can you go again? I want to put a baby in you as quickly as possible. You would look so beautiful with a bump, no?”

5 weeks later you run out of the bathroom and leap into your husband's arms, brandishing a positive pregnancy test wildly. 

You laugh gleefully, tears of joy forming in your waterline, “I guess both of us are bakers now!”

“What?” Toto offers confused, trying to still your arm to grab the test.

“Both of us are bakers now! You put a bun in my oven!”

© httpsserene2024

[calypsocolada]

how your first kiss went with them... ft. shigaraki, aizawa, & hawks

authors note: hi hi! just finished watching season 6 of mha and got inspired. first time writing for mha characters and started with my favorite ones :) hope you all enjoy!!

cw: angst, fem! one for all weilder, slight spoilers for season 6

wc: 2.6k

click here for my masterlist

Tomura could only watch as his mind was stolen, watch his body being overtaken by a force he wasn’t strong enough to stop. All for One’s control taking over. He knew he had seconds left before he’d no longer cease to be himself. You burned with hatred beneath him, your left arm broken and useless, your right hand holding some sharp shrapnel that you’d plunged desperately into his side, your powers flickering weakly within you. He didn’t feel the pain. Your eyes flashed, his hands around your neck, squeezing. Someone was going to win here but… it wasn’t going to be him. 

He pulled you hard, the fire in your eyes licking and burning his own but he couldn’t care less. If he was going to die he was going to make one last grave mistake that might send him to the grave earlier than expected. He leaned down where you were pinned beneath him and with impressive force, smashed his lips against your own. 

The kiss was like a fight. Like all your other fights. But lips instead of fists. With breaths instead of words. With groans instead of screams and growls. His hands gripped your face hard to keep you where he wanted you. You, in a fit of confusion and pure survival instinct twisted the shrapnel in his side. He gasped in pain but that only spurred him on, his mouth cracking yours open in a feverish attempt to be as close as humanly possible. He had no indication whether or not you wanted this until the pain ceased and he felt your tongue brush against his. His breathing hitched, muddled with pain and sorrow and complete obsession. He pulled you off the ground roughly and kissed you until you both were gasping for air. When he pulled back the state he left you in was enough to satisfy him for years. Your lips were kissed pink and wet, your cheeks had a wicked blush across them as you stared at him with utter bewilderment and something else that had his stomach tangling in knots within him.

He resigned himself to death then. He was guilty as sin.

Your hand was still on the hilt of your shrapnel that was embedded in his side as you stared at each other. Breaths heavy. Tomura didn’t know how to be kind. He didn’t know how to be soft. He’d never kissed anyone before and it should’ve been pretty damn suspicious when the first person he’d ever felt the need to devour with his lips was the one standing opposite of him in this endless war. The one he needed to destroy. And to say he wanted to devour you was almost an understatement. He wanted to climb into your body and live in your ribcage, safe and tucked away. He wanted to be inside you, wanted that mind of yours to only know him, wanted those pink lips to only speak his name, those pretty eyes to only meet his. The obsession was endless. He wanted it more than ever right now. Death knocking down his rotted door. So bad that he hadn’t even noticed his own tears before they fell and hit your cheeks. You blinked a few times, slowly coming back down from the clouds. Tomura reached for you a last time, the pad of his thumb swiping his tears off your cheek. 

“Save me, hero.” He breathed out before everything went black.

~

“Again!” He called as you huffed. Aizawa was a relentless teacher. You felt your powers flicker inside your veins as you tried to control them, to harness them and use them the way they were meant to be used. But dammit, you were tired. You two had been at this for hours. You weren’t some kid he could push around and it was then, with exhaustion mingling with annoyance you shook your head defiantly. Throwing your hands down.

“I’m done!” You growled at him, tossing aside your practice weapon. Aizawa straightened.

“We’re just getting started, hero.” He mocked as you stared at him with venom. He knew all about your inherited quirk, knew there wasn’t much time for you to harness it and so he’d been pushing you to the edge for months to train you. 

“Don’t call me that.”

“What should I call you then? Fraud?” He asked and that fire that you wanted to extinguish flickered in seconds, catching your inside on fire. 

“I’ll kill you!” You growled. You didn’t need that useless weapon. You outstretched your arm and black whip shot out like an extension of your grip, it wrapped around Aizawa in milliseconds as you yanked him towards you. You knew he’d use erasure and you were looking forward to it. The moment he used it it didn’t stop his moment as black whip dissolved around him, your powers canceled out only for his face to meet your fist. You hit him hard enough to rattle the brain in his skull. He hit the ground even harder and for a moment your heart leaped. He’d always said you were quick to fly off the handle and you’d just proved him right. Your hand ached, your knuckles busted. Aizawa groaned from the ground, pushing up on his forearms. You breathed out a relieved breath, thinking you had maybe killed him with that fuckery of a move. 

“That was smart.” He sighed, his upper cheek already had a bruise forming. “Why don’t you give me this energy during practice instead of making me get you angry?” He asks as you look at him hard.

“We’ve been at it for hours.” You growled angrily. “I’m tired.”

“And you don’t think I am too?” He pushed to his feet, giving you a hard look, his dark hair falling in his face. “You are a brat. You are stronger than any quirk user yet you don’t care enough to really harness those powers. You asked for this.”

“I know!” You burst out, turning pointedly away from him, dreaming of your bed, dreaming of a night without nightmares of all for one stealing your power and killing the world. You weren’t a kid but you were still young, young enough that this burden on your shoulders was crushing you. 

“You can’t run from this.” Aizawa said but he didn’t sound angry. You still didn’t turn to face him. “You think you’re all alone?”

“Of course I’m alone! It’s just like you said, I’m the strongest.”

“Everyone needs a hand. Even All-Might.” Aizawa said. You turned on him, eyes sharp. 

“All-Might defeated All for one on his own. There’s not a soul that could stand beside me and not be killed.”

“I’ve stood beside you this whole time. I’ve trained you. You think I’ll just let you go at it alone after everything we’ve been through?” Aizawa asked as the look in your eyes hardened.

“I won’t let you.” You said in a low, intimidating voice. Aizawa’s lips parted slightly. “All for one will not get a shot at you. I’ll die before that happens.”

“You’re stubborn but not as stubborn as me.” Aizawa returns, taking a step towards you. “I’m with you till the end.”

“Did you not hear a word I-” Aizawa leaned into your space, hand sliding over your cheek as his lips cut off your sentence. You almost pulled back but he stepped closer to you, one hand on your face the other sliding around you and resting on the dip of your back. You pushed him back forcefully, your breath shaky as you stared at him. 

“Forgive me… I-” You grabbed him roughly by his shirt, slamming your lips against his. He grunted against your lips in surprise, hands barely ghosting over your hips. You kissed him unforgivingly hard. This was a sort of ultimate payback in a small way, of all the hours he overworked you. You pushed him back on the training mat and slid atop him. This was a form of practice, right? A workout that wouldn’t exhaust you… or would it? If he thought for a moment you’d let him help you now he was sorely mistaken. But on the other side of the coin, if you thought for a moment he wouldn’t die for you, you were sorely mistaken as well. Rock meets hard place.

~

“Idiot.” You growled beside his hospital bed. Hawks looked peaceful and you wanted nothing more than to shake him awake and smack some sense into him. But he was still healing so your assault of slaps and punches would have to wait. You huffed. Leaning back in your chair, flipping through the channels on the tv. It wasn’t long before your mind wandered to the same thing you’d been thinking about for days.

Hawks almost dying for you. Hawks pushing you aside before you were impaled with Shigaraki’s power. Having to watch Hawks get impaled, having his eyes meet yours and a stupid soft and beautiful smile on his face as he mumbled something you didn’t even get to hear. You tried remembering again, tried focusing on his lips in your memories but it was of no use. You huffed, unable to relax as you turned back to look at him. The number two hero. You stare at him, your eyes drifting to those lips. You willed him to say those words again and when his eyes opened you didn’t even notice.

“Watching me sleep? How romantic.” He said, his voice gruff from being unused for days. You jumped at not only the sound of his voice but being caught staring at his lips.

“I wasn’t. I was trying to kill you with my mind.” You grumbled protectively, eyes snapping up to meet him. The way he looked at you was the most dangerous thing you’d see in a while. The pure adoration in his eyes, the smile that formed on his lips at your joke. It twisted at your insides.

“Are you alright?” He asked because the last thing he remembered in the fight was you hurt and in trouble. You tensed.

“You're the one in a hospital bed.” You growled. Hawks seemed to just notice this fact, he was utterly distracted by the fact that you’d been sitting at his bedside. He reached for your hand but you pulled away and stood to your feet.

“Y/n-”

“I told you not to get involved.” You growled. “I had it under control but you had to go and try to play the hero.”

“I am a hero.” Hawks said, something in his eyes that angered you more.

“Not to me. I don’t need your sacrifice. If you wanna get yourself killed, do it for someone else.” You hissed. He looked at you. You hoped your venomous words would have some effect on him. You wanted him to be angry. Wanted him to hate you. To look at you with harsh eyes but his expression didn’t change.

“Such venom.” He said with a smirk. If you didn’t have some modicum of control over your powers and anger this whole hospital would’ve been brought down. “Are you trying to push me away again?”

“What?” You huffed.

“You heard me, number one. I know what you’re doing but it’s not gonna work.”

“And what am I doing?”

“What you do to everybody you start to care about. You lash out at them so they’re not tempted to stay by your side when things go sideways.” 

“I-- I don’t do that.”

“You’re a terrible liar.” Hawks admonished with a shake of his head. You take in a deep breath, tensing your jaw. “Growl all you want, I’m not getting scared away.”

“You’re crazy. You almost died, this isn’t some fucking joke.”

“I knew I’d be fine. Knew you’d carry me off the battlefield.” He croons, you stare at him hard.

“How could you have known?”

“I’m an optimistic guy.” He smiles. You roll your eyes, turning to leave. He catches your wrist just as you reach for the handle.

“What-? You need to stay in bed, idiot.” You growl as Hawks holds your wrist gently in one hand, the other on his bandaged torso.

“I’ll get back in bed if you stay.”

“Are you serious?” You growl as he nods his head.

“Deadly serious.”

“You’re a child.” You sigh. 

“Stay. Don’t run away from me.” He says and the seriousness in his voice has your stomach flipping. You pull out of his touch.

“Get in bed.” You direct and his eyes look down into yours, a challenge.

“Make me.” He says. Your eye twitches as you waste zero time pushing this idiot back towards his bed. Once the backs of his knees hit the mattress he pulls a move on you and you’re pulled on top of him. You two tumble onto the hospital bed. Your heart lurches dangerously into your throat, feeling the warmth of his hands ghosting your hips. 

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Hush.” He says, hands sliding up to either side of your face as he pulls you down so that your lips meet. The shock of his cold lips against yours was like a rush to your system. An overloading and overheating shock. You gasped at the ache of want that tore through you. That had always been lurking beneath every tense moment with Hawks. Him training you. You two on missions. Reluctant breakfast, lunch, and dinners with him. He wormed his way into your heart and you hated it. Anyone close to you was surely going to be killed and that dangerous hope in your chest that built when he was around should’ve raised flags for you. But you let him in. You selfish creature. You pushed him back, and moved shakily to your feet. Hawks reached for you again and you caught his wrist, twisting it. He flinched in pain, staring at you with confusion and hurt.

“Don’t touch me again.” You growled. You needed space from him, your head swimming, your eyes traitorously drifting to the lips that had just been against yours.

“What's wrong?” Hawks asked. You stepped back, narrowing your eyes.

“You never listen. You-- you’re always trying to confuse me and sneak your way into my-- you need to leave me alone.”

“No.”

“N-No?” You asked as Hawks barely raised his brows, nodding his head. His blond hair falling against his forehead. He looked so annoyingly beautiful you wanted to hit him. 

“I don’t just sacrifice my life for anybody.” He says as he stands, wincing in pain.

“Just stay in the damn bed-” He pulled you to him, inches taller than you, eyes unwaveringly serious as he spoke his next sentence.

“I love you.” He said and the words had your eyes widening, a soft gasp escaping your lips. He clearly loved that he caught you off guard. “You don’t have to say it back. I just wanted you to know what I said.” 

“What you said?” You echo, unable to properly digest this moment. 

“When I saved you. I said I loved you.” The words his lips spoke that you’d been driven up a wall trying to remember. If he died you would’ve never known.

“I hate you.”

“Close enough.” He grins, leaning and pressing his lips gently to yours. You didn’t push him off, you didn’t have the strength, something selfish was taking over and you didn’t have the will power to fight it. You’d played it safe for years. Not letting anyone get close. But… you failed. You kissed Hawks back with twice the passion, pushing him back on the bed, caging him beneath you. If he was going to love you you were going to let him. Damned selfishness…

[satoruxx]

stubble toji but u squeal when he eats u out

had to take a minute to breath nonnie bc oh my god

stubble toji is insufferable with it too, because he knows how you normally react when he's pressing the rough texture of his jaw against your skin. god knows he'll take advantage of it in every possible situation.

taunts like crazy, saying things like "what's wrong, doll? still hate the feelin'?” even as his hands grip your thighs and spread them apart. you scoff, cheeks practically on fire as you look down at his smug grin.

"quit teasing, toji."

he just chuckles throatily, chin brushing over the skin of your inner thigh just barely, and he mentally notes the way you shiver at the feeling.

toji already drives himself crazy when he eats you out, mostly because the choked moans and whines that he can pull from you with a skillful flick of his tongue has his pride singing.

but when you squeal in between your gasps, caught off guard by the rough sensation in between his licks—that is a different high all together.

he groans against your skin when you do, stubble pressing deep against it as he suckles at your clit eagerly.

the sound, quite literally, goes straight to your core.

“ah fuck baby, that’s it,” he grunts, fingers tightening around your thighs in a way you know will leave marks. he deliberately presses his jaw into you when he can, eyes hooded as he hears the sound it pulls from you. “feel good, huh?”

“uh huh—” you nod eagerly, unable to stop your hips from bucking into his tongue as he teases your clit and laps up your juices. “so good.”

an evil smirk as he pulls back, chin glistening and eyes satisfied. “thought you always whine about how my stubble is too scratchy.”

“it is,” you huff—adamant. “you’re always tormenting me with it.”

“don’t hear you complaining now,” he murmurs—smug. his lips find your clit again, sucking and licking until your vision goes hazy. “still want me to shave?”

you’ve never said no quicker in your life.

[driverlando]

🏎️ oscar holding your legs down and pressing his hand on your stomach when he’s eating you out so you can’t squirm or squeeze your legs around his head because he wants you to take it

here you go lovie!

—

The room was filled with a comfortable silence, the kind that envelops two people who are completely at ease with each other. The glow from the bedside lamp cast soft shadows on the walls, adding to the intimate atmosphere. You lay on the bed, heart racing with anticipation as Oscar stood at the foot of it, his eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that made your breath catch.

Oscar’s public shyness was endearing, but in these private moments, he transformed into someone else entirely—confident, commanding, and irresistibly alluring. He slowly crawled onto the bed, his hands gliding over your thighs with a tenderness that belied the heat in his gaze.

“Are you ready?” he asked, his voice a deep, soothing rumble.

You nodded, unable to find your voice, the anticipation making your body hyperaware of every touch, every movement. Oscar’s lips quirked into a small smile, his eyes never leaving yours as he positioned himself between your legs.

He leaned down, pressing soft kisses to the inside of your thighs, each touch sending shivers of pleasure through your body. Your instinct was to squirm, to close your legs around him and pull him closer, but Oscar had other plans.

“Stay still for me,” he murmured against your skin, his breath hot and tantalizing.

You tried to obey, but the sensation was overwhelming. Oscar’s tongue flicked out, tracing a slow, deliberate path that made you moan softly. Your hips bucked involuntarily, seeking more contact, more of his touch.

Oscar’s hands moved to your hips, gripping them firmly. “I said, stay still,” he repeated, his tone a mix of authority and patience. His hands slid up your body, one hand resting on your stomach, pressing down gently but firmly. The pressure was grounding, a reminder of his control.

He resumed his ministrations, his tongue and lips working in perfect harmony. Each movement was calculated to drive you wild, to push you to the edge and keep you there. The pressure of his hand on your stomach intensified the sensation, making every touch feel even more powerful.

You could feel the tension building, your body trembling with the effort to stay still. Every nerve ending was on fire, every touch sending sparks of pleasure through you. Oscar’s grip tightened, his thumb brushing soothing circles on your skin as he worked.

“Don’t move,” he commanded softly, his voice a dark promise. “I want you to take it all.”

You whimpered, your hands clutching the sheets as you fought to obey. The sensation was almost too much, your body aching with need. But Oscar’s firm touch, his steady presence, kept you grounded, kept you focused.

His mouth was relentless, his tongue flicking and swirling in a rhythm that had you teetering on the edge. The pressure of his hand on your stomach kept you pinned, unable to escape the intense pleasure. You could feel the orgasm building, a tight coil of desire winding tighter and tighter.

“Oscar,” you gasped, your voice barely more than a whisper. “I can’t… it’s too much…”

“You can,” he replied, his voice filled with determination. “You’re going to take it for me. Every bit of it.”

His words sent a thrill through you, his dominance a potent aphrodisiac. You surrendered completely, letting go of any semblance of control. Oscar’s touch was everything, his hands and mouth guiding you to a place of pure ecstasy.

The coil inside you snapped, and you cried out, your body convulsing with the force of your orgasm. Oscar didn’t let up, his mouth working you through every wave of pleasure, drawing out your release until you were a trembling, breathless mess beneath him.

Only when he was satisfied did he finally pull back, his eyes dark with desire and pride. He moved up your body, his hands gentle as he cradled your face, pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

“You’re amazing,” he whispered, his voice filled with awe. “So beautiful, so perfect.”

You lay there, panting and spent, your body still humming with the aftershocks of pleasure. Oscar’s touch had been commanding, almost overwhelming, but it was also filled with a deep care and tenderness. The contrast between his public shyness and private dominance was intoxicating, leaving you craving more of his touch, more of his control.

He held you close, his fingers gently tracing patterns on your skin, as you slowly fell into a deep slumber.

[vivalarevolution]

𝓘𝓽'𝓼 𝓞𝓴𝓪𝔂 𝓣𝓸 𝓛𝓸𝓿𝓮 𝓣𝓱𝓮𝓶 𝓑𝓸𝓽𝓱

Jacaerys Velaryon x Targaryen Reader x Cregan Stark

Summary: War emerged from the shadows like an old friend, but apart from the war, there were also matters from the past that created new, unknown and dangerous affairs for her, so sinful and so forbidden. And this time she couldn't escape, getting trapped in between seahorse and a wolf.

A/N: A refreshed version of the story , that I really think is one of the better ones I've ever written. I hope you will like it , enjoy it and find it worth reading.

Please remember that english is not my native language, I do not use it on a daily basis, so mistakes can or will happen.

The work contains smut, so minors do not interact with it.

The north was cold, full of ice and snow, and the northern people were even colder. Their eyes gave the shivers, and the low and rough tone of voice made silence the only thing that escaped from the lips of strangers.

But he, Lord of Winterfell, though he seemed to be the same, was the opposite of it all.

Cregan Stark was a wolf in human skin. A man who could bend thousands with just a single glance of his gray irises. He was like fire itself, dangerous and burning under her fingers. He was vicious and wild, devouring her flesh every night, never being satisfied, always wanting more and more until there was nothing left to give.

-Cregan - she moaned into his neck, her nails creating patterns on his back that covered the old ones, not yet healed.

-Feels good, princess? - he purred into her ear, sucking on its lobe, only to kiss it after , feeling her soft skin become covered with goosebumps.

-Oh Cregan - she whimpered, unable to say anything else, repeating his name like a prayer.

The man grabbed her thighs in response, lifting her legs up, letting her ankles rest on his shoulders, gliding his lips over the flesh of her calves, moving his loins deeply and slowly, taking her breath away as she felt the head of his member kissing her cervix again and again ,mixing pain and pleasure together.

-It's so sweet...addictive when you say my name like a prayer - he murmured, lowering his face over hers, rubbing his lips against her full , soft and red, almost swollen ones - It only makes me want to devour you like a hungry wolf and make you mine forever.

-Yes, yes ... only yours - she whispered ,tangling her fingers in the man's brown hair, pulling them again and again, trying to touch his lips, even for a moment - Oh Cregan, please, please! - she moaned directly into his mouth, her lavender irises covered with a robe of crystal tears, threatening to flow out.

-How can I say no to you ,my little dragon? - Cregan asked, moving his hips so brutally and animalistic, contrasting with the controlled movements of his hands that pinned her to the bed, commanding her to take everything, not letting her escape - Take everything I give you, that's right, good girl - he growled like a hungry enraged wolf, making her fall apart before his eyes.

Woman felt as if something had crept into her veins and made her body a shell filled with lust and desire, nothing more. Her muscles went limp, almost non-existent, and her eyes closed embraced in a soothing darkness.

The man's hands were still moving, marking her skin with an electrifying sensation that made her open her eyes, to open her mouth and let his tongue out, to let the wolf prey.

-Cregan - she said quietly so that the only one who could've heard her was the man she mentioned - Kiss me, kiss me again.

Brunet bowed his head, brushing her soft, delicate lips with his, fulfilling her wish.

-You make me a hungry man. Never wanting to stop, never going to stop - he murmured, tasting her again and again, mixing their breaths together.

-No... don't say that - she moaned, feeling his hands on her sensitive breasts, trying to recapture the bit of consciousness that began to ebb away with each movement of his fingers and each kiss of his hot lips.

-That's the truth. I could never lie to you, I can only tell you the truth when I look at you - he panted, attacking her once flawless neck, which was now full of red marks and bites - You have bewitched me, my body and mind and I can't lie. No matter how much you want to hear a lie from my lips.

You have bewitched me. My body and mind.

Those words, she's heard those words before. They echoed in her head, only to sink to the bottom of her stomach, creating a knot so unbearable and painful that she wanted to scream and cry in pain.

-We are enemies...out there, we are enemies to each other - she remarked listlessly, focusing her violet eyes on the snowy window.

-Yet here we're lovers. In my arms you are my beloved, not my enemy - he replied directly to her ear, tenderly kissing the left side of her face.

-When I return to King's Landing and announce the decision of Lord of Winterfell...you will become ... only an enemy - she confessed, after a moment leveling her eyes with him.

Cregan stared intently into her pupils, black as the abyss, drawing him in.

-You are the bane of my existence. And the object of all my desires. Night and day, I dream of you - the man announced and the woman knew every word was sincere, every blink of his grey eyes ,every breath taken during his confession - So when you come back I'll be on the other side fighting to tear you away from the clutches you were born into but didn't want to live. You will be my lover my princess, never my enemy.

Days later, their conversation seemed non-existent. However, in truth, she was forgotten and hidden deep in the darkness by a woman who did not want to remember it, preferring to live in the bliss of unconsciousness. But life was cruel and was not about to let Y/n Targaryen rest, stabbing the princess's heart with long thorns of memories that flooded her like a flood as her eyes saw a familiar figure and heard a voice she once adored.

-I came here as a messenger, not a warrior - he announced and the woman didn't even know who these words were addressed to, for what purpose they were uttered but she didn't care, all she wanted to know was whether it was an illusion.

Prince Jacaerys Velaryon.

It seemed to her that he was standing so close to her, even though in truth he was so far away, but his brown eyes still spotted her in the darkness that surrounded her, no matter how much she tried to hide in it , no matter how she was trying to escape him. He caught her anyway ,right under the noses of the old gods.

-Let go of me - she said as his arms wrapped around her, trapping her inside of them.

-What are you doing here Y/n? Why are you here? - he asked, looking at her, his hands tightening on her body as soon as she moved harder than before.

-I'm delivering a message from my brother. Just as you doing with the message from your mother, my sister - she confessed, looking at him.

Jacaerys released her as if her words were burning, but he didn't let her go. Caging her in the form of his eyesight and body that blocked out everything but him, forcing her to focus only on the young man before her.

-Why? - he asked calmly, sounding almost hurt.

-Why? - she repeated his question, not understanding the meaning of his words, not when they were both now standing on opposite sides of the barricade as enemies - We are at war Jacaerys. There is too late to ask questions , too late to think what if.

They both fell quiet abruptly, letting the silence creep in between them, devouring them from the inside out , and none of them said anything, only staring into the eyes of the other.

-I know this war is real but I don't want to believe that in this war you chose your brother... instead of me - he confessed surprisingly quietly, surprisingly coldly.

-What was between us... it was just an illusion we lived in - Y/n replied, feeling the lump in her throat grow as her heart throbs with pain and her veins flood with anger.

-We decided to love each other - said the brunette, getting closer to the girl, more and more - It was a choice, our choice - he whispered, running his fingers along her cheekbone.

-But it was your choice to make me a woman you could love in the dark but never in the light of day. You've made promises to me before, and like a fool, I believed them. I won't be your fool again - she said firmly, pushing his hand away from her face.

-It was never my intention - he confessed quietly, trying to match her gaze, but she ran away every time - I wanted you, only you.

The white-haired woman shook her head, not believing any of his words and not wanting to listen further.

-Yet you swore to marry Baela. In front of my eyes you chose her over me - Y/n gritted her teeth, voice as cold as ice - Where was your love then, where is it now? There's a woman waiting for you, a woman who have feelings for you, and you're chasing the one you can't have.

Instead of answering, Jacaerys unexpectedly pinned her to a tree behind them, his body clinging to her like a puzzle piece, and his own hands wrapped around the hers.

-I'll always choose you - he announced, inches from her face, rubbing the tip of his nose against hers.

-Don't say that - she whispered, finally leveling her gaze with him - Don't say that. Don't say that, becasue I didn't ask for it. I didn't ask to be plagued by these feelings.

Y/n felt her heart being torn in half, allowing the memories to creep in. But then she remembered the gray irises that soothed her soul, gave her the longed-for oblivion, the hands that protected her and the voice that put her to sleep in the middle of the night.

And yet, she was no longer able to keep everything Jacaerys had once been to her, who he still was - a lover, a rock, a soulmate.

So she let it all in, let the pain tear her from inside, making her throat burn from how much she was forcing herself not to cry, and her eyes glazed almost like glass.

Brunet wanted to touch her, comfort her, but he let her escape from his embrace, letting her disappear into the depths of Godswood. Unaware that Lord Winterfell had been watching their close interaction, revealing a secret he was never meant to discover.

The night came quickly, and in the night came coldness that attacked every bone in her body. But the truth was that it wasn't the cold that was causing it but the feelings that hadn't left her for hours, taunting her.

Her lavender-colored eyes stared at the wildly dancing flames that warmed her face, giving it an orange glow, while one hand lazily glided between the fires until the door to her chamber swung open, causing her to be plucked from the ocean of thoughts, returning to the surface ,to the reality.

Cregan watched her like a wild wolf, wild as well as great, towering over the passage, blocking her only escape route.

With a look that said he knew. He knew something.

-The past can be painful - she said, her face was emotionless, but her eyes hid all the secrets that were in her - Love comes and goes like a gust of wind or a wave on the sea. I believe you know it, you loved and you lost... - she noticed reminding him of the woman who once held his heart, now she was its owner.

-We both loved and lost - he said, approaching her agonizingly slowly - And we both found love where we didn't want to look, in the arms of another - he added, kneeling in front of her, cupping her chin with his hand, stroking the smooth skin of her face with his thumb - But you my dragon , you have the opportunity to regain something that was once taken from you. I will never have that opportunity.

She wished meaning behind his words was unknown to her, but when her eyes saw Jacaerys standing by the door, hidden in the shadows just like she had been so long ago, looking at her as intensely, as passionately as he had during their affair, she knew her secret ceased to be a secret and became the truth that came to light.

-What if I don't want to? - she asked, looking straight at her nephew, wanting to see how he would react to her words - What if choosing the past makes me lose you? - she remarked more quietly, shifting her violet eyes to Lord of Winterfell.

Cregan looked at the younger brunet but it was only a moment, as if there was no need to talk between them, as if everything that was happening was planned.

-I saw your pain. I don't want to see it ever again - he announced, stroking the skin on her cheek, but her eyes still expressed uncertainty, hesitation - It's okay to love something you can't explain, it's okay to love us both princess.

-Just say the word - Jacaerys whispered right into her ear, and she turned her face towards him to almost meet his full lips in a kiss, surprised that he was right behind her ,without her knowing.

Y/n felt like she couldn't breathe, like something had crushed her lungs, preventing her from taking a breath, but as soon as she let out the first words, everything let go, the ropes were cut and the walls fell down.

-Never leave me again - she said to the boy before connecting their lips in a deep, longing kiss, tangling her slender fingers in his thick, dark curls.

She could feel the closeness of Cregan on her spine as he slid the white fabric of her nightgown off her shoulders, brushing her hair from her neck to kiss the skin in the hollow of it. His mouth was hot and possessive, completely different from Jacaerys's soft ones.

The northerner's hand slid down her body, engulfing her womanhood hidden behind the thin material of her underwear, making her whimper into her second lover's mouth as Cregan's rough fingers slid between her legs.

Y/n tried to focus on her breathing as two pairs of hands freed her from her clothes, soon to be kneeling naked between them, feeling vulnerable as their gaze devoured her.

-So wet - Lord of Winterfell muttered, playing with her puffy folds, coating his fingers in the juices that spilled from inside of her.

-So sweet , just for us - Jace said, sliding his hand down her neck, resting his lips on her jaw, planting sensual kisses there.

-Just for you ,both of you - she whispered, feeling herself falling into a state of blissful erotic drunkenness.

-You'll gonna feel us for weeks in your little pussy - Cregan added, slipping his finger into her center , rubbing against her bum.

The younger man kissed her again, his hand still on her neck, squeezing it every time she took a breath into her lungs, while the northerner continued to assault flower of her womanhood, making her leak on her inner thighs. Her abdomen burned with lust.

-You'll be good to us, won't you? - Jacaerys panted heavily into her mouth.

Girl nodded, no longer able to find her voice. Her toes curled from how close she was , how close she was to be pushed over the edge, but just as she was about to fall, all movements stopped.

-You won't cum until we say - Cregan said with a trace of malice in his voice, licking her juices from his fingers - You've been hiding your affairs form both of us. You deserve a punishment.

Both men stood up as she sat on her knees, naked before their eyes, letting them savor the sight of her fair skin.

Her attention was focused on Cregan while Rhaenyra's son was busy with his pants.

Her hand slid up and down his erection, squeezing him here and there , while her thumb stroked the vein on the side of his thick member and  the head, smearing his precum to use as lubricant.

-Aren't you forgetting something little dragon? - Lord of Winterfell asked with a low growl, forcing her to turn to Jacaerys. His manhood, erected, pointed directly at her red lips, waiting. Its top shone with a transparent substance and Y/n leaned closer to lick it while her small hand continued to run along Cregan's shaft.

Taking Jace into her mouth, she pressed her tongue against his member as he slid down her throat. His long fingers tangled between her white curls, pulling at the roots just enough to make her whimper softly, and the vibrations traveled through his shaft to his spine, causing his head to drop with a groan.

-Just like that, good girl - Cregan murmured, her stomach jumping at his words and her chest spread with warmth.

Her thumb traced slow, enticing circles around the northern man's head before she slipped the other lover's member out of her mouth, focusing now on the wolf, kissing the tip of his manhood and licking it from the base. She felt his body twitch under her fingers as she swallowed him, running her hand over the part she couldn't reach.

-You're doing so well my love - Jacaerys praised her, pressing her head into Cregan's member until she choked.

When the young woman felt she was no longer controlled by the hand on her head, she pulled away from both men, taking in air into her lungs, panting breathlessly.

-Come on princess, let the wolf get a taste - the older brunette said, reaching out to pull her up and then kiss her as she stood in front of them.

The kiss was messy, wild, making her cheeks covered in saliva and precum.

-On the bed - Jace broke the kiss abruptly, grabbing the nape of her neck to make her look at him, slapping her left asscheek and striking it again as he felt her soft body tremble at his touch.

-Spread your legs, little dragon - Cregan said, standing beside the prince while she lay down on the furs in front of them - Show us what is ours.

Y/n propped her legs up on the bed, opening herself up.

-Play with yourself - sounded the next command and the girl didn't even know who said it, being clouded with desire.

A finger glided up and down her wet and swollen folds with ease, and her body quickly began to tremble as she ran it over her clit, circling the sensitive nub.

-Put those pretty fingers inside your pussy - came the next words, in a low and menacing tone that sounded almost animal-like.

Moving her hand down to her center, she did as she was told. Her hips met the movements of her hand as she moved, trying to find her sweet spot, meowing miserably every time when she failed.

-Faster - Cregan said - Come on, show us how pretty you look when you cum.

Playing with her like this, telling her what to do with her burning womanhood made her cum with tears in her eyes, and a feeling of her legs shake intensely. And before her senses could have return to her, Jacaerys laid down next to her, pulling Y/n against his warm, muscular body for her to wrap her legs around his waist in response, pressing her breasts against his chest as his big member rubbed against her puffy clitoris.

-I need to feel you around me - he murmured, grabbing her hips, rubbing her against his manhood, watching her release drip onto his shaft.

At the thought, the young woman could feel her walls tightening and her heart involuntarily jumping into her throat. And when he entered her, stretching her walls that he almost tearing her apart, it made her moan loudly, burying her face in his neck.

Cregan, however, gave her no time to adjust to her other lover, unable to help himself as her femininity struggled to take the prince all inside her, leaving a ring of white ,creamy substance behind.

Y/n felt the bed sink behind her, and soon the northernman's member entered her wet ,tight canal, leaving her breathless. Mixing pleasure with pain.

-You're doing so well , my good girl - said Lord of Winterfell, kissing her bare shoulder blades, covering them with bites and red marks - You taking us both so good ,aren't you? Your sweet pussy was made for us - his voice, though low and dangerous, trembled here and there as her walls tightened around the two members.

Her face was wet with tears and saliva as they mercilessly pounded her cervix. Their hands were all over her body, holding her in place as they feasted on her body, and all she could do was moan and mewl, taking everything they were giving her.

-She's so drunk on the feeling - Jacaerys said, watching her expression , when his lips weren't attacking her skin.

-It's so easy to break our little dragon - the older brunette added, pushing his hips out, grabbing her bum - But she looks so beautiful when she's broken, making me never want to stop.

Woman felt her body flooded with a wave of hot flames, which made her walls tighten, stopping their movements almost completely, making both of them, unable to stop themselves, and cumming deep inside her, filling her to the full, while a pleasant familiar warmth flooded her lower body, flowing from her after a while, which made her tremble, falling helplessly onto Jacaerys' torso.

The smell of sex filled the air like an intoxicant that possessed their minds that were already clouded with lust.

And so the seahorse and the wolf feasted on the white-haired dragon. Over and over and again , never wanting to stop.

[peachesofteal]

Cool girl

ghoap x female reader / 18+ warning: the boys are foul - could be considered dub con / part one / part two

Two (three) can play at that game.

"When you're done being a brat, call us."

You decide within a week, that you're very much not done being a brat.

And you're very much done with them.

Fuck them, you coach yourself in the mirror as you fix your makeup. Fuck them both. And her, whoever she is, though you know she doesn't deserve your wrath. She probably has no idea the tangled web she's walked into, she's the one stuck in the trap, now.

The doorbell rings, and you check your reflection one more time, satisfied with your dress, the way it gathers across your breasts, how it flatters your shape. It's a tad short, there's a bit of cleavage, little pieces that make it more than perfect. Something about this style, the way it fits, always drove the boys nuts, so it should be more than good enough for your date.

Fuck them.

You bring him to the dive. It's a safe choice, the bartender knows you, pays attention. You feel safe here, familiar. It's a great option for a first date.

And because you're a cool girl, you don't know how to play pool.

Of course, he's happy to teach you.

You start with a tequila. It scalds on the way down and settles like fire, but it takes the edge off. One turns to two, and it's enough to get you closer, allowing him to rest his hand on your knee at the bar, allowing him to keep a hand at the small of your back as he guides you to the finally empty pool table.

He's handsy, and normally, you'd be a little put off.

But not tonight.

"Okay, it's simple. You use the white ball to break." He lines up your shot for you, folding you into place, bending forward, hand brushing against your thigh as he leans beside you.

You intentionally short the shot, barely breaking the triangle of balls free. He chuckles. "Not bad for a first go."

"What do I get if I win?" Your smile is shy, and it's only half forced. You do like this guy, he's very nice, very attractive. Tall with a strong jawline, kind eyes. His fingers find yours, and his touch is gentle, patient.

"A kiss?" He ventures, testing the waters. You nod.

"Sure thing."

You're halfway through the game when the energy in the bar shifts. It's like everyone freezes, a collective whoosh of air washing through the bodies hunched over at the bar, loitering on the walls, perched on the wrought iron chairs out back.

The regulars look at one another and then return to studying the TV, or each other, their half empty drinks.

You don't need to look, to know.

You can feel them.

Apparently, so can your date.

"Don't look, but there are two guys staring at you, across the bar." You bat your eyelashes.

"Who?" It's innocent, this kind of play. Playing dumb. It's pure, until your chin turns over your shoulder and find them, white knuckled and focused, Johnny alight with anger, Simon stoic as ever. Sadness, and rage, roar inside your head, and you force yourself to look them in their eyes. Force yourself to be brave.

After a second, you turn away and into your date. He pulls you closer, palm resting on your lower back, mouth dangerously close above your ear. "Are they bothering you?" What a nice guy.

"No." You assuage immediately. You know what would happen, if he tried to be your knight in shining armor. You know how it would end.

With blood. Broken bones. And tears.

"Let's keep playing." You suggest. "Will you show me how to hold the stick?" Your teeth hold onto the last syllable, hand wrapping around the polished length of the wood, slowly moving it up and down. Your heart pounds, but a thrill rushes through you at the same time. Fuck them. Your date raises an eyebrow, mouth cocking into a sly smile, and nods.

After your third drink, you can't delay using the bathroom anymore. Skin tingling from all the places his hands have traversed, you're dizzy with the pulse of power, the high of your performance. It's wrong, and twisted but...

they deserve it. They deserve worse.

"I'll be right back." You promise, tracing a fingernail down his arm. "Get another round?" He trots off, eager to please.

The chairs scrape as soon as you turn into the dingy hallway, and their shadows fill the air, sucking it dry. You resist the urge to turn, palm flat against the swinging door of the toilets.

"What are ye doin'?" Johnny rages, and you turn to mouth off, only to jerk backwards at the realization of how close he is. You can count the flecks of gold around his irises, see the shimmer of cerulean blue. Simon stands at his back, a wall blocking out the rest of the hall, hiding you from view.

"I'm on a date." Simon laughs.

"You call this little show a date, sweetheart? Is that what you think that is?"

"Not sure you'd know what I'm like on a date since you never took me on one." You spit, and Johnny goes rigid, muscles hardening.

"Not sure that little boy would know the first thing about handlin' ye."

"Handling me?" The squeak your voice makes is embarrassing and incredulous at the same time. "Handle me? You think I need handling? I'm a full grown woman. I don't need-" He presses closer, close enough you can smell him, and your mouth drops open when he pushes you against the wall, cock hard under his jeans. "J-johnny."

"Aye, we think ye need handlin'. Ye're only supposed to be handled by us. Not by some sad wank who cannae stop droolin' like a dog."

"Stop." The resolve in your voice wavers, your resistance cracking and crumbling as Simon appears beside him, mouth pressing to your ear.

"You think that boy has a fat cock to feed you, sweet girl? Think he knows how-" One of them cups you between your legs over the fabric of your dress, palm grinding against your clit, and you grit your teeth against the friction, the moan it tries to pull from your throat. "to take care of this pussy?"

"She's high maintenance, ye know." Johnny snickers, lips dotting your cheek, down to your neck. He cups a fistful of your breast, thumb stroking where your nipple strains beneath your bra. "Ye think he'll be able to make ye gush for him? Make ye cum on his cock?" You're boiling, anger and desire feeding twin flames, trying to sputter out a response.

"What's going on here?" Your date practically shouts from the edge of the hallway, and Simon's grin turns feral. Predatory.

Fear strikes, and turns you cold.

"D-don't." You try to implore.

"Are you okay?" Your poor date catches your gaze, and you try to will him away with your eyes.

"Leave him alone." You plead.

"Fuck off mate. This is between us and our girl. Ye're done here."

"Excuse me?" He steps closer, and Simon pushes off the wall. Desperate, you latch onto his forearm.

"Simon, please. He's not-"

"He said you're done here." Simon snarls. "Run along like a good boy."

"Fuck you." He postures, and you shake your head frantically, trying to step out between them. Johnny doesn't budge, keeping you half pinned against the wall.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you? Maybe you'd like to watch us fuck her, after we make you beg for it. After we stretched out your neglected little hole." Johnny laughs, a cackle full of crow, smart and mischievous, and you nearly faint. Your date looks sick.

He takes one look at you, another look at the boys... and then flees. Johnny whistles. "Coward."

When they both turn back...

you burst into tears.

[tadpolesonalgae]

Lost In Paradise

Azriel x reader

a/n: I don’t know what the fuck overcame me when writing this—heads up they’re in the Day Court, by the way

Warnings: dear gods Azriel, Azriel in jewellery—diamond piercings to be precise, with kohl lined/smudged eyes, biting, oral (f receiving), smut, overstim, Azzie being a bit mischievous—implied orgasm denial, light wing play, light breeding kink

word count: 3,009

“We have a dinner to go to, Az,” you insist, inclining your chin as he noses along your throat, broad palms running slowly, reverently, up and down the bare skin of your back. Calloused and scarred hands rasping against the smooth, shimmery expanse of your skin, fingers touching along the knuckles of your spine.

“You’re a three course meal all on your own, pretty thing,” he murmurs beside the shell of your ear, gripping your waist lightly, letting his touch span across the sheer silk of your dress, marvelling at your feel, your shape beneath his hands—how finely you fit with him. 

Your pulse spikes at the flattery, heart beating quick in your chest, head tipping back as his lips press firmly to the small notch in your throat, kissing down to your collar bones, keeping you tight to his front, grip firm and unrelenting. “We’re guests,” you try faintly, already lost in his heaven, “it would be bad etiquette to not show up to the first meal—Az…!”

In one smooth motion he’s swept you off your feet, guiding your legs around his waist, thighs squeezing his hips while his palms appreciatively support your ass. “Bad etiquette would be not eating you out before I fuck you,” he drawls atop your mouth, a cocky smirk on his softened lips, staring down at you with his kohl-smudged eyes, diamonds swinging from his ears, the gold fastenings gleaming in the burning yellow sunset, setting the ocean on fire with molten metal as the sun melts atop the glistening waves. 

“Bad etiquette would be wasting a perfectly romantic evening for the sake of one measly dinner that we aren’t even required to attend,” he murmurs, that smug, self-satisfied look in his shining hazel eyes, flecks of amber and jade set alight through the refraction of the setting sun. Gleaming and swirling like they’re precious stones infinitely more valuable than even the tiny, glittering diamonds making up the jewellery adorning his marvellously handsome features. 

“You look good in Day Court attire,” you mumble breathlessly, clinging onto him as he walks you out onto the balcony, laying you down atop the pillowy, padded massage table, creamy fabric turned a perfectly-baked, golden-brown in the evening light, fitted over the cushions.

“You like how much skin it shows,” he drawls, palms settling either side of you, your hair splayed out from where he’s set you, strewn in lustrous glory against the pillow. “You like how easy it is to manoeuvre around.” 

Sure enough, with the soaring temperatures during a sun-filled day, with heat beating down upon the marble-carved pillars, the attire is perfectly suited for the arid climate. Clothing comes in light colours—mostly cream or off-white—and it contrasts the colour of his skin perfectly. The flush on his cheeks despite the cocky look highlights the hunger delightfully. And thanks to the opulent nature of the Court itself, it gives reason for your mate to wear some of the piercings he rarely adorns himself in for the sake of practicality. The ones you love—his ears the main focus, but with wandering hands your fingers clutch the hem of pale, heated linen, raising it from his toned stomach to reveal the incredibly self-indulgent piercing he’d gotten for his belly button, white diamonds set around the narrow golden band. 

“Gods you’re edible,” you pant, the shallow breaths having little to do with the heated evening and more to do with the hot and hungry look he’s pinning you with as he pulls the troublesome shirt off and over his head. His wings flexing and flaring now they’re rid of the fabric brushing the base of the great limbs. Showing off his well-endowed magnificence, as he should.

“Feel better about skipping that dinner now, pretty thing?” Azriel asks roughly, fingers catching the hem of your dress and swiftly pulling it out from under you, pushing it away further along the pale, padded table. “Maybe you had a point about my bad etiquette,” he drawls hotly, open palm coasting up your stomach, fingers grazing between your breasts. He leans over, dark silky hair flopping across your brow, kohl-rimmed eyes making the hazel of his irises simmer with the ravenous intensity of the setting sun, setting you ablaze. “I’ll be eating first.” 

“How brash,” you breathe, fingers dancing up the bare muscle of his upper arms, nails squeezing lightly at his shoulders, raking teasingly over his gloriously powerful back. He begins laying kisses to your collar bones, teeth nipping at your shimmering skin—you’d spent some time refreshing and making use of the scented, swirling lotions available—slowly trailing down between your breasts, tongue flicking over your nipples teasingly. “Weren’t you ever told not to play with your food?” 

“How can I resist when there’s such a beautiful meal before me? Taste is important but it’s more than that, wouldn’t you say?” Fingers hook beneath the golden strings at your hips, guiding them down your thighs as his mouth trails lower, kissing down your stomach. “I need to appreciate all of you. Not just with my mouth, but with my skin, and touch. How can I enjoy you without indulging all my senses?”

“All of them?” You question, back arching as he reaches your abdomen, fingers threading through his hair to encourage him closer. 

Azriel laughs, the sound coming from deep in his chest, splashing over your skin like melted butter and honey, bathing you in arousing sweetness. “All of them,” he whispers. 

“Sight.” Dark rimmed eyes flick upwards, licking over your form as he connects with you, lashes thick and heavy atop his gaze—equally heavy. 

“Smell.” He noses the intimate skin of your inner thigh, fingers digging into the soft flesh as he parts your legs to make room for himself, your ass resting just at the edge of the cushioned table.

“Touch.” Fingers slip between your parted thighs, trailing up and down your centre, slicking himself in your wetness. Circling your clit twice before dipping back down. 

“Sound.” His thick digits slide in, a cocky smirk on his mouth as he curls them causing your back to arch, beckoning you forward, a heady moan spilling from your mouth as he pushes deeper, rubbing against spots he knows you like. 

“Would you like to tell me the fifth one?” Azriel drawls, dangerously low, arousal thickening his tone to something dark and syrupy. 

“Taste…” You breathe desperately. “Taste…Azriel!” 

“Good girl.” His lips curve in a sinful grin, diamonds twinkling their mirth as he lowers himself to your cunt. “You’ve earned it.” 

A rich, heady moan spills from your mouth as his tongue flattens over your clit, fingers working you with heavenly ease while his mouth remains at the apex of your thighs. It’s nothing short of paradise, floating high above in the clouds, nestled in a pillowy cushion as he bathes you in pleasure, rubbing it into you in ways that shouldn’t be permitted—how can something so good exist on this plane of reality?

Your head tips back into the cushioning, moans rising from your chest unabashedly, singing your pleasure with every curl of his fingers, every lovely flick of his tongue. The high approaches far faster than you ever would have expected, spine arching, grinding down on his mouth, hips swirling as he suckles at your clit, able to feel the impending high as your muscles brace for the powerful onslaught. 

You cry out as you come, nails raking through his hair, his wings flaring with male satisfaction as you orgasm, feeling you tighten and flutter around his thick fingers, clit pulsing as pleasure rapidly fires through your body, racing up and throughout your skin, spreading right to your fingertips. Your mouth opens as sound fails you, eyes squeezing shut, Azriel’s rough palms gripping your hips tight as you begin to squirm and writhe, seeking to crawl away from the pleasure—but he likes seeing you like this, and won’t allow it to end anywhere near prematurely. 

His forearm bands across your hips, pinning them down as you try to buck upward, forcing you through the aftershocks that have your body trembling, strength draining, leaving you powerless to resist his dominating touch. Azriel’s relentless in the pursuit of your pleasure, keeping his fingers tucked inside of you, keeping the pace, keeping his tongue swirling around your hardened clit, dragging it between his lips when he feels you coming down and teasingly tugging on it with his teeth.

A lovely whimper graces his ears, mouth parting into a wicked grin as you muster the strength to look down at him, your legs spread with slick gleaming on his lips, threading between your inner thighs where he’s gotten you especially messy. 

“Ready for the main course?” He drawls, your nipples peaking at the rough, rolling timbre of his voice, skin prickling as awareness sweeps through you. “Main course?” You pant, already falling out of it, unable to grasp what he’s referring to with that wicked smile as he stands, wings looming over his shoulders. Shadows pull the band of his loose, pale linen trousers from their already low placement on his hips, allowing his hands to settle either side of your waist as he presses flush to your messy heat. 

“Both of us,” he whispers, leaning down atop your mouth, “together?”

You think your eyes roll slightly at the reminder, nails threading through his inky hair as you pull him into a hot kiss, thighs wrapping snugly around his hips. His cock rests hot and heavy against your cunt, slowly riding back and forth to coat himself thoroughly, before aligning his tip with your entrance. 

“Go slowly,” you beg, clutching onto him with anticipation—you’re far to sensitive for any of his rough treatment. But he smirks over your lips, hips drawing back so his tip drags down over your hardened clit, his leaking cock nudging the entrance of your drooling cunt, messy and sloppy from previous attention—about to be made much messier. 

“Go slowly?” He muses, a low laugh in his voice that makes your skin prickle, hairs standing on end. “You’re perfectly warmed up, aren’t you? All ready and pliable, huh? What could you possibly want me to go slowly for?” You flush deeply, hands twining together over his broad shoulders, trying to push as much sternness into your gaze as you can manage—which isn’t much, judging by the way he chuckles. 

“Is my girl too sensitive?” 

That smirk. That sinful fucking smirk. 

“Whatever you do to me I’ll be delivering right back,” you warn, thighs squeezing his hips. “I’m getting you in my mouth after this, remember…” 

“How could I forget?” He groans, hips pushing forward. “Gonna taste both of us.” 

A pleased moan sighs from your lips as he fills you up, gripping one leg to bring it up his chest—the underside of your thigh pressing to his lower stomach as he pushes tight against you. Azriel’s gaze is nothing short of ravenous as he takes in the arch of your spine as his palm splays across your abdomen, applying a slight pressure to really get you to feel him. 

“Like that?” He asks, short on breath. Mouth curved in that smug grin. So self-satisfied. “Look at you,” he coos, shifting his hips, dragging them back so his head is again at your entrance, before pushing his cock all the way back inside. “So hot and flushed. All of this for me?” His thumb swipes across your clit, and you moan helplessly, tossing your head to the side as your eyes squeeze shut, nails scraping over the cushioning. 

Before you can formulate a reply he’s setting his pace, giving deep, almost punishing thrusts of his hips that roll firmly to your own. Sharp and decisive, just as you like, spine arching with every buck. 

“Can you even count to three right now?” He taunts, shadows swirling over your breasts, teasingly playing with your nipples, curling around them and tugging lightly. You try to shoot him a glare—that side of him has been coming out more frequently as of late, and you really don’t want to deal with his mean streak right now. Not on such a perfectly set up evening for romance and intimacy. 

So you extend your arms toward him, fingers opening and closing as if to grasp onto him. “Azriel…” you moan, reaching. His hips buck sharply of their own accord, swearing you could feel him twitch from pleasure—he might enjoy being mean from time to time, but it’s all for getting you nice and needy. He’s an undeniable soft spot for your desperation. Like putty in your hands once you reach for him, your toes curling from pleasure.  

“Fuck,” he curses low under his breath, driving his cock firmly into you as his palms splay either side of you, letting you touch and feel all over him, practically shivering with the greed in your fingers as they explore and grope. “Such a sweet little thing to everyone else, aren’t you? Such a wicked little devil when you’re with me.” 

Teeth tug on your lower lip as you try to keep your smile to yourself, but you fail miserably, smiling wide as your head tips back into the pillow, relishing the pleasure. “Wicked devil?” You moan out, forcing yourself to meet simmering hazel, heat sizzling just beneath your skin, clit itching for release as his abdomen grazes the apex of your thighs. 

“Like this?” 

A startled noise slips from his lips as you reach further over his shoulders, stroking his wings slowly. Teasing out his pleasure to have him playing nice with yours. His forehead drops to your own, brows pressing together, close enough to share panting breaths, your breasts grazing his chest with each heaving inhale. 

His lips part on an unabashed groan that licks up your spine, pooling between your legs at his deep confessions to pleasure, repeating the slow strokes to his wings. 

“Like that,” he confirms, jaw wound tight as he tries to cope with the overwhelming onslaught of stimulation. Hazel eyes warily open, a sharp glint in them as his instincts snarl and grapple with reasoning, but you want him to yield to them, not fight them. 

It seems he gets the message. 

Azriel’s palms snatch at your wrists, slamming them down on the cushioned table to keep you pinned, forcing you to take every brutal buck of his hips and you can feel as both of you swoop for that high that’s rising. His wings flare wide, their total span easily twice his height, casting a dark, dominating shadow that you know is an instinctive show of possession. 

Shadows wrap beneath the arch of your spine, clutching your hips to raise them from the table, and the angle has you going dizzy. Moans spill and babble as he pounds into you, grip remaining tight on your wrists to keep them trapped, driving in and out relentlessly until you think you might have screamed from overstimulation, panting and out of breath when you return to reality beneath him. 

“Fuck, that’s it,” he growls against your skin, teeth scraping the tender length of your throat, searching for a spot to choose, to bite down on. He picks a section, pushing his teeth in, licking and sucking to push a feverish kiss into your skin, only pulling away once he’s satisfied. 

“Az,” you whine, cupping his cheeks in your hands, squeezing lightly as you arch into him. “It’s my turn.” 

“Your turn?” His hand wraps around your wrist, nosing the centre of your palm, pressing a kiss to its heel, delivering a small lick that zaps straight to your clit. His hips pull away, then push back in, able to feel as his cum begins seeping out of you. “You’ve hardly taken any of it, pretty thing. You need to be full up before moving onto me. Can’t have you going on empty, hm?” 

“Azriel!” You yelp as he rolls his hips to yours more firmly, bucking against you with enough force to nudge you further up the table. “That isn’t fair,” you squawk indignantly.

“My sweet little devil’s going to tell me what’s fair now, is she?” 

His lips curve into that smirk, and your willpower crumbles, legs wrapping themselves tighter around his waist to press him deeper. Azriel’s subsequent laugh reignites arousal in the pit of your stomach, tightening around his cock, urging him to follow through with his taunts. “Do it,” you whisper, “hurry up.” 

“You wanted me to go slowly earlier. I said you needed to be filled up, not that you needed to come.” 

“Azriel!” You gasp when he pulls out entirely, flipping you onto your front so you’re bent over for him, arms forcefully dragged behind your back to give him full control. 

“Don’t worry, you’ll get to me,” he muses, lining himself up. “But the evening’s too good to waste, don’t you agree? It would be a shame to have it over and done with so quickly.” 

“And you called me the devil,” you mumble into the cushioning, squirming lightly beneath him to feel the unrelenting strength of his grip. “You’re going to cry when I get my mouth on you.” 

He chuckles again, shackling your forearms to the base of your spine with his shadows, rough palms easily gripping your hips. “It’s adorable you think you’re going to make it through that far. We both know you’ve never managed.” 

Azriel leans over you, cock slowly sliding in as he settles at your back. You can feel his lips against your ear, breath fanning the sensitive expanse of your neck. “I’d tell you to hold on tight, princess, but you can’t even manage that most nights. So tonight all you need to do is lie still, and take it.” 

His palm slides beneath your jaw, raising you from the cushioning, a mocking note to his deep and honeyed voice. “How does that sound?” 

general taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @slut4acotar @sfhsgrad-blog @needylilgal022 @hannzoaks @hnyclover @skyesayshi @nyotamalfoy @decomposing-writer @soph1644 @lilah-asteria @nighttimemoonlover @mrsjna

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[osachiyo]

⋆｡°DRUNK DAZED ! ☆

﹙✮﹚── includes : dazai, chuuya, atsushi, ranpo, sigma & tetchou x fem! reader ♡

﹙✮﹚── content warnings : nsfw content (mdni), oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, facesitting, overstimulation, petnames, degradation, penetrative sex, a teeeeeny tiny mention of blood etc ♡

﹙✮﹚── synopsis : they're pussydrunk ♡

﹙✮﹚── author's note : since y'all chose smut for the poll here you guys go, enjoy the meal hehe 😋 birthday fic coming next so keep an eye out for that 😏

DAZAI ⋆｡° ✮

You bit on your bottom lip to suppress your moans, legs shaking like jelly as a mixture of your slick and your boyfriend's saliva ran down your legs, staining the cold floor of the storage room of the agency. You really hoped nobody came to look for you two, or even walk in the direction of the room.

"keep your legs open, pretty," dazai slurred, his voice deep with lust and more importantly, the adoration he held for you. You were his pretty baby, after all. His sweet belladonna, who he was eating like a 3 course meal right now. You were pushed against the door of the storage room while he was on his knees, worshipping his pussy.

Dazai felt his phone buzzing in his pocket, it was most likely Kunikida, wondering where the hell the brunette went during work hours. He couldn't care less though, too busy making out with your cunt. His skilled tongue worked wonders on your clit, fingers buried knuckles deep into your velvety walls as you bit the back of your hand to try and stay quiet. He kept eye contact with you the whole time, pulling his fingers out briefly to fuck you with his tongue, chocolate brown eyes staring deep into your own teary ones. "you look so beautiful right now. I wish you could see yourself, bella," he hummed, voice smooth like honey as he buried his face even deeper between your wobbly legs, wanting to taste every last drop of your addicting arousal. He could feel his cock throbbing in his pants, the fabric ever so restricting. He ignored it though, too focused on making you cum on his tongue first. His nose bumped against your clit everytime he thrusted his tongue into you. He watched your eyes roll back slightly, losing focus as you tug on his fluffy hair, "close— 'm close! 'samu—" you threw your head back, some drool slipping past your lips as your grip tightened on his brunette roots. "I know, baby, I know. cum f'me, sweetheart. I know you can," he groaned, the noise vibrating against your cunt. That was the last straw before you came all over his face. He eagerly slurped up all of your slick, moaning lowly at the slightly bitter taste. You were addicting to him. He stood up, dusting off his pants before he pulled your panties back up, snapping the waistband against your skin with a smirk. His arms were still holding you up, supporting your weight as you calmed down from your high. You looked down to see a puddle of your juices on the floor and Dazai's...soaked pants? "osamu, did you—" you were cut off by the door slamming open.

You were fucked, good luck.

CHUUYA ⋆｡° ✮

You were tied to the bedpost for God knows how long, the red ribbons snaked around your naked body while the pretty pink vibrator attached to your clit buzzed away, tormenting you with each passing second. You regretted messing with Chuuya during his phone call. You should've just been a good girl, he said before leaving you all tied up and needy.

Your ears perked up when the bedroom door opened, Chuuya walked in the room with a cocky smirk. "how's my little slut holding up?" He chuckled, clearly satisfied with how much of a mess he made you. He brushed a few stray hairs out of your face, tucking them behind your ear. He groaned, you were practically sitting on a pool of your own arousal, your inner thighs shiny with your slick. He brought a hand down to your core, collecting some of your slick on his gloved finger before shoving them inside you. You gasped, back arching from the sudden intrusion. Your tummy felt like it was on fire, being denied release for hours. "s'mean— you're mean," you sniffeled, glaring up at your lover with teary eyes. His lips stretched to a grin at your adorableness, "this too much for you, sweetness?" He cooed, making space for himself between your legs and laying on his stomach. He took his gloves off, chucking them somewhere in the room before he licked his lips in anticipation. He could smell how turned on you were, desperate for your sweet orgasm. Your hips bucked when his fingers inched closer to your heat, making him stifle a laugh. He finally took the vibrator off, placing it on the fancy nightstand beside the bed before diving head first between your thighs. He licked a fat stripe up your cunt, bucking his hips into the soft mattress as he ate you like a starved animal. You tried to grab onto something— anything to ground yourself but alas, you were still tied up. He suckled on your swollen clit eagerly, lips wrapped around the sensitive bud as his tongue swirled around it. You squealed when his fingers pushed into your hole again, your gummy walls twitching around them. "good— tastes so good, doll. been thinking about this all fucking evening,” he growled into your cunt. Being edged for so long, you couldn't hold out for much longer, squirting all over his face. He blinked, clearly shocked from your juices spraying all over him. You were about to apologize when you saw Chuuya’s eyes darken, jaw clenching as he stared at you, “that was the hottest shit I’ve ever seen you do, fuck,” he groaned, going back to devouring you with double— if not triple the eagerness. “you’re gonna do that again. I’m not stopping until you soak the whole fuckin’ bed.”

ATSUSHI ⋆｡° ✮

Words couldn’t describe how fucking exhausted you were right now, your body aching from how long Atsushi had been drilling his cock into you. You were so overstimulated at this point, pussy swollen from the continuous abuse your boyfriend had been putting it through.

“shit— baby, you feel s’good, so tight for me—” Atsushi groaned, his claws digging into your hips, drawing slight blood as he got lost in the feeling of your cunt spasming around his cock. He was practically foaming at the mouth, just as overstimulated as you were but showed absolutely no signs of stopping anytime soon. His cock was swollen and an angry shade of red, indicating just how sensitive he was but he still could not get enough of your sticky cunt, burying himself in you even though his dick was screaming at him to give it a rest. You weren’t any better either, brain completely fried from his cock driving in and out of you at a rapid pace, his pelvis rubbing against your sensitive clit while you racked your pretty nails down his back. It was downright filthy. But the both of you were too out of it too care, losing yourselves in each other’s embrace. “cumming— oh god, fuck!” He panted, biting your shoulder to ground himself atleast a little bit.

It had been an hour since that, he was shooting blanks into your battered cunt at this point. Your eyes were barely open, close to passing out, your legs felt like jelly from how much they were trembling, nails now buried in the sheets as you sobbed, “ ‘sushi— ‘m too sensitive! can’t—” you gasped when he wrapped his lips around your nipple, whining, “jus’ one more time, pleasepleaseplease—” he shuddered before painting your insides white with his seed, arms wrapped around your half conscious figure as he savoured the blissful high. You almost fell asleep after a few minutes, eyes closing when Atsushi’s hips start moving again. You were about to speak when he cut you off, “shh, just one more, please?”

RANPO ⋆｡° ✮

"ranpo, I'm not gonna sit on your face," you huffed, crossing your arms. He pouted, "c'mon, sugar. it'd feel sooooo good." You sighed, deadpanning at him. "I'll share my snacks with you for a month if you—" "deal."

You chewed on your bottom lip as you hovered over Ranpo's face, "are you sure about this? I don't want to accidentally hurt y—" you gasped when he pulled down on his awaiting mouth, too impatient to let you finish your sentence or reassure you. His thumb pushed your panties to the side, revealing your pretty pussy to him. He licked a long stripe up your cunt, making you whimper. You tried to sit back up on your knees but he was holding you down tight, slim fingers digging into your hips. His greedy tongue swirled around your clit before flicking it. He moaned into your cunt when you ground down on his face, muttering out little curses and his name. His tongue moved down to your hole, pushing in while he brought his hand to your clit, fingers rubbing your clit in swift circles. You felt like you were on cloud nine, mouth watering at the pleasure your boyfriend was inflicting upon you. You reached back to cup his dick through his shorts, the fabric slightly damp with his precum. He gasped when you palmed him through them, pinching your clit lightly to get back at you. You yelped, grinding down harder on his eager face, feeling his cock twitch in your hand. He liked that. He scoffed, the sound muffled between your thighs. He greedily slurped on your juices, savouring your taste on his tongue and fuck, he could feel his eyes roll back behind closed lids. You felt the coil in your stomach tighten— so close to snapping. "yesyesyes— god, ranpo!" You squealed, gushing all over your lover's face. He let out a guttural noise, drinking all of your arousal up before finally lifting you up from his face. You could see his face completely soaked with your liquid, a lopsided grin on his face, "see? was that so bad?" You laughed, shaking your head, wondering why the actual fuck you hadn't tried it sooner.

SIGMA ⋆｡° ✮

You had Sigma tied up on your bed, pretty pink ribbons matching his pretty pink cock, leaking precum from the flushed tip. He was glaring at you, demanding to be untied immediately but you just smirked, having too much fun teasing your boyfriend like this.

"such a good boy, aren't you, sigma?" You slurred, eyes shutting in pleasure when he flicked his tongue on your clit, hard cock aching to be inside you. Your hand brushed through his bangs, making him look up at you, your slick covering the lower half of his handsome face. God, he was beautiful. He hummed against your leaking cunt, slobbering all over your heat. He wanted to pleasure you with everything he had, his tongue, fingers and cock but unfortunately for him, he was tied up. He wasn't too sure of the idea before but now? Now he was enthusiastically burying his face between your thighs, running his tongue up and down your pretty folds. You tasted like heaven to him, a little break from the hell he went through. Your moans and giggles of pleasure were music to his ears, making his face flush with each lewd noise you make. His brain felt foggy from your addicting taste, so sweet on his tongue as he lapped everything up, nose bumping against your clit. You'd think he was one getting head from how much pre his cock was leaking, he couldn't help but hump the mattress, growing downright addicted to your taste. Lavender and white locks of hair framing his face perfectly, your hand buried in it as he ate you up like his last meal on earth. He could feel your cunt clenching and unclenching on his tongue and he moaned, the sound borderline pornographic as his eyes rolled back. His face was flushed a shade of pink down to his neck. "god— you taste so—" he cut himself off with a groan, gasping when you cum all over his face, your head thrown back and exposing your neck as you moan his name. You looked down to see Sigma's face red, swollen lips coated in a layer of your shiny slick. He looked dazed, half lidded eyes looking at you with hunger, "more. n-need more," he panted, burying his face back into your sopping heat.

TETCHOU ⋆｡° ✮

You didn't know how you ended up like this, one moment you're training with your boyfriend and the next moment you're getting folded by him on the carpeted floor as he bullies his thick cock past your tight entrance.

You felt like you were in a daze, legs pushed up against your chest, mouth forming an 'o' shape as your eyes roll back into your skull. Tetchou's bangs were brushing against your forehead, sweat dripping down his muscular back as he rolled his hips into you. He could see and feel the way your cunt sucked him in, not letting him go. He placed open mouthed kisses on your neck and collarbones, nibbling on the sensitive flesh. His fingers dug into the back of your thighs, leaving indented marks from how firm he was gripping them. "hah— takin' my cock s'well," he rasped before pressing his lips against yours, swallowing your moans and whimpers while plowing into you. Your pussy was all swollen and sensitive from how long he'd been at this. His previous load was dripping down your ass, staining the carpet below. You felt so good— so tight and wet all for him, he felt like home in your cunt, hips smacking against your ass erratically while you milked his cock for all it's worth. You couldn't even think properly anymore, too fucked out to have any coherent thoughts but his cock. He could feel his mouth water at the sight of your teary eyes rolling back, tongue lolling out slightly as he fucked the brains out of you. He wasn't any better either, panting and gasping with each thrust, growling every time you clench down on his cock so deliciously. You put him in a trance, he wasn't thinking with his brain anymore, much too occupied by drilling his cock into your welcoming heat, fat tip kissing your cervix with each thrust, making a wet noise each time his hips met your ass.

©sachiyoh— do not copy, plagiarize and repost my works to any platform, reblogs are very appreciated♡

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