#there's an angle to this one that makes me uncomfortable

[ssahotchnerr]

if you’re interested, i’ve been so into the idea of aaron discovering reader has a birthmark he’d never seen before — maybe on her inner thigh or something — and i’m dying to see what you’d do with that. take it whatever direction you like best no one’s picky over here <33

hidden in plain sight

hehe i hope this suffices <3 cw; bau fem!reader, established relationship, fluff and some spice

"We're in the depths of hell. I'm convinced."

A brutally hot day. AC temporarily out of service. The lack of ceiling fans preventing any air circulation, resulting in numerous agents in a worse mood than normal. The BAU in these conditions, not the best place to be.

"Whining isn't going to make it any cooler, y'know." You told Morgan, raising your eyebrows cheekily.

"Touché." He pointed his pen at you, his eyes then shifting from your gaze and settling on something behind you. You felt a familiar presence soon after, Aaron's palm finding your shoulder in a silent hello.

"Hotch, please tell me something's getting done about this AC," Morgan pleaded, using a case file to fan his face. "We're boiling out here."

"Hey you." Your chair turned ever-so-slightly as you peered up at him, grinning.

Aaron wasn’t immune to the heat either; his face flushed, his forehead dotted with small beads of sweat, the sleeves of his button-up rolled to his elbows. He looked uncomfortably troubled, but his facial features relaxed at the sight of you.

After offering you a small smile, he addressed Derek's inquiry. "It's getting fixed as we speak."

However, his voice trailed off as he ended his sentence - as your head turned back towards your desk.

You could almost hear his brows furrowing as he swiveled your chair to its previous angle, causing a slight tug at your skin as he got a better look at whatever had piqued his interest. Soon after, a fingertip traced your skin, focusing on one spot.

"How much longer?"

"As long as it takes." He answered plainly, directly. Aaron's hand brushed back towards your shoulder, giving it a long squeeze. "Can I see you in my office?"

You cleared your throat, fighting a squirm as you rose out of your seat. "Sure."

"Uh oh." You shot Morgan a glare at his remark, his teasing only half as enthusiastic as normal (the temperature to thank). Shaking your head in amusement, you followed Aaron.

"What's up?" Stepping into his office was like stepping into a wall of humidity - thick and stagnant. No wonder he had looked so tense, and had been avoiding the room altogether.

Instead of answering, Aaron moved behind you. His fingertips returned to your skin again, focused on the same singular spot as before. The roughness of his finger contrasted with the soft, comforting way he touched you.

"You have a birthmark."

Your birthmark laid along the curve where your shoulder met your neck. Usually covered by hair, but your hair was thrown up in attempt to keep it from sticking to your skin. You had also removed your cardigan, leaving you in a tank and exposing more of your skin - smooth and warm in the fluorescent light.

"You called me up here because I have a birthmark?" You laughed gently, your eyebrows crinkling in question. Despite the heat, goosebumps trickled onto your skin at his touch.

"I can't believe I haven't noticed it before."

"I mean, every time you've seen me bare, you've been distracted elsewhere." You teased, your forward-facing position causing you to miss the smirk that threatened his lips. "Don't be so hard on yourself."

"No excuse. I pride myself on knowing every part of your body." His finger traced the outline of the small mark; the pad of his finger lingering softly, as though savoring the imprint, studying it, committing it to memory so he wouldn't dare forget it again. Additionally, the added pressure he was applying made the strength of your knees falter. "No matter how delicate."

A heavy want grew in his chest; the urge to press his lips to that spot he had unintentionally missed. Over and over again, at that, offering it the attention it quietly demanded and he had lacked.

If you two were in the privacy of home, he would've.

"I'll tell you what." You turned around to face him, your eyes darting out to the bullpen before finding his again. They met him with a mischievous glint. "I'm in need of a shower when we get home. Aren't you?"

The ends of his mouth lifted upwards. "After today? Perhaps."

You leaned up to press a quick kiss to his cheek, letting your lips linger as you whispered into his ear, "I’ll let you check for any other birthmarks you may have missed. How about that?"

[hopeyoufindalovelikethis]

Tonight, The Cold is Warm

Hello! A few weeks ago, the cold in my room felt especially sharp—not just from the air conditioner, but from the sudden rains that passed through now and then. That stillness and chill reminded me of Sylus: Nightplumes. So, I began to imagine how Sylus might respond if he faced a similar moment with his beloved. This story was born from that thought. I hope it brings you a bit of warmth. And as always, thank you deeply for supporting my writing 🤍

Synopsis | During a cold evening walk, Sylus noticed your lips were chapped. Without a word, he pulled out your favorite lip balm—one he’d bought just to care for you. As he applied it with quiet tenderness, he whispered he’d never forget your comfort, because loving you meant remembering everything.

The wind that evening had a sharpness to it—not cruel, but insistent. It threaded through the narrow streets of Linkon, tugging at coat hems, brushing cold fingers against your cheeks and the back of your neck. You hadn’t expected the drop in temperature when you’d stepped out with Sylus, but you didn’t say anything. It wasn’t unbearable, and besides, it felt nice to walk like this—side by side, no urgency, no destination. Just him beside you, your footsteps echoing quietly along the stone path.

Your hands were deep in your coat pockets, and your lips had begun to sting from the cold. The dry air bit at them in small, uncomfortable pulses. You had the urge to bite at the corner of your mouth but held back, knowing it would only make the irritation worse. You hadn’t brought your balm. You always forgot when the weather changed suddenly like this.

Sylus walked half a pace behind you—his usual rhythm. You could feel his presence without looking. Always there. A steady weight that never imposed but always protected. When the breeze caught your coat a little too hard and made you shiver, you felt the shift in his steps—how he angled his body slightly closer, how his eyes narrowed at the wind like it had dared to make you flinch. And then, without warning, he slowed to a stop.

You blinked, turning to face him as your steps faltered. “Something wrong?” you asked softly.

He didn’t answer right away. Just reached into the inner pocket of his coat with the same unhurried precision he used when selecting a tool mid-repair or a protocore during an auction. His movements always carried purpose—never rushed, never distracted. From the folds of his coat, he pulled out a pale blue tube. It took you a second, but the familiarity struck.

Your lips parted in disbelief. “Is that—my lip balm?”

A faint smile touched the corners of his mouth—not his usual smirk, but something quieter, somewhere between amusement and affection.

“It’s yours in essence,” he murmured, “but this one’s mine, kitten. I bought it last week.”

You stared, confused—but, warmth blooming somewhere between your ribs and your throat. “You bought one for yourself?”

His gaze didn’t waver. “I bought it the day after you said this is your favorite—but, you always forget to bring it when the air turns cold.”

The confession struck tenderly, like he’d peeled back a layer of your daily life that even you hadn’t realized was worth observing. You looked at him, momentarily speechless, your fingers curling inside your pockets to steady yourself.

Then, slowly, Sylus stepped closer. The city around you stilled. The soft golden light of a streetlamp curved around the edges of his face as he lifted the balm—but he didn’t hand it to you. His gloved hand reached up instead, fingertips brushing your jaw as he tilted your face toward his.

“Let me,” he said, and your breath caught before the word even finished settling.

You nodded—small, breathless.

He removed his glove, tucking it into his coat pocket. The chill bit at his bare skin, but he didn’t care. With a quiet steadiness, he uncapped the balm and brought it to your lips.

The first touch was cool, but his thumb resting just beneath your chin was warm. He traced the balm along your lower lip first—slow and gentle—then the upper. His movements were so careful, it felt more like a vow than a gesture. You could feel the weight of his eyes on your face the whole time, watching the way your lips responded to the pressure, the way you tried not to breathe too hard. The way your lashes fluttered down.

When he was done, he didn’t pull back right away. Instead, he lingered—his hand still resting against your cheek, the balm still cradled in his other palm. His thumb ghosted the curve of your jaw, slow and thoughtful.

“I never forget anything related to your comfort,” he murmured, slipping the balm into the pocket of your coat—now, the balm was yours.

You stood frozen—not because you were stunned, but because something inside you had softened so completely, it left no space for anything else.

Your voice, when it came, was barely a breath. “Why?”

He didn’t answer immediately. He just held your gaze, the depth of his crimson eyes full of something quiet and unshaken.

And then he whispered, “Because I love you. You always take care of others—even when you forget yourself—so I make it my job to remember everything about you.”

Your chest pulled tight—not from pain, but from something almost too tender to contain. It rose behind your ribs like a wave, like tears that didn’t need to fall because his words had already released them.

You reached up, your hand brushing over the edge of his coat lapel, fingers curling slightly—needing to feel him solid beneath your touch.

“I didn’t think you noticed,” you whispered.

Sylus’s lips tilted—not into a smirk, not tonight. Just warmth.

“I notice everything, sweetheart. Even every time you pretend you’re fine.”

And then he leaned forward—not with hunger, not with urgency—but with something quieter, something rooted in devotion. His lips met yours with a hush so gentle it felt like a promise made flesh, sealing the balm with warmth that didn’t come from fire, but from faith. It was a kiss meant not to possess, but to protect—a silent reminder that your well-being lived at the center of his world.

Around you, Linkon faded into a soft blur—the crisp bite of winter no longer reached you, replaced by the quiet heat that unfurled in your chest, warm and steady like a home being built one heartbeat at a time. In that moment, the only truth left was him—his love wrapped around you like shelter, like sunrise, like something you’d never need to ask for because it had already chosen to stay.

[hibiskissess]

Lonesome Love

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Summary: You’re about to leave Twisted Wonderland but both Malleus and Leona have yet to tell you their true feelings. Who’s affection will you accept?

╰┈➤ Part 1 | Part 2 (Leona Route) | Part 2 (Malleus Route) [here!]

The next day, Malleus knew he had to seek you out. He couldn’t let you, who had so carefully carved yourself into his heart, leave a hole in return.

The fae found his moment to strike during midday. Accompanying you was… Leona. He could overlook that detail, as long as he ended up having you to himself in the end.

He approached you from behind, grabbing your hand with his gloved counterpart. The contact caused you to turn, gazing upon Malleus.

“Do you mind if I borrow you for a moment, Prefect? I require your presence.” his eyes raked up and down Leona’s form. “It’s… dire, I’m afraid.”

Leona’s tail whipped behind him, his ears ever so subtly lying flatter than before. “Tch. You know where to find me, Prefect.” Leona walked off, stretching his arms as he sauntered.

Malleus’ hand, still in yours, guided you to a recluse spot near the edge of campus. The old, decrepit buildings were no doubt something someone like Malleus would be intrigued by.

“Is something wrong?” you questioned, feeling a heat on your cheeks from the prolonged contact between the two of you.

A chilled breeze swept across, causing Malleus’ hair to frame his face delicately. He let go of your hand, standing seemingly nervous in front of you. A short inhale and exhale calmed him, causing his focus to rein in on you once more.

“Prefect. I…”

Your gentle hand found his once more, holding it tenderly. “Malleus, if somethings wrong, you can tell me. I won’t judge.”

That simple gesture was all he needed to tip over the edge.

He didn’t care if he was being selfish and meddling with fate in his favor. After all, who was to know if this *wasn’t* his true destiny? However, none of that mattered once his arms found themself wrapped around your form.

He uttered your name like a chant, his shaky tone ghosting over your ear. “Please, don’t leave me.”

One of his hands carded through your hair, the other keeping itself tenderly woven in yours. “I can’t go on if I lose you. For days, months, I’ve yearned to have you stay by my side as mine, just as I have ached to have my heart belong to you.”

His silky, midnight-black hair brushed against your own face, the close proximity making it impossible to not create some sort of contact.

He brought your intertwined hands up to his lips, divinely pressing an adoring kiss to your fingers. “Please. I can’t stand to even consider you leaving for another when I’m here. I…” his throat felt dry, his confession drawing out a tenderly honest side of him few had the privilege to see, “I can’t control myself when I’m with you. Whether or not you possess magic, you have undeniably bewitched me in ways I thought were unimaginable. Having you leave would pain my heart for the rest of my eternity.”

Your hand, now placed over his chest to feel his heartbeat, felt electrifying. Despite Malleus’ sweet words, you still had to return home, right?

“Malleus…” you responded with a kiss, joining both of your lips together. The fae’s eyes widened, freezing for a moment as if he had been turned to stone. Tentatively, both of his hands grasped your face, angling your head upwards to remain connected.

His brows furrowed, deepening the kiss as if he needed your lips to breathe.

You pulled back, desperate for air. A string of your mixed saliva dripped down your chin, causing a cold, uncomfortable contact. Before you could wipe it away, Malleus’ lips met your chin, kissing away the mess caused by the two of you. He trailed his ministrations up further, trailing to your cheek and temple.

The resulting giggle he drew out of you warmed his chest, causing him to press his forehead against yours, the cold dragon scales adorning his hairline almost causing you to shiver due to the contrast in heat.

“I’ll find a way to stay here. With you, Malleus.” you hoarsely responded. You turned your head to the side, avoiding his piercing but loving gaze. “I was dreading leaving anyways. I...” a nervous sigh escaped your lips even though you knew your feelings were requited. “I love you too, Malleus. I have for a while. It was making going back home even more of a heartache.”

You turned your head back forward, your mouth meeting his once more. “I promise I’m not going anywhere. Not now or ever.”

Your hands found themselves on his waist, his own so delicately placed on you, like he was afraid any harsh touch would break you.

*ೃ༄

An undetectable presence left the shadows, walking back to campus. Geez, Leona’s gonna either be pissed or depressed whenever he tells him what happens.

Ruggie shrugged- it’s not like Leona’s love life was any of his problem. He would just report what he saw and stay out of Leona’s wrath.

Opening up the door to Leona’s bedroom, Ruggie shook him awake. “C’mon, I got stuff to tell ya. You gotta hear this.”

After explaining the situation to Leona, Ruggie tried his best to get out of the room as soon as possible.

Once alone, Leona couldn’t help but wrap himself back in the covers of his bed. His bare chest was warmed by the blankets when it should’ve been you doing that instead.

He looked back down at his wrist, seeing the golden bangle once more. He really was never going to be more than second place, huh? It didn’t matter, just like how it didn’t matter whenever his family neglected him and his wishes for years. Yeah- it didn’t matter that he would continue to be the second best no matter what. That was his destiny, after all. It would never change, no matter how bad he wished it could.

Tears pooled in his eyes. Why couldn’t he have been the one someone chose, just for one time? No matter how hard he tried, how hard he wished for something, it would always end up being pointless.

Leona was never meant to be the one people chose. Ever since birth, he was meant to hide in the shadow, and that’s all he would continue to do.

[plumbwolf]

He needed the money, Derek reminded himself, for the third or fourth or sixteenth time. He needed the money, and he didn't have time for a part-time job. Erica had sworn up and down that the magazine she freelanced for was staffed entirely by professionals, even if those professionals did make soft-core werewolf porn.

He needed the money, Derek reminded himself, for the seventeenth time, as an intern sprayed him down with the mist-setting on a garden house. Another intern in a plaid button down with a heavy-looking bag over one shoulder ran in as as someone was artfully mussing Derek's hair from behind. He panted "Shit. Am I late? Tell me I'm not late."

He needed the money, Derek reminded himself, for the third or fourth or sixteenth time. He needed the money, and he didn't have time for a part-time job. Erica had sworn up and down that the magazine she freelanced for was staffed entirely by professionals, even if those professionals did make soft-core werewolf porn.

He needed the money, Derek reminded himself, for the seventeenth time, as an intern sprayed him down with the mist-setting on a garden house. Another human intern in a worn Invader Zim t-shirt ran in as someone was artfully mussing Derek's hair from behind. He panted, "Shit. Am I late? Tell me I'm not late."

"You're late," several voices called out at once.

"Shit." The intern set down his large bag on a nearby bench and nodded at Derek. "You must be my model. I'm Stiles, your photographer. Sorry about all the swearing."

Despite Derek’s concerns about his wardrobe, Stiles did seem like a professional. He had barely done more than glance at the way Derek's nipples were peaked with cold underneath the extremely thin white t-shirt they'd had him put on. And he hadn't once touched Derek without asking permission first.

"Is it cool if I-" Stiles pantomimed something with his fingers, "make a few adjustments?" He had beautiful hands. If they'd met in a bar somewhere, Derek would have pegged him as a pianist, or maybe the artist he supposed Stiles technically was.

Derek nodded. "Go ahead."

Stiles beamed at him. "Thanks. No bad touching, I swear. I promised Erica I'd return you with your virtue intact."

Too bad, thought Derek, and felt himself flush. He was suddenly glad the water in the bathtub was too uncomfortably chilly to make anything but his nipples hard.

Stiles crooked a finger in Derek’s collar and dragged it down another inch. “Arms behind your head, please? Yeah, just like that. I’m just gonna-” He adjusted the t-shirt sleeves, casually complimenting Derek on his arms (‘That’s just the right amount of flex’) as he worked. 

“Now,” he said. “Would you mind tugging up the hem of your shirt? You’ve got great armpit bush, and that’s showing up just fine through the cotton, but I’d like a clearer view of the ol’ happy trail.”

Derek locked eyes with Stiles and pulled at his shirt. The cotton had stuck to his stomach, and the wet ‘slap’ it made when he let it go sounded loud in a room with tiled acoustics. “Like that?�� 

“Uh.” Stiles cleared his throat. “Maybe a little higher? Yeah, that’s perfect.” 

*click*Stiles never stopped talking as he worked, chattering on about college (he’d been in a class with Cora before he’d graduated last year), Star Wars, work, (‘Can you flash those beta blues at me? How about a little fang?’), his cat (a striped Tabby named ‘SecUnit’), how he’d seen Derek at the nursery last month when he’d come in for a new succulent-

“I’m not getting the angle I want. Do you mind if-” Stiles wrinkled his nose. “Can I maybe climb in there with you?”

“ . . . sure?”

Stiles grinned at him, and dropped to the ground to unlace his shoes. He rolled up his jeans with a foot on the edge of the tub, and then climbed in to sit on the back edge. “Much bet - fuck, this water’s cold!”

“I know.”

“Sorry, big guy. Can you stand it for another ten minutes? I swear we’re almost done.”

“I’m a werewolf, Stiles.”

“I’m still buying you coffee after the shoot. I mean, I will have an intern run out for coffee. That I will pay for. Tilt your head a little more to the left? Nah, look at me straight on again. Smolder for me. God, that's super hot.”

Stiles started to ramble (incorrectly) about how he could never be a model himself. “Way too scrawny. I won this baby,” he plucked at his stupid t-shirt, “as a raffle prize in seventh grade. You got tickets for passing a high-school level reading comprehension test. I mean, seventh-grade. And it still fits!"

 Derek laughed.

*click click click click click*

Stiles pulled back and looked at his camera. "Forget everything I said two minutes ago. There's our cover shot. Fuck, look at your cute little bunny teeth. And those eyes crinkles! We’re going to sell a million copies.”

“Gonna buy one yourself?”

Stiles winked. “I might even buy two.” He pulled his camera over his head and set it down on the stool next to the bathtub. “That’s a wrap. You can put your arms down. Or wherever.” 

Derek unhooked his arms with a low groan, while Stiles fidgeted on the edge of the bathtub. A second or two later he muttered, ‘Fuck it’ and dropped down fully into the tub, landing with his knees in the water on either side of Derek’s legs. He put a tentative hand on each of Derek’s thighs. “I really hope I’m not reading this wrong.”

Derek took a fistful of the t-shirt that absolutely did not fit and that he planned to steal later and burn. He tugged, lightly, and Stiles scooted obediently forward so that he was sitting directly above the zipper on Derek’s borrowed jeans.

Suddenly the water seemed a lot less cold. 

“I thought you could read at a high school level.”

“College,” Stiles blurted out. “Maybe even post-grad. No barely legal reading levels here.”

“Good,” said Derek, and pulled him the rest of the way down.

TYLER HOECHLIN

[vanillarosekiss]

rough sex with simon

♡ p!link ♡

warnings: smut, lack of foreplay (smh simon), breeding kink, simon being a little rough and relentless but super sweet to you throughout! (Is this really gross i cannot tell??)

word count: 0.6k

There were times where Simon and you would make love to each other - sweet and soft and oh so heavenly, it was almost ethereal. And there were times where you fucked with so much anger or passionate frustration that you felt dirty, but it was sort of exhilarating when you did.

This time, Simon had come home from a long day of shouting orders at incompetent subordinates and dealing with unruly new recruits, and he wasn't in any good mood. You could tell because of how tense he'd been all evening, even when you curled up next to him on the sofa after you'd both eaten. That was new for him, he would usually be all over you, showering you with kisses or sweet compliments, asking how your day had been.

Knowing how he was, you decided to try cheering him up by going to your bedroom and putting on a cute lingerie set, his favourite. All lacy and pink and delicate - the complete opposite of what he was. He liked how different you were, it separated his work from his home. But he was undeniably frustrated that particular evening, not saying so much as a "s'pretty" before ripping it off you, thread snapping and lace breaking apart in strings of blush.

"Simon! I really liked that set." you said, pouting your lips as he gently pushed you flat on your back onto the bed.

"I'll buy you another one, baby." he reassured you, undoing his belt and unzipping his trousers. You laid back, watching him as he did this, not scared but cautious of how rough he'd be if he was frustrated from work.

He didn't bother prepping you at all like he usually did, just making you squirm by rubbing his tip against your core and up to your clit until you were soaked enough to let him in. Without any hesitation, he pushed into you, all the way, making you arch your back and moan in a mix of pain and pleasure. His thrusts were uncomfortable at first; you tried to readjust your position but he held you down so you couldn't move around at all. He eased off a little when the tears started to roll down your cheeks, more out of ecstasy than pain now, as he drilled into you.

The sounds you were making were borderline pornographic, and so were the repetitive sounds of his hips meeting the plush of your ass. He pushed your thighs down towards your chest to angle better into your hole, hitting a spot deep in you that made you whine and close your eyes.

"Pretty little angel. Look how good you are at taking me yeah?" He cooed to you as he grabbed your hair and lifted your head up, forcing you to watch as his cock slid in and out of you with ease. You moaned at the erotic sight, being fucked too dumb for words.

"So tight for me baby." He grunted a little, changing up his pace and keeping your head held up.

"Gonna fill you up until you're a gorgeous leaking mess." Simon could feel you tightening around him as he said this, going deeper into you with each thrust now. You were a whining, whimpering mess by the time he had finished in you, breathless and hot. He made you watch as he pulled out, his cum erupting from inside you and dripping down onto the tip of his cock, before he pushed it back into you.

"M'sorry if I was too hard on you sweets." He apologised and kissed you lovingly on your forehead.

"Just too pretty and soft f'me. Need to keep you nice and fucked out all the time hmm?"

Tag list 𖠋: @punkkture @slut-lmao @sebastianstans-slut @ilikeoldmen @g1rlfa1lure0 @queenoflaflames @tmartin0918 @kkloubee @goldie-221 @patricksoulmate @writingandsins @mxnee777 @caro-line19  @decaffeinateddelusionbread @lovidovii @xoxoxoaspen @i-ship-stony-and-superfamily @simonrileysdarling @siphon07 @figthoughts

[gf2bellamy]

reader and spencer both getting home from a really long and tough case and just cuddling and resting together 😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨 and reader is like "spence can you lay on top of me that would just be so cozy right now " but he's like "no i dont want to crush you" but reader is like "don't worry, it'll be comfy, i promise " and they end up falling asleep like that? ☹️☹️☹️☹️ need him..

<3

-🪲

comfortable — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x reader ( no use of y/n ) content warnings: literally just fluff <3 a/n: hiii !!! i hope you like this <333 bc i loved writing this

"I'm never getting up from this couch ever again," you sighed dramatically, collapsing onto Spencer’s worn-out couch, stretching yourself across it without a care. The exhaustion in your bones made the cushions feel like heaven, and you let out a contented breath. 

Spencer chuckled softly as he followed your lead, nudging your legs just enough to make room for himself before settling in.

He gently lifted them, resting them across his lap as he leaned back. His head fell against the cushion, eyes fluttering shut. 

Silence filled the room, save for the faint ticking of the clock.

Spencer's fingers absentmindedly traced slow patterns along your calf. Neither of you spoke, and neither of you moved. 

Then, barely above a whisper, Spencer mumbled, "We should probably sleep in bed." His voice was heavy with sleep, thick and drowsy. But he didn’t move. And neither did you. 

You hummed in acknowledgment, but that was all. The bed was far. Too far. And this—this was warm.

Spencer shifted slightly, trying to find a more comfortable position, but the angle of his body wasn’t ideal for sleeping upright. He sighed as his hand moved absentmindedly, fingertips brushing over your knee, then back down. 

Spencer shifted again, adjusting his position.

“Just lay on top of me,” you murmured, cracking one eye open. 

Spencer’s eyes fluttered open at that, his brows knitting together in confusion as he turned his head toward you. “What?” 

You grinned, stretching your arms out in invitation. “It’s cozy.” 

He huffed a quiet laugh but still hesitated. “I don’t want to crush you.” He shifted again, clearly uncomfortable but still refusing to move to the bedroom. 

“No, you won’t,” you reassured him. “Come on, give it a shot.” 

He didn’t move right away, still weighing the options. You could practically see the gears turning in his mind, trying to calculate the logistics of whether this was a good idea. 

“You could always just go all the way,” you teased, exaggerating the words dramatically. “to the bedroom.” You paused for effect, watching his expression. “Or you could sleep sitting up.” Another pause. “Or you could just sleep in my arms.” 

Your smirk widened as you caught the way he rolled his eyes, but the slight twitch of his lips betrayed him—he was fighting a smile. 

Spencer sighed, long and exaggerated, before finally giving in. He carefully positioned himself above you, lowering his body just enough to hover, still holding his weight up as if afraid of squishing you. 

You shot him a look. 

That was all it took for him to relax, finally settling against you. His warmth seeped into you instantly, and you felt the tension in his muscles melt away. His face nuzzled into the crook of your neck, his breath warm against your skin, and for a few moments, neither of you spoke. 

Then, barely above a whisper, he mumbled, “This is nice.” 

A small smile tugged at your lips. “Told you.” 

Your fingers threaded through his curls, lazily twisting them around as you dragged your nails lightly across his scalp. He let out a contented hum at the sensation, his body growing heavier as sleep started pulling him under. You pressed a soft kiss to the top of his head, lingering for a moment before resting back against the couch. 

Spencer sighed again, but this time it wasn’t out of reluctance—it was pure comfort. In response, he tilted his head just enough to press the laziest, softest kiss against your neck, his lips barely brushing against your skin. 

“Are you sure I’m not crushing you?” he murmured, voice thick with sleep. 

You chuckled, squeezing his side gently. “Yes, Spencer. I’m sure.” 

He didn’t respond right away, but the way his arms instinctively tightened around you told you he believed you. Within seconds, his breathing evened out, warm against your skin. 

You sighed in contentment, letting your own eyes drift shut. 

[tbaluver]

I feel like you’re the perfect author to get this done!! I was wondering if you could do the l&ds boys and their reactions to you crying during sex? Not because you’re upset but either from a genuine love for them or overwhelming feelings and sensations. I love your work so so much!!! <333

When You Cry During Sex- The Love And DeepSpace Men

genre/warning: smut included MDNI, comfort and some fluff

parings in order: Xavier x Reader, Zayne x Reader, Rafayel x Reader, Sylus x Reader

a/n: hihi anonnie!! im so so happy to hear you love my work! (´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡ i hope this is alright and that you'll enjoy this !!

any likes and reblogs are always appreciated! enjoy!

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Xavier:

He gazes down at you with a look that combined lust and adoration, one hand reaching to gently cradle your cheek. He sinks into you so slowly as his hands roam free. He lowers his head down where his lips kiss at your neck. He pants and gasps against you, thrusting inside of you deeply. It's the way he took his time with you to give you what you want. Your bodies connected, souls intertwined. He was always so tender and affectionate with you that you didn't even notice the tears racing down your cheeks. Oh how you loved this man so deeply.

He would be SO worried. He would be internally panicking the moment he saw your tears. He'd slowly stop his pace and start asking multiple questions if you were uncomfortable or in any pain while wiping your tears away. He'd also ask if you'd want to stop but you'd cut him off and say no because that's the last thing you want and you were so so close to your climax.

He'd relax to hear you were okay while wiping any extra tears that ran down and replacing each tear with a kiss. You'd apologize for crying but he truly does not care because he insist that he will always be there for you and to wipe any of your tears away. He'd continue his pace to reach your climax and to meet his own.

Zayne:

With his perfectly angled thrusts, you can already feel the intense pleasure building inside of you. Your fingers fist his hair, gripping and pulling at the strands while he thrusts himself into you. An elongated groan strings from his lips as you tug his hair, his head tilting back with your pull, mouth agape while sighs escape him. His eyes peer down, continuing to stay locked on you.

He was so deep inside you, his cock twitching at the sight of his tip pushing slightly against the skin of your lower belly. The way his long fingers curling tighter into your hips to fuck you even harder. The way the man you love always made you feel so so good. He was also so affectionate and prioritized you first even to make you feel so good.

The pleasure coursed through your body with every quick and deep pump of his cock that you didn't even realize the tears tracing down your cheeks.

He would freeze, literally

His pacing would stop, immediately asking you multiple questions of "Are you hurt?" "Would you like me stop?" while he cups your cheeks and wipes your tears.

When you reassured him and explained what happened he was patient and relaxed to hear you were okay. He would always be understanding and sweet. He would draw you in closer, pressing a tender kiss to the top of your head before gently pressing another kiss on your lips. It wouldn't take long for you both to get back to where you were and help finish you off.

Rafayel:

Rafayel liked having you on top of him because he can see you bouncing on top of him with your tips going up and down and seeing your face contorting with pleasure every time he reached a little deeper inside you. You work on his cock as your hands roam around his sculpted chest. Both of your grunts and moans echoed in the room as you fastened the pace. You were so close to your orgasm as your movement began to get sloppy. You were desperately chasing your high that you were unaware of the tears quietly sliding down your face.

The tears running down your face made Rafayel panic. He'd stop completely and sit up as he wipes the tears staining your cheeks while babbling "Are you okay?" and "I'm so so sorry." He would get cut off mid sentence when you'd whine and beg to let you continue while pulling him closer so he'd understand.

He would smirk understanding what those tears meant and let you continue back to work. But this time he would take control and grab your hips bringing you up and down, slowing your pace to tease you. "Tell me how much you love bouncing on my cock pretty girl."

Sylus:

Watching your face contort into pleasure was one of his favorite things. He starts thrusting faster, rougher than before, his own sounds of pleasure mixed with yours bounced off the bedroom walls. You whine from the sensation as his places his lips onto yours to soothe you, to comfort you.

Sylus was always so warm and big inside of you. The way your tight hole was fluttering around his girth made you see stars. You don't remember how many times you came on his cock as he rutted against you. Your legs were wide open as his cock was pumping in and out of you in such a fast motion that you didn't even realize tears are leaking from your eyes.

He refused to always take his eyes off you. He's always an observant partner so when he saw the tears run down your cheeks, he would slow down. His voice would be so gentle and ask if you were in any pain and if you would like to stop completely. When he heard you whine to go continue, he would pick up the original pace and whisper sweet nothings into your ear.

"Am I making you feel that good baby? Do you want more?" While kissing the back side of your knuckles or down your neck to your collarbone.

[nakedinthetrees]

Patterns of Your Love

Neteyam x Human!Reader

✨Friendly Disclaimer: The content of this story contains aged-up characters! If this is something that makes you uncomfortable, please feel free to click or scroll away. The last thing I want is for anyone to read something they are uncomfortable with, however if you decide to interact with any negativity, you will be blocked from my blog as a result.

WARNINGS: 🔞MINORS DNI🔞, SMUT including fingering,thigh riding, p in v/m&f intercourse, dirty talk, pet names, size difference, interspecies relationship, alien genitalia

Word count~4340 Art work created by @zeroseydorum

The heat of the Pandoran sun radiated through the thick branches of the trees above where you and Neteyam laid in the plush grass of the forest. Neteyam’s eyes were closed, muscles relaxed as he allowed your small form to lay across his chest, his comparably large hand supporting your waist, caressing your side gently with a thumb. You were propped up on your forearms staring down at him intently, counting each of his calming breaths, noting the small occasional hums he would let slip as he exhaled. Your eyes drifted to his long braids, splayed out in the grass around his head like separate coinciding streams of water.  A sliver of sunlight painted in a diagonal line across his face. Everything about him seemed so perfect. One of the things that had immediately caught your eyes about him was his stripes. They seemed thicker in comparison to the other na’vi. Decorating his body so beautifully. Every stripe seemed purposeful. Your eyes lingered on the angled pattern on his forehead, following their flow of movement across his face. With careful fingers you raise your hand, gently gliding the tips of your fingers along his cheekbone, tracing the stripe toward the center of his face until it trails off before moving your hand up toward his forehead. Stretching your index and middle fingers apart, you place them at his hairline then slowly move them down, following the slanted lines of his stripes, progressively closing your fingers as you reach the place in the center of his brow bone. A low hum rumbled in Neteyam’s throat as your fingers repeated the action, your own mind transfixed on him, ”That feels nice…” his voice breaks the silence in a smooth whisper, a relaxed smile growing on his lips, “Does it?” you whisper back, reflecting his own smile. Your question is met with a satisfied hum in response, prompting you to repeat the action a few more times, watching Neteyam relax further under your touch. Your hand drifts down toward his chest, fingers immediately caressing the thick stripes along his pectoral, noting the brief hitch in Neteyam’s breathing as your feathery touches move across his skin. 

“What are you doing?” He asks with a slight chuckle in his voice, finally opening his eyes to look down at you. Your eyes meet his for a brief moment, returning his smile before glancing back down at the pattern on his skin, “Your stripes are so pretty” you reply, trailing your fingers down the center of his chest, noticing how his muscles tense slightly at your actions causing you to quirk a curious brow, “Is my big, mighty warrior sensitive?” You chuckle with a playful smirk. Neteyam moves his hand to caress your jaw carefully, shifting your gaze back to his own, his thumb wanting to press over your lips, mentally cursing the oxygen mask that guarded your face, “Do not tease me, little one” Neteyam scolds you with his own playful smile, “Besides… You know full well what you do to me.”. Your gaze fell from his face to his body once more, admiring his azure skin with your finger tips. As his chest faltered a bit from his shaky breath, a new idea formed in your mind. You shifted your gaze to the side of his head, where his nearly bunny-like ears flicked absentmindedly. Carefully you shift your weight forward, just enough to place your hands by the sides of his head without having to strain. Just as carefully you allow your hands to gently cup the Na’vi’s long ears, which flick a bit in response at the touch. “My yawne…” Neteyam warns in a low purr, his eyes now watching you closely in attempts to perhaps read your mind on whatever scheme you had conjured, “What are you thinking, little one?”, “Just… testing a quick theory” you whisper semi focused as you try to hide your smirk. The moment your thumb and index fingers shift to lightly pinch his ears, you get a reaction you would never expect from him; a shaky gasp sounds in the air, his muscles tighten beneath you just as his hands move to encompass your backside, holding you impossibly close to him. His ears now hot beneath the pads of your fingers.

Your lips loosen as you finally allow a giggle to break through them, giving another brush of your thumbs along his ears that sends shivers down Neteyam’s spine, delight painting your features while watching his eyes roll and flutter shut, only briefly. Although there is nothing particularly erotic about the rubbing of his ears, the expression and now sudden shift in the rising and falling of his chest, has your mind wandering elsewhere. Swinging a leg over his slim waist and placing your palms on his chest to steady yourself, you peer down at him with a feline smirk, “So the big tough kitty really is sensitive.”. When Neteyam’s eyes meet yours, his pupils are dilated, glazed with a softness you only ever see him give you and yet… you could swear part of that look held some sort of primal challenge. It’s when his large hands snake up your thighs that you understand the meaning of that look, “Perhaps… although aren’t humans more sensitive than na’vi?” He hums, purposely drawing out the words as his fingers purposefully caress your thighs as they make their way up to your hips, his thumbs massaging the divots there with the type of predatory gentleness that makes your pulse quicken. 

“Your skin is much softer… your bodies are squishier…” Neteyam purrs, perhaps more to himself as his amber eyes follow the trailing of his hands whilst they give your hips a gentle squeeze before slowly moving upward, pushing beneath the fabric of your shirt to run his thumbs along your ribs, just under your breasts. His ears perk when the sound of your exo-pack mask enhances the sound of your staggered breathing, pulling the edge of his lips into a smirk, “See?”. You pull back out of his reach crossing your are over your chest defiantly, “What? You expect me not to react when you’re…” Neteyam cocks his head to the side, that same predatory look gleaming in his eyes. You blow out a hot breath in a fleeting attempt to slow your heart rate, momentarily fogging the glass of your mask, “Stop looking at me like that.”. 

Neteyam chuckles, shifting his weight to anchor himself onto his elbows, simultaneously causing you to adjust your own weight as well to stop you from slipping down his abs. The position mimicking that of a lion getting ready to pounce, “And how, tawtute, am I looking at you?”, “Like a cat toying with its meal before devouring it.” You huff out a nervous laugh, noting the way he leans to one side to allow one of his arms free to cup your lower back, his thumb trailing along your spine, his face coming ever so slightly closer to yours, “Is that what my sky dancer wishes? To be devoured?” Not ‘sky person’, but ‘dancer’ because you were not a human fueled by greed or destruction. You were soft, gentle, free spirited, and his. 

Yet as you stammer trying to find the words, Neteyam leans closer until his lips meet with the column of your throat, extinguishing your tongue of any protest or comeback you would’ve conjured and leaving it with only the ability to sigh, leaning into his touch, your fingers instinctually weaving through his braids. His hold on your lower back remains firm as he carefully shifts into a sitting position, his other hand holding the side of your face, to which you have zero hesitation in leaning into the warmth of his palm, presenting more of your neck to him. A low sultry purr answers your gesture in thanks as his lips begin leaving kiss after wet kiss along your throat while his hand at your lower back drifts up your torso, proceeding his conquest in teasing the underside of your breast. Your breath catches for a moment and Neteyam’s lips ascend to your ear, his exhale against it causing you to shiver, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth, “Shall we see what noises I can squeeze out of you?” Neteyam whispers, his hand making the shift to finally touch your aching breast, his fingers tracing along its peak before giving it an experimental squeeze to emphasize his words. 

Your lips part as the warmth of his palm encompasses your mound, his calluses pulling at the sensitive skin of your peaked nipple with the motion in a way that has you immediately biting your lip again. A thud sounds from behind Neteyam at the impatient bat of his tail against the ground. While he was no stranger to this song and dance of trying to coax the most delicious sounds from you, it still made him somewhat annoyed when he didn’t get immediate results for his excursions. “How my sky dancer loves to play…” Neteyam murmurs against the skin of your neck, dragging his lips down to the peak of your collarbone, “Play as you like, yawne. I will have you singing soon enough.” he purrs, giving your breast in his hand a more assertive squeeze as his tongue glides back up the column of your throat, the fangs of his bottom jaw dragging slightly, in a way that has your body arching into him in response, finally drawing a sweet, lust coated whimper from your lips. You can feel Neteyam's satisfied smirk against your neck, as well as that same satisfaction forming into a firmness that is now pressing into you as you sit on his lap, “Miklor…”(beautiful sounding). Fuck if hearing him speak his mother tongue didn't instantly turn you into a puddle, then the clenching of your core would definitely do the trick. The growing need to have him impossibly closer, touching every inch of you, filling you, ebbed at the corners of your mind, beckoning desire to the forefront that had you squirming against the hardness that pressed against your clothed ass. The seam of your shorts grinding so deliciously against the thin fabric of his loincloth had Neteyam huffing out a ragged breath that sent a chill down your spine. Neteyam's hand pressed at your lower back, held you firmly against him, whilst the middle finger of his hand that remained under your shirt stroked tight, lazy circles around the perked bud of your breast, his mouth busy with adorning your neck in love bites for you to return to the lab with later, all of it dousing your body in heat, you wouldn't be surprised if the blood in your veins had become molten lava, “Teyam…” you coo, fisting your hands in his braids, a low purr rumbling in his chest at the sound, before using your hold on his braids to urge him back and off your neck, “No more playing,” you whisper breathlessly, wining your hips against him for emphasis, “please.”. He needed no further explanation of your wants, yet his eyes took in your body, possibilities of how this could go painting a string of pictures in his mind, by the hungry look in them. “Stand for me, ma'yawntu. Strip.” The command coming out gentle on his tongue as you watched you rise, his hand drifting behind himself to untie the knot of his loincloth, the minute your skin left his, his eyes never leaving your own for a moment, even as he tossed the flimsy garment to the side, perching to sit on his knees as he gave himself a long and slow stroke. 

You swallowed the excess saliva that had manifested in your mouth at the sight as your hands moved to first remove your top, then your shoes, moving slowly in an effort to give him a good show. As you moved to remove your panties along with your shorts, Neteyam’s “No,” halted your movments, “Leave those for me.”. You obliged him, stepping out of your shorts and walking between his parted knees, Neteyam's hands instinctively reaching up to guide you, resting on your hips, pulling you closer until his lips met with your soft stomach. His thumbs slide over the band of your panties whilst he continue to leave kisses along your belly, his eyes lifting toward your own for only a moment, before his fingers delicately looping around the top of your panties, before pulling them gently down your legs. The scent of your bare arousal was enough to send a shiver through Neteyam’s spine, making his body go rigid, as his eyes rolled back before closing, his teeth nipping lovingly at your stomach that despite his restraint, had you yelping with slight surprise. “You complain a lot about my own playing, when you can't even seem to stop, yourself.” you protest, shifting your hips to avert his attention from your stomach down to the aching between your thighs. You hadn't even registered that one of Neteyam's hands had drifted down your leg, until you felt his calloused fingertips smoothing over your inner thigh, traveling higher and higher until two of them glide through your wet folds, just enough to part them.

Your pulse immediately jumps, your hands anchoring on his shoulders to steady yourself, “Mmn, but it is so fun to watch you squirm, yawne. It delights me to see my mate act so needy for me.” Neteyam purrs, dragging the lubricated fingers over your clit, slowly circling it whilst your hips buck at the touch, the nerves in your thighs demanding to close, which takes nearly every muscle in your body not to obey; to let Neteyam swirl your bundle of nerves and whined the forming knot in your stomach tighter, the mental leash you had on your vocal cords long forgotten, relinquishing sweet music for Neteyam's ears. “Awe, my sweet mate makes such pretty noises… tell me how good it feels, yawne.”. Your mind seems full of static, only being able to process the feeling of his fingers, the tightening in your core, your only response being to chase his fingers by swaying your hips along with him. “Uh- uh… use that pretty voice, love.” he urges, poking at your entrance with his fingertips for extra motivation. You swallow thickly, trying to steady your breathing as to try to make your voice as clear as possible, yet to no avail as your words come out nearly trembling, “It feels so good Teyam, I…I can hardly keep standing like this.”, “Oh?” and with that his fingers submerge themselves into your soaked cunt, scissoring twice to help with the stretch. The sound that breaks from you is like a song from the great mother herself, your fingernails digging into the blue muscles of his shoulder as your hips instinctively move against his hand, “More… more…”, “You want more, yawne? I've hardly started… so greedy.” Neteyam hums not sounding at all upset as his fingers curl against the spongy bit inside of you. “My greedy little sky dancer… I want to watch you dance for me…” he whispers, hot breath fanning against your ear and much to your dismay, Neteyam removes his fingers from within you, a whine that wasn't completely voluntary, following it from your throat.

Your growing pout causes Neteyam to chuckle as he shifts his weight slightly, still resting on his knees, but now sitting on his heels, the back of his hand now placed purposefully atop his thigh, his fingers still glistening with your juices now pointing skyward, “Sit.”. The command was simple enough, but you couldn’t stop the drifting of your eyes to the place between his thighs, where his cock twitched in eagerly. “That is for later, for now…” He curled his fingers in a sort of beckoning motion, “sit.”. You didn't recall how many steps it took until you were straddling Neteyam's thigh and you couldn't find it in you to care at the tips of his fingers brush your folds, his thumb gently swiping over your clit as you lowered yourself onto him, sinking his fingers back home. “Ahh~...” You moan as you sit completely on his thigh, with Neteyam now knuckle deep in your sex. “Mmnh you’re so warm inside, yawne.. so tight. Let us get you ready for more, hm? Dance…” he cooed sweetly, his fingers repeating that beckoning motion inside of you that serves as enough to jumpstart your movements. You grind your hips into his palm, your juices squelching below you with the motion. For a moment you see Neteyam's eyelids flutter, his lips curl back in the slightest of snarls, before settling for a look so heavy with lust it had you swearing under your breath, you nearly thought you'd combust at the sight alone. Sparing a glance between his legs once again, you witnessed the evidence of that look. His cock nearly red at the tip, twitching with each sway of your hips, as if he were imagining it inside of you instead of his fingers. You knew if you were his size, a na'vi, he wouldn't have wasted a second before burying himself in you, but alas, you were a fragile human. A small delicate thing that, despite whatever protests you could throw his way, you know that Neteyam would always take his time with you. “Eyes on me, yawne.” Neteyam says in more of a growl, as if just the sight of you looking at his was shredding his self control, yet before you could so much as lift your gaze- “Haah! Tey-.” he began bouncing his leg, thus you along with it, sending you up and down on his fingers at his will. Your fingernails nearly broke skin as you bounced atop his legs, moaning uncontrollably as he fucked you on his fingers. 

Neteyam's gaze seemed to devour you like a piece of art; watching the each bounce of your breasts, the juices painting his palm and thigh, thrust after thrust how they pooled on his blue skin. It was almost to much, his cock was aching to the point of pain- and then he felt your touch on it's head, not even processing when or how your hand had gone from gripping his shoulder, to rolling his cock head in your palm and… fuck did it feel good. Too good. It was almost too easy to imagine pinning you on the forest floor, lining himself with your cunt and- No, you needed to finish first before he could have you. He needed to be sure you were ready for him. Your body trembled as Neteyam began curling his fingers repeatedly as he continued to bounce his leg, the mixed sensation throwing you into the merciful arms of release as you writhed and shook, mewling out in a hitched voice as you came undone. He continued, slowly the bouncing of his thigh and shifting his curling fingers in the massaging motion, letting you ride out your high. Neteyam huffed a small laugh as your forehead leaned against his chest for support, your breathing heavy and uneven. “You… you play too much, Teyam.”, this prompted another laugh as Neteyam lowered his knee, his free hand snaking from your hip to around your backside, as he carefully lowered you onto the plush grass. Once your back was flush against the ground, Neteyam now leaning over you, he withdrew his fingers, bringing them below pelvis to smear your lingering juices along his shaft, letting out a sigh at the contact, a sound that had your chest tightening. He had been so patient, so gentle, and now you would reward him for his efforts. 

Slowly you spread your legs wide, bringing your knees to your chest, watching as Neteyam continued to give himself a few more pumps to ease the hurt. When his eyes finally lifted to see you spread before him, the sound that came from him was nothing, but primal need. He ran his tongue over his lips to moisten them as he carefully leaned down, bringing your face closer to his own until his forehead rested against yours. Despite the hunger, his amber eyes swam with so much Earth shattering love that you felt you could weep and perhaps it showed in your face, because Neteyam cooed your name so softly and sincerely you almost didn't hear it, before he raised his lips to kiss your hairline, once again mentally cursing the obstruction of your mask that kept him from kissing your lips. When he pulled away, it was only enough to weave a hand between you to guide his cock closer to where you both longed for him to be. At the feel of his tip prodding at your entrance, Neteyam leaned down to place a gentle kiss at your ear, whispering sweet praises as inch by delicious, suffocating, filling inch he pushed into you. The shudder that rippled down his back muscles as your tightness took hold of him, as if it would never let go. “Siltsan, ma’ syulang…” (Well done, my flower). As Neteyam looked up to take in your expression, he found your eyes closed, brows scrunched, but not in pain as you breathed, “I don't think I'll ever get used to that first thrust… thank Eywa.”. 

Neteyam couldn't help, but chuckle before leaning down to bite your earlobe, “Such a dirty mouth on my mate…” he cooed, yet as you were about to retort, Neteyam pulled out slightly before plunging back in, his muscles flexing at the motion. “Ohh…shit…”, the curse natural on his tongue as again he thrusted slowly into you. The fifth time his tip pressed kissed your cervix, Neteyam had to bite back a growl. He was desperate, but he wouldn’t allow himself to throw caution to the wind, not just for your safety, but to savor this feeling for as long as he could. He maneuvered enough to set your legs over his shoulders, his knees spreading wider through the grass as he scooped an arm beneath your shoulders, pressing your front flush against his own seamlessly, like he was trying to get as close to you as possible- to force your bodies to become one and when he rolled his hips again, you rolled yours with him. Neteyam's ears pressed flat against the sides of his head and he let out a soft whimper, he was content to stay like this forever. “Teyam, please…” You begged, rolling your hips before he could move again, giving his cock a loving squeeze with a clench of your inner walls and with it, an invisible tether had broken loose. Neteyam reeled his hips back at the same steady pace he had, but when he drove back in, your body bucked with his. “Fuck! yes… like that… please.” and he did, again and again, faster, harder, until it was all he could do to bring your hips down onto each of his thrusts, driving your back into the grass each time. His lips were in a frenzy on your ears, neck and chest; wherever he could reach, you decorated your skin in wet kisses, nips, and licks and you couldn't find it within you to give a shit about how many marks he was leaving, not when it meant he was putting his claim on you in the most intimate way he could, Your body writhed and bucked beneath him, your legs that had been barking for being in the same position too long, had become an after thought as one ograsm began as another ended. 

Only when Neteyam pulled away, wrapping your legs around his slim waist did you suddenly remember they needed relief, yet the euphoria of it was short lived as you were hauled into his lap, both arms wrapping around you as he somehow drove himself deeper at the new angle. Neteyam buried his face between your neck and shoulder, his grunts and moans lingering in your ear. He was close, the breathless whines that new fell from his lips indicated as much. So close you could feel the restraint in his thrusts, where one moment he pistoned into you, filling the space around you with wet slapping, the next he held your pelvis flush against his own as he ground himself into you. Your brows furrowed through your mask as his whines became more pitched, desperate you realized, like the finish line was nearly there, yet somehow out of reach. So you did what you could, clinging to him and whispering in his ear between moans, “I love you.”, “I love you.”, “My mate.”, “Mine.”, it was the last two words that clanged through him like a burst of energy as Neteyam gave a few rough thrusts, bringing your body to meet them each time, that he finally went over the edge, spilling as much of his seed as he could into you before it began to spill where you were still connected. 

The moment he stilled inside of you, you both let out a sigh in unison, your bodies drenched with sweat, skin hot and sticky to the touch. It was when you each pulled back to look at each other that Neteyam’s eyes widened, taking in your body before him. “What? What's wrong?” You immediately ask, following his gaze, but that was all the proof you needed. From what you could see, your chest was littered with redish-purple spots, which you could only assume were on your neck as well, and then the embarrassment of having to walk into the lab like this hit. Neteyam merely laughed, trying as gentle as possible to lay you back down on the grass, withdrawing himself from you before laying on his side beside you. “You say my stripes are pretty, but I must say… I do find spots to be a good look on you.” then you laughed with him only after feining disapproval at his joke, giving his shoulder a playful shove before snuggling into his warmth.

Even rereading this story I'm super proud with how it turned out. I hope it holds up to everyone who read it previously and that new readers enjoy it as well.♡

Tag list:  @luvv4j4ybe11, @sullybothersmate ,@yourfavwh0r3 @Awiltedpeony @xylianasblog @pandoraslxna @blue-slxt @hotdsworld @itchaboi-itchyboy @erenjaegerwifee

If you would like to be added or removed from a specific taglist, just let me know!

[trashytracktales]

https://www.tumblr.com/trashytracktales/778028575513280512/hey-babe-i-cant-stop-thinking-about-lando-fucking

a fic like this would probably kill me, just saying...👀

Season opener | LN⁴

🔸️ inspired by this ask

🔸️ summary ──── After securing his first win of the season, Lando can’t wait to celebrate with his girlfriend.

🔸️ pairing ──── Lando Norris x she/her reader

🔸️ rating ──── explicit

🔸️ warnings ──── 18+, mature/sexual content, descriptive language, smut, swearing, semi-public setting, desperate!Lando, unprotected sex (against the wall), mild praise kink and possessiveness, overstimulation, interrupted intimacy (oops 👀).

🔸️ word count ──── 2.7k

🔸️ date ──── Mar. 25, 2025

🔸️ a/n ──── Here’s a little quickie to hold you over before I drop a 10k (so far) one-shot later this week. That mf has been living rent-free in my brain for a month now, and if I don’t end up posting it, you guys officially have permission to throw tomatoes at me. Enjoy this while you wait 💋

THERE’S STILL A lot of noise ringing in Lando’s ears, even as he’s dragged from one obligation to the next. The podium was nice, the feeling of being drowned in champagne and cheers always welcome, even though it can get really uncomfortable. It’s been a weekend full of twists and turns that, thankfully, is coming to a happy ending for him. But the real celebration awaits in his driver’s room.

However, it seems like the universe has decided to taunt him some extra today, with the post-race interviews where every question feels like it stretches time longer than naturally possible, and the conference where he has to relive every lap, as if there weren’t thousands of cameras that captured every angle of the race.

A real-life purgatory, that’s what it feels like.

His body is still running hot, adrenaline refusing to settle and, trough it all, there’s only one thought consuming his mind. He’s trying not to think about her, though, or the orange mini dress she picked out weeks ago for the season opener. He even tries not to imagine the curves of her body every time he blinks or to hear her soft voice in his mind, that sweet whimper that makes him more tense with every touch.

Lando grips the back of his neck as he listens to another useless question, his patience wearing thin. He can still feel the weight of her teary eyes on him earlier, the way she had smiled at him when he climbed out of the car. It was quick, a moment stolen in the chaos, but he caught it. It was theirs. And ever since, he’s been aching to get back to his girlfriend.

From the conference he is dragged straight to the debriefing and, by the time that finally ends, Lando is already moving before anyone can stop him; he mutters something about needing a minute and storms down the hall. His race suit is still damp from sweat and champagne, hugging his muscles, the collar pulled loose where he had yanked at it earlier. His curls are a mess, damp at the roots, and his entire body is vibrating with something more than just the thrill of the first win of the season.

He doesn’t hesitate at all when he reaches his room. Just opens the door eagerly, closing it just as quickly. The second he sees her, his stomach flips.

She’s already standing up from the little couch, her face lighting up the moment she realizes it’s him. “Congratulations, my lo—”

Lando is on her in an instant, crossing the small space with long steps and grabbing her waist, lifting her off the ground. She gasps in surprise, laughing breathlessly as her arms wrap around his neck, her fingers threading into his damp curls at the back of his head.

“Oh! Someone missed me, I see,” she giggles, breathing against his cheek.

Lando exhales deeply, his chest heaving, hands tightening around her hips. He can’t think straight, can’t focus on anything but her warmth against him, the scent of her sweet perfume mixing with the sharp tang of champagne on his suit.

“You have no idea. I was losing my fucking mind,” he admits, chuckling in return. He presses his forehead against hers, his breath hot. Purposely, his hands slide down her back, pressing her flush against him. “Thought about you the whole time. Could barely focus.”

Before she can catch her breath, her back meets the hard surface of the nearest wall. Another startled gasp leaves her lips, swallowed instantly by his mouth, his kiss demanding in ways she’s felt it before.

But not like this.

It’s the kind of kiss that takes her by surprise, leaves her thoughtless and very, very aroused. The dress has already lifted up her thighs, and they’re squeezing around him as if Lando could get out of her embrace if she’s not careful. What soothes her, however, is the fact that he is the one who pushes himself even harder against her, pressing his chest against hers until he almost leaves her out of breath.

Lando’s race suit is tight around his body, but he doesn’t have enough energy to care about anything else but her. All he knows is the way her lips part, letting him in like she has no choice, the way her fingers grip his shoulders, and the way his entire body feels like it’s still racing. Only now, it’s for and because of her.

She deepens the kiss, messy and uncoordinated, teeth grazing and tongues tangling in a tender yet rushed desire. Her hands run up the expanse of his arms, feeling the tension in his muscles as he holds her up effortlessly, her feet barely touching the ground. His biceps flex under her touch, and the realization that he’s holding back, restraining himself just enough so he doesn’t break her against that wall, only makes her more pliable in his arms.

“In here?” she asks between kisses.

Lando lets out a little noise while exhaling, feeling her heat pressed against him even through layers of clothing. One of his hands moves, lifting her dress even higher, until it hangs somewhere around the middle of her waist. His fingers are hungrily skimming her bare skin, until they find the waistband of her panties. He doesn’t have enough patience to tease. Just pulls at them, dragging the thin fabric down her thighs and letting it pool at her ankles.

“That answers your question?” asks Lando, feeling her nails digging into his shoulders as she tries to steady herself.

“Mhm,” she lets out a shaky breath, “So eager.”

Lando grins, shrugging, “Got some adrenaline left I need to burn off.”

He groans in frustration as he fumbles with his zipper, refusing to let go of her even for a second. Finally, he yanks it down just enough, his breath heavy as he works himself free with a sharp hiss. In all the rush, Lando’s hands won’t stay away from her hips for too long, keeping her exactly where he needs her.

The girl watches him, eyes filled with amusement despite the heat between them. Then she laughs, a silky sound that makes his heart race in his chest. Lando looks at her and something tender flickers in his gaze, even as he pushes his hips forward, even as the impatience still coils hot in his veins.

“You think this is funny?” he asks, lips curving into a smirk.

She shakes her head, though still amused at the image in front of her, and the way he’s so impatient he can’t even get out of the suit properly. “Nope. I think it’s hilarious.”

Lando scoffs dramatically, like he can’t believe her audacity. “Oh, yeah?” he challenges, his voice lower now. “Let’s see how funny you find this, then.”

Before she can throw another quip his way, his hand slides between her thighs, fingers trailing over her entrance with a lazy kind of intent. She sucks in a breath, all the amusement vanishing in a blink of an eye, her head knocking back against the wall as her body responds to his familiar touch.

Lando watches her reaction, the smirk widening on his flushed face. “Shit, you’re right,” he agrees, dipping his fingers in just enough to make her shudder. “It is hilarious,” he tilts his head, pretending to think. “Yeah. Getting wet so quickly almost has me rolling on the floor.”

He slides his fingers up and down her opening, then pushes two at once inside, curling them right before pulling out, only to make her squirm. Her thighs tighten around his waist, demanding more, but it’s not about her right now. It’s about him, making it a moment worthy of the Winner’s Room.

He’s painfully hard next time he cups himself, and the first press of his cock against her clit sends a shiver up her spine. Lando drags his length down her folds with uncharacteristic patience, until the distance between them diminishes completely, and he kisses her again, lazier than before. Their world becomes substantially smaller, and there’s just hot skin, erratic breathing, and the slick, aching need to be as close as possible. He lines himself up and thrusts in one smooth motion, punching a moan from her lips that she barely manages to swallow down.

Lando lets his forehead fall to hers, chuckling gently. “Not too loud, yeah?”

She shakes her head, “Don’t ruin the fun.”

He’s buried inside her, stretching so sweet that it sends a full-body shudder through her. The wall behind is harsh, but all she can focus on is the way he fills her completely. How he holds her there, with no chance to slip away. Not that she wants to be anywhere else but here, right now, with him.

Lando’s fingers grip her tighter as he pulls back, then slams into her again, feeling her walls pulsing faster around his cock. A broken whimper escapes her, her head falling defeated on his shoulder. It makes him curse under his breath, finally finding a rhythm that’s both deep and devastating. Each thrust forces a soft cry from her throat, her body moving in unison with his, nails raking down his sweaty back.

The way she pulls him in turns Lando on even more, the only sounds between them the ragged breaths and the wet, obscene noises of him fucking her right there, against the wall.

“Fuck, you’re so hot,” exclaims Lando, biting down on her shoulder, his hips snapping up harder.

She lets out a hiss, her head is spinning while pleasure is building gradually, her body burning from the inside out. She fists his curls, dragging his mouth back to hers, swallowing his groans as she squeezes him.

“That’s so good, baby. Shit. Keep doing that.”

The way she feels around him, the way she moans and gasps his name, the way her body reacts to him like she was made for him — everything gets too much for Lando. Yet, he somehow finds himself craving more of her. His movements grow sloppier, pushing him to drive into her faster.

“Lando…” she moans his name in a whisper, cupping his face with the intention to kiss him. But the way he’s moving inside her makes her weak, so she ends up holding on to him with limited strength, like her life depends on it.

And right now, it does.

Their eyes meet just as he lifts her thigh higher on his waist, the small adjustment allowing him to sink deeper.

“Fuck, Lando,” she whines, her voice barely more than a breath. “You feel so—”

He doesn’t let her finish. A hard thrust has her choking on her words, and the way she clenches down around him makes his jaw go slack.

“Yes, tell me,” he urges, his voice too unsteady, hanging on by a thread, while his fingers press into the curve of her waist like he’s trying to brand himself into her skin.

She loses it, her hands tugging at his hair just to hear his little noises in return. “Feel so good, love,” she breathes heavily, her head falling back, exposing her throat. “Fucking me so good.”

A guttural curse escapes him, dragging her against him with a pace that makes her cry out in pleasure. “That so?” he rasps, his teeth grazing her jaw before his lips claim hers, swallowing every desperate sound she makes. “Then take it, baby,” he orders gently, “All of it. All for you.”

“Shit—don’t stop,” she begs, her eyes teary because of how tense with pleasure her body gets.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he replies, his lips brushing against the shell of her ear. “Feel how perfect you are? How fucking tight, hm? That’s it,” he encourages her, watching the way her lashes flutter open to look at him. “Gonna let me feel you fall apart?” asks Lando, going somehow even deeper with each thrust.

Her back arches, a broken moan spilling from her lips. She’s so full and desperate to come, and he knows she’s close; her whines and the way her body reacts giving it away in the most obvious way.

“Need you, Lan,” she breathes in spasms, “Please.”

“I can see that, baby. Come on,” he grits out, his movements turning frantic. “Let me have it.”

Her body trembles at his words, at the sheer heat in his voice. The way he holds her, firm and possessive, sends her spiraling. Every thrust, every rough snap of his hips only winds her tighter, like he’s pulling her apart piece by piece just to put her back together again.

“Lan-do,” she breathes, voice breaking on his name. “I… oh, fuck,” she can barely think anymore, barely breathe with the way he’s fucking into her, like stopping isn’t even an option.

His hand slides up her side, gripping the back of her neck, tilting her head so she has no choice but to meet his gaze again. His eyes are way too dark now, blown wide with lust, sending another wave of heat flooding through her veins. He goes harder when he sees the desire on her face, pushing her further against the wall, and she lets out a high-pitched moan before biting her lip, remembering where they are.

“Wanna feel you all over my cock,” she hears him saying, but she’s so overstimulated now that can’t quite process the meaning of his words. She’s not sure she’s even breathing as Lando presses his body against her with more force, continuing, “Be a good girl and let go for me.”

That’s all it takes. Her body seizes, her head spinning as pleasure rips through her, hot and intense. And endless. She clenches around him, pulsing, shaking, and the feeling, the sight of her unraveling for him, sends Lando spiraling too.

He chokes out a curse, burying his face in her neck as he surrenders, his hips pressing deep and desperate to keep her close as he fills her. The warmth spreads between them, spilling down her thighs, and the sheer filthiness of it only makes her moan, her fingers flying to curl in his hair once again.

Lando rests his forehead against hers, panting, his lips ghosting over her cheek. He doesn’t move away just yet. Instead, he pulls out, and a sharp whimper escapes her as she feels the mess they’ve made drip down her thighs.

Then, without warning, he pushes back in making her gasp silently this time, her hands gripping his shoulders.

“Wait, Lan,” she almost cries, her voice raw.

He keeps her still while he rolls his hips, slow and teasing, his other hand trailing down her stomach before settling low on her belly.

She shudders at the touch and at the way he’s still so deep inside of her, tilting her head and blinking heavy-lidded. “Wh—what are you doing?”

Lando barely hears her. His attention is caught on where they’re still connected, mesmerized by the way his cock glistens with their release as he continues to lazily move in and out. He watches the way her spent body still takes him in, so perfectly, his jaw clenching as pleasure coils in his gut all over again. It sends his head spinning, the wet sensation of skin on skin almost maddening.

Every shift, every sudden flutter of her walls around him, threatens to pull him under completely.

“Fuck, baby,” his raspy voice is laced with adoration. “I can look at you all day.”

Her body is already responding before her mind can catch up. She clenches around him again and again, and Lando chuckles lowly, the sound rich with satisfaction.

“Oh, shit! You like that, don’t you? Hearing how good of a girl you are for me, hm?”

She nods and, without meaning to, she tightens around him harder.

Lando’s grin turns smug. “Yeah, you do,” his hips still for a beat, his hands flexing against her waist before he gives her one hard thrust that knocks the air from her lungs. “Like that, baby,” he groans, the words dripping with heat. “Keep me in.”

The sensation of her pulling him even deeper rips a moan straight from his throat, and Lando drops his forehead to her shoulder, breathing heavily.

“Fucking hell, you’re killing me,” he rasps, pressing an open-mouthed kiss against her damp skin. “Swear to God, I’ll come again if you—”

“Lando?” a muffled, familiar voice rings out from the other side of the door, accompanied by knocking. “Your parents are waiting, mate. You good in there?”

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ MASTERLIST . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

Thank you for reading!

None of my works are available for reposting on other platforms. Reblogs, likes, and comments are deeply appreciated ♥︎

© trashy track tales, 2025

[stunie]

˖ ݁𖥔 ݁ “DID YOU JUST FAKE THAT, PRINCESS?”

WINDBREAKER BOYS + FAKING AN ORGASM. ft. hayato suo, sakura haruka, togame jo, & umemiya hajime x f!reader

content: explicit smut (18+), overstimulation, squirting, fingering, cunninglingus, phone call / keep quiet, mirror sex, multiple rounds, creampies, usage of pet names, praise

part 1: ft. yamato endo, kiryuu mitsuki, & kaji ren

mdni - 2K wc . filled request! (i added togame) :>

HAYATO SUO. mirror sex

"h-how!”

your reaction is adorable, drawing a lighthearted chuckle from your boyfriend. you squirm a bit, face pressed uncomfortably against your vanity’s mirror as you’re bent over your own desk, a smiling suo looming right over you.

"well...you didn't replicate it very well," he coos, "i'm surprised you thought i would fall for that."

you narrow your eyes at him in disbelief. there was absolutely no chance that he was able to differentiate between a real one and a fake one— you’re certain of it. you had even mimicked the way your walls flutter around him whenever he pushes you off the edge.

“don’t believe me?” his voice comes out steady, cock prodding at your entrance, “i’ll show you.”

you gasp at the feeling of his length stretching your walls, pushing until just the tip is inside. he’s holding you tightly, not letting you move when you impatiently try and push your hips back for more.

“s-suo,” you blurt, “stop teasi—”

all at once, he’s slamming his hips into you, your tongue lolling out when he’s buried deep inside you. he doesn’t give you time to steady yourself before he sets a brutal pace, fingers coming to swipe perfectly at your clit. “see?” his voice comes out cheerful despite the way he’s bullying his length into you so roughly, “this is closer to the kind of faces you make for me.”

it’s all happening too fast. before you know it, you’re shivering and whining beneath him, arms knocking over your bottles of skincare as you try to brace yourself to take him. he’s awfully composed, subtly angling himself to slam against the spot that has you seeing stars. your orgasm approaches you so fast, faster than ever before, and it’s overwhelming.

“w-wait, suo, slow down—” you stammer, thighs shaking violently as the knot inside you threatens to snap. “it’s too much! ‘m gonna-”

“and you know? when i do this,” he interrupts sweetly, fingers coming to rub at your clit just as his cock pushes against a sensitive spot, “you’ll cum for me.”

it hits you in an instant, eyes widening when the familiar wave crashes through you, walls spasming against his length as you scream. your vision is still a blur even when he slows down his pace, dotted with white and black splotches. you can barely register what’s happening when suo’s hands come to run up and down your body as he sighs contentedly.

“see? like that,” he nods, “it’s easy.”

his length is still inside you, switching to slow and steady thrusts as you tremble beneath him. "don't worry. i'll show you again so you remember."

SAKURA HARUKA. squirting, cunninglingus, fingering

sakura’s fingers leave your clit the second he realizes something isn’t right, because you’re usually much louder and messier than this. he pulls back from your cunt for a second, head hot and blurry from nerves, and the violent blush across his face deepens as he forces himself to get a closer look at your cunt.

it all makes sense when he realizes he was touching the wrong spot— most likely due to the fact that his eyes had been clenched shut.

“y-you didn’t tell me,” he grumbles out of embarrassment, gaze shifting anywhere except on you. even with an apology and the explanation that you just wanted to make him more comfortable, the thought of how’d you look actually cumming on his face doesn’t leave his head.

he’s buried in your cunt now, your thighs clenched tightly around his head as he fucks his fingers deep into you. sakura had no idea just how addicting it would be when you first mentioned it to him— each moan that leaves your lips more sinful and loud than the last. it has his cock throbbing with need, forcing him to grind his hips against the mattress to relieve the frustrating ache.

“oh my god…” you mumble to no one in particular, mouth falling open when he pushes his tongue inside your cunt, eating you out with more intensity as his fingers come to press into your clit. “sakura—”

it’s dizzying, but he wants more. his free hand comes to dig into your ass, lifting you up a bit so he hold you flush against his face, licking and slurping at your cunt even as your thighs squeeze roughly against his head. “ah— fuck, sakura, w-wait!”

the way he’s eating you out feels different than what you’re familiar with. the knot in your core feels tighter, you feel wetter— he feels better. your hands come to desperately tug at his hair when it’s too much, and his eyes widen when you unintentionally push him deeper into your cunt.

the pressure of his tongue flicking against your clit one last time is all it takes for you to scream, cunt gushing into him as he licks and suckles at your clit. your walls flutter around nothing, your body numbing from the intensity— but your boyfriend looks the opposite.

“again,” his voice is just above a growl, cheeks still glowing red with embarrassment, “let me practice again.”

TOGAME JO. phone call / keep quiet, overstim

the sudden ringing of his phone catches the attention of the two of you, screen lighting up brightly as it vibrates against the mattress. togame’s thrusts slow down a bit, reaching to fish it from somewhere underneath the blankets to check the caller.

"ah, it's choji."

his voice comes out completely normal, as if he wasn’t balls deep inside your cunt just moments ago. it’s almost irritating how limitless his stamina is; your body numb and overstimulated since long ago, and all you’re able to do now is lay there and take what he gives you.

it takes all your energy to try and pull away from him to let him take the call, struggling a bit with the way his big frame is towering over yours, but he suddenly pulls your hips back against his own.

“jo!” you warn through a hushed whisper, eyes narrowing into a glare as the cheerful melody of his ringtone repeats itself again. your eyes widen when he puts a finger to his lips to silence you, and you realize that he’s planning on answering it without stopping.

a hand wraps around your neck, pulling you up until your back is flush against his chest, his thickness nestled right against your cervix with the angle. “gonna stay nice and quiet for me while i answer choji,” he coos into the shell of your ear, “won’t you?”

“because we’re not done just yet..”

your body falls back onto the mattress when he lets go, and you grasp onto one of your pillows to stuff your face into when he resumes his pace, starting slow and deep.

“choji?” togame asks, lifting the phone to his ear to tuck it between his shoulder casually. “ah..today?”

his hands hold your hips firmly as he picks up the pace, balls slapping against your clit as his tip prods at your cervix with each movement, and you can only hope it’s not loud enough for the mic to pick up. togame feels differently than usual, the drag and stretch of his length against your walls much more noticeable when you’re trying to keep quiet.

“that’s really last minute….mhm,” a small grunt forces its way out, “i’ll come after i finish what i’m doing here.”

there’s a sharp thrust of his hips and you can’t help the little yelp that escapes your lips. togame stiffens above you, hands gripping your hips to keep you still as the two of you wait to see if choji had heard you.

“noise…? nah, it must have been my phone. it’s old.”

your thighs are trembling against his, knot inside your core still threatening to snap even after he’s ripped orgasm after orgasm from you. “let me check the door though. hold on,” togame clicks the mute button before tossing his phone beside your head, suddenly pounding into you with more strength.

“f-fuck!” you cry when his cock hits a particular spot inside you, and you’re cumming just like that, gushing around him and screaming as your walls fluttering wildly against him. there’s a deep groan from him as he clenches his jaw, pace not faltering as he rapidly approaches his own high.

he lets you fall limp onto the bed, mind numb from each orgasm he’s pulled from you after your stunt tonight. “you gotta stay quiet,” he rasps, hands still holding your hips up for him, “wouldn’t want choji to hear you getting stuffed full for the third time tonight, right?”

his words send a shiver down your spine, walls clenching around his length at the thought. you’re so tired, too tired to do anything except cling onto the sheets beneath you, and you know he’s not even close to his limit.

“…or would you like choji to hear…?”

you shake your head quickly, drawing a small chuckle from togame. he picks up his phone again, giving you a warning squeeze around your hips before he’s unmuting his mic. “ahh…” he starts, “it was nothing. anyways, i’ll see you later, choji. i’m hanging up.”

he hangs up abruptly, letting out a deep groan he didn’t know he’s been holding in for the last minute when he feels your walls eagerly flutter around his length. togame’s quick to cage you underneath him, strong arms planted on either side of your head as his pace begins to falter, hips stuttering as he quickly approaches his high.

“so impatient…squeezing my dick like that. want me to fill you up nice and full, huh?”

UMEMIYA HAJIME. creampie, pet names, multiple rounds

"c'mon," umemiya grunts from above you, hips slowing their movement against yours, "you know you can't convince me with something like that."

he's gentle when he lowers himself onto his forearms, forehead pressing against yours as if searching for his answer. your bottom lip curls into a small frown, eyes shifting their gaze away from your boyfriend. he's always so good— knows exactly how to get you trembling underneath him in an instant, and you hate it. you hate the way your expression starts to contort and the way he’s pulling the most lewd sounds from you.

"it's embarrassing," you murmur, voice barely above a whisper, "the faces i make."

his eyes widen a bit at the confession, as if the idea of you being embarrassed wasn’t even a possibility in the first place. there's a experimental thrust of his hips, his cock nudging your cervix, and you can't help the small gasp that escapes.

“i don’t think that,” he coos, heavy cock stretching you so perfectly as he starts to move against you again, “don’t be shy.”

"f-fuck.." you gasp, because he feels too good. his chest is slick with sweat, the muscles of his arms flexing beside your head as he gazes down on you, intent on gauging each and every reaction his cock rips from you. “that’s good,” he whispers when your eyebrows furrow at the stimulation, “just like that. keep your eyes on me.”

he's getting rougher with each roll of his hips, thick length reaching impossibly deep inside your cunt. the back of your hand comes to cover your mouth when you feel the familiar knot tightening in your core, eyes clenching shut to fight it.

"nuh uh," ume's voice comes out a little breathless from the pace, his hands coming to pry yours off of your face, "no more hiding from me."

"u-ume," you protest with a huff, legs wrapping around his middle to keep him deep inside you, "just give it to me. please?"

he chuckles a bit, big hand coming to squeeze at your face, puckering your lips out. "oh, i will— i’ll give you what you need, pretty thing," he grunts when your walls flutter around his cock at the nickname, "so keep your eyes on me."

his fingers stay around your face, angling your head to face him when he sets a rough pace, balls slapping against your skin with each movement.

"wanna see you nice and clear when you cum for me, okay?"

[bernardsbendystraws]

𝒐𝒃𝒔𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒗𝒆 .ᐟ 𝒄𝒉𝒓𝒊𝒔

⚠︎  mdni, smut, somnophiia, consensual sex, and more…

⤷ Get to reading, sluts. No copying. Ask if you’d like to use this as ‘inspiration.’ Fuck off and fuck me, lets get horny!!! Not proofread.

[ A/N : Apparently it's a trend to write un-consensual somnophilia right now. Here's an example of consensual. Please put warning on your stuff. Consent is sexy!! Just because you're dating someone doesn't mean they get automatic consent. ]

matt’s favorite toy, Rose

©bernardsbendystraws

It was one of the first times you had seen Chris so nervous—so hesitant. The lingering question that had been haunting him more and more each day had started to consume him. He would consistently wake up, biting desperately on his lip, imaging the way your warm pussy would clamp around his dick as he slowly woke you up.

“Chris, what is it?” The question had made him nervously play with your hair as he held you on his lap. Words so close to spilling, but the confession of his desire was being held back by fear. He didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. He didn’t want to scare you.

What if you said yes but in the morning you didn’t want to?

Anxiety and doubt were soon silenced. The question spilled from his lips as he nervously looked down at your shoulder, his finger tracing over your collarbone. “I…I just…wanna wake you up…with, um….I…..”

The smile on your face that grows makes him a little more nervous. “You wanna wake me up by touching me?” you ask.

Chris swallows thickly. Nodding his head, his fingers twirl the ends of your hair in loops. You can feel him adjust himself from underneath you. He’s already hard just from the thought. And you…you can’t wait to show him just how much you trust him—how much you love the clingy obsession he has for you.

____________________

Morning light peeps through the blinds. Chris is already letting out rough breaths just from the thought of your pussy wrapped around his cock and sleepy moans slipping through your lips as he thrusts himself deep into you.

You’re still asleep. The soft, even breaths leaving your lips is breathtaking to him. You look so peaceful—so content.

Chris trails wet, sloppy kisses over the side of your neck as he spoons you from behind. A grin pulls at his lips as you let out a hazy whine, grinding your hips onto him mindlessly. “Mmmmm, baby….so pretty—so fuckin’ pretty,” he husks to himself.

Your nude bodies underneath the sheets create an intoxicating warmth. Soft skin being caressed from his hands starts to tingle. Chris trails the hand wrapped around your waist down. Passing your belly button, he starts to slowly circle your clit. A sleepy whine escaping your mouth makes his dick twitch. He needs to be inside of you. There’s nothing he wants more than to hear you cry out as he slowly fills you to the brim with his cock.

“—so warm, fuck,” he purrs.

Guiding his cock along your slippery folds, he lines himself up with your entrance. Hissing through his teeth, Chris wraps his arm back around your front. Using the angle, he pulls you against him, his cock digging deep inside of you with a slow and steady motion.

“Oh god,” he breathes.

Your body moves slightly. The intrusion feeling heavenly, but making your mind start to rummage to reality more.

Rocking his hips with a sluggish, lazy pace, Chris lets him groan right against your neck. The euphoria of pleasure is wavering your sleep. You don’t feel quite awake. It all feels so good—too good.

A muffled whimper vibrates through your lips as he plunges himself into your pussy again—taking his time to grind himself into you. “Oh—Chris,” you moan out.

Your hand clutches onto his forearm that pulls you impossibly closer against him, your back arching as his cock prods against just the right spot—the spot that makes Chris let out a dry laugh, rocking his hips a little faster. “Yeah? This okay? You—fuck, love my girls pussy. I…shit,” he seethes.

The quick nod of your head only encourages him. His arm around your waist pulls you even closer, making you take all of him to the hilt.

“—‘s deep, isn’t it? Yeah…you can take it, fuck—“ His hips rock with more urgency. The hand on your lower stomach glides downwards, his finger slipping through your folds before toying with your clit in small, tight circles.

The way your body squirms tells him you’re close. “Yeah? You’re awake now, hm?” he taunts.

Nodding your head furiously, you let out a strangled moan of his name as the pressure in your gut knots into a blissful, overwhelming wave of pleasure. “Fuckkkkkk, that’s it,” he praises.

"You---you feel s'good, I...fuck, keep suckin' in my dick. I----mhm, just like that," he soothes, kissing sloppily in the crook of your neck.

“My sleepy girl.” 

[im-ovulating]

Could you pretty please add Jacob black to ur kinktober line up💗

(A/n: Kinktober Day 8/15! The previous fics have all been more serious, so I decided to lighten it up with this one.)

Word Count: 1,769

Summary- When making fun of porn together, you see a position that piques your interest; you and Jake decide to test it out.

Warnings: Watching porn together, trying a new position, no creampie/pulling out, attempt at humor

Age Rating: 18+ Minors DNI

Jacob Black x Fem! Reader: Position

-------------------------

With your laptop balanced on your stomach, you look over at Jacob with a grin, his eyes locked on the screen as he watches the couple in the video move together. "Seriously, how can she keep up those moans?" you ask, poking fun at the exaggerated noises the girl is making. Jacob laughs, shaking his head in agreement, "I mean, I get the whole 'faking it for the camera' thing, but really?"

"Don't even get me started on the cringey-ass dirty talk he's doing-" You snort.

A few moments later, a new position caught your eye. The guy has the girl bent so far in half that her ankles are near her ears. "There's no way that feels good for her," you comment, leaning in closer to get a better look at the angle. There's an increase in her fake moans, naturally, but you can't stop thinking about how uncomfortable a bend would actually feel.

Jacob glanced at you before looking back at the screen, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. "You know, I bet I could make it feel good," he challenged, his voice low and playful.

You raise an eyebrow at him skeptically, "Yeah? You sure about that?." You challenge back, not fully convinced but intrigued by the thought of him trying.

Jacob chuckles and reaches over to grab the laptop, closing and setting it aside before crawling over top of you. He smirks down at you as he trails kisses along your jawline, his warm breath causing goosebumps to form on your skin. "Oh, 100%," He grins against your collarbone, reaching down to unbutton your shorts.

"That's what you said when you and Embry tried to prove that if he was on your shoulders and you timed your shifts right, you could stack your wolves," you giggle, lifting your hips so he can pull them off of you.

Jacob's grin turns into a deep laugh, his body shaking slightly against yours as his forehead drops to your shoulder. "Alright, miss smarty-pants," he says, biting you gently. "Let's try this and if it doesn't feel good for you, then we can go back to laughing at the people in the video, okay?"

You can't help but laugh a little as you agree. "Deal." You wrap your arms around his neck as he shifts his weight onto his elbows.

Jacob smirks down at you, his hands running softly up and down your thighs. "So," he starts, voice low and husky. "You ready?"

You nod, feeling a rush of excitement at his words. His lips press against yours softly, teasingly, as one of his hands sneaks beneath your shirt to cup your breasts. You sigh softly into the kiss, feeling the tingling sensation spread throughout your body.

With gentle hands, he starts tugging at the hem of your shirt, pulling it up slowly to reveal your bare chest. "Fuck, that's hot," he mutters before continuing to pull the shirt off completely.

As your breasts are exposed to the cool air, Jacob's fingers trace circles around your nipples, making them harden into little peaks. His lips find their way back to yours, his tongue exploring your mouth eagerly.

You gasp softly into the kiss, arching your back slightly as he teases your nipples. His hands slide down to your waistband, tugging at your panties. "Hold on- this isn't fair. You're still fully dressed."

Jacob chuckles deep in his throat before reaching behind his head, pulling his shirt over his head to reveal his muscled torso. "Fine, fine..." His shorts and boxers come off quickly, his erection springing free as his pants hit the floor. "There," he murmurs against your lips as he rejoins you on the bed. "That's now we're even."

With that, he leans in and presses his lips against yours, his tongue darting out to taste your lips. Your moan gets swallowed by the kiss as his hands slide under your panties, teasing your folds. You curse lightly as he finally slips a finger inside you, the sensation sending shivers down your spine.

"Jake…" you breathe out his name, your voice laced with desire. His fingers move in and out of you in a slow rhythm that has you rocking your hips up to pull them even deeper.

Not long after he starts to finger you, he removes his hand. Before you can protest the loss, he's using your arousal as lube, pumping his hand along his cock with a few loose strokes.

Jacob moves to hook his arms under your knees, his throbbing erection resting against your entrance as he starts to press your legs forward. Just as you expected, the unnatural bend is a bit uncomfortable, but not nearly as much as you thought it'd be.

"This okay?" He asks when your ankles are near your head.

You nod. "Just-" you shift a bit. Keeping the bend, you lock your ankles behind his head and find that it alleviates any discomfort you had. "This is better," You say. It's less of the position you guys were originally going to attempt, but it's close enough for you to not care. With your legs now over his shoulders and his weight pressing you into the mattress, Jake starts to press into you.

You gasp, your back arching off the mattress slightly as he fills you up. "Oh, fuck..." You breathe out as he starts to stretch you out. "Please hurry up-" He's barely halfway in, pushing in slowly to gauge your reactions

He snorts in response. "Be patient," He says, his words coming out rough. "I just started."

You roll your eyes and smack his chest lightly. "Just fuck me already," you grin.

"Okay, okay, jeez- no need to get violent, beautiful," Jacob laughs before starting to thrust, his hips slapping against your ass with each movement.

As Jacob starts to thrust into you, the feeling of fullness is unlike anything you've ever experienced. The position has his hips angled just right, pushing deeper into you with each thrust than you've ever felt before.

Each time he hits that sweet spot inside you, you let out a moan of pleasure, your cunt clenching around him as if trying to drag him deeper.

His thrusts are steady and forceful, his arms braced on either side of you, supporting his weight. With your ankles locked behind his head, you can feel the muscles in his shoulders ripple as he powerfully fucks deeper into you.

You can feel every inch of him inside you, the head of his cock nearly brushing against your cervix with each downward thrust.

Your nails dig into his biceps, leaving small claw marks behind as you grip tighter. The pressure building in your lower belly is almost too much to bear in its intensity, but it feels too good for you to care.

He shifts to grip your hips tightly, pulling you against him with every movement. Your moans grow louder, more urgent as you feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge.

He thrusts harder. "God, you're so tight," He growls, his eyes meeting yours.

You dig your nails into his shoulders, pulling him closer as your body trembles with anticipation. "More," you whisper, your voice husky with desire. "Please, Jake, I need you to make me cum." His cock is brushing against all the right places and it's driving you mad.

Jacob smiles against your lips, his thrusts becoming deeper and harder as he tries to please you. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, and the scent of sweat and arousal mixes in the air. You feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge, but you need just a little more until you can let yourself tumble over it.

"Look at me," Jacob pants, his eyes full of lust. You obey, meeting his gaze as he continues to thrust into you. It's hard, but you manage to open your eyes just enough to see the look on his face.

His jaw is tense with the way he's gritting his teeth, and his brow is furrowed, creased in a way that would normally have you smoothing the wrinkle with your thumb.

"Jacob," you moan his name, your voice breaking. He looks at you intensely, seeing the desire in your eyes. It's all he needs to push him over the edge. His thrusts become more frantic, his breath coming in short gasps. You can feel his cock twitching inside you, aching for release.

You feel your body tensing up, every nerve ending on fire as Jacob continues to thrust into you. The sensation is overwhelming, and you can't help but moan his name with every thrust. Your eyes are closed tightly, lost in the moment.

And then it hits you - a wave of intense pleasure washes over you, causing your whole body to shake uncontrollably. "Jacob!" You cry out his name, arching your back off the mattress as far as you position will allow.

Jacob's thrusts slow down, and then he stops altogether. With a groan, he pulls out of you and wraps his hand around himself, his cock still hard and leaking pre-cum.

"Fuck," He mutters, his hand moving to stroke his cock in short, fast strokes. You watch, panting from your own release as he approaches his climax. Suddenly, Jake's hips jolt forward, and he lets out a hoarse cry as he releases himself onto your stomach. Warm, sticky fluid seeps into your skin, and makes you pull a face.

"Gross," You complain, playfully pushing him away by the face, making him huff out a laugh as he falls to the side to lay next to you.

Jacob rolls his eyes good-naturedly, his lips curling up into a smile. "Oh, shut up," He teases, swatting your shoulder lightly. "You love it when I do that."

You can't help but laugh at his response. "I do not!" You protest, feigning innocence. "It makes me all sticky." You stick your tongue out at him.

Jacob laughs again, this time more heartily. "I'll make sure to do it even more, just to gross you out, then." His wink is cut short by a pillow to the face and you saying, "You're literally the worst!"

He pulls you closer with another laugh. "You love me~"

When you don't deny it, he relaxes into the mattress. After a few moments of comfortable silence, he looks down at you with a mischievous grin. "You down to go again?"

"You just jizzed all over me, you horn dog!" you protest without any real heat. "But, ye-" You don't even get your answer out before he's rolling on top of you again and pressing his lips to yours in an eager kiss making you giggle.

[wbellab]

Therapy session | J. Bucky Barnes

this could be read as a standalone or a part 2 of Busy Woman.

summary: after a chaotic mission, you end up attending a therapy session with bucky trying to mend up your relationship. this seems to have worsen up everything.

pairing: tfatws!bucky x fem!reader

cw: angsssst, therapy session, inspired by sambucky session in tfatws, graphic violence, some fluff (crumbles and bits)

3.1 k words

"Alright, Dr Raynor." You stated, more like a question and she nodded. "I get why you want me to talk to freaky magoo over here. But I’m a hundred per cent fine."

You definitely were not fine.

After the failed mission, Sam had dragged both you and Bucky to Baltimore in a failed attempt to get information from a former super soldier. That went about as well as expected. Meaning not at all. And to top it off, Bucky got arrested for skipping therapy.

But the real question was: why were you sitting there with him now?

There’s a high chance that Sam had conveniently brought up the fact that your relationship with Bucky had become a bit rocky— not that you ever really got along. Either that, or the tension between you had been so thick it practically walked into the room before you did.

"It is my job to make sure you both are okay. Sam told me what happened, so yeah." Oh so you were right. "This may be slightly unprofessional but it’s the only way that I can see you getting over whatever’s eating at you."

"This is ridiculous." You muttered.

"Yeah i agree."

"Okay we’re going to do an exercise. It’s something I use with couples when they’re trying to figure what kind of life they’re trying to build together." You let out a snort, not out of amusement but irony. Bucky just rolled his eyes.

"Are you familiar with the miracle question ?"

"I don’t think it’s necessar-" Bucky started but you cut him off.

"No I’m not. What is it ?"

"Okay it goes like this. Suppose that while you are sleeping, a miracle occurs. When you wake up what is something you would like to see that would make your life better ?"

With no surprise, Bucky was the first to answer the question.

"In my miracle, she would talk less."

"Is that why you threw me out of a moving truck asshole?"

"See what i mean." He turned to the therapist, which made you send a glare towards him.

"You both are leaving me with no choice. It’s time for the soul gazing exercise."

"I like this one."

"Oh thank you I love this."

"Oh you should really enjoy this." You told him, moving your chair so that you would be facing him.

"I’m going to."

"I know you are."

"Okay you both face each other." The therapist instructed.

"Let’s do it let’s stare."

"We get close this is a good exercise."

"Thanks doc." You muttered.

"Alright, good get close. Come on closer."

"Well which way you want to go, right or left ?"

"Why do you have your legs wide open. You want me to sit on your lap or what ? You know what, fine." You scooted forward, legs angling inward until your knee pressed between his—and his was between yours.

The position was awkward. Too awkward. You could feel the brush of his knee against your inner thigh, too high, too warm. And though you hated to admit it, you could’ve almost been aroused by it. If your anger toward him didn’t burn hotter than the tension.

"You happy now ?" You huffed, successfully concealing your flustered state—which Bucky hasn’t been able to hide.

He sat stiffly, visibly uncomfortable, like even the slightest movement might set something off. He hadn’t moved an inch since you got close. Shoulders tense, jaw tight, clearly unsure where to look. It would’ve been satisfying if you weren’t equally rattled beneath the surface.

"All right, good. That’s fine." The therapist tried to stop your banter.

"It’s a little close." He muttered.

"It’s very close that’s what you wanted right ?" You retorted aggressively.

"Guys,"you both stopped. "Now look at each other. You need to look at each other in the eyes," you stared right at his blue eyes, a frown on your face similar to his. "There you see that wasn’t so hard."

You just continued staring right in them. Your eyes squinted trying hard not to blink as he did the same back.

You were still mad, furious actually, that he tossed you out of the damn truck without a single word. Like you were just some reckless burden he couldn’t deal with a second longer. And now, you wanted him to feel that. Every ounce of your anger.

So you weren’t about to blink. Not once. Not until he squirmed. Not until he realized you weren’t going to let him off easy.

Probably childish but effective.

"Wait what are you doing ? Are you having a staring contest ?" When none of you responded she snapped her fingers, making you close your teary eyes. Dammit.

"Just blink. Sweet Jesus."

Bucky’s frown was still on his face as he stared at the doctor.

"All right, Bucky, why does she aggravate you ?" A smirk started forming on his lips. He could definitely think of a bunch of reasons why you aggravated him. And when he was about to mention your current interest to his ass, Doctor Raynor cut him off. "And don’t say something childish."

Bucky’s smirk faltered and he let out a frustrated breathe. His jaw clenched as he started thinking, the muscle twitching like he was holding something back. For a second, he looked like he might drop it entirely. But then he sighed, tired of carrying the question around in silence.

"Why are you always flirting with me?" he asked quietly, almost too quietly. It wasn’t sarcastic. It wasn’t bitter. It was genuine, and that made it worse. There was a flicker of something raw behind his eyes, like he hated that he even had to ask. He sounded insecure and he hated it.


"Oh my god is this what it is all about?" You dryly chuckle. "Why are you making such a big deal out of something so insignificant ?"

"Do you flirt with Bucky to push his buttons ?" The therapist chimed in, a bit more interested in the direction the conversation was flowing.

You rolled your eyes. What is it with all these weird questions ?

"I flirt with him because I like him. The button pushing is just a bonus."

"Yeah. Of course you would." His voice was cold. Harsh and condescending. Every hint of amusement disappeared from your face. "Do you get a kick out of messing with people just for fun? You don’t get to flirt with people and then act like none of this matters. Like I’m just something to pass the time until you get bored. It’s fucking disgraceful. And I’m–"

He couldn’t bring himself to say more. You were staring right at him, a frown on your face. How could he bring himself to explain what he was feeling out loud?

Bucky couldn’t believe you. He wouldn’t believe that you simply liked him. This was too simple of an explanation for someone like him. Someone that did horrible things couldn’t be wanted in the first place.

And it wasn’t just his own insecurities getting through him.

No. This was anchored in his brain, as if a small cognitive part of it told him this wasn’t possible. That every small moment of kindness was a lie he wasn’t allowed to believe in. Someone like him don’t get the girl, not really. Not without her regretting it later.

Another part of his brain told him your boldness and playfulness were just a reflection of the value you had of him, insignificant. You were messing with him, knowing Bucky would fall for you.

And how could he not ? You did everything to make him. When you were so insistent with him, bold, charismatic and funny. Clingy and affectionate. You were everything he had been craving since he came back from Hydra. There was absolutely no universe in which James Buchanan Barnes wouldn’t have fallen for you.

"Don’t act like this is real. It’s unfair." He said more softly.

You couldn’t believe what you just heard. It wasn’t mean, not exactly but this was as if. You couldn’t believe you ever let yourself fall for someone like him. He never really understood you.

What you felt in that moment was a deep, gut-punch kind of hurt.

Being told it all meant nothing. That your affection was careless or meaningless. This all shattered something fragile inside you. Everything you ever said or did, thinking it was sweet or meaningful felt exposed, misunderstood. Like the final piece of a puzzle clicking into place, something you’d been too oblivious to see or too hopeful to admit.

He would never like, never reciprocate the feelings.

This wasn’t just romantic rejection. It was emotional rejection. He hadn’t just dismissed your feelings, he’d rejected the way you showed your love to him. And that hit harder than anything else. It was humiliating to care so much, and be accused of the exact opposite.

With a final sigh, you told yourself this would be all over. You were done being taken for a fool.

"You know what’s really unfair? You dismissing my fucking feelings when I have been displaying them so obviously." You bit back, scooting your chair away from him, when you noticed the proximity you still had. "Maybe this is something you would never understand and I’m so done making a fool out of myself just for you to not get the signals." You snapped. Breathe in, breathe out. You turned to the doctor, glaring at her like she'd personally orchestrated this mess. She did nothing wrong but she was the reason why you were here, trapped in this room, sitting across from him. And right now, that was enough.

You didn’t even have the sense to feel guilty for it. Not with the way your chest burned. Not after everything that had gone unsaid.

"You know what Doc I don’t have time for this. We have some real serious shit going on. So how about this, I will squash it, right now. We’re gonna deal with this and when we’re done we’ll go on long separate vacations. And never see each other again."

"Yeah." He sighed, he did not want you to squash it. He wanted to talk, to understand. "I like that." He lied.

"Great then let’s get to work." You turned to the therapist. "Thanks doc for making it weird. I feel so much better. See you outside." You rolled your eyes, stomping to the door. This was a total mess.

"Thank you." She answered, but you were already gone. She turned to Bucky. "That was really great. You’re doing better at expressing your emotions. Maybe next time, we’ll work on the dating part." He completely ignored her, standing up to leave before being interrupted by her. "I know that look." She stared at him as if she would see right through him. "You’re pushing her away."

He ignored what she said once again. "What was rule number two again ?"

"Don’t hurt anyone." She simply answered.

"Goodbye doc."

This session did not help your case. It was worse and Sam noticed.

"So how did it go ?" He asked you once you were out.

"Get lost." You muttered, going through the door to leave the police station.

Sam turned to Bucky who left the room a few seconds after you, noticing the gloomy stare on his face.

"I get that it did not go as well as expected."

"Oh fuck off."

"Ok guys I don’t know what happened in this room but you need to deal with it like right now before we enter Madripoor."

"There’s nothing wrong. I’m totally fine, let’s deal with the more important matters." You scoffed

"If I may say–"

"Shut up."

"Please don’t."

You and Bucky said at the same time. Zemo raised an eyebrow but wisely chose silence, folding his hands behind his back. It had barely been three hours since Bucky busted him out of prison, and those three hours had already been filled with tension thick enough to cut with a knife. The fallout of that decision had led to a heated argument between you and Bucky, and the aftermath still lingered, electric and unspoken, hovering just beneath the surface.

And this tension would linger for days.

"You should fuck the tension off. Worked well with my wife." Zemo mentioned once in the jet.

"That’s what I told them." Sam grumbled, it seemed like it was the only thing he agreed about with Zemo.

You and Bucky both turned to glare at him in unison.

This was hard. The comments, all the underlying tension. You didn’t want to admit it to yourself, let alone to anyone else but you hadn’t moved on. Not really. It still hurt to think about it. Not in a loud, obvious way but in a slow, aching kind that sat in your chest and made it hard to breathe.


It was over before it ever began. That was the part that stung the most.

You kept your eyes off him. Avoided looking. You didn’t know if he was watching you, and you didn’t care anymore. Or at least, that’s what you kept telling yourself.

The mission was done. You had stopped the Flash Smaggers’ attack on New York. You’d won.

And yet.

You noticed how close Sam and Bucky had become. You also noticed how far you’d drifted, not just from Sam, but from everyone. Two months. No calls returned. No contact. Just silence. You were alone again. Like before. And somehow, that felt almost familiar. Pathetic, but familiar.

Your boots hit the pavement in steady, silent steps. You were walking nowhere. Just moving.

And then you felt it, the presence behind you. Subtle, careful. But not careful enough. You’d clocked them almost thirty minutes ago. You were trained for this. So you led them here in a dark alley, bad angles.

You pressed your back to the cold brick wall, waited. As soon as the figure passed the corner, you struck. Knife in hand, aiming for the throat.

But they were faster. The blade never made it.


You felt cold metal clamp around your wrist, stopping you mid-motion. Bucky. Of course.

You didn’t hesitate. If anything, that just made you angrier.

You slammed your heel into his solar plexus. He faltered, loosened his grip, and your wrist slipped free. In one fluid motion, you ducked low, sweeping for his legs.
But he was already moving.

Instead, he grabbed your jacket, yanked you forward, and slammed you against the wall with a thud that echoed.

You retaliated immediately, headbutting him hard bone cracking against bone. He staggered, blood running from his nose, and you used the opening to punch him in the stomach.

But before it could collide, he grabbed your wrist, and twisted it back. But you twisted with him, using the momentum to slam your elbow into his ribs again and shove him into the wall.

He gripped your waist, lifted you, and threw you to the ground. Hard.

You hit the concrete with a grunt, For a second, something flickered in his expression, concern, hesitation. And that split-second lapse was all you needed. You kicked upward, catching him in the thigh, rolling to your feet before he could pin you.

You were breathing hard now, both of you bruised, dirt and blood smeared across your clothes, faces cut and scraped from the pavement.

"Stop following me. You think you can just toss me out of a truck, dismiss my feelings and then follow me like nothing happened?" you snarled, your leg connected with the back of his knee to destabilize him. "You don’t get to throw me away literally and come running when you feel like it."

He stumbled back, but he caught himself. "You’re the one who disappeared."

You didn’t even wait. You slammed your elbow to his throat, driving him into the alley wall with a loud thud.

"Because you made it clear I meant nothing to you!"

"I did not mean to hurt you." he spat back, shoving you off him roughly. "You think any of this is easy for me?"

"I don’t care if it’s easy!" You shoved again, fists pounding at his chest now. "You said I toyed with you. You said I didn’t care. You made me feel like I was some stupid little girl who couldn’t take this seriously—"

"You think I don’t feel anything?" His voice cracked, but not out of emotion. Out of sheer frustration. "I was lost and I couldn’t understand you. I was trying to protect you!"

"By humiliating me? By making me feel like shit? You don't get to act like some noble idiot now, Bucky. You’re not the victim."

He lunged again, catching your wrists, holding them against the wall this time. Not gently.

"You think I’m not aware of that?" his voice was low in your ear. "I know I’m screwed up. I know what people see when they look at me. So forgive me if I don’t believe it when someone like you pretends to give a damn."

Your breathing was ragged. The tension between you was suffocating.

"Get your hands off me," you whispered.

He didn’t move. "Say you didn’t mean it."

"What?"

"All the flirting. The drunk night. The things you said. Say you didn’t mean any of it."

Your heart slammed against your ribs. But you didn’t say a word.

That silence was enough.

He let go of you like your skin burned him, and took two steps back.

The distance felt a hell of a lot colder than the fight.

"I was cruel," he said quietly.

"You were," you answered, not softening it for him.

And he nodded, like he knew you would say that. Like he needed to hear it.

“It wasn’t about you,” he said. "But I made it about you. I made you pay for the shit in my head, and that’s on me."

"I no longer care." You lied.

"Please come back." His hand grabbed you arm, softly now. You let him guide you towards him. Although you stayed impassive.

"No. James don’t."

He ignored you and caressed the bruise that was forming on your forehead.

"I’m sorry." He muttered. You couldn’t tell if he meant the bruise or everything else—but your throat tightened anyway.

You frowned, eyes stinging, and before you could stop yourself, everything that you’ve been bottling up had exploded. Tears spilled over and he saw it.

Without hesitation, he pulled you into his chest, wrapping his arms around you like he could keep the world out.

"It’s okay. I’ve got you." He muttered, his hand stroking your hair.

You sank into him, both of you slowly lowering to the ground. He followed without letting go, holding you as tightly as he could while you cried against his chest.

"You deserve better, doll."

"I don’t–" Your choked on a sob. And he only pulled you tighter.

"We’ll figure it out. I’m not letting you go again."

Dirtied, bloodied, bruised. You both looked wrecked. And somehow, in the thick of it all, you decided to believe him. To start over.

Not with promises. Not with pretty words. But with this—his arms around you, your tears on his shirt, and the silence that didn’t need to be filled.

That was how it would begin: in the comfort of the chaos. Not clean, not easy. But real.

a/n: i was about to separate this one and make a part 3 but i m on my exam period so it was either binge writing it or never finishing it. Thank you for everyone all of you I truly appreciate that you liked the first part !

@vxllys @seventeen-x @softpia @just-a-little-awkward @am-3-thyst @freshfreakoaftrash @awinchester83 @stars4birdie @ladyliloslife @starstruckfirecat @hannahbanannax @genlovesdcb @fandomsearcherforcuntymen

@astermwah @spaceunicorn293 @inloveallthetime @bigteefsmallbrain @oceanaroma @winchestert101 @thatgirljas13

[cheonstapes]

miguel o’hara stars in… ‘THE SWEETER THE JUICE’ o(^-^)o

･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡. miguel o’hara x reader .｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･

SMUT

now he’s finally got you pregnant, he’s gonna do what he’s been dreaming of all these years. suck. those. tits.

same universe as this miguel.

cw; lactation kink, pregnancy, breeding kink (not really but yknow me), dry humping, titties, older nerd!miguel, they’re finally married!

800+ words

@cheonstapes : she’s back! again!

if miguel had to pick a part of your body he loved the most, it’d definitely be your tits.

if you think he was obsessed before — you don’t wanna know what goes through his head as he watches you waddle around his house, carrying his kid, sighing every time you leak through another shirt. you had forgone a bra ever since you got pregnant, saying how uncomfortable they feel against your chest — not that he was complaining.

“for fucks-sake, again?”

he was so used to hearing you say that, he already had a shirt on hand for you to change into. you were so grateful for your doting husband that you completely missed that nasty glint in his eyes you usually only see when he’s bending you over the bed and fucking you raw — luckily for him.

“here, honey. lift your arms for me.”

as you do, he pulls the shirt up — the soiled fabric catching under your swollen breasts as he wiggles it off you. “ah, shit — thanks, baby. but fuck, am i’m so tired of changing shirts every 10 minutes!” you might be tired, but miguel cannot get enough of it. he was already so fucking hard, practically salivating at the sight of your bare breasts still leaking down your heavy belly.

“maybe you should just ditch the shirts all together, love — you know i hate seeing my beautiful wife uncomfortable.” miguel’s voice was a soft whisper in your ear, lips slowly tracing down the side of your jaw to your sensitive neck — kissing the skin so tenderly. his calloused hands gently massaged the taut flesh of your tits, probing and squeezing at your nipples to let out small trickles of that sweet milk.

“migs, how many times are you gonna say that?”

“as many as it takes for you to finally listen.”

the breathy laugh you let out did little to qualm the feeling deep in his gut — he was dead serious, there was absolutely no reason for you to be in shirts all the time when you have him to take care of you whenever you needed a good milking. his hips were already sinking into to the plush of your ass that he loved oh-so-much — especially with how much fatter it got during your pregnancy.

it was almost as if he had lost control of his body, a hand landing on your waist to bend you over the counter as he mindlessly ruts into you. “dios, nena, eres tan hermosa. vas a ser la mamá más guapa, ¿verdad? mm, my pretty, little mama.” miguel never failed to turn you on to no bounds, like, you have a walking greek god as a husband — but those fucking hormones were making it unbearable.

the force at which he was pushing against you had shifted your drenched panties to the side, leaving practically nothing between you and his drooling bulge. his fingers tightened around the fat of your hips, squeezing the flesh delicious hard as his free hand flipped you over ��� pushing your back against the edge of the counter. “shit…been waiting to taste these all fucking day, honey.”

mindful of your growing belly, he hiked one of your legs up on his hip — craning his neck down to suck on a pert nipple. wasting no time, and at a much better angle, he continued to grind against you — his tip catching against your engorged clit. “m—migs, baby, fuck…” the way he swirled and sucked so eagerly reminded you of when you first started dating, how determined he was to knock you up before the two of you even moved in together.

the taste was so addicting, some of your milk trickling down his body — dripping onto the ground beneath you. you knew he was about to cum, hard — his eyes had rolled back, breathing in heavy pants, hands rushing to pull down the waistband of his sweats. “gonna paint my girls in my cum, love — sé una buena chica y mantenlos juntos para mí.”

“‘course, baby.” you nodded breathlessly, squishing the globes of fat together as he pumped his cock dry — head thrown back as ropes upon ropes of his hot seed coated your tits, sliding into the self-made crevice. “god, what did i do in my past life to have a wife as sexy as you, mamí?” his spent cock bobbed against his thigh as he trapped you against the counter — kissing you deeply as his wet hands reaching up to rub the cum into the skin of your breasts.

“mmph — y’know, i heard cum’s good for the skin. it, uh, helps with the blood circulation in your tits — i think we should do this more often, love.”

“migs, if you weren’t, like — a whole scientist, i might’ve believed you. if you want a titjob, just say that.”

“…i mean, you said it — not me.”

all your home shirts were promptly locked away and never to be seen again.

-new year, new waiting for cheon to get her shit together andpost!

[reignpage]

Art Student!Choso

Renaissance: worship

Word Count: 5.4k Contents: 18+ mdni, plot with smut, mostly fluffy, direct continuation of the part 5 smau, and concludes pre-relationship Choso's story, not proofread so idk how much sense this makes, let me know if it’s complete bs and I’ll redo it or something

You’re staring at the most beautiful mural you think has ever been created. It’s made up of harsh strokes of ash, curving and spiralling into one another, sprawling across the entire back wall of the gym. The smudges and the streaks breeze from corner to corner, bouncing along the edges as they create layers of shadows which seem so thick you could feel it from where you stand. 

There, in the centre, you can make out a face. It’s contorted, mouth stretched inhumanly, eyes bulging and threatening to pop out. Fragmented and clawing itself, tearing skin and pulling until its face morphs into something you can’t quite make out. Dissolving into the fray, with the stark chalk, it spirals into frenzied strokes, suffocating itself. 

A gasp leaves you when you step back, taking more of it in at once, and you see amidst the smoke and the chaos, symbols, jagged and torn up. They make up even more faces, just as contorted and as uncanny, all stretched out in silent screams that pierce your soul and render your knees weak. 

It’s haunting. 

You had no idea you would walk in to find this when you were searching for Choso. And when you meet his eyes from above, leaning against the railing, you think you might actually fall to your knees. It’s the same eyes that match the big ones on the wall, both equally broken, accusing and full of heat as it never wavers from yours. 

There are so many things left unsaid, things that are desperate to get out, to be screamed at him so he’ll understand, so he’ll know. But only silence remains. 

Choso doesn’t say anything, just lets the moonlight streaming from the windows encase you both in half light, half-darkness. You can’t see the smudges on his hands, but you can see the yearning in his eyes, like he too has so much to say, so much for you to understand and accept.

Click. 

Both of your eyes dart to the entrance, there’s a security guard, holding a flashlight, aimed right you. There’s no way to escape. That’s what your thumping heart is telling you; you’ve been caught. And you haven’t done anything wrong.

“Hey! Did you do this?” He yells. 

You’re rendered speechless, frozen from the realisation that there’s no way out of this. Without looking at him, can’t bear to discover what expression he’s wearing now that it’s all unravelling between you, you walk to the guard and let him drag you of there. 

You don’t look back. 

——

“What would possess you to vandalise private property?” The Dean questions. 

His bald head is shiny, and the light’s reflection is all you can focus on as he thumps his fist against the mahogany desk separating you both. Thank God, too, because by the looks of that bulging vein on his forehead, he's pretty keen on giving you a lesson or two. It’s just you and him in his stately, stuffy office. The walls are lined with tall, dark wood bookshelves, which in turn are filled with old, leather-bound books in perfect condition, not a single dust in sight. 

“I’m sorry.”

“It goes without saying, I’m sure, that I’m disappointed in you,” he ignores you, voice gruff and measured, all condescending and pretentious. You’re convinced that’s not even his natural accent. “You have the talent, the potential, to do anything with your gifts. Your works have won many awards, and you could one day find them in museums or galleries across the world. Instead, this —this is how you choose to leave your mark?”

The chair squeaks when you shift uncomfortably, and your eyes choose to scan his meticulous desk, as opposed to his beady ones. There’s not a single paper angled wrong, no pens misaligned, not a smudge or even a water mark. 

“You’ve disgraced this fine institution. Our beloved Eden University for the Excellent has stood as a beacon for ambition, sophistication and innovation! And with every act of ‘artistic rebellion’ with your ‘cursed death paintings’, or the like, you have threatened everything we have built for centuries!”

You could try and defend yourself, could rebuff the accusations since you are, of course, innocent. But, well, the evidence is damning: you were at the scene of the crime, you’re an art student, you have attended practically every protest on campus, have liked posts from Cursed Womb’s fan-pages, and damn it, you had paint all over your shirt and hands.

You’re fucked. 

He leans back in his chair, sighing as he folds his glasses onto the desk. “There are no excuses; none I will accept. Therefore, it is with the deepest regret that I hereby — “

The door slams open. 

You both jump. 

“Dean Hanami,” a sneer projects through the office and you recognise it immediately as belonging to a guy that knocked on your door and glared at you as if you were dirt on his shoe. “We have much to discuss.”

When you twist in your seat, you’re alarmed to find three men: Sukuna in a newer looking jacket than you remembered, an old man in a suit, and a guy you haven’t seen in almost two weeks. 

Choso’s not looking at you, he’s not even entering the room, choosing instead to hang around by the doorway. 

“Mr. Ryomen, I am in the middle of a meeting,” the Dean splutters. 

Sukuna pokes your shoulder with a pen he picked up from the desk, looking over at you with complete disgust, like you’re a little cockroach. Still as rude as ever, he’s signalling for you to leave and as you look between the two men, one much older than the other, you choose to go with your instincts and rush out of there. 

“This is how it’s going to work,” he drawls, sliding into your seat and snapping his fingers at the man in a suit, “you’re going to give back everything I want, and you’re going to let this Cursed Womb farce go.”

The last thing you hear is the sheer humiliation of the Dean’s defeated stammering. You close the door behind you. 

Without looking at Choso, you walk down the hallway. 

“Y/n, we should talk,” he follows beside you. 

“Now you want to talk?” You sigh. You know you’re not being fair. Counting to ten, you try a softer approach. “Listen, Choso, it's been a long morning. Can we have this talk somewhere private? These hallways are so depressing.”

He nods, his pigtails moving with him. Wordlessly, he leads you outside, to his parked car, it’s all shiny and sleek, classic Ryomen money, and you get into the passenger seat. 

It’s odd being in such close proximity with him when he’s avoided you for so long, but you try to get comfortable regardless, ignoring the elephant in the room. There’s a Cursed Womb sized hole between you and there’s so much to be said but you’re afraid you’ll push him, that you’ll say the wrong thing and everything will be for nought; you’ll go back to being strangers, passing each other by, just like last year. 

And, whatever you feel for him, you just can’t let that happen. 

“Choso,” you begin, voice soft, “what happened? What happened between us?”

Driving, he doesn’t dare look at you, can only chew on the inside of his cheek before seemingly deciding on the right words. “I liked you. From the very beginning, I liked you. People either like me ‘cause of my family or 'cause of rumours, but you’re one of the very few people that actually reached out, saw me as an equal.”

You’re silent. He’s opening up in a way he has never before and you don’t dare disturb his flow, like one would watch a Master at work. Everything about him is compelling, the whites of his knuckles as he grips the steering wheel harder than he should, the furrow of his brows as he thinks hard, the way his gaze slides over to you, just not meeting your eyes, and even the way he studies you, in just your thin jumper and jeans and turns up the heater without asking.

Trees fly by, everything a blur as you keep your gaze fixed solely on him. He drives pretty smoothly, unlike you. You're always pressed right up against the wheel, eyes darting to every mirror like a car would appear in the millisecond you looked away. But him...he drives like it's second nature, with one hand on the wheel and the other on the gear stick.

“Despite me not being very open and particularly approachable I guess, you still made the effort to reach out, to include me in discussions, to ask if I’m coming to class — even lecturers have stopped asking. And you’re very smart! I like how passionate you are, you’re so full of great ideas, practically beaming with them. You never lose your optimism even when your art gets critiqued too harshly.”

This is the first time anyone’s ever described you like this, like he appreciates you by pure virtue of your existence and the way he sees your hard work, the strength it takes to get back up that you hadn’t recognised in yourself -- it feels like the way one would appreciate Starry Night. 

You can tell he practised this speech.

“But,” there’s a tremble in his voice and it makes your hand twitch, “you don't like me. Not like how I like you. And it makes me upset. Because you're so great and nice and pretty. Not that I like you because of your appearance, even though you have a very nice body. I mean that respectfully! Okay, actually just forget I said that. I like you for lots of different reasons. And I've been trying to get you to see me as more than your classmate or just your friend. But it's all pointless because you like Cursed Womb.”

“Choso, you are Cursed Womb.”

The car screeches to a halt. 

His hand flies out, pressing hard on your chest to stop you from flying forward. Thank goodness you’re wearing your seatbelt. And thank goodness the road is empty. 

“What the fuck!”

“Sorry!” He pants. “Sorry. I’m sorry. You caught me by surprise.”

Like you’ve been possessed, you laugh. It’s more a cackle than anything else to be honest, but the look of utter shock and disbelief on his face is making you tear up, your sides hurting as you cradle them. “Oh my god, Choso, you should have seen your face. HA!”

He’s panicking, hands waving in the air as he tries to decide between lifting your hair up to inspect for damage and going to the steering wheel so he can drive off to safety, where the chances of a car accident caused by your blunt mouth are slim. Conflicted, he decides to keep them in his lap as he winces at your chortles. You’re finding this way too funny. 

“You’re being mean,” he pouts. 

Wiping tears from your eyes, you’re desperately trying to calm down, trying to school your features into something more neutral or, better yet, something serious so you can have a mature, adult conversation. But he’s just so adorable you can’t help yourself. 

“Sorry, Choso,” you playfully frown at him, making a puppy dog pout so he’ll cave in. “But be honest here, sweetheart. You didn’t actually think you were slick, did you?”

Like a child, he smacks his steering wheel, all grumpy and upset. “No one else knew.”

“That’s ‘cause no one else tried to know. Sure, people were investigating, trying to piece together clues, but no one really wanted to know; the mystery was addictive, and that’s what peopled liked. But you think you’re the only one who pays attention? I watch you all the time. Plus, your family’s presence today was concrete proof; Sukuna would never do that just because you asked, right? And on top of all of that, you’re not a very good liar, sweet Choso,” you coo. 

He stutters, “B-but you never said. You kept talking about him l-like —"

“Like he’s not you?” You finish for him. 

“Yes! Even that night when I asked you to hang out, you didn’t want to go with me but when I mentioned the painting, you said yes.”

Your hand reaches out to play with a loose lock of hair from his messy pigtails and he lets you, his eyes flutter shut when your hand grazes his cheek. Heart clenching, you sigh again. “I was genuinely busy, Choso. But when you mentioned that ‘your friend’ painted again, I knew that meant trouble. What you do is dangerous, and I wanted to make sure everything was okay.”

“What about the other time when you didn’t want to have lunch with me? And you just wanted to work?”

You giggle, playfully pulling at his hair, and he has to pretend he’s not getting hard. “Choso, you do realise we have to balance our project on top of our schoolwork, right? Like we have to actually study and work, to meet deadlines?”

Choso pouts again and you smush your thumb against his plump lips, easing away the tension there. All muffled, he whines, “But I wanted to have lunch with you!”

“And we enjoyed sandwiches, did we not? Which by the way, you never paid me back for. But eh, that's okay. Just treat me out next time -- I'm a broke college student.”

He groans, pulling away to smack his head against the wheel. It honks and you laugh again. He’s clearly embarrassed and frustrated and he doesn’t know where to begin, so you try for him. 

“Choso, sweetheart,” you rub his back, “don’t be upset. I’ll be completely honest: I was messing with you. I kinda just wanted to see how far things will go. I mean, I knew as soon as you told me he’s your ‘friend’ that you were Cursed Womb. It’s such an obvious throwaway; I hope you weren’t feeling very proud of yourself.”

Scrunching his nose at you, he sinks back into his seat. The road is still empty, and he doesn’t seem to have any desire to drive off yet. So, you let him take it all in, rubbing his shoulder in pity for the poor guy who was clearly so proud of himself for keeping such a huge secret from everyone. 

“What’s gonna happen with the Dean?” You just realised technically you were expelled or were going to be expelled. No longer a student, you aren’t sure what you would do as a non-student — would you even make a very inspirational contributive member of society?

What’s next? 

Taxes and mortgages?

You shudder. 

Choso grabs your hand, holding it in his lap as he fiddles with your rings, clinking them with his own. His nails are painted black in true male art student fashion and his fingers are so beautifully long and slender you’re not afraid to admit that you’ve stared at them a little too long during clay sculpting class. 

“The family’s going to take care of it. Make it go away like they did when Sukuna beat up some guy who pushed Yuji. Or when I got caught by some other security guard.”

You nodded. “Where does that leave us?”

“Us?”

“There is an us, right, Choso?”

He fiddles with your ring finger, and you try really hard not to notice the hearts in his eyes. “Do you want there to be us? It’s not because I’m Cursed Womb, is it?”

Of course, you don’t blame him for feeling this way; you played around too much, gave him too much power when you really should have made the decisions to begin with, forced him to confront everything that was unspoken between you much sooner. Then there wouldn’t be this awkward energy that's holding him back from meeting your eyes. 

“Choso, I never liked you because you were Cursed Womb. Sure, I liked Cursed Womb. I stand by everything I said — he’s cool, he stands for what’s right, he sends a message and isn’t afraid to put his art out there to be critiqued by the masses. How many people can say that? But I liked him like one likes a pop star! You, on the other hand, I like you as you are. All shy and sweet and considerate. And I know the picture of me was from you, by the way.”

He opens his mouth to argue, and you shut him up with a stern look. 

“We’re project partners, Choso!” You laugh. “I’ve seen your handwriting and the way you write your Cs, you silly silly boy.”

“But you teased me anyways."

With a shrug, you explain, "You liked it."

And then he’s kissing you. 

His seatbelt is off, and you’re being pressed back into your seat, his hands cradling your face. It’s soft and sweet and gentle and it’s so Choso you can only moan in his mouth. He’s holding you like the two lovers of Rodin, with so much care, so much passion, it's leaving you breathless. You feel so much warmth and adoration through every lick of his tongue, every nip of his teeth and every moan of your name he’s breathing into you. 

You push him back, taking your belt off so you can climb into his lap whilst he pushes the seat back. He kisses down your neck, sucking your pulse point and gripping your hip as if he’s scared you’re just a figment of his imagination. And when you grind down on his hard length, he moans your name again. You’re soaking. 

“I’m sorry for teasing you too much.”

With tentative hands, he lifts your sweater up your stomach, searching your eyes for any resistance. You smile and take it off for him. He wastes no time sucking a tit, flicking the hard bud with his tongue and you’re gripping his pigtails. That makes him groan.

“I’ll forgive you if you do one thing for me,” his words are garbled, on account of him trying to swallow the entire globe of your breast, cheeks all puffed up, and you can’t help but press a kiss against his forehead. “Call me Cho again.”

“What?” His teeth graze your sensitive nipple and you arch into him, eyes crossing.

“You only call me Cho when we’re like this, touching in a way we shouldn’t.”

“Do I?” Grinding down on his dick, you tug a pigtail back so you can tilt his face away from your wet tits and back to your mouth. You kiss him again, craving his taste, his warmth. “Sorry…Cho.”

He bucks into your clothed core, straight up to your clit and you’re moaning into each other’s mouths. This isn’t enough, you both need more. Neither of you even care that you’re on the side of a road and it’s midday. 

“I want you,” he whispers, and he’s tearing up, the frustration building up to a point where he’s clawing your jeans off and burying his face between your tits and inhaling deep. “Can I? Can I have you?”

“Of course, Cho. I’m yours,” you kiss his hair. “You can do whatever you want with me, baby.”

Maybe you shouldn’t have said that. 

Because the next thing you know, the seat is folding back and you’re being thrown onto the seat, facing the plush roof. He’s tugging your jeans down, pulling the material as if it’s singlehandedly his worst enemy. You can only rub his head as he frantically looks between your face, your tits and your panties like he doesn’t know where to begin. He’s desperately asking for permission, for guidance. 

“Choso, we can do whatever you want, just take your time.” And then, as an afterthought, you add, “Although, you shouldn’t take too long since we are outside. If we get caught, I’m not sure your family can take care of the charges we’ll face.”

He nods and then with dark, unfocused eyes, he shoves his face between your leg as he kneels on the floor, spreading your thighs with his strong arms. Sniffing is all he does, inhaling deeply and moaning. You blush, pushing his hair from his face. And, as if the urge has gotten too much, he pushes your panties to the side and licks a strip up your slit, from quivering hole to the clit. 

Your back arches off the seat. 

Moans and groans escape you, shaky breaths fanning the air as he sucks your clit, mumbling your name and the vibrations leaves you lightheaded. 

“Tastes so good. Knew you would taste so good.” He pushes in a finger inside and he groans with you when he wriggles it. “So wet, baby. You’re so hot a-and wet and I want to stay here forever.”

He curls his fingers inside, rubbing against that spot inside of you that has you gushing cream all over his mouth, and he laps it up like he’s starved. Just as a car drives past and he dives deeper into you, you find yourself cumming all over his mouth and fingers, clutching his pigtails harder.

"Fuuuuuck, don't stop, Cho!" You ride out your orgasm on his face, spreading your wetness all over his chin and his cheeks, clit bumping against his nose.

Shuffling up, something wet and hard traces your lips. It’s salty. You don’t hesitate to widen your jaw, letting him push his hot and hard length into your throat. It’s an awkward angle, with you laid not fully back and him having to crouch down, but you manage a few suckles before he gets frustrated and embarrassed, and he climbs back down to pet at your pussy. 

"That's just going to have to wait later, I guess," you chuckle.

A blush blanketing his cheeks, he nods and strokes his dick. He must have taken it out when he was licking you. It's long and hard and your body remembers the feel of it in your hands. And Monet! His tip is flushed red, leaking cum like a faucet. How adorable.

You see him lining his beautiful cock to your quivering hole, but you have to press a hand against his chest to still him. “Tut tut, Cho. Do I need to lecture you on the importance of safe sex, silly boy?”

He blushes and pats his pockets with frantic, panicked movements. You sigh. You didn’t bring one either.

“Well, you’re not allowed inside without a condom,” you mutter to his cock, telling it off as if it’s responsible for its owner irresponsibility. “I mean, really, Choso. You’re a grown man, a college student! You should always have condoms, silly.”

“I didn’t think we’d ever be together so I didn’t buy any,” he mumbles, laying down on you so he can hide his sheepish expression in your shoulder. 

The implication warms your chest, making you pout and rub his back. You coo, “Aw, did my baby not want to fuck anyone else? Just me?”

Pushed to his limit, he bites your neck and then quickly soothes it with his tongue as if upset at himself for hurting you. But it’s you who feels the most guilt; you played around too much, teased him too far, and now his hips are making short thrusts against your pussy. He just can’t help himself. It’s as if the magnetic pull of your cunt is too much for a weak man like him. You’re going to have to work very hard to earn his forgiveness even if he’s willingly thrown it at you. 

Starting, of course, by wrapping your legs around his hips and pressing him closer. You whisper, “Make yourself cum on my pussy, Cho.”

He groans. Maybe it’s the seductive way you ordered him to, the vulgar term you used, or perhaps it’s the fact that you called him a nickname he loves to hear. Well, whatever it is, it’s making him whimper in your ear as he thrusts against your lips, coating his length with your juices. His tip bumps against your clit and you both moan. 

“I-I missed you, y/n!” He cries in your ear, warm breath tickling your skin. 

Again and again, he thrusts, still clinging onto you and holding you close. You can feel his desperation, sincerity, and his pre-cum all seeping into your skin. Rolling back, your eyes disappear — this is supposed to be for him, and yet you’re panting too, holding him tight, shirt threatening to rip under your claws. 

The fact that you’re naked and he isn’t is making you sensitive all over, from the way your nipples are rubbing against his chest and how he pinches at one all the way to the mumbling of your name, like a mantra, against your neck. 

You’re going to cum too. 

“Ngh, Cho! Keep going!”

He must have liked that because his thrusting gets more frantic, his cock head meeting your clit again and again and you’re both nearing your high. Your nails dig into his back and he bites your neck to stifle the broken moan that escapes him. Hot ropes of cum paint your stomach and it makes you arch your back once more, eyes closing shut. 

"So warm ngh!" He groans into your ear.

Hips stuttering, he drags out his orgasm like his body can’t help himself and a beat or two passes. He falls on top of you, still muttering your name like his brain has short-circuited and it’s all that’s left in there. 

“You like me better than Cursed Womb, right?”

You laugh. “Cho, you silly man. You’re the same person.”

Choso pushes himself up onto his elbows, slightly out of breath and dazed, a blush highlighting his face tattoo. You kiss him on the nose which brings out what sounds like a mewl from him. He copies the movement, and it tickles you. That makes him smile, still panting. 

“I know, but I want to know who you like better,” he licks a bead of sweat from your forehead and you have to smack his back. 

Sighing, you push him off, concerned over the fact that you’re naked and in a public space. He lets you scramble back to your seat, fixing your panties and leggings and he hands you your jumper. All in silence, you get settled back in. 

He starts the engine, looking a little upset and you have to still his hand with yours. Words aren’t really enough, you know that. So, the only thing to do is to show him. 

“Take us to my place, Cho.”

—

He’s confused, head tilting and brows scrunched together like a little puppy as you lead him to your dorm room. Whereas you’re practically buzzing with excitement, struggling to get the keys in due to your shaking hands. But you manage and you welcome him in. 

It’s the first time he’s been inside your place — there wasn’t a particular reason why you waited, it was really just because his place is bigger and cooler and generally a much better place to work in. 

Despite it being a pretty standard room, he’s marvelling at the space, eyeing the pictures of your friends strewn across the walls, the fairy lights and the open journal on the table full of your watercolour works. Choso looks like he just entered Santa’s workshop, and you giggle as you press your face in his back, hugging him and swaying you guys side to side. 

“Sorry about the mess, Cho. I didn’t know you’d come over.”

He holds your hands, swaying with you, but his focus is on only one thing. 

There, on your easel, stationed by the window for natural lighting, is a sketch. The lines are messy and criss-crossing, overlapping each other, the lead of the pencil unravelling to create a face loss in thought. It’s tilting its head as its own creation, examining the angles and the proportions, and you can tell it’s completely entranced in its work, losing grip with reality and wholly immersed in their own imagination. 

It’s the kind of expression you’ve decided is most beautiful in all your years of looking and sketching and studying. In all the models, in all the strangers, and in all the works of art you’ve come across, only one figure has captivated you as much it has. 

“Recognise him, Cho Cho?”

Despite the teasing tone of your voice, you’re actually pretty nervous. This has never been a problem for you; you’ve presented your work to countless of people, by virtue of being an art student, you’ve consented to being ripped apart again and again. But this time, you’re feeling a certain kind of insecurity you never have before. 

“Do you like it?”

“This is me?” He breathes out. 

You bury your face harder in his back, feeling a blush creeping up. “Yeah, Cho. I started it back in first year. I never got to finish it because, well, we’re art students and we all have ADHD or whatever. But when we became project partners, I’ve been adding to it, adding lines and details for every time I noticed something new about you. In fact, I was working on it that night you asked me to hang out and I almost turned you down. Sorry about by the way, baby.”

Waving a hand over the general area, you explain further, "At the end of first year, you got that face tattoo, and I struggled all summer adding it in because I only saw it once and wanted to recreate it from pure memory. But I couldn't ever seem to get the proportions right."

"Y-you started drawing me in first year?"

Pressing a kiss to his back and smiling at the flex of his muscles, you think back to a memory. "It wasn't like I was obsessed with you, or anything creepy, I swear. It's just that, you're a pretty handsome dude. The List agrees and well, when I first saw you in the lecture hall, I thought wow, someone needs to capture that guy in a drawing or something. And you know how us artists work — we develop fixations. I guess, you could say you've been my on and off one for a year now."

That was a lot of words and you’re not sure he registered any of it because of how silent he is, but then he’s clasping your hands tightly. And you’re shocked into silence when something cold slides down one of your fingers. On your left hand. Your ring finger. 

“Cho?”

“I think I’m in love with you,” he shakily whispers. 

You want to laugh — it’s such a sudden admission and you’re fairly convinced it’s just that post-nut high. But the way he says it, the way it’s so serious, so real makes you pull away. 

He turns, desperate to see your face. And with another whisper, he admits, “I have one of you too.”

“What?”

“I painted a portrait of you. In my place.”

It strikes you there. You remember. The painting with the tarp over it. That was of you, and he hid it because you were coming over. With a grin, you raise your hand up to eye the golden signet ring on your finger, way too big and threatening to fall off if you don’t hold it tight. 

“We’re a pretty cool duo, aren’t we?”

Choso falls to his knees, pigtails bouncing, an expression of desperation and torment written all over it. He's never looked more beautiful staring up at you. "Please let me be your boyfriend!"

You laugh again, hands on your hips as you shake your head in disbelief. Rolling your eyes playfully, you respond with, "Alright, I guess I can grant you that one wish. Actually, since you gave me two orgasms, I'll give you another one."

He reaches for your hand with his eyes closed and you let him press it against his face. Cupping his cheek, your smile drops and you feel a fire burning inside and explode in your chest when he presses a distressed kiss to your wrist, full of panic like his brain is malfunctioning and he can't settle on one thought or feeling.

Then, his eyelids fly open and meet yours with a clarity that has never been there. Never. Not even since first year when you made eye contact in passing and you couldn't get his face out of your mind. And it's like all the anguish you saw that night is gone, the chalk mural fading from view.

More certain than ever, you know he'll give you all the opportunities you need to finish your portrait of him, and every new one you'll make. And your project will be renewed with a deeper level of teamwork, because you've transcended the definitions of your connection.

“I want to eat you out again.”

And well, who are you to say no to a man on his knees?

[janumun]

Jdieos hii so I have a lil request. Please ignore it if you're uncomfortable with it,

Sylus with a virgin reader. Like never touched herself, not even toys, never seen a dick kinda virgin

Just to make sure I'm 18+ 😭

Hey Nonny! Requests are technically closed but since I am very not normal about anything Sylus and LaDS men right now and your request is personally, an interesting topic for me, I don’t mind indulging in a few HCs for both our sakes 😆😆 for how I see him with a beloved, who’s never been with anyone before. Happy Reading!

First Times with Sylus (NSFW/18+ Headcanons)

Tags: virgin reader, oral and vaginal sex, squirting

Good communication is a strong basis of a relationship established with Sylus.

Words are used, desires are conveyed in clear cut actions and mannerisms and Sylus encourages the same of you. Even when the two of you share a kiss for the first time, it is on your terms alone and at the pace with which you wish to drive your relationship further into physicality. 

Scarlet gaze meeting yours from across the warm space in between your faces — the want he parses on your face for more, in the curl of delicate digits you grip against his, as you urge him closer. Lashes trembling shut with the press of your mouths against the other, your pleased little sound of approval breaking against his lips, he swallows into his. 

Soft, drifting kisses he lets warm your body into his; across the curve of your cheek, down the angle of your jaw. 

And only when you haul his face back up against yours in the curl of desperate digits against his jaw, letting your mouth fall open, does he put his tongue into you for the first time. Smile hitching wider against the catch of breath that very new feeling elicits within you. “Any more of trying to hold your breath like that and you’ll turn yourself dizzy in no time.” Thick fingers easing about the back of your head, threading in between your locks. “Breathe through your nose, kitten. Yes, just like that.”

 Your first time is a slow, torturously pleasurable and long process. And not just because of how a single night in Sylus’s bed is enough to ruin a person.

It is also because of his need to prepare you well beforehand — his sheets will be drenched, your pussy worked open, long before he even attempts fitting his cock into you.

[As also detailed at great length in my NSFW headcanons for Sylus] the man is no stranger to sex, he knows his way about it; which in turn also affords him the knowledge of how to handle a partner, especially an inexperienced one, with the proper care they deserve. 

It is only thanks to the enduring stores of stamina afforded to a Hunter through their relentless cycles of training, are you able to keep up with Sylus’s gentle wrecking of your body during your first night. 

Once he’s shed you entirely of your clothes and spread, willing and open, upon his sheets does he move to pace down the length of your body. Devious mouth having long worked your lips and tongue into a mess; he shifts to settle in between your legs. Prying open your legs in the press of large palms, thumbing to ease at the tense tendon of your thighs when you involuntarily stiffen to stone, to have a man down there for the very first time in your life. 

You’d never been with another and a relationship with Sylus had already gifted you with so many of your wonderful firsts.

And you’re ready to let him be the first man you make love to, a fact you’ve never been more sure of. 

You are no stranger to how sex works, in theory —  you may have never indulged before freely in your desires, never having had the reason or drive to indulge in pleasuring yourself, before him but you certainly do understand what it entails, broadly.

And yet, when Sylus’s mouth settles across your wet heat to lap, you know nothing else in this world could’ve ever prepared you for the way your hips spasm up into his steeled hold. 

Not used to the way the pointed edge of his tongue curls up into your walls to work your pussy open for himself. Humming into your folds, the gravelly vibrations of it traveling all the way up, as if to your very womb. 

“Relax yourself, kitten. There you go, good girl.” Clenching in on him so tight, to filthy words and praises he warms into the night. 

“You’re going to tear through the sheets if you grip them any harder.” He hums. “If you do need something to hold on to, ” Guiding your white knuckled grip to loosen, and towards the mussed strands of his hair. “My head is right here, sweetheart.” 

Trudging you uphill, slow, sensuous — this man takes his merry time —  towards a devastating peak. Ministrations gentling when he feels you close, causing you to gush your frustrations across the angle of his jaw, his nose brushing up against your clit.

A combined assault of lips, tongue, gentled teeth and fingers working you into ruin — he keeps you suspended for hours within that torturous, precipitating state of desire. 

And when you finally fall— 

It is the most wonderfully disastrous feeling you’ve ever experienced in your life, orgasming so fucking hard, you feel your wetness spurt onto his eager tongue, trickle down the strength of his jaw. Eyes giving in to grey at the corners with the vehemence of your release before you black out, with your lover’s mouth still buried within the space of your legs. 

When you next wake up, Sylus is soothing your nerves against the kisses he feathers at your temples.

“Better now, sweetie?”

Your disorientation unfurling back into the present before you give him your consent, assuring him you are alright.

He’s unraveling you open so many more times after — a terrifying incarnate of self-control — on his fingers coaxing open your hole for what’s to come.

You’re nearly delirious with mad desire by the time you feel the hot roll of his cock against your drenched thighs, working your slick onto his length before he positions himself at your slit.

Pushing into you, gentle, slow.

There is no pain, owing to how he’s had you so overly prepared — only the discomfiting stretch of a foreign ingression you’ve never before felt in your life. 

Sylus’s thrusts into you are languid and superficial the first night you are his. Lazy, wonderful pleasure, he brings upon the two of you. 

He is well-endowed down below and he understands that well; his full length he doesn’t try coax you to accommodate during your first time together. Not ready to overwhelm you with his full size just yet. There will be time for that, later.

When you are much more stretched, much more used to his girth, sweetie. 

End Notes: Thank you for reading! Likes, reblogs and comments are very much appreciated if you are so inclined. ❤️

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