#there's? bones? not like collarbone but top of shoulder I think

[autogeneity]

looks like I'm going to be finding new and exotic ways to make my shoulders hurt every 2nd day for the next several months 👍

[maretriarch]

been debating on getting my ears pierced bcs i dont really like a lot of earring styles but i just remembered fake gauges exist and these button ones....theyre calling me.... lalaloopsy ass....

[moondirti]

simon sees a familiar face. (AO3 mirror) tags: darkfic. ghost x nude model! reader. (given a stage name but no discerning characteristics.) violent intrusive thoughts. objectification. rough sex. marking. dacryphilia. possessiveness. dubcon photo sharing.

It's the slip of her skin in his periphery. Moisturised, gold shimmer body glaze. Tucked up against the bar and nursing a negroni in both hands, her dress riding high up on her thigh. Sticks out like a sore thumb in a pub like this, where seedy men come to drink their woes away. Just a little too clean, prim and perfect polish. Pretty enough to make his teeth hurt.

He has to do a double take before he can be sure. Where he would know her calves, those hands and varnished nails, anywhere, he can hardly believe it until she turns a quarter angle and her face comes into full view. Lips he's seen perked up and glossed into erotic O's. Eyes so often half-cast and sultry, lined in kohl, that it's odd to see them wide like this; looking around, searching for something.

Yeah. Simon knows her. Knows her like the grip of a gun, the rip release of a hand grenade, the flat lining of barrack cot mattresses. Knows her so well that his cock chubs up in an almost pavlovian response, fat and heavy and leaking already, like a bloody sixth former seeing a pair of tits for the first time. In all honesty, this might just be the equivalent for a man like himself. Aching jowls, frothy lips. Ageing, dirty beast – thrown the most delectable fucking bone.

Because it's her. Cut straight from the centrefold of his favourite magazine and pasted a mere four feet away. Just as alluring, as provocative as she is in the poster he'd gifted Johnny on a deployment birthday. The object gracing every page not adhered together with dry cum. The one thing that gets him – and frankly, every other mutt on the task force – through long missions.

He throws back the last of his bourbon and slips his mask back over his chin. The haunt is emptier than usual. He assumes the big guy by the doorway is responsible, no doubt hired to follow her around and scare the creeps away. Simon must count as one – if his intentions, latched like filthy claws in his stomach, are anything to go by – but he's also bigger. Bolder. Probably has tattoos that outlast her bodyguard's experience in the field. So he takes his chances as he stretches up and prowls up to where she's sitting.

"Selene Harlow." It's a stage name, of that he's certain. But he has nothing else to call her by, not having fallen short of searching for her true identity. She's good at keeping herself safe from perverts like him. A good fucking girl, if not a little minx.

"Only on the clock." She smiles softly, dipping the orange peel in and out of her drink. It looks untouched, glass sweating onto the bar top. He thinks of holding her head back by her hair and knocking the concoction down her throat. "You don't look like my date."

Simon makes a sound. "No' your usual type, then?"

"I didn't say that." Her dress is low cut, bandage tight. When she breathes in, he devours the way her chest heaves out of the material. Begging to pop free, or else be ripped open right here. He can't imagine she would be opposed to being stripped in public. Not with her breasts plastered on a million different publications, issues displayed in the illicit material case behind every gas station counter.

"Well, he must be soft in th'head."

She shrugs. "Don't sound so surprised." Simon wonders, if he were to press his thumbs down onto each collarbone, how much pressure it would take to snap them in place. He's always liked the delicate arch of her shoulders, the swan-like column of her neck. With how he fixated he is on them now, he can hardly place the dejection in her voice. "Not a lot of people wanna go out with a girl who does what I do. It was only a matter of time before he found out."

"Can' be too pissed at him, a'suppose."

"Hm?"

"His loss is my gain."

"Aha." A flash of teeth. She turns on the bar stool to fully face him, and her knees knock his. Soft fucking legs, plush like a chew toy and he knows– he knows what they look like completely nude and spread open. But nothing could've quite prepared him for how different it is to see them in real life. To see her – real, fleshly, blood full – and not be able to take. Have to hold himself back despite the way he's pumped himself raw to her arse almost a hundred times now. He lost the plot some time ago. His mind must think of her as his. "Is that what this is?"

And what is this? Simon doesn't have a name for it. All he knows is the way his head itches, the tantalisation crawling in his skin. The sheer self-restraint it takes not to pocket her home and chain her to his bed. He wants to dig his teeth into her cheek.

Instead–

"Could be."

"I think that's up to me." She crinkles in a wily little smile and he chuckles because it's funny. Funny because she takes him to be a good man. But with the way her bodyguard is eyeing him from across the room (fucking muppet), he knows that's not the quality he's projecting. There's the urge to crack a sick joke, something about clipping a bird's wings, just to see her pick up on the rot he carries with him. "You military?"

"Tha' obvious?"

"Hm, no. Wild guess." She straightens her back and the vague gesture she makes with her wrist is enough to drive him up a wall. It sets a timer, ticking time bomb, in his brain that'll detonate if he doesn't get his nasty old hands on her waist. Thirty seconds on the clock. He can never be patient when it comes to sweet things. "Your... stature. And I tend to be popular with servicemen, anyway. What's your name?"

"And why do you wan' to know my name, bird?"

She flutters her lashes, pointedly looking down to where he's bulging in his jeans. Bird is right. She shines like one with pretty feathers, begs to be plucked, because why else would mother nature create things like her if not to appease men like him?

"Figure you'd want me to moan it later."

And it's like watching one fly into a cage on its own accord. His blood boils hot and thin, flooding his head until his eyes strain with something ferocious. "Why wait." Simon says. He can't wrap an arm around her waist fast enough, scooping her from her seat and wrapping her tight against his side. Tight enough that, if she changed her mind, she wouldn't be able to flap her way out of it. "Name's Simon, and there's a bathroom 'round back."

It's nasty. Depraved. Graffiti lines all four walls and it's no coincidence that the one he pins her up against looks the filthiest. Something in him craves to see her degraded (the same part that marked a picture of her in black ink, chicken-scratch body writing proclaiming her as his), brought down to the same peg that he occupies. Beasts with too much baggage stored in their marrow. Humans, men, with moral compasses that skew a tad too far left. Animals. Animalistic.

"I don– Don't usually do this..." She breathes, excuse stuttered through little whimpers as he mouths at her jaw. Maybe she's afraid of living up to her name, or whatever image Selene Harlow projects. Not a prostitute, he can almost hear her say. Tastes the fear of misconception, sour on otherwise tart skin. He hums and tugs her breasts free with one, scarred paw.

"Doesn' really matter, bird. Were fuckin' made for it." He squeezes the two mounds, pinches knotted nipples and rolls them between his fingers until she cries. Her voice breaks in little bubbled sobs – starts crying so fast that, christ, it must be some sort of record – and he aches in his trousers. Ready to burst if he doesn't bully his cock into a hole soon, just like she's been ready to be unravelled all night. "Made to be mine, yeah? Bloody 'ell, jus' look at you."

Frayed little tapestry. If he weren't so mad with lust, he'd obsess what drove her to this point. What brought her to some shitty pub in Manchester to meet a good for nothing lemon. Why she mewls and completely melts into him when he slaps her tits, just to see the way they jiggle. He's an ugly bastard, definitely punching just by breathing the same air as her, and yet she's so perfectly willing. Flaying herself open, skinned alive. Gasping selfish gulps of air when he finally pulls off his mask to sink his canines into her shoulder.

He's so used to seeing her posed, perfectly still. To have her like this, a trapped worm underneath him, feels like concentrated lightning on every artery. Overstimulating. Paralysing. He never thought he'd see the day where she exposes herself in motion: folding her dress up over her wide hips, slipping soaked panties down to her ankles.

(In fact, he vividly remembers brooding over an interview her magazine had added to the corner of a cover page, once. Selene Harlow tells all! Answers inquiries on video pornography and more!

I don't think I'm the right person for that sort of scene. Not much of an actress, I'm afraid.)

Not that her feigning was ever a concern. Simon knows the giddy gossamer over her eyes can't be artificially replicated. She's too clumsy, too amateur in the way she readies herself for him. Used to doing all this prep in a frilly dressing room with apathetic staff members directing her. Sways a bit on her heels and holds onto his thick forearms as she widens her stance. He stands until she's steady, then drops to his knees in search of the star of this show.

And the sight is as much a bludgeon to his self control as seeing her for the first time was, trigger for the feral mongrel that barks and chomps on his ribcage. Her cunt is just as perfect up close in this grimy bathroom as it is well lit, professionally oiled, and printed on coated paper. A little fuzzy, swollen enough that it flowers open for him on its own. Shyly inviting him to dig his nose right under her clit and inhale, eyes rolling to the back of his head at the scent of her, undiluted. Salivate blooms around his teeth.

When he flattens his tongue against it, she tries to find purchase in the roots of his shorn hair. Nails scrambling along the buzzcut until she forfeits and clamps her hand behind his ears, head thrown back to knock against the wall. If he were a nice man, he would spend hours buried between her legs. Sated by licking her slick from its source, like a kitten given a bowl of cream. Would make her cum until she forgets how to keep quiet, until she screams his name loud enough for the world knows their muse is off the market now.

But if he were a nice man, he wouldn't be defiling her here. He would've taken her out to the Greek place that never seems to have room for him alone, and then back to her apartment, where he'd drop her off with a chaste kiss and a promise to call her tomorrow.

So Simon combs through her lips once, twice, three times. Coats her in enough spit to be able to shove two fingers with little fuss, and scissors them apart. The little thing stretches to accommodate his ministrations immediately, clutch swallowing him up to the second knuckle and sucking around him when he spreads her hole for his leering eye. It's cute – so fucking cute how she clenches and keens and cries. Neck arched up above him. Apple of eden, blank canvas. His fingers leave her cunt as he rises to bite into it.

(Truthfully, she could've done with more prep. She wasn't lying when she said she doesn't do this often, whatever this is. But the way silver pebbles brim on her lash-line makes his chest twist, the dog rearing on its haunches, ready to pounce – and he thinks he'd like to see her babble in pain as he splits her open on his cock.)

"Gonna take you home after this, y'hear? Fuck you well 'n' good, all proper like. Fold ya over a mattress and print my cock on your guts, birdie. Never let you forget it. "

"S-Si! Simon, please. I n-need..."

Ichor beads in the shape of his teeth, streaking oxygenated red down her throat. He makes a mess of it, smearing it across the marred patch of skin, and brings the fluid up to her face to rub it into her cheek. The type of marking he'd reserve for his third or fourth going with someone – if anyone ever lasts that long – but is absolutely necessary right now. Here, with her. Technically their hundredth something time together, if he were deranged enough to count the various times he'd spent himself over her spreads.

But nothing can supersede the truth of the matter. He streaks blood along her face and licks it off in a show of merciless possession. Pretty things like her get plucked off streets and ruined everyday, despite her cynicism on her value, and he can point to at least three other men by name who would slaughter to be in his place. Best to stake his claim now, clamp a collar on the exotic fowl he pulled down from the sky.

"Need wha', hm?" His tongue laps at her cheek, laving over the contour of her nose and swiping right under her eye to catch the tears that freely fall. She winces when he gets too close, hands faltering along his waistband.

"Your... d-dick. Please, please. Just wanna be fucked, Simon."

He plants a rough kiss onto her mouth, all teeth and tongue, and finally ladles himself free of his jeans.

Just wanna be fucked.

Daft, silly girl.

She should've chosen anyone else.

It takes a bit of pressure to feed himself into her cunt, pinning either leg to the sides of his hips as he guides his cock toward the opening. If she was putty before, she's positively liquid now, boneless rag doll slumped onto him. Dead weight. Letting him take control of this fight. Content to do nothing, slack-jawed and empty eyed as her hot walls come to embrace him completely. Her breath halts, the air recalibrating to just the sound of his ragged grunts, and he considers it an invitation to wrap a fist around her neck.

"I'll do more than jus' fuck you, pretty thing. Won' ever let you out of my sight."

And he means it.

It's impossible to withdraw completely from her – vacuum sealed too tight, too good, around him. So he fucks in short thrusts instead, snapping his pelvis back, only to shove forward once her legs begin to flail about. It's brutal even by his standards, rough in a way that supplants pleasure with pain. A small pity surfaces when her lip trembles, discomfort wringing her darling face up like a dish towel. Wet and pathetic, but he sneaks his free hand down to knead at her swollen clit anyway.

Like oil, it slips and hardens, tense enough that he knows she won't last long if he keeps it up.

Simon feels his own release encroaching. Unfurling at the base of his spine to form something cruel and primal. His vision tunnels to fixate on her – not the filthy bathroom or the lewd squelch of her pussy taking him in. Not the banging on the door by a customer desperately needing to piss, or otherwise, her bodyguard concerned at the choked screams carved from her lungs. Just her. Little bird.

The howling in his head doesn't stop, but it sure as hell quiets down when she soaks the coarse hairs at the base of his cock. Squirts, off-white fluid gushing from her and trickling onto the tiled floor. His movements grow stilted, off-rhythm, at the sight. His want grows claws and scales, grows wants that have wants. Beastly. He sees red.

"N-noghonbirfcontraahl." She gasps, suffocated still by the fingers pressing crescent-shaped scars beneath her jaw.

"Don' give a shit." He growls, then cums.

(Really, he doesn't. To see her swell up with his child is just one more added temptation, carrot on a stick. He bucks like a rabid animal and bookmarks that thought away for later.)

His seed doesn't stay put when he pumps her full of it. It gathers and drips out of her, undeterred by the barrage of his softening cock. When he pulls out, it draws milky treks down her legs. There's the instinct to shovel it back into her, tape her lips shut until the spend takes; but as he pockets her panties and helps her readjust her dress (after polishing himself clean on the expensive fabric), he finds he quite likes the thought of parading her around like this.

"C'mon," He nips her earlobe. "let's walk you home."

Simon does end up making good on his promise. They hardly get any sleep that night, sweating on every available surface her flat affords. By the end of it, she's so tuckered out that he has to lift her to bed. Hardly cognisant as he strips to his boxers and sidles up right next to her.

What doesn't escape her notice, however, is when he pulls his phone out to snap a picture of her like this. Fucked to oblivion, puffy pussy oozing about three loads worth of cum.

"W-what are you–" Stuttered. Panicked, like a pet that has at last realised it's been caged.

"Shhhh, birdie. You're my model, ain't you? Let me show you off, yeah? Won' let it get into the wrong hands."

"Promise?" She whimpers, tucking into his broad chest. She isn't in the condition to give her proper assent, but he takes it anyway, kissing both eyes and carding his fingers across her scalp.

"Promise." He mutters, then sends the portrait off. "Jus' to men like me."

Sgt. Garrick: ?! Is that Capt. Price: Christ, Simon. Someone ought to muzzle you. Johnny: I don't believe you. Johnny: Pick up my calls. Johnny: SIMON.

[missmeinyourbones]

"we were supposed to be just friends." and gojo please?

WE WERE SUPPOSED TO BE JUST FRIENDS (s. gojo)

a/n: slightly suggestive, will they won't they (they will), mentions of alcohol, satoru can't not be annoying for like three seconds

L’s MIDNIGHTS EVENT!

Everything feels hot. And it shouldn't.

Because it's the end of autumn and your dress flows down past your knees and the wine in your glass was supposed to warm you up but now Satoru is everywhere and everything feels hot.

He has you pinned against the wall, and how you got from the front door to the hallway, you don't remember, but his lips feel like fire as they dance along your neck and down to your exposed collarbone.

Even breathless and tingling, you know this is wrong.

You knew from the moment Satoru asked you out for a few drinks—as friends, he promised. The second he pulled your chair out for you at the bar, the moment you took too long to pick out a dress, you knew this was how the night would end.

Because while you and Satoru are supposed to be friends, that's never been quite the case.

With eyes closed and a heaving chest, you manage to pant out a pathetic, "This shouldn't be happening—"

"Y'know, I'm not judging you or anything," Satoru chuckles against your sticky skin, his lips moving faster than the speed of light as they crawl up your neck and below your ear, "but if that's your idea of dirty talk, we might need to teach you a thing or two."

When he gently paws at your earlobe, you disguise the wanton whimper as an aggravated sigh, attempting to paw at his broad shoulders and remind him.

"This is a bad idea, we both agreed that it's a bad idea."

"Impossible," he gently smirks against your jaw before sinking his canines into the bone with a smug exhale. "It's half my idea, and I've never had a bad idea in my entire life."

Wrong, you immediately note.

You can think of a minimum of seventeen bad ideas Satoru has had, and that's just off of the top of your head. And of those seventeen, at least ten of them ended up like this—with the two of you gnawing at one another like animals.

Still embarrassingly breathless, you try to regain the upper hand, "So you're just talking to hear yourself speak?"

"Well, I can think of a few sweeter things to say," he smoothly mumbles against your jaw, relishing in the way his teeth gently scrape the skin lovingly.

His (huge) palms find your thighs with ease, and just as he's about to lift you in his arms and inevitably fuck you raw against your shitty apartment wall, a miracle happens.

With every ounce of strength you have, you're able to push him far enough away from you to actually look at him. Both of you panting and warm to the touch, you're able to look into his eyes with a telling frown.

"Satoru, we are supposed to be just friends."

And though your tone is stern, his reply is light and airy as he leans back in, insistent.

"We are friends."

When his tongue prods at your swollen lower lip once more, you pull him back by his hair. Not missing how he whines at the tugging, you raise your eyebrows, unamused.

"You kiss all your friends like this?"

"Only the ones as pretty as you," he coos immediately, leaning back into your mouth. But your grip on his hair prevents him from reaching what he wants, and when he notices the stern look in your eye, he softens.

"No," comes softly from his chest as he pulls away to properly look back at you. "No, I don't."

You exhale deeply, catching your breath and attempting to firmly plant your feet on the floor. Satoru's listening to you, or at least he's doing a good job at pretending to, and your gaze can’t help but fall to his swollen and spit-shined lips.

"We agreed to take things slow, to be friends for a while and not rush into things like we—"

Conveniently, his eyes do the same and flicker down to your own distracting pout.

The words meekly crawl out from his throat when he practically whimpers, "But you're wearing that lipstick you know I like."

"I shouldn't know you like it," you coldly remind him, "because we were supposed to be friends."

Satoru moves his hands from your thighs to your hips which, believe it or not, is a conservative improvement for him. Though his hands made a safe choice, his eyes falter back down to your neck when he presses a feathery kiss to your pulse point.

"Baby," he coos and you despise that you feel yourself clench around nothing. From a sixth sense or eye, Satoru somehow knows, because he smirks against your skin and brings his attention right before your lips.

"From the moment we met, we both knew we were never gonna be just friends."

He doesn't give you the privilege of a kiss, but lingers just above your lips as if his infinity is still on. You know enough to know it's off, it always is around you, but with the way he's so close and denying you his actual touch, you don’t quite know the difference.

When you don't answer, he prompts you tenderly. "Right?"

Stubbornly, you turn your head to look away from his stupid face, but all that does is further expose your neck to him.

Practically singing with mockery, Satoru's tongue dances along your jaw when he grins.

"Your silence is more telling than you think."

You gently shove him off of you, rolling your eyes in frustration at his cocky (yet correct) statement. He jokingly stumbles back at your shove, hand over his heart as he huffs out a whine.

"I can't stand you," you grumble.

With a shit-eating grin, Satoru sighs and lays back on your sofa, spreading his legs comfortably wide and patting his thick and barren thigh.

"Then come sit."

[whosjunglejim4322]

Saccharine - E.M

Warnings ® smut! Fluff, soft bf Eddie<3, first time sex as a couple! Nasty IN LOVE smut bc this bitch is a hopeless romantic! Eddie is super sensitive, Established relationship, you stroke his dick, Eddie almost cums in his pants, lil bit of dry humping, this is incredibly self indulgent but u didn't hear that from me, overly descriptive bc why not

You shouldn't be nervous, really. It's just Eddie, who is your boyfriend of three months and twenty-six days. Who is sitting across from you on his creaky mattress criss-cross style, your knees touching. Your Eddie, who has two big hands flailing in the air as he goes on about the recent campaign, broad mouth etched into a whimsical smile, big eyes wondrous and full of excitement for the tale.

The bed bounces with his enthusiasm, and you draw closer to him with each syllable.

Your Eddie, who is doing nothing out of the ordinary, and who is as beautiful as ever in loose fitting plaid pyjama bottoms and a tattered black tee that exposes half of his collarbone and smudges of black ink - he doesn't even have to try, and perhaps these simple mundane realizations are what cause the flutter of wings in the pit of your stomach.

"And then Mike - hey, you okay?"

If it weren't for his vast change in expression, you truly wouldn't have realized what a trance you're in. Between the furrow of his unkempt brows and the amused but curious tilt at the corner of his mouth, you come back to earth. The weight of gravity settles in your bone marrow, as his calloused thumb quickly strokes your chin as if to remind you he is still here.

"I - yeah yeah, sorry I just," you grab his hand by the heaviness of his wrist, dragging it into your lap so you can stroke the back of his rough knuckles. "got distracted s'all."

Your eyes divert to where your fingers are joined and the sound of his airy, through-the-nose chuckle has more heat blossoming behind your ribcage, nudging at your organs.

"I'll stop with the D&D talk, know you hear enough about it from the kids. There's only so much dorkiness you should be subjected to, y'know?"

It's lighthearted, he's smirking and looking down at you with enough palpable fondness the apples of your cheeks feel like they're being stroked by a flame. Still, the implication that he may be bothering you in any way has an urgency filling your eyes. You shake your head.

"No, no that never bothers me Eds, don't be silly." The nickname makes his mouth dry, still, after three months and twenty-six days. You finally meet his glance. "You're just handsome, really handsome especially when you're talking about something you're passionate about and I just...yeah."

It's word vomit, messy and you feel like it makes no sense but then he squeezes your hand and you know that he reads between the nervous mumbo jumbo - you have no clue how you make him feel, do you?

"You're fucking cute." He breathes out earnestly, smoothing his grip upwards to your forearms and pulling you forward with minimal effort - right onto the stirdiness of his lap.

Your giddiness is the perfect portrait, your arms finding a resting place atop his broad shoulders. Curls tickle the tops of your arms and your wrists, and your thighs brace your frame by the slim of his taut waist. He can't help it, the giggles escaping his throat. The proximity is intoxicating for no reason at all.

"Can't believe this is our first time spending the night together, I'm so used to falling asleep on the phone with you that it really doesn't feel all that different." He smooths your hair out of your eyes, tucks it behind your left ear.

I get to touch her like this, he thinks to himself. His chest jostles underneath the muscle and bone.

"Yeah, except I get to fall asleep with you'n my arms, wake up with you in em' too. I'm one lucky son of a bitch, hmm?"

He's practically thinking out loud, but he's too far gone to feel shame. When you nuzzle your face against the warm nook of his neck, wet lips smiling against the flesh, his encapsulating arms squeeze you impossibly tighter. He buries his nose against the top of your head, inhaling the fresh scent of your shampoo. Your cheek grazes the side of his jaw as you meet him face to face, nose to nose.

He sees you trying to formulate words, a sentence, even a sound but none of it seems like a totally accurate way to express the adoration threatening to consume you from the inside out. You graze his cheek with your mouth, slowly, tentatively, and he hangs on with half an air full of lungs.

You suckle his bottom lip and he sighs into your mouth, the relief making him lightheaded. He kicks into gear and pushes back with an overlap of his mouth - hands wandering over the small of your back, to your soft lovehandles and upwards until his fingrtips have passed your jugular and he's holding your face as tenderly as you're holding his.

It's now, when you feel it - the growing firmness beneath he thin material of his bottoms. He tries to keep it at bay but it's damn near impossible, and the whimper, the fucking whimper you let out when his soft tongue touches yours from the warm cavern of your mouth - he couldn't stop it from twitching even if he wanted to. He's only a man.

And you're a menace. As new as this is, your body reacts to the prod in between your legs, underneath your crotch. You press yourself tighter to his frame, hips scooching against his hard-on in the process and he stiffens.

"Mmm, baby baby..." your pout is immediate when he breaks from your mouth, brows furrowed and lips a kiss bitten fuschia. For a moment, you think you've taken it too far too fast - he's stopped you from moving completely. Your whole body burns with a tingly sensation somewhere between shame and the aftershocks of arousal.

"Are you...are you okay? Did I do something wrong?"

You sound so sweet, it makes his lower belly ache among other things. He stifles a laugh brcause he knows it will only make you feel worse. Something wrong. Something wrong.

"Fuck no, I-sorry I just uh...almost..." He can't bring himself to say it, you guys haven't even been kissing for five whole minutes and here he is about to blow his load. When you realize how close his dark lashes are from kissing his cheeks, how his pupils have almost turned the whole of his irises onyx, you connect the dots.

Woah, you did that to him? That moth in your belly threatens to take flight, and without much thought, your mouth is moving before you can stop it.

"I wanna see."

Those are the only words your brain allows you to spit out. His chest has gone still, and you feel that twitch against your center again. Your thighs have begun to tremble.

"You wanna see...? My cock?" He shouldn't sound so incredulous. You're his girlfriend for christ's sake, but you are important to him. More important than he ever thought anyone could be, and so he has kept his lust at a minimum of 48% when he's around you for the most part. Save for intense makeout sessions.

"Yeah, I wanna...well I wanna know how to make you feel good."

He's worried for a moment that he's having another wet dream, but he's sure this is real life because he feels how warm you are against him and you are so close he can see his own reflection in your eyes. You toy with the shell of his ear and a chill ascends his spine.

"Sweetheart if you touch me m'not gonna last long." His skin is pink and scarlet, and he's gotten at least ten degrees hotter judging by the heat billowing off of the back of his neck. His adams apple bobs when he swallows.

"That's okay, really it is. You have nothing to be embarrassed about....I like it. Like that I make you feel that way. " You rake your fingers through the front of his hair, pushing it away from his pretty face. He checks your eyes again, needing confirmation.

"Are you sure? You don't have to do anything you don't want to." He gnaws on the inside of his plush mouth, tries to calm the animal inside of him that wants to fuck your brains out right now. He almost feels guilty just thinking about it, until you lean over to peck the side of his stubbly chin, fingertips grazing his taut belly.

"Yes, really wanna."

There is a curious, nervous anticipation in the crinkle underneath your eyes.

"Kay' baby, explore all you want." The boyish smirk he gives is enough to have that knee buckling tingling sensation coming back full force as he presents himself to you like this. Does he seem as pulled together and totally not overly nervous as he thinks he does? Probably not.

His arms depart from your body, ribs expanding as he reclines on his palms. Tendons flex and stretch underneath the black bats and fuzzy layer of hair atop his forearm. You swallow, intimidated by the beauty of the boy.

You find the courage to finally move off of his lap so that you can take him all in, and the bulge of his cock swipes the underside of your thigh as you slide off.

You don't know where to touch first. That's a lie, your hands almost instinctively slip underneath the hem of his old shirt, where that dark thatch of hair trails under his belly button. He's soft, so soft it's unreal, he is velvet and delicious scarring and beauty marks. His tummy convulses underneath your hand.

He watches you with complete fixation. You have your bottom lip tucked between your teeth and you don't even realize it, all perched and pretty in front of him. He closes his eyes when you explore his sides, over the planes and arches and past the small stretch marks by his chest.

You can't ignore it anymore, the tent that has formed at his crotch and continues to throb with each passing touch.

The blunt of your nails rake down the soft plaid covering thick thighs, and he takes this sharp breath that has you glancing up at him with heavy eyes.

"So pretty...Eds you're so pretty." You say it ardently, your voice small and weak. An arm reaches down, strong but gentle as he strokes the back of your plush cheek with his ring covered knuckles.

"Can't fucking believe...can't believe you're mine, finally. Shit." He's almost murmuring to himself again, on the verge of cardiac arrest. Maybe he's losing his mind, maybe this is heaven.

Then your palm presses against the thick of his cock where it's bulging out, and his thighs spasm.

"Oh, oh." He's all curses and praises, giving you encouraging glances each time you look up at him to silently ask for guidance. You move your hand up and down what you assume is his shaft, and he keeps his hips from bucking into your touch. He feels thick, and the back of your mouth starts to water.

Without warning you're hooking your fingers into his waistband, and he lifts his hips in compliance so that you can pull them down to his mid thigh. He has no time for nerves anymore. Any fear he previously had about what his dick looks like, or what you'll think of it, is stripped along with his clothing. You're looking at him with too much love for him to be insecure - and that takes him by surprise the most.

At this point his checkered boxers are just in the way, and you take it upon yourself to pull those down too. A thud hits his belly.

And really, you should've known. He's big. Not because he's impossibly long, his size is above average but he's thick - the tip iridescent with precum, the same shade of plum as his lips underneath the slick sheen. He is slightly curved upwards, a prominent vein decorating the underside parallel to his frenulum. It's pretty, just like the rest of him. He's neatly trimmed, which is the most surprising part if you're honest - but nothing about Eddie could ever be displeasing to look at.

Your mouth is parted with this expression of surprise, and Eddie almost can't believe what this is doing for his ego.

"Woah." Is all you say, transfixed when you reach out to grasp the appendage. He hisses through his teeth when your small hand finally grasps it, so fucking warm and so gentle it's almost maddening. You both feel it, the invisible weight that has settled in his small, messy room.

The weight of being alone, together, all night and all of tomorrow afternoon while his uncle Wayne is away on a business trip that is probably more lucrative than what he leads on - but Wayne has never been one to boast or speak about things like that out loud. Says it'll jinx the whole thing.

The feeling hits you first, as you find this foreign courage to lean over and dribble spit over the slit of his cock. He gasps, watching the glob of saliva drip down the front of his dick till it's soaking into the curls at his pubic mound.

"Is this okay?" You already know the answer but you ask anyways, taking more pride than you should at the expression on the pretty metalheads face. He nods his head fervently, unable to respond right away.

You twist your palm, spreading your spit further until his whole head is covered and you're able to stroke him with no resistance.

"Fuuuck, yes. Yeah, that's so good baby." He's panting as you begin to properly jerk the tip of him off, the sounds in the room too lewd for you to handle. A squelchy feeling has developed between your thighs, led by each filthy groan that leaves your boyfriend's throat.

Then you're looking at him through fluttery lashes and a gone expression, with your chest rising and falling almost as rapidly as his and thick fingers grasp your wrist quickly, rougher than anticipated.

"Sorry, just - close."

Seeing his hand blanket yours over his cock is doing something to you. You know his palms like your own, hold them more than you look at your own, and yet right now such a sweet thing has never been more provocative.

"Shh, no more apologizing," you lean over and he meets you in the middle. The kiss is sloppy this time, evidence of the maddening desire taking him over from the inside out.

"Not fair," his voice is strained through your mouths ministrations. "Got me all worked up and you're sitting there neglected." He smiles and his tongue strokes your bottom lip. You shudder as that heat comes in an overwhelming wave.

He's gripping the back of your neck now, properly hungry and your hand continues its ministrations between your bodies, that wet sound prompting a shared groan from the both of you - intensifying the feeling. His nose is scrunched against your cheek from the vigour of his kisses.

"You can undress me."

He doesn't waste time once you've granted him verbal permission, and with an exhale you're being tipped over onto your back, breathing in the weight of him as nimble and eager fingers pull his tee shirt over and off your body.

"Jesus," He whines, and you're captivated by the look on his face. It's impossible not to feel flustered.

"Can I-" you don't let him finish.

"Yes, please touch me." You're just as fucked as he is, arching your chest upwards and into the warm, all encompassing mass of his palm. He stifles a groan, cock bobbing up and down in the space between you two, dribbling with a bead of pre arousal. You feel like you're losing your mind.

Eddie short circuits for about five whole seconds flat, and he can't concentrate. He makes a bee - line to your chest, plush lips sucking your swollen nipples into his mouth. A gasp and a pulse of your poor clit later, and your fingers delve into his curls like they'll keep you here in this moment forever.

He's sloppy, moving between the valley of your breasts to the other one, leaving trails of spit across your flesh.

"Eddie, that - that feels so good, can't - mmph." You're a mess. How are you such a mess? He's a phantom, a head of hair across your sternum until he glances up at you with saliva soaked lips and red cheeks and a sweaty forehead.

"Sweet girl, oh god I can't believe..." All you taste is him, the words being uttered between the space when he forces himself to breathe. "can't believe you're all mine, wanna make you feel so fucking good. Give you anythin' you want."

He lies his full weight on you, and through the thin sleeping shorts you've got on, his cock beckons you with throbs and weeps. You feel drunk off of him, every sense surrounded by Eddie. Eddie. Eddie.

His shampoo from two days ago, the old spice lingering under his arms, the natural scent of his skin, the sweetness of his breath and the perspiration that's formed in little beads on his upper lip. He's all but devouring you, lust and admiration for the angel beneath him taking over any sense of importance regarding anything else.

Your heels dig into the back of his bum, knees pulling inward so that his hips come clashing into yours. Your fingernails claw on the material covering his back, taking it upon themselves to pull it over his head. He's beaming like a kid in a candy store at your eagerness, eyes all crinkly underneath.

"Want me to grab a rubber now?" He mumbles between the sloppy kisses, hoping you can't hear the hitch in his throat at the prospect of this finally happening.

"Mhmm, yes." It feels just as surreal for you.

He whines as he departs, reaching over across your head to pull open his bedside drawer and ungracefully tear open the new box of condoms. His eyebrows are furrowed, arms flexing with intensity from his excitement. He groans out of frustration, and you giggle, grasping his thick forearm.

"Let me help baby." You reach in the drawer for him and pull the box out, finishing the rip he'd made and pulling out a metallic row of squares. You tear one at the perforation and hand it to him, grinning at the entire situation. He huffs and rests his forehead between the valley of your breasts.

"What would I do without you?" He mutters, matching your expression when he lifts his head back up and pushes forward to kiss you on the tip of your nose.

"Not have sex, I suppose." You bite back with no hint of malice, only an insurmountable level of love and he sees it shimmering everywhere around you. His girl. His.

"You're somethin' else, sweetheart." He mouths the side of your face, across your jaw and underneath your ear.

You feel like you're in a psychological limbo, in a world between consciousness as he sits back on his haunches and lifts his shirt off of his body from the back of his collar. That may be a dramatic sentiment to many, but it's fitting.

He does it so casually, throws his shirt to the side with the rest of discarded clothing and stray items that live on his bedroom floor. You feel weak in the knees when he tears the condom package and pulls out the slippery rubber, unraveling it before bringing it down to his cock.

You watch his face the way his pink tongue darts out and nips the tip of his tongue, brows furrowed in concentration and arousal as he fits the condom down his thick shaft. You watch his biceps twist, his taut abdomen clench, the black ink coming alive with the ministrations of his muscles underneath.

When he meets your eyes again, you look completely overtaken with desire, eyelids heavy and breath bated. Your pebbled nipples stand at full attention, mimicking his dick and Eddie hooks his fingers underneath those infuriatingly sexy shorts of yours so that he can get rid of them.

You're not wearing underwear. Of course you aren't. Your entire existence is specifically designed to test the bounds of his composure, of his strength. The gold room lighting from his lamp illuminates your body and your shy thighs only part when he's placing his palms between them, slowly encouraging them to allow him a peek or two.

You reach out to stroke his arms as he separates your legs, his jaw hanging ever so slack, cock twitching just a few centimeters away from your opening.

"Fucking hell...you're so goddamn pretty." He strains, swallowing hard as he touches you with hesitant hands, as if he's scared to break you. Your hips lift, just enough to make contact with the tip of his dick and you whine. It's a sound so sweet he almost whimpers himself.

"Please, Eds. I want you inside of me. Please."

His stomach tightens and he crawls over you once again, stroking your cheek with his thumb.

He maintains eye contact, breath fanning your mouth as he slips an arm between your bodies and grips his shaft, lining it up with your entrance. Your thighs lift towards your chest, ankles stationed at his waist, and you feel the welcome intrusion of his tip as it passes your slick labia.

You both take a breath in, your fingers needing a vice and moving to the back of his neck as he pivots his hips forward and slips himself into the tightness of your cunt. The stretch causes you to hiss, both in pleasure and pain.

"You okay? Let me know if I need to stop." He grunts, kissing your chin.

"M'okay, don't you dare stop."

His eyelids flutter in tandem with yours, a choked moan leaving his throat as he continues to push himself in, till he's nudging against the soft roundness of your cervix and his balls are resting against your ass.

It feels right. Having him this deep, this close.

You shudder nuzzling your face against the bicep that holds him up. You kiss the skin there and he groans, dragging himself back out and then back in. Your whole body jostles with the movement.

"Jesus Christ, how do you feel s'fucking good? I don't - I can't, fuck." He's a slur of words, beginning to form a steady rhythm. Your moans are more like squeaks the faster he goes, increasing the lewd, sticky sounds between your legs that squelch with each drag and pull of his cock.

"Eddie...E-eddie." Your words are hiccuped from the impact, his hair dangling in your face, tickling your cheeks. His belly is pressed right against yours, the curls at the mound of his pelvis pressed against yours. He lets out this pained sound and goes to bury his face in the crook of your neck.

"My name, fuck say it again. Say it again." It's muffled but you can hear it right underneath your ear, his lips a soft vibration against your flesh. You feel so full, it's hard to speak at all. To say anything other than his name. So you recite it like it's the only words you know.

"Eddie Eddie Eddie Eddie." They're all punctuated with a whimper that starts from your diaphragm and crawls it's way out of your throat, pistoned by his hips and their grueling ministrations. Skin against skin can be heard from down the park, you're convinced, with how he's fucking you.

Eddie is fucking you. Your boyfriend, Eddie, is fucking you.

"Ohhhh, god, please." You cry out, heels digging into his back, hands splayed across the broad expanse of his shoulder blades. Every breath that passes his lips is followed by a grunt, a groan, a sound that is so close to agony and even closer to toe curling pleasure.

Each stroke of his cock inside of you feels like a pull into his being, and you get frustrated with the fact that you can't see his face, tugging at the back of his neck.

When you look up at the boy above you, reality, for once, feels like the most beautiful thing you've ever endured.

He's flushed, all sweat and shades of pink and red. His eyes are glassy, mirroring yours in the way that it almost looks like he could shed a tear. You move his sticky bangs from his forehead and Eddie is sucker punched in the gut with a wave of adoration.

"Oh, sweetheart," he leans down, slowing his thrusts so that he can kiss you steadily, purposefully. Somehow he feels deeper this way impossibly so, and he nips your bottom lip when you flutter around him. "didn't mean to...to not show you attention m'sorry, just...you feel so good. S'like heaven."

He's half sober half drunk on your pussy and it's so fucking endearing. Neither of you can make out a coherent sentence.

"Keep - keep going, just like that, ohhh." You glance down between your bodies and somewhere behind your organs a warmth, teetering unbearable, flutters throughout your limbs. His arms shake with the fight to hold himself up, until he doesn't anymore, and slips his hands underneath you till they're sandwiched between the mattress and your back. Snug, safe, he engulfs you.

His thrusts are deep and slow now, meaningful instead of mindless bunny fucking. Which, he's not opposed to, but you're you. He wants to fuck you like he might not ever get the chance to again.

"I love you, I love you." He whimpers against the crook of your shoulder. You hold him with the same ferocity that he's holding you, staring up at the ceiling and the stars that blanket your vision instead of the fan above.

"I love you too, fuck, Eddie."

He makes this noise, it's almost pathetic. Petulant. That coil holding you tight, snaps and all at once you're gasping, thighs a deadly grip around his waist.

"Cu-Cumming, I'm cumming." Your walls flex and spasm around his length and Eddie thinks he might pass out. You're still twitching and whining his name with his balls are emptying, when he's spurting into the condom, nudging your cervix.

"Fuck, fuck just like tha- ohhh fuck." He thrusts like he's fucking his cum into you, like he's filling your womb up and making you his forever. He made you cum. He's never felt this high before, and he's a fucking drug dealer.

It's a mixture of panting and the thud of your shared heartbeat for what feels like eternity and one split second. You feel his lips peppering soft, gentle kisses along your jugular, and your fingers trace lines up and down his warm back as his cock softens inside of you.

He rubs his cheek against you, and your fingers pull his hair away from his pretty face. He's looking at you with so much love you could burst again.

"I love you so much." He speaks tenderly, softly, for once. It's scary and breathtaking all at once. The tip of his nose rubs yours, your smiles a reflection of the other.

"I love you too, Munson."

And you do. You really fucking do.

[dira333]

Nightmare remedies - Bakugo x Reader

For @satorisoup because some BNHA episodes can be triggering

Katsuki is dead.

You’ve forgotten how to breathe, your heart beating so hard against your ribcage you fear the bones might break. 

Not far from you, bleeding out on the ground, is your lover, eyes open and empty.

You can’t even scream as your lungs fight for just a little bit more oxygen-

“Baby?!” Your whole body shakes and then your back, blinking into the bright lights of your living room. “Baby, breathe!” 

Katsuki’s holding you now, your body pressed so tightly against his you’re not sure where he ends and you begin. But it helps as you breathe in tune with him. In and out. In and out.

“What happened?” You manage to mumble, voice hoarse, mouth dry.

“You fell asleep on the couch. I was just in the bathroom brushing my teeth, getting ready when I heard a weird noise. Were you even breathing? You went really still!”

He sounds worried. You sink further into his touch, press your mouth against his collarbone where his shirt slipped down. It tastes like him, feels like him. He’s real. Alive and real.

“You died, Katsuki,” you whimper, digging your nails into your shoulders. “You died.”

“Shh, no, it was a bad dream.” He rocks you back and forth, gentle, gentle. “I’m here. I’m here.”

You don’t want to talk about your dream. Katsuki’s not forcing you to. He’s not a stranger to nightmares, knows how persistent they can be. 

You don’t have to explain. He lifts you with ease, carries you like one does a child, legs folded over his hip, your head resting on his beating heart. 

He’s okay. He’s alive. He’s real.

“Want something to eat?” He asks, walking through the brightly lit apartment with you tied to him. “An apple, maybe? Here, drink some water.”

“Can we take a bath?” You ask instead. He sighs, but relents, dropping almost a whole bottle of bath oil into the tub. The good one, that he bought you for when you have trouble sleeping. The water turns a deep, sparkling purple and you sink into it’s warmth only to lean back into him, his arms crossing in front of you.

“Tell me something funny,” you ask, rubbing his knees that are now on either side of you, popping out of the water like pale islands. 

“Something funny,” he drawls, resting his chin on the top of your head as he thinks. “Ah. Do you remember the dog that Shoto found? The one he thinks looks like me?”

“The pomeranian?” You giggle. “Of course, I remember him. I wanted him so bad.”

Katsuki scoffs. “Of course you do. Well, apparently the dog needs to be fostered and Shoto volunteered. He named him Kacchan.”

You gasp. “Can we get him? It would be so cute!”

“No.” Katsuki splashes you with water. “One Kacchan in this house is enough.”

“But-” He bites your ear, gently, but hard enough to make a point.

“A cat then?” You ask, leaning back far enough to grin up at him. “I saw one that looked a little like Deku.”

“I don’t want some furrspawn watch me make out with you.”

“Katsuki,” you whine, half-laughing. “They don’t do that.”

“That’s what you’re saying.” He huffs, his big hands rubbing your legs. “But I know better.”

You snuggle into him, let the warm water and the soothing scents do their thing.

A yawn works itself out of you.

“But-” you start again, only to stop. You forgot the rest of your argument.

Katsuki kisses the top of your head.

“Relax,” he mutters, “I’ve got you.”

You wake up in your bed, the sunlight kissing your face.

Katsuki’s snoring softly next to you, one arm curled around you, keeping you safe.

The nightmare has lost its bite, but your hand still moves to his chest, your fingertips searching for the rise and fall, the beat of his heart. 

Katsuki grumbles low in his throat and pulls you closer.

He’s real. He’s alive. He’s yours.

[garoujo]

Seishiro hitting it from behind but he thinks you're squirming too much and it's starting to be a pain so he just lays all of his body weight onto you to keep you still and just fucks you into the mattress like that

✩ ˛˚ . NAGI SEISHIRO ; — nagi thinks that this new found position might just be his new favourite.

warnings: f!reader, prone bone, all characters written 22+, nagi is pussy drunk always. note: nonnie the way u blessed me with this, i cud kiss u !! i hope i did it justice <3

“angel..” nagi drawls, growls as his huge body curls over yours — you can feel the wet smear of his lips along the curve of your shoulder as his chest presses tight against your back, his fingertips trembling as they squeeze at your hips to lift you into each heavy clap of his hips with yours as he fucks you from behind.

“quit movin’ so much, feels too good — ughhh, y’re gonna make me cum..” his voice breaks into something breathier when you wiggle your hips against his once more, it was impossible not to with how deep it feels like he reaches inside of you. he was thick and long, making you feel incredibly warm when his cock is effortlessly grinding against the swollen spots inside of you that he can’t help but shower in attention.

but nagi’s barely holding onto his sanity as is, so having to deal with every little wiggle of your hips along with every needy, warm twitch of your walls around him makes him feel like he’s gonna lose his mind. “come on— no fair..” he’s whining when a particularly sharp thrust makes you jolt, shuddering as you push back into him and you can feel the way he’s breathing deep against you, his head nuzzling it’s way into the crook of your neck with his next long sigh.

but as lazy as your boyfriend is you know he can put in the effort when he wants to, so as much as you’re not surprised — you’re still caught off guard when he takes you down so effortlessly, moving your body with ease as his own presses you into the mattress beneath you both.

the first initial drop of nagi’s body weight on top of you almost takes the air out of your lungs, but he’d dropped himself on top of you too many times after a long day at training for you not to be used to it. but it’s different now when it’s accompanied by an even deeper kiss of his cock, the new found position only allowing him to push even further into your slick walls.

“sei— fuck! ‘ts so deep, so much—“ you gasp as the damp, sweat slick press of nagi’s broad chest keeps you flat against the mattress, leaving you pliant and dizzy as you lie beneath him and take everything he gives to you.

but even with you pressed beneath him your body still jolts with the weight of each heavy thrust, driven by the trained muscle in your boyfriends body despite his otherwise sleepy exterior. “sorry— were moving too much, was such a pain.. didn’t wanna cum yet..” his hips tremble as his thrusts slow to a grind, pushing against the sweet spots inside of your body that have your hands curling into the sheets beneath you as he smears messy, wet kisses along your skin.

“jus’ sit still for me, pretty thing. fuck— gonna give you more now, lemme give it to you.” nagi grunts with the next languid roll of his hips, gasping before it breaks into a growl as his hands twist in the comforter beside your own. “feels so comfy like this too.. wanna do it more.”

you can barely arch with how tight he has you caged beneath him, mouthing and suckling along the sensitive spots in your neck as his snowy bangs trace along your collarbones. he’s already fucked out, even with the new position he’s already fighting back the flames of his orgasm that lick at the base of his spine — but nagi’s never been one to give up so easily, he doesn’t mind pushing his limits if it means he gets to feel you cream around his heavy cock.

“now wanna feel you, angel.. g’nna make y-you feel so good.” he breathes, trembles when the next throb of his cock knocks the air from his lungs, making his pace stutters before he’s melting even deeper into you and letting more of his weight rest over you. but even with how wound up he is, he’s still so driven by the way you gasp and breathe out his name.

���can even cuddle right after.. see ‘ts s-so—fuck, but gotta feel you cum first, angel. come on—“

© 2023 garoujo. please do not copy any of my layouts or writing and translate or repost onto any other sites.

[weirdogirl888]

morning sex with donnie blurb

warnings: somophillia, dubcon if you squint, pnv, nipple play, afab reader, unprotected sex, donnie's a loving perverted boyfriend

wc: 1.2k (might’ve gotten a lil carried away lol

a/n: ending sucks cuz i got lazy, hope u enjoy none the less. requests are always open

donnie loves the sight of you sleeping in his bed. your nighty shrugging off from a deep night's sleep. the sleeve fully off the shoulder, just barely revealing your breasts with your hard nipples visibly poking through. you look so peaceful, so innocent. so hot.

it's not donnie's fault he's a boy with the insufficient plague of morning wood. and it's also not his fault his girlfriend is sleeping soundly looking like a beautiful stone statue in his bed.

she deserves something for looking this pretty. he thought to himself, in a delusional idea of an excuse to lean down and gently kiss your soft lips. he left a trail of kisses from your cheek to your collarbone, while he stopped and gave one last look at your unconscious face before slipping the remnants of your silk night down to your stomach.

he gulped and gave a shutter until he moved his large hand and started groping the soft mounds of fat. eyes staring into your closed lids, looking for any sign of a reaction, which wasn't visible. from the way last night went, he knew you'd be hard to wake. especially so early in the morning with the fall sunrise coming early but just as beautiful from his attic window.

donnie decided to test his luck and get on top of you, boxers already forgotten, he gets more bold and starts sucking on your boobs one at a time. leaving both in a sloppy reddened mess. he dotted hickies all down your stomach for a surprise you'd see in the morning. thankfully the autumn weather prevented you from wearing a bikini any time soon, a factor he took gratefully.

when he slid your cotton white panties off your smooth legs, he was met with a wet mess. much like his cock that was leaking precum just from touching you. maybe it was the adrenaline rush and thrill of getting this far with you still unaware.

he slowly swiped his fingers up your warm pussy and slid them into his mouth, his other arm being used as a prop on the bed for his body weight as he loomed over you.

"you taste so sweet, baby. Are you sure you can't feel any of this? I think you're just pretending to sleep. Do you get off to boys touching your unconscious body? god, you really are fucked up." he said slowly spreading your legs, lining up his shaft with your dripping entrance.

"it's okay-." he shoved his entire dick in until your clit brushed his pelvic bone, sending a light whimper from your lips.

"So am i."

at first, he slowly dragged his cock gently back and forth. admiring the sight of his base sliding in and out of your soft folds. he wanted this sweet moment to last. the look of your sleeping body being lit by the lined morning sun seeping through his window blinds. but the pleasure was just so addicting, he couldn't maintain his slow intimate pace. especially with your walls gripping him. he started to quicken up the pace, if his load pathetic whimpers weren't enough to wake you up, it was the feeling he was giving you now.

your eyes start to slightly flutter open, in your slumber, you feel a warm sensation in your core. but when you awaken and see your boyfriend looking lustfully down at you, your foggy brain starts to melt.

"d-donnie, what are you- nghh --doing?"

"shhh don't worry angel, just focus on how good you feel right now. can you do that for me? you look so beautiful right now." he says leaving trails of kisses on your boobs.

pleasure overwhelmed you as your eyes widened with lust. you felt on cloud nine yet you had just woken up.

donnies thrusts got harder as chased his release, hitting that perfect spot in your gummy walls, causing your back to arch off the matress, which earned a moan from Donny's lips.

"Donnie- oh fuck, you feel so good."

you weren't fulling awake yet and still groggy. your mouth leaving a string of whines as you neared your climax, you could never get used to how your boyfriend's thick cock stretched you out in the most familiar and delicious way possible.

"fuck baby I'm so close, come with me sweetheart." donnie paused massaging and pinching your nipples, and brought his hand down to rub your clit in gentle circles, causing you to knit your eyebrows together and roll your eyes in the back of your head. the pleasure causing you to short circuit.

your release hit you like a freight train. your body twitched from your shoulder blades, down your spine, and through your shaking thighs. you moaned loudly as your orgasm washed over you causing you to moan loudly.

donnie, completely loosing any regard for your pleasure in the focus of chasing his own. his thrusts were hard and spractatic. pulling out and snapping his hips to shove himself fully back in.

his face was always so pretty like this, pupils blown and messy bed hair a mess in pure bliss. his cock twitched inside you and ropes of cum split out filling your cervix. as he gave his last thrusts, a white ring of both your and his cum juicing out of the tight entrance.

he pulled out with a heavy sigh, sad but satisfied to finally be leaving you. he pulled your panties back on so as to not spill and plopped back onto the bed.

you were completely fucked out, even through having only been awake for a short while. he looked at you and kissed your temple causing you to grin.

"I cant belive you fucked me when I was asleep, you're such a perv darko."

donnie looked down shamefully "I'm sorry baby, it wont happen again."

"its okay" you say crawling into his arms and kissing his neck. "it was hot." you whisper in his ear.

donnies face turned red "wanna go for another?" he said full of hope.

"nice try donnie." starting to get sleepy again from being woken from your slumber aswell as from donnies dick breaking you open. "next time." and with that you both drift off to sleep in each others arms, contentment overruling you and you both dream of each others future.

[agoodroughandtumble]

Tell Me How - Zoro x Reader

Status: One Shot Summary: Zoro wants to know why Reader is in love with him; Reader has other ideas Warnings: 18+, Implied/bordering on NSFW

You had been trying – and failing – to move for at least ten minutes. Every time you managed to gain a few inches across the mattress a strong arm would pull you back. No that you were complaining – well, you were complaining, slightly, you just needed to stretch your legs. Zoro had a habit of falling asleep on top of you which was always welcoming when you wanted a cwtch. It was less welcoming when you had his entire body weight on top of you all night and you were currently trapped in a death grip. Another attempt to wriggle out of his vice-like grip resulted in you collapsing back against his chest with a sigh.

“You might need to let me move soon.” You told him, fingers lazily stroking along his forearm.

“Nope. Got you now.” His voice was groggy, deep, half-asleep and coupled with a tighter grip around your waist.

You rolled your eyes, a smirk forming at the corner of your mouth. Obviously there were worse ways to start your day, but for “a great swordsman” he wasn’t half clingy when he was tired. As much as he would hate you thinking it, it was rather adorable. For someone usually so in control, so aware of all of the burdens life thrust upon him, so aware of his innate need to be the best, to do the best, and yet every morning he awoke needing your form against his. Everyone else might know him as the demon pirate hunter; you knew him.

He slung a leg over your waist, as usual, holding you as close as he possibly could. Your fingers continued running along his forearms, biceps, spurred on by his murmurs of satisfaction. The ship was quiet, but peacefully so, the gentle, rhythmic rocking of the waves almost convincing enough to let you believe that the entire universe was just you and Zoro, and feeling his heartbeat, his shallow breaths against your shoulder. Which was why it was so annoying that you just needed to move. You weren’t even moving far, just turning over to stretch out a bit but Zoro was half asleep and a dead weight and entirely committed to this moment. It would have been excessively romantic … if your bones didn’t ache.

“Zoro… I do need to move.” You said gently, feet sliding along his calves.

There was a small grunt. “You can move under one condition.”

Your raised eyebrows would have been missed if he hadn’t shifted so he was completely on top of you. Even after months of waking up next to him the feeling of all of him on top of you still had the butterflies in your stomach dive-bombing straight to your core. You tried to keep your composure but your dilated pupils and the shakily exhaled breath completely gave you away.

You couldn’t quite describe the way he looked at you – on the surface it was all tenderness, and yet the swordsman was fully living up to his nickname. Boring into your soul. The underlying darkness, an abyss you so happily jumped head first into because he would catch you. He would always catch you. Your breath hitched under such scrutiny, the anticipation of what was yet to come, the promise of all the depths you could traverse. Trying to keep a level head was futile, and yet you endeavoured. “Which is?”

He smirked. A devilish smile if ever there was one as his head dipped, lips tracing along your neck. “Tell me how you fell in love with me.” Teeth nipped at your ear, “Then I’ll let you go.”

You sighed, against any better judgement allowing yourself to be completely his, “You know how.”

“Mmm.” Whether that was a response to what you said, or just his attention to your collarbone was beyond you, but you didn’t care. Your skin goosepimpled as his hands travelled along your curves, caressing every inch before stopping just where you wanted him most. “Say it.”

“Zoro … I, you kno-oh fuck.”

If you weren’t far too aware of his fingers you would probably be able to come up with a response. Instead, your hips involuntarily met his hand and any semblance of coherence was gone. You didn’t hear a chuckle, but the reverberations against your skin was enough to leave you shivering.

“Tell me how you fell in love with me.” His voice was more solid now, sterner.

“You know how,” you managed out, thighs trapping his wrist in place.

His pace slowed. Agonisingly. As if almost nothing. And when you looked up at him all there was was those dark, determined eyes. Just before a kill. Zoro was not a man to back down – you had learnt that many times over, and would learn many times over again.

Maybe it was the heat rising, maybe it was the way that looked at you, maybe it was the ever desperate need to be everything or rather his everything, whatever it was you pushed yourself up on your elbows and crossed a leg over the other, keeping his hand in place. He looked confused and you couldn’t help but feel a little proud of catching him off guard. With an eyebrow raised and your entire heart firmly in his grasp to crush you squared up to him. You cocked your head in an attempt at nonchalance. “Not until you tell me first.”

[krewekreep]

2.7K Words. tags: Committed Relationship AU, Date Night/Car Sex AU, (Ownership kink??? I don’t know wtf I’m talking about), Your man asks if he can get you tatted on him.

“Can I get your name tattooed?” You almost spit your drink out at the question. You turn to your boyfriend absolutely stunned. “A tattoo? O-Of what?” You couldn’t believe how casual he was as if he wasn’t essentially asking to be imprinted. He shrugged his shoulders saying, “I don’t know maybe your name? Maybe a symbol or honestly whatever you want to see on me.” You stared analytically at him. Was this his attempt at a prank or your sincere realization your man was crazy. “Are you serious? Where would you get it? What if people see it and ask about it? Oh my- boy youre wildin’ right now.” You had to laugh. This was the most outrageous he could’ve ever been but nothing really about his expression changed. If anything he seemed a bit disappointed at your reaction. You saw the slight fall of his eyes, oh no he’s deadass.

You sat back sincerely considering your man with your name on his body. What seemed the most appealing? His face? Absolutely not…his neck? Maybe but kinda ghetto. As if fixating on the perfect sketch you cleared several versions of it through your head: arms, back, legs, hands. You thought of the big words branded across men like Tupac or Cholos, and while absolutely hot…it didn’t suit him. You thought of how sexy tattoos were ones that peeked out—those conversations starters when you just can’t get the image of it without a full closer inspection. You thought of his ribs, his collar bone, his wrists…what seemed an awkward silence for him was a deep meditation that led you to consider it now with more excitement than consolation.

“Okay,” you returned to him with your considerations. “I thought about tattoos of all kinds all over you…it’s pretty hot.” He rolled his eyes at you. “No-no,” you went for his thigh grabbing it in reassurance. “I’m so serious right now.” It was hard in your very unserious, light hearted relationship to maintain a kind of sincerity that wouldn’t send the both of you laughing your heads off. You understood he really liked the idea of it and you didn’t mean to have shut him down. He heard you. Trying his best to not openly forgive you because his pout earned him a pleading and yearning partner. He liked when you made up to him. “Y/N,” his face fell. “It really hurt me.” A cold wind caught him and his face sunk so deep you thought he would wither away. “Baby, I’m serious. You would look so good but I had to think on what suited you.” His ears perked up a bit, raising a quizzical brow towards you but still sulking. You sat up in the car seat leaning over to grab his face and kiss him all over. Before whispering which spots had riled you up the most you kissed him deeply running a finger across his ear which sent a shiver through him.

“So I thought about the obvious: your face, your arms, your hands. I thought I liked something being on your ribs or your wrists. I still do BUT I decided top two goes to the collar bone or your fingers.” He had to scoff to himself. Of course you chose the most sensitive, possibly painful areas. You didn’t have tattoos yourself, not against them, but not up for the possible pain at all. He, on the other hand, was very tatted including a full sleeve. It was his thing so to speak so the idea of getting your name tatted seemed less and less crazy. “Hmmm, you like those places?” He watched your eyes linger on his neck and clavicle wishing to decorate him in hickies to show your earnestness. “Mmhmm.” You touched along his neck and collarbones earning a muffled groan. He twitched under your tickling fingers watching you dazed.

You unlocked your seat belt and leaned over grabbing him by the hair and pulling him into a sloppy, eager kiss. “You sure?” He always is the one to double, triple, quadruple check. “Yes baby,” you pull away to look him in the eyes. “I just immediately thought of those huge ass ones you see people get on social media.” You scoffed a bit thinking of images of blazing red skin with huge cursive names. You had no issue if it were family members or even friends, but lovers? Seemed a bit too close to branding and ownership, and you never knew of a lasting relationship with that going on.

Unbeknownst to you your bae’s absolute acceptance of being yours. He heard once of someone in the media proving his love to his new girl by tatting his dick…. He thought long and hard about it…honestly into it. And had you thrown that out there, even if a pure joke—He’d win by trolling you with your name inked large across his length. He’d fuck you into the mattress, dick hitting your cervix unknown to you until pillow talk time. How’d he’d thank both Y/Ns for the fabulous time tonight. How he knew you’d snap up and throw the blankets away quizzically investigating his cock. How he loved the idea of not telling you at all…seeing how long it took before you’d scream in astonishment lamenting his idiotic love struck ways. But he’ll settle for now.

He liked the idea of his fingers…closest thing he had comparable to his dick given their own girth and length. How two fingers were genuinely too much for you until you grew fully accustomed to his cock. How when he tried to enter a third once you winced looking back at him like the devil. “Don’t piss me off,” you spat closing your eyes with a lifted warning brow. “You know you be trying to do too much.” He was sympathetic but horny. And had the worst kind of fantasies pinning you in all sorts of positions, crumbling you up into a sex ball. You were so beautiful all the time. Now sitting in his car at the top of a parking garage, after an amazing night out where you both seemed to fall in love all over again. He really felt compelled to ask, damn near blurting the question out. “Would you get a tattoo of my name?” You didn’t have to think long this time. “Nope. Not your name.” His face fell, he couldn’t even hide it. You knew what you were doing leaning over to reach your hand in between his legs, cupping his balls and dick easily. “I’d get a symbol for you. Or like an animal. You know I like subtle things.” You rub his tip through his pants almost luring a whimper from him. He swallowed hard. “Tell me more.” “What? I don’t know there’s really so many things I associate with you or us…I weirdly want it to be perfect. I want it to mean I love you, I trust you, and thank you all at once. Not my fault I’m sentimental.” You tease yourself and him laughing softly. “I’m just…actually happy as fuck to know you’d consider it. You don’t have to, baby girl.” “Aht aht,” you tisk. “Already in motion, you know I was thinking about finally getting one too? So I’ll really think about it and I want your help okay??”

How could you look at him so innocently when your hands were making it hard to keep his eyes open. How could you so lovingly declare all this as he adjusts his waist to more firmly plant himself in your palm. How you squeeze him ever so slightly eliciting a full blown moan. You wanted him bad. The night out, the drinks, the conversation over ice cream, now sitting with your love as the night sky passed on. It was perfect. You leaned up in the seat on your knees, reaching over him to crank his seat back. It went down smoothly and he set both arms behind his head. Ready for you to handle him however you pleased.

You leapt over onto him sitting flush on his extremely hard, bulging length. You cooed at the sensation of pressure against your clit slowly grinding against him. He didn’t wanna control you this time but it was hard to not go to grab at you, to which you swatted his reaching hungry arms away. “Uh uh,” was all you had to say. You needed him inside you now. You lifted your hips, giving you space to undo and unzip his pants. You learned with him he doesn’t put on underwear all the time. And considering how his outfit squeezed him all over perfectly—You didn’t want your favorite guy all smothered and claustrophobic. He needed to breathe didn’t he?? His dick agreed hungrily leaping out his pants thwacking against his belly. You spit in your hand taking him in it with a sloppy dribble of saliva falling to his tip. He shivered throwing his head back. You pumped him swirling your thumb over his blazing leaking tip. He was nothing more than a mumbling, groaning, praising mess. “Fuck, you know what you doing, Y/N.” He can’t help himself. He knows you like to treat him like this, like your little bitch.

His chest was lifting and lowering so erratically. His abs tensing and sweat brimming all over his skin. He wanted to get inside you, fuck your hands. “Mmm, baby please.” He cooes. “Sit on me baby, I need to feel that.” You obeyed swiftly giving him a few more hard pumps making his head lift as his mouth was agape breathlessly. “I got you. You know I do.” You lifted up, your ass facing the windshield. You pulled your panties to the side with one hand, still keeping the other on his waiting cock. He watched you in awe, how fierce you were when you wanted him. How he loved how loud you were and couldn’t wait to hear his name ring his ears as your shameless calls for him filled the car.

You lifted his dick vertical to your pussy, squatting down meeting his hot wet tip to your soaking loving core. When he entered it felt like heaven. What little stress you had already gone, so it was nothing for you to bounce down on him roughly. Both of you yelping at the sensation of his cock hitting your cervix. “Hey, be gentle. Don’t hurt yourself.” He said cautiously. He didn’t care about himself but you? No, don’t hurt yourself or even discomfort yourself just to feel him.

He took extreme pride in treating you like a princess even declining trying degradation. You, a bit too persistant at a point causing him to snap: “You can like what you like but I’m not degrading you. That’s my last word about it. Find someone else if it’s that big of a deal.” He was frustrated and regretted the last sentence the minute he finished. How he couldn’t face you cause he knew tears had fallen. How you gasped at his rejection and meanness, storming out of his apartment. How the minute the door slammed he rushed to his phone calling you profusely. How he showed up to your place with tears of his own. How he kinda maybe went a little too crazy banging on your door like a madman demanding to talk to you. When then as you opened the door warning of a police call for disturbance he blew past you into your living room. How he kinda scream talked his way through admitting he was so in love with you, so literally stuck on you he couldn’t imagine himself talking down on you. It just wasn’t him.

How you just wanted him to calm down and that you understood. You really did. Reaching towards your bellowing boyfriend cooing him to cry it out in your bosom. How he ended up more upset than you just because he felt awful even snapping at you like that. How you rolled your eyes at yourself thinking while he might be domineering he was a big ole baby. How you told him you accepted his apology, leaning him away from you and hitting your knees to suck him off. How he broke through the tears saying he didn’t even deserve this but you shut him up with a swirl of your tongue.

How now he had no choice but to give you the entire fucking world. How you unlocked a kink of being dominated for him. Sitting back with his head resting up, watching you use him to your delight. How his cock twitched inside you and his hips lifted in mindless splendor. The car nothing but an enclosed cacophony of praise, I love you’s, and the sloppy slick of your fluids as they kept you two sticky and connected. The weight of your ass on his pelvis as his hands guided you up and down. How your head was thrown back like an animal, calling out to him how only his cock could make you feel this way. How he demanded you say more, more about him and his dick and how useful he was to you.

“Ah, Ah, Ah,” you couldn’t even think straight. Your mind overwhelmed with the orgasm you actually didn’t want to reach yet. Truly how sweet his cock met the ridges of your pillowy heat. You really didn’t want to stop but when you gazed at him he was as gone as you. His eyes closed tight, so tight you almost told him relax. His arms extended, flexing every active vein as he held your ass while you began growing even wetter around him. “Ain’t no way,” his hips stall slightly. “You’re so fucking wet, it doesn’t even feel like I’m in you. Ah, you so fucking good to me baby girl.” You knew by his fighting vocals he was about to cum. His previous warning to take it easy was nothing but noise as you began throwing your pussy down against him. You wanted to cum how you wanted to cum. “Baby, no, I—“ a pathetic accepting mess he was. They better not complain in the morning, he thought. And let you bounce on him mercilessly slapping against him loudly with a bit of a sting. You wanted to feel it in your throat and you did. That rare (less rare with him now your partner) special confusing but absolutely mind numbing pleasure. You seized around him, chocking his cock as you came hard. Your entire body shook now exhausted as you could only just sit on him letting him finish. You bounced as his dick drove in you sloppier and sloppier. “Oh fuck,” his own body now quaking, ropes of semen making your belly warm as your pussy hugged him wanting all he had.

His body went limp and so did yours. You fell on his chest with little concern, nuzzling into his neck peppering him with kisses. “I told you…I told you to not to go so hard…” he scolded wiping his dripping face with his arm. “Mmhmm,” was your only response soon falling asleep with him still inside you. You bundled up so innocently considering the mad woman you had just been. Pleased, full, and ready to cuddle him proper back home.

He kisses you on the forehead, still catching his breath although it is increasingly becoming balanced. You were already about to knock out. “Baby?” He cooed. “Let me put you in the back seat okay? Just rest until we get home, okay?” How now you were his baby princess again. Whatever you wanted, whatever you needed you got. How you mumbled nothing coherent barely able to lift yourself off of him. A bit awkward since you literally couldn’t move but once he laid you down, making sure your legs were comfortable, he kissed you passionately. You couldn’t really kiss back but you did pucker your lips with what little strength you had. He smirked to himself fixing his thankful dick back in his pants and getting in the drivers seat. Keys in the ignition, your couples playlist auxed on low, and a big dumb smile on your lover’s face. “How could I ever disrespect you goofy?” The most he’d ever insult you laughing as he pulls out the parking garage heading on home.

Who: GOJO, CHOSO, Zoro, Nanami, EREN, BAKUGO, Human INUYASHA, Ichigo + whoever else is this love dumb.

[goose8791]

Space And Time

(Song by S.G Goodman)

pairing: luke castellan x AphroditeFem!reader

Warnings: Angst, kissing, death, description of death, spoilers for the end of the lightening thief

From the moment she stepped into the camp, her life became a tapestry woven with threads of fate and love. She was beautiful, a child of aphrodite would have to be. She met Luke the day he arrived, Luke Castellan, a year older but relatively new to the camp, entered her orbit as a lost boy with big brown eyes and curly hair that fell in front of his eyes, clothes drenched to the bone and accompanied by a little girl with a tight grip on his hand. He was fourteen and angry. 

Unclaimed by her godly parents, she sought a transient haven in the Hermes cabin. Positioned directly above Luke's bunk, she could practically sense the intensity of his gaze burning through the shitty mattress. She could feel his emotions, every stomach twist and finger twitch reverberating through the thin barrier between them.Curiosity got the best of her, prompting her to peer over the edge of the bunk, startling Luke from his thoughts. He snapped his head, obviously startled and scared. 

"Sorry, I just wanted to see if you were okay," her short hair barely touches her back when she stands but as she hangs her head off the top of the bunk, long strands fall over her ears. Gaining a clearer view of his face, she thought he was pretty for a boy. Her eyesight adjusted, and with a closer examination, she almost whispered in a yell, "You're bleeding!"

In response, Luke's hand instinctively rose to the top of his head, where the blood had begun to congeal and cling to his hair. His gaze lowered to his hand, the tips of his fingers stained with red. A hand places itself over his, holding it, when he looks up the girl has come down from her bed and is using an old top to dab away the blood. 

He hadn't uttered a single word, and yet she was already helping him, leaving him utterly perplexed. Her eyes, intensely focused on the task at hand, seemed to possess a magnetic quality. When her gaze shifted downward to meet his eyes, he felt a sensation as if Eros himself had unleashed an arrow, piercing straight through his heart.

"Than- thank you," he stammered, his words stumbling over each other. "Don't thank me, it's the least I could do," she responded with a smile, "God she’s gorgeous.” he thought.

Now three years later, and she found herself seated in the stands at the training arena, feet propped up on the seat in front of her, a bag of almonds in her lap. Her once-short hair had grown, now cascading over her shoulders and collarbone. Her mother said it suited her so she kept it. She was watching Luke train, he was cutting through practice dummies ruthlessly. 

Beads of sweat roll down his temple making his hair damp. His chest rises and falls as hot breaths escape his mouth, Her playful heckle cuts through the air, breaking the intensity of his focus. "Do you think you can hit that thing any harder?" she teased, a smirk playing on her lips.

Luke's head snapped in her direction, his intense gaze softening into a momentary smile. He wiped the sweat from his brow and shook his head, a playful glint in his eyes. "Maybe I should ask the dummy if it thinks I'm being too harsh," he replied. The end of his sword jabbing into it. 

Her laughter was like a melody, filled the air, and Luke couldn't help but revel in the joy of making her laugh. As she began tying her hair up, he couldn't help but appreciate the simplicity of the moment

She giggled, finishing tying her hair up. She gracefully hopped down a few steps before leaping down from the stands, landing gracefully onto the gravel ground. Dusting off her jeans casually, she sauntered over to where Luke was, an energy in her movements that drew his attention.

Walking behind Luke, she became the focal point of his gaze. Intrigued, he watched as she positioned herself in front of the training dummy, her hands resting on its shoulders as though the inanimate object were seeking her fashion advice. Luke tilted his head to the side, crossing his arms, a smile playing on his lips at the whimsical scene before him.

"Maybe it needs a break," she teased, a mischievous smile dancing on her lips when she looked back over her shoulder at him. 

Luke chuckled at her playful remark, the sound echoing in the training arena. He unfolded his arms, the playful glint in his eyes turning into a full-fledged grin. "Perhaps," he replied, joining in "I wouldn't want the poor thing to file a complaint with Chiron about the harsh treatment." 

"Oh, imagine the headlines: 'Camp Half-Blood in Disarray as practice Dummies Demand Justice!'" Her laughter danced through the air. She took a step back from the training dummy, her eyes sparkling with a mischievous glint. "Well, Mr. Dummy, you've been spared for today," she declared with a mock-serious expression, earning another chuckle from Luke.

As if on cue, two younger kids burst into the arena, their presence announced by boisterous yells. "Chiron says you two are late!" Luke turned to look at them, a grin forming on his face. "Yeah, alright. We'll be there," he responded with an easygoing nod.

As the younger demigods scampered off to deliver the message, Luke began packing up his training gear. She observed him taking his armour off. He sharpens the blade of his sword, he pulls back the muscles in his arms tense and then releases for a moment before she starts to walk towards him. 

"Race you to the woods?" She proposed a challenge in her tone. Her eyes tracing him, he laughs and puts the sword on the rack. Luke raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk playing on his lips. "You're on," he declared, the familiar thrill in his voice. 

As they run out of the arena dust pools around their feet, Luke almost slips on the small rocks to try and catch up with her. leaving behind the fading echoes of their laughter. When the tree’s start to come into view their leaves fly over the top of them. He catches up to her. Just, he grabs her hand and she looks back. She pulls on his hand and he stumbles forward and her back foot catches on a root. As they stumbled as they a little the forest floor seemed to shift, and laughter turned to surprise as they tumbled down a hill.

As they tumbled down the hill, Luke instinctively pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her as they hit the ground with a thud. The world became a blur of leaves and twigs. 

When they finally reached the bottom of the hill, Luke looked down at her, his arms still encircling her. "Are you okay?" he asked, lifting himself up with his arms so that he could look down at her. His eyebrows furrowed with concern as he scanned her face for any signs of injury.

She laughed, the sound a melody of amusement that echoed through the woods. "I'm fine, just a bit shaken," she reassured him, her hand circling his upper arm with a reassuring touch.

"Are you sure?" Luke asked, his eyes still reflecting worry.

"Yes, Luke, jeez," she smiled, rolling her eyes playfully. Her hand moved from his arms to his face, her fingers gently tracing over his soft skin. Her gaze was fixed on her hand, but Luke found himself captivated by the delicate movements of her fingers.

As her eyes darted towards his, the world seemed to pause for a moment. In that suspended instant, their connection deepened, and he felt the magnetic pull drawing him closer. Before he could fully comprehend what was happening, she closed the distance between them and kissed him.

Time seemed to stand still as the forest around them held its breath, a witness to the unexpected turn of events. Luke's eyes closed instinctively, savouring the warmth of the kiss and the rush of emotions that accompanied it. He pulls away “your so pretty” she says, her breath coming back to her.  

His brain seemed to fail him, a cascade of thoughts and emotions rendering him momentarily speechless. His gaze drifted downward, but her fingers found his chin, gently lifting it to meet her eyes. “I don’t want to leave this world without saying,” she began, a breath catching in her throat, she knew that every day at this camp could be her last “I love you.” He finished her sentences, a knowing smile playing on his lips.

They lay on the grass for a while, the world around them fading into the background. Luke on his back, and she on her stomach, propped up on her elbows to gaze at him. The wind, a gentle caress, whispered through the leaves overhead.

"There's some who have loved me," he said, his fingers delicately playing with the loose strands of hair that danced lightly on her face. "Some who have tried." His touch shifted to cup her cheek, his thumb brushing against her skin. "They all have their grips on my heart and grips on my mind."

She stayed quiet, a pretty smile gracing her lips as her hand gently found its way to his. The tranquillity of the moment lingered between them, the soft rustle of leaves above providing a gentle soundtrack to their shared contemplation.

"That's poetic," she finally remarked, her light  laughter breaking the quietude of the woods.

"It's supposed to be romantic," he retorted with a playful grin, their hands entwining in a silent agreement that transcended words.

The sword slid between her armour and into her flesh, a burning sensation that seared through her. The edges of the blade stung, and tears welled up in her eyes, Her hand shakes as she brings it to his face. Her thumb runs over the scar that splits his face. She remembers when he came back with that wound. it was a quest he was sent on after that day in the woods. “Luke” she gasped, the pain sharp and agonising. But Luke wasn’t there. He hasn’t been there, not for a while.

He pulls out his sword and her body falls to its knees and then falls to her side her breaths stopped. Luke stumbled back, his gaze shifting upward to the sky. When his eyes returned to her, still and lifeless, he threw the sword aside, its metallic clang echoing in the emptiness of the battlefield. Tears streamed down his face, silent sobs escaping him as he dropped to his knees beside her.

His hands grab at her armour pulling her lifeless form close to him. She’s still, with little to no breath. Blood stained his hands as the deep wound bled through both sides of her body. Desperation etched across his face, he fought with her hair, pushing it back from her

"No... no no no no," Luke cried, the words escaping his lips in a tortured whisper. "I love you," he whispered, the sincerity of the words wavering in his own ears. He could only lie, that's all he was good for. He screwed his eyes shut not wanting to look at her. 

Soft fingers dusted over his face “that day in the woods” she coughed, her voice strained. “it was clear to me” she persisted, “you owe your life to even your  enemies” she coughed again, like her breath was catching in her vocal cords “To the ones who have loved you, to the ones who have tried” her hand slowly lowered, she knows he can see her.

"I want you to know, I'm not leaving this world without saying," she couldn't finish the sentence, her eyes falling back, her body growing still. Cold was all he could feel – her cold body in his arms.

He shot up, out of bed. Hot tears spilled down his face. He sobbed into his hands, curling his knees into his chest like he was a boy. He had lost her forever. He cried for her, he was inconsolable, not that anyone would be there to comfort him. Alone in the dark, he clutched at nothing, cursed at memories he could never replace and that he could never get back. In these moments, he was just Luke – a fractured soul, grappling with the enormity of his choices. He was Luke Castellan, a traitor. a killer.

[jolalibrary]

wicked games you play

javier peña x f!reader | bonus scene of late night texts

summary: It's the year 2000. Javi is minding his own business on the porch of his pop's ranch when a text from an unknown number vibrates his phone. The only problem is, no one knows he has a phone and no one has his number.

chapter warnings: smut. p in v. fingering. cunnilingus. javi pov. wrap it before you tap it, people. 18+. PLEASE read chapter six before this one.

Javi’s unsure who moves first—when the words leave your mouth.

All he knows is his lips are on yours, he has a fistful of your tee, and you’ve buried your nails into his scalp. 

It’s heavy, all smothered in desperation and wrapped with lust as he begins drowning again. So willingly, almost wishing too. Feeling your presence seep into his bones, making his brain turn silent and everything else wake up. 

Then you whimper, and he has to fight a grin. 

That night on the phone coming straight back to him. How you’d gasped, moaned, right down his ear—how it had kissed his brain and made him hard. How pretty you sounded.

Now he gets to see it all. Hear it all.

His fingers sliding over your neck, your quickening pulse hammering against his fingers as your eyes open. And they’re ablaze with want, dousing him in it, coating him—becoming the only layer he wants to wear. 

“Been thinking about this since the phone call.” 

“Quite tame for you, Javi. I’ve been thinking of a whole lot more, honestly.” 

He likes it when you’re quick. When your quick-wit slides from your tongue.

He likes it more that it’s you who begins to remove his shirt, palms sliding over his shoulders, fingers under the fabric as it slides down his arms until it flutters to the ground. Yours follows, his thumbs hooking under, knuckles grazing your skin before it’s over your head and in some corner. 

Then your lips begin to play a game. You pull them from him, making his mouth chase—doing so until he grasps your jaw and cheek, licking into your mouth. The noise you make goes straight to his cock—it hardening—uncomfortably so—against the zipper of his jeans. Rolling his hips against you as you moan.

Thankfully, the other clothes practically melt from the two of you. Javi guiding you out of yours, you sliding his jeans down with a doe-eyed look before kissing up his calf, past his knee, along his thigh—

Javi pulls you to your feet.

“I get first taste, baby.”

It’s an earlier promise he’s calling on, cashing it in. One you had given him—sweetly saying you promise— when you were so close down the phone to him.

His mouth finds your neck, tongue swiping over your collarbone, tracing a line down the skin close to the cup of your bra before he lightly sucks. 

It’s just enough—but not enough to mark. Hands winding around you, undoing the second to last piece of clothing on your body, freeing your chest to him—your nipples pebble under the cool air, before his tongue wraps around one and his palm the other. 

“Fuck.” 

He smirks at the breathy way you say it, your hand burying in his hair, tugging lightly. 

It’s then you mumble that you’re safe, clean. 

That you haven’t been with anyone in months. 

Javi kisses you for that. Not because he’s possessive, but rather he paints your lips in relief that he’s not at risk of losing you to someone else. Someone possibly better, who can offer you more.

A thought which niggles and roars, depending on his mood and day. But this, the two of you together and your confirmation calms a part of him that he’s tried not to let get to him. Something you must be able to tell because your palm tilts his head back up to you. 

Strict demands—instructions: bed, top drawer, protection. 

Tomorrow, when he runs his fingers up and down your side—now knowing how soft and warm you are—he’ll comment on your prepared presumption. Watch in awe as you likely go embarrassed again—hide yourself behind that smile until he pulls you close, kissing you, assuring you. 

Maybe he’ll tell you then that his room has some too. That he hadn’t assumed, having been happy to just meet you, but if it happened, he hadn’t wanted it to fall on you to sort. Wanting to be prepared.

In truth, he’d have been happy just to enjoy the feeling of you smirking against his lips as he clutches your cheek, presses his forehead to yours, and curl into the feeling of your hands digging into his side. 

But, if he gets to reap, he’ll reap. Sliding his hand down your neck, fingers brushing over your breast, thumb and finger lightly squeezing the peak of your nipple, feeling it harden under his touch once more.

“So pretty,” he murmurs.

Sliding his tongue across your smooth bottom lip—tasting the salt from the chips earlier—the scent of shampoo that he’s had driving him insane since you were in his truck. 

You make the prettiest noises too. 

Do the prettiest things. 

Feeling your hand stroke over his cloth-covered cock, fingers lightly sliding up and down, up and—

“Can I taste you, cariño? Please?” 

Your hand pauses its teasing, eyes meeting his, and then you nod. 

And fuck does he. 

Peeling your underwear from your hips, he leaves them balled up at the foot of the bed he has you splayed on. 

Javi knew you’d be soft, smooth. His cheek brushes your inner thigh as your fingers resume their place—tangled in his hair. 

He’s barely touched you, barely ran the tip of his tongue over you, but you’re trying to move your hips. Patience not a current virtue, by any means. 

Please, you beg. 

On another night—after sharing many of them together—he’d make you wait. Pin your hips to the bed, drag it out until your voice is hoarse from begging him. 

But he wants this, too. 

Needs you. All desperate to take you apart—to have your taste on his tongue, the scent of you in the hair above his lip. He wants to hear you make the noises you did for him down the phone, but here in person—all live, just for him. 

Maybe, on another night (if he can be so lucky), he’ll be able to see what you did that night. Watch, hand around his cock as your fingers bury themselves inside you at his words, at his praise. Because you are so good. Like being told it too, from the way, you whimpered when he told you to get on the bed. 

Good girl, he had said and he watched as your pupils swallowed all of the shades that make up your eyes. 

Gripping the back of your thigh, thumb digging into your skin, he slides his tongue over you. Feeling you keen. Mastering you as though he’s read books on you. Hearing you drop curses like they’re full sentences, teasing and taunting, before he breaches you with a finger, then another, sliding them in and out as you moan. 

It’s takes him a moment to realise his own hips are rocking against the bed, desperate for friction. 

Because you’re incredible, beautiful, gorgeous. 

From the sounds and how you look at him, to how you curl into his touch and say his name. His cock straining in his underwear, almost desperate to bury it inside of you—feel how warm you are wrapped around him. The thought willing him on as his nose catches your clit, his name dropping from your tongue as though it weighs something important. 

And he can feel how close you are. It is punctuated by how your breath is hitching, remembering it well from the phone. 

Your body craving what he’s doing to you—all tense because of him. Dangling, all set to fall and be flung over the edge. Pushing you closer and closer, your fingers tightening in his hair as he buries his tongue inside you, both hands keeping your thighs in place, and he’s waiting, bracing—

Then he hears it. 

How you snap.

The way you spill his name from your swollen, lovely lips as he works you over the edge. Feeling it ripple through you, tasting it on his tongue as you spill into his mouth. 

He expects you to need a minute, but you lift onto your elbows, eyes heated—all lust-filled, drunk on him. His tongue licking the taste from his fingers, watching your orbs darken before you pull him towards you.

You allow him a brief moment to take you in. His eyes spotting the way your collarbone glistens with sweat, your brow and forehead too. He’s unsure what he expects when your breaths die down, but it isn’t your interlocked fingers around his neck. It isn’t your lips crashing, slotting, forcing themselves against his as you pull down his underwear, wrap your legs around him and press your mouth to his ear: 

Fuck me. 

That’s what you whisper—more breath than syllables. 

And you’re warm, under his palm and body—hot and searing, threatening to burn him alive. He is a man who thinks he deserves to be on a pyre, an array of guilt that is squashed down—built into the foundations of who he is here, back home and in Texas. 

With you, he feels like something else. Someone whole. Better. Aware of his mistakes but confident he’s done time for them. Choosing, instead, to burn from your lustful gaze and the way you want him. 

His fingers brush over your cheek, tilting your head up so he can kiss you. Show you how you’ve shaken his foundation—made it quake under your kind laugh and perfect smile. He could name more things—of all the ways you’re perfect. 

But he hears your fingers finding something that crinkles, mouth pulling from him before your teeth rip it open—his lips curling into a smirk. 

Wide eyes asking, without your tongue moving, “Do you want me to do it?” 

He ascends. He’s sure he fucking does, anyway. Nodding, suddenly quiet—more quiet than Javi has ever known himself to be in this predicament. 

Because usually, he’s a talker. 

He’s the one who has someone on their knees, hand around the back of their neck as he makes their ass ripple. 

But, you’re not them—and he isn’t who he used to be. 

Your hand, all warm, smooth and silky, takes him, thumb brushing over his leaking tip as your other hand remains holding the rubber. 

It’s never been like this. 

Not when he was away, feeling things for those who’ll allow him to pretend; not back when he was younger, mind full of getting out of town. 

This is heavenly, fucking everything. You’re something else entirely, mumbling about putting it on with your mouth next time.

Next time. 

A sentiment his mind echoes in repetition when he lines up against you, another time I’d make you come again. But I need to be inside you. 

And fuck, when he slides in, a voice screams in the back of his head at how your walls wrap around him, the sharp, sweet gasp you emit as he bottoms out inside of you. 

You consume him. 

Holding you, hand on your hip to keep you close, another around the back of your neck, feeling your breath dance along his chin and neck. It mixes with the moans he had mentally saved from the phone call, now stitching to the way your lashes flutter as he starts to move. 

A few thrusts and he feels your nails cutting into his shoulders. His mouth leaves marks that your clothes will hide tomorrow as he stretches and ruins you, setting a pace that feels like bliss. 

Dragging himself out, before filling you again—making your lips part, nothing escaping except a breath and his name. 

And then you’re clenching around him, your body begging him, pleading for a second release as he pauses, groaning internally at his own teasing. 

Dropping to his elbows, boxing you in, he latches his lips to yours. Your pleas bleed into his mouth as he slowly rolls his hips—not enough to push you over but keep you there. 

“Please.”

“Please, what?” 

Your mouth slid against his ear, pants falling in plenty. “Please, baby—please.” 

His hands slide under your back, lifting you, sitting back on his knees. You’re in his lap. Fingers sliding up the back of your neck, face buried in your neck as he thrusts up into you—watching as your mouth parts, his name falling:

Javi. Javi. God, Javi. 

He knows. 

Fuck he knows. 

“Baby, so close—I’m close—“

He knows that too. 

Just like he knows how fucking good it is when you call him baby. 

an: smut is not my skill, so forgive me. normal romcom, text, banter continue tuesday.

[sleepinthrumyalarms]

— turned predatory

pairing: wednesday addams x fem!vampire!reader

warnings: smut, lesbian sex, biting, oral fixation, fingering, all characters are aged-up

summary: wednesday comes up with a tempting offer - and, as much as you wish you could hold back, you're unable to resist

word count: 1.4k

“Have you ever bitten a human, (Y/n)?”

Tilting your head, you watch the ravenette through the tinted lenses of your glasses, wondering if the question came from mere idle interest or if it was something that Wednesday has been harboring inside of her for a while now.

The intensity of the girl’s gaze seems to prove the latter right.

If it wasn’t her asking, you’d probably be a bit offended — you like to think you’re far more sophisticated than that. You guess the years of evolution passed made a vampire crave for blood as much as a thirsty human would for water — without getting murderous over it.

“Do you think me a medieval brute? No, I haven’t. We have donors for that,” you chuckle, shaking your head and turning back to your book, “Le Fanu would’ve approved though, wouldn’t he? What with his outdated look on vampires and all.”

The small paper - cover book in your hands is titled ‘Carmilla’, and you can’t count the amount of times you’ve reread it despite the way you refer to its author. You still prefer it over ‘Dracula’, for instance, probably because the story of a female vampire hunting an innocent woman is much more relatable for you.

But alas, it’s true – unlike lady Carmilla, you’ve never feasted on a live human being before. Times have changed – there’s no need for enslaving thralls, and mankind isn’t treated like livestock by your kind anymore.

You also find the idea of sinking your fangs into someone far too... intimate.

“He certainly would.”

Your red eyes widen as you watch Wednesday get up from her seat and stalk over to where you’re sitting on her bed, voice low when she speaks, making you shiver.

“He also wrote that a vampire is prone to be fascinated with an engrossing vehemence, resembling the passion of love,” her gentle palm rests on your shoulder, and she trails it up to your neck and to your jaw, manicured nails tracing the outline of the bone, “That it would never desist until it has sated its passion.”

As you stare up at the girl, frozen, she takes perch on your lap comfortably, looking down at you through the thickness of her gorgeous lashes and tilting her head.

“Have you ever felt this way, (Y/n)?”

Your tongue turns heavy in your mouth. You find it hard to swallow around it, around the ever-growing lump in your throat. No answer comes — you feel Wednesday’s cold digits trace up your jaw to your cheekbones, and then her dark painted lips are on yours.

Taking the smaller girl by her hips, you pull her body flush to your own, her dark plush lips sweet as she kisses you, and your mind is a mush by the time she pulls away.

“Are you sure?” you whisper, breathless, “I don’t want to hurt you.”

The ravenette grabs at your chin, a slender finger gently pressing into you top lip, feeling the sharpness of your canine through the skin, and her next words make for the point of no return.

“Please, hurt me, (Y/n).”

Your gaze darkens, and you capture Wednesday’s lips again, tilting your head to deepen the kiss. Your fingers move from her hips up to her chest, undoing the buttons of her starched white blouse, mouth still moving against hers as she gasps at the coldness of your touch against her skin. You’re in a hurry and you can’t see what you’re working with, the buttons making you growl with impatience – you want her clothes off, as soon as possible.

When the blouse finally hangs loosely off her shoulders, you pull away to get a good view of her perfect collarbones, of her fragile shoulders and the way her dark lacy bra hugs her pale breasts perfectly, the gentle sprinkle of freckles on top almost making you salivate. The garment looks perfect on her, too – a tight mesh, sheer and frilly with lace around the tops and bottoms, the color clashing against her marble skin gorgeously.

You’re tempted to tear it off with your teeth, but in the lust – filled haze you remember what your initial aim was – the girl’s jugular.

Moving your head closer, you place a chaste kiss into the column of Wednesday’s throat, one of your palms moving to gently grasp at the ravenette’s chin, tilting it to cover her swan – like neck with butterfly kisses, and Wednesday sighs as your lips graze a spot that makes her knees clasp around you tighter.

You mark the spot mentally, licking at the soft skin there, soothing the flesh for the upcoming puncture. Teeth bare, you trace the sharp fangs over her neck, and Wednesday shudders, before your canines sink into her.

Her fingers tangle themselves in your hair when the ravenette presses your head closer into her neck, a breathless gasp leaving her lips, warmth pooling at her stomach at the feeling of your bite. It’s ethereal, almost unrealistically so, and the danger of your sharp pearly whites against one of the most sensitive spots of her slender body only serves to turn her on even more.

The girl buckles, moving her hips into you, seeking friction, and you gladly obey.

Your fingers knead at the flesh of her inner thigh, slowly inching forward. Dipping under her uniform skirt, fingertips skim over the fabric of her lacy panties, and you groan into Wednesday’s neck at the warmth that pools there. You’re content with feeling the girl through the garment, relishing in the way she sighs into your ear breathlessly.

Pushing Wednesday’s lace panties to the side, you delicately brush your middle finger over her slit, and the ravenette shudders, mind hazy with pleasure, a tantalizing little breath emitting from her parted lips as you slip a single finger with barely any resistance. She’s so wet, wet from you having awoken the most carnal desire in her, her brows knit in pleasure.

One finger quickly turns into two, and she groans as you thrust in and out of her sopping cunt. Your teeth let up their death grip, and your tongue swipes at the small trail of blood that comes running down Wednesday’s lithe neck – she uses the newfound freedom to drape herself over your shoulders, moaning right next to your ear. Your fingers curl, and you look up to watch the small ravenette unravel.

“Oh, look at you,” you praise, “So perfect. Such a pretty girl, all for me,” your thumb finds her clit and you press against that little nub, draw rough circles into it, and Wednesday’s back arches even further, “Want you to cum for me so bad. Please.”

You feel Wednesday grip your shoulders, clawing at your clothed frame, and she throws her head back with a low moan of your name, and you groan as her plush walls turn impossibly tight around your digits. Pumping them slowly to let her ride the high out, you pull your fingers out, leaning in to press a kiss against her jaw.

Before you can move your hand away, Wednesday grabs at your palm, wrapping her smeared burgundy lips around your middle and ring, soft tongue swirling against the fingers to lick herself off you. When she pulls away, a small string of saliva connects her mouth and your digits, and you suddenly become painfully aware of the pooling heat between your legs.

“You’re delicious, aren’t you,” you grin, resting your chin on Wednesday’s chest, looking up at the flushed ravenette, completely infatuated, “I might give up my humanist style just for the sake of tasting you like this more often.”

The girl hums in reply, her arms staying wound around your neck as she catches her breath, the feeling of her bare pussy against your clothed thighs sending a small shiver up her spine.

“So... where would you like my mouth next, pretty girl?”

You watch Wednesday smile down at you, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

“This is... so unfair, ‘Day...” you sigh, whining when the ravenette on top of you lands another hot kiss on your exposed neck. She moves back to admire her work, eyes tracing over your skin littered with dark lipstick marks, your slitted red gaze clouded with lust.

“Of course it is,” she chuckles, leaning in to graze her teeth over your throbbing vein, “It’s called payback, bella ragazza.”

[smileycarat]

delulu thoughts: jeonghan ver

a/n: just me fangirling about jeonghan lolz, sorry for potential typos

whenever i see jeonghan, i automatically think he’s such a gentle kisser

don’t get me wrong, i do think he can have those more heated moments and such, and i would later love to explore that in another fic

but something about the thought of just lounging together on a sunday morning and him giving you the softest kisses throughout the day i aM SEVERELY UNWELL

just enjoying both of each other’s presence away from the public and the limelight that seems to follow him everyday

being in the comfort of your own home where he gets to let lose and relax without constantly being aware of what happens around him in public

having the opportunity to see how he’s like behind closed doors and to experience the way he cups your face with his sweater paws and kisses your brow-bone first, then your cheekbone, then your nose, and finally your lips with the most feather-like kisses there is

being able to wake up to him softly tracing the bridge of your nose and then softly your cheekbone as you wake

you being the first person he speaks to in the morning, his voice still rough from sleep, and you being the last person he speaks to before bed, his voice laced with sleepiness but still pushing through to make sure he wishes you goodnight even if you’re already asleep the moment your head hits the pillow

i think a lot of people would expect him to be slightly chaotic based of how he sometimes presents himself in gose or concerts and yes he can be chaotic, but he’s a gentle chaotic (idek if that makes sense???)

he will sometimes surprise you with the most odd things out of nowhere, like that one time you had a little bit of frosting on your nose from biting into a cupcake

mans is giggling at your appearance and you���re confused because you don’t know what has set him off this time and you’re just looking at him like ???

and he just jokingly rolls his eyes, makes a tsk noise while shaking his head but reaches out to hold your jaw to stop you from moving

then he proceeds to just lick off the frosting off your nose

“what? i couldn’t just leave you like this without telling you” he says after your wide eyed expression

“you could have used a napkin like a normal person!”

he giggles at the way you roll your eyes and pulls you back by the crook of your elbow as you start to move away

“look, we’re even now” he says after he smears frosting on his lips

you both could just be relaxing on the couch laying down and on opposite ends, but he always has either a leg or an arm extended to have contact with you

is completely the type to pull your legs up to his lap to rub at your ankle

or be the type to use his slender hands to knead at the knots between your shoulder blades

i could see him liking to lay down on top of you during a nap and kissing you right under your ear all the way down to your collarbone

this isn’t even in an explicit manner, he just likes to do it for the sake of doing it (also loves the giggle he gets out of you if you’re feeling ticklish)

i could see him as liking to be the one to stay in on his days off and just lounging in matching sweats with you

but also willing and always ready to take a quick trip down to the convenience store with you past midnight in your matching sweats and slippers to grab a snack

absolutely WILL hold your hand all the way to and from the convenience store even though it’s just a few minutes walk

beware, he does not like when you get separated by a street lamp and will pull you to his side so you don’t have to unlink your hands

just a few delulu thoughts about jeonghan <3

[kyoghurts]

[ 3:02 AM ]. dot barrett/reader. drabble. fluff.

"why the hell are you still awake?"

dot asks in that deep kind of voice that you like, trying to ward off the remains of sleep, it makes you visibly jump, but nonetheless soothing. you know he's not mad, actually, he's more confused than mad.

"crap- sorry, uhm. i promise i'll sleep soon."

"are you still," he stifles his yawn, failing as small tears coat around the edge of his eyes. "still watching that..winky mae or somn" you feel comforting arms sneaking up around your waist, pulling you in his. your back pressed against his warm chest.

"it's maya winky, sleepyhead" you hear him grumble, as if your correction solves anything.

he doesn't really get why you watch her videos frequently. you always claimed it helps you sleep better at night, but honestly, who would believe you when the clock's practically screaming across your shared bedroom, and you still ignore them as you suppress your giggles watching her do your silly makeup or whatever instead.

his grip on you tightens just slightly. mumbling against the skin of your neck, effortlessly making you shiver. "go to sleep. now."

“it’s still a bit early, just a few more minutes and i’ll-”

“now. come sleep with me this time.”

his poor choice of words makes you suffer, your face heats at a concerning degree. and even though you can’t see his expression, it’s one with faint smugness. as if he said it with purpose, with an intent to render you speechless.

it’s not everyday you get to see him like this. dot has had enough, he has to make you listen at some point, the sadness that lingers whenever you excuse to not sleep together as he tells you its fine (a pout on his lips that wrench your heart with guilt) accumulates to this moment. he normally wouldn’t have been this bold, and perhaps you’re blaming it on his weariness, the limits he had constrained himself suddenly worn down on his bones.

“but..” you don’t get to finish your sentence once he starts to invade your neck with lazy kisses, your breathe caught on your throat. “dot wait” he won’t stop, in fact, the way you struggle fuels him even more.

he gently turns you as you face him, insisting. he takes his time to carefully plant his kisses on the slope of your collarbone, the curve of your shoulders, to your chin. they’re meticulous and gentle, it’s kind of sweet, if not for the fact that he’s doing it to make you distracted.

and you do get distracted, you’re not sure when he snatched the phone from your grasp. but it now rests at the top of your nightstand and you don’t think you’ll be needing it anytime soon. your hands busy themselves massaging and combing dot’s hair, he sighs with contentment, and everything tastes like forever.

he’s so pretty like this. his headband being out of sight, his cheeks—though dim as your room may be, the moonlight spills itself on your window and you can see the pink in his complexion this up close. you cup his cheeks for him to look at you, brushing a few strands that sticks to his face and he pecks your nose in response.

“fine.” a chuckle escaping from you that leaves him breathless, “you win.”

“i always do.” he smiles, “and from just a few kisses? i thought i was the one whipped for you here.”

“you don’t think i feel the same?”

the pink turns a little more deep tinted. “ah, but you chose may wink over me”

“maya winky. and no, that’s not true.” with that, comes a long yawn escaping your lips. dot snickers. “to make up for it, how 'bout we cuddle like this together before bed? you can hide my phone somewhere too so i won’t feel tempted.”

“i like what i’m hearing.”

you can’t help but giggle. “and i like you”

“i like you, more”

“nuh uh”

“am too!”

“nuh uh”

"am too"

“just go to bed already”

he pinches your cheek as you wince. “let’s go to bed.”

you slept soundly. limbs tangled and entwined and body’s warm. guess you don’t need that damn phone from now on, and if you do wind up in the same spot once more, you grant your boyfriend the permission to spoil you with kisses, so so much kisses. inevitably falling (for him) into slumber.

want him to cuddle w me until we fall asleep zz

© kyoghurts. ★ reblogs & likes are well appreciated!

[beesxrated]

Professor's Morning

Professor Gale Dekarios-> 🪻

Masterlist

You awaken to Gale kissing your shoulder up to your neck and ear. The arm under your head pulling your body closer to him, and his hand cups one of your breasts. His beard pricks your skin, sending shivers down your body. His other hand caressed your stomach and slowly drifts down, touching between your legs through your trousers. A gasp escapes your lips as he bites your shoulder. Gale continues to touch you, and you place a hand on his between your legs, encouragingly.

"Good morning, beautiful." He says softly pushing his hand down your waistband.

You groan as his fingers caress you, "Morning, Gale."

He rakes his fingers in and pushes them deep inside you. He continues to kiss the skin he can reach. You grip Gale's hand inside you tightly, pushing his hand down farther. He takes your shivers and moans in stride, using them as encouragement for his movements. You begin to feel him harden behind you, his hips push against your hips.

Gale pushes you onto your back and pulls your trousers off. He pulls his off quickly, lining himself up. Before he can sink into you, you grip him and begin stroking. He sits back a bit onto his heels, enjoying himself before pushing fingers back into you. As you continue pumping your hand around him, Gale lets his head fall back in pleasure.

His thumb rubs circles around your clit. You feel yourself coming undone, but try to hold on. You pull on him, lining him up to push into you. Gale readjusts himself, tossing you onto your side again. He straddles one leg and holds the other around his hips. He begins pulling his hand from you, and thrusts into you.

One of Gale's hands grip the thigh around his waist, the other grips your hips, holding you in place. You let your nails dig into his thighs, taking pleasure in him. You hear his breath quicken as you buck and roll your hips. You earn a whimper from him as your nails dig deeper into his skin.

His fingertips bury into your muscle as he thrusts harder, close to breaking. He feels massive inside you, touching every inch of soft, delicate skin. Gale's hip bones feel like they're piercing the soft skin of your thigh and butt. His thrusts become harder and more uneven as the two of you unravel.

You continue rocking your hips against his riding out the high. He collapsed on top of you, not yet leaving the warmth of your body. Gale kisses your collarbone and makes his way down your body. As he does he slips out of you, gaining a gasp from both of you. He stops at your breasts, kissing any bare skin he finds. He hums against your skin as you comb your fingers through his hair.

Gale looks up at you through his lashes, "I have to do some work, would you like to join me?"

You nod as he dresses himself and leaves to his study. You lay there in silence, feeling your body shiver from both pleasure and the cold air now brushing your body. You push yourself up and pull on a skirt. You stumble through the tower, your legs like jelly, and through his study door. He sits at his desk with two plates of food and two glasses of wine.

The two of you eat in silence as he grades papers. Midday comes sooner than you'd hoped. Gale has raked his hands through his hair more times than you can count. He keeps muttering to himself about his students not understanding the lessons. You notice his stress and begin rubbing his shoulders.

"Are you okay, darling?" You ask, digging your thumbs into his shoulder blades

He sighs and tilts his head back to look at you, "We went over this just before the quiz, I don't understand."

You lean down and kiss him, "I think you need a break."

"You might be right." Gale sighs and pushes away from the desk.

You pull him back to the bedroom. You push him over the foot and onto the mattress. He chuckles as you climb him. You straddle his hips, leaning down to kiss him. He pushes himself mostly upright before dragging the two of you back against the headboard. His fingers pull at the roots of your hair. You feel his erection under you, but try hard to ignore it for now.

You break the kiss and smile at him, "Feeling better?"

"A bit, could always use a bit more work." Gale teases.

As he speaks you reach under you and undo his trousers, pulling him out. You slowly push yourself onto him, having perfect access with your skirt, and sit as still as possible. You giggle as he moans, glaring at the stillness of your hips. You sit up straighter and begin rocking, gripping the headboard to brace yourself. Gale takes the opportunity to unbutton your blouse, taking the swell of your breast into his mouth.

As he suckles the tender skin his hands move up your back, his elbows resting on your thighs. He takes his time kissing, biting, and licking every inch of salty skin. He groans as you lift yourself up and push back down hard. Gale's beard begins to prick at your skin again, and you throw your head back exposing your neck to him. He takes that as an invitation to leave a love mark.

As you feel him reaching his edge you take one hand off the headboard and tangle it at the base of his neck. As you do so he buries his face into your chest, kissing and biting. You feel Gale's release as he quivers and jolts inside you. He gasps against your skin, still holding you as close as he can. He keeps you like that for just a while longer before he's shrunk out of you. The two of you collapse onto the bed and cuddle in silence.