#when “Anything your heart desires will come to you” goes too far

[return-to-twisted-wonderland]

I’m living for Trein interacting with Crewel Yuu, honestly he probably is kinda like a grandpa out of (misplaced) guilt. I’m still trying to figure out what exactly happened to make em disappear cause they’re in the place that should have been the most protected lol.

-🦑

Someone on earth was very determined to wish on everything so they could have a child. Surprise! A stolen and teleported child appears.

Trein hugs Yuu the moment he learns they're Crewel's child.

Trein "You're home. I've been blaming myself every day since your disappearance."

[remmickgf]

Love at First Bite [Beneath the Eternal Moonlight]

❤︎ Remmick (Sinners) x female reader ❤︎ NSFW 18+ for graphic smut/descriptions of sex, dubcon, vampirism/death ❤︎ When he goes "shhh, don't cry," in the movie, all bloody and vamped out, he's actually saying that to me when he shoves himself inside with no warning or preparation and expects me to take it all (and I do gladly). Anyway this was supposed to be straight porn but idk when to shut the hell up

Thick strings of drool hung from his open, puffy lips that peeled back to reveal a mouthful of jagged teeth. You stared at them from the corner of your widened eye, sipping tiny breaths that caught on the choked sobs raking through you. Despite this, no tears rolled down your cheeks as he pushed your face away and revealed your throat. His claws cupping your skull, you could feel their sharpness, crooked knuckles, and long nails keeping you from squirming too much while he grazed his nose down the side of your jaw and sniffed you like a true beast. The snarling growl that came from him was no different, pure animal--as animal and instinctual as the stiffness tightening the fabric of his high-waisted trousers. His own breath ragged, as he curled over you and trapped you beneath his weight, you felt his knee beneath your thigh, and the gentle rub of his hips to chase this friction.

"I bet you're just as sweet as nectar, darlin'," he purred. His voice was no longer the gentle baritone it had been, but gravelly and dark. "Yeah... Like summer wine, too..." Your eyes squeezed shut, and you flinched at the softness of his lips against your throat, awaiting the searing sting of his bite. Your hands twisted in his collar with this anticipation--yet, when another groan escaped him, this time you felt his hips jerk much more purposefully. You were shaking, teeth clattering with the motion, and he nuzzled you, closing his mouth this time to ask, "mmmm'y scared?"

Your fingers slipped down his torso at the same time you slowly, carefully turned your face, which prompted the moving of his fingers to clasp around your throat. Still keeping you pinned and subdued, you felt the cool dampness of the sweat against his temple, dripping from shiny black curls, and wriggled your hips up into his while following the tension of his abdomen downward until your palm cupped the bulge of an erection that made you nearly sob again. His voice strained, this time as he exhaled, "I promise, y'won't 'ven be able to tell the difference b'tween... the hurt--and ecstasy."

His clasp around your neck stopped the sound from coming out, tightening at the same time you began stroking him. His cheek to yours, when you caught his eye again, this time something more human burned in them, no less hungry. A side grin reminding you of the predator trapping you, your gut twisted with the familiarity of your own arousal, seemingly sparked by the fear that he caused to trickle down your spine. But maybe he could smell it perfuming you even before the chase had commenced. You couldn't have denied it; the sight of him lurking far enough away from you, although you hadn't been sure how long he'd been there, was close enough that your noticing of his shadow was imminent and intoxicating. You knew he was dangerous the second your heart had skipped a beat and your gaze had locked with his, a glint in it from the very beginning telling you he would taste you. Tonight. Of course, your thoughts had focused on a grainy picture of your fingers webbing through his hair, your legs thrown over the broad slope of his strong shoulders as his spine rolled like a cat and he buried his face in the tenderness of your cunt, but the desire which nestled in the pit of your stomach from the picture hadn't entirely ceased, even now. If anything, as your hands fumbled with the button of his pants and you began hurriedly trying to free him from the barriers of his clothing, it had grown fat, slimy and sick in you, as sick as he, who shivered and cursed under his breath with the whimpery, pathetic voice of a man victimized by the intensity of his own cravings.

When he sat back on his knees, your hands clung to the waist of his pants despite your shoulders thumping to the ground. Your eyes sweeping down his sturdy figure, his claws sliced into your skin as he pushed the skirt of your dress up to your hips, then shoved the fabric out of the way further once your hands traveled up his abdomen to his chest and he helped you sit up into his lap, using your arms before wrapping one arm around your middle and grunting once you were seated on top of him. It was as much of a fight as the one that had knocked you beneath him, his tongue following the trickling beads of blood where he'd accidently cut you while your hips lifted toward his stomach and you successfully yanked the stiffened silken flesh of his cock from his trousers. It was hot to the touch, leaking precum and blushed red from the friction of his previous dry humping. Agitated and sensitive, you pressed the delicate foreskin down to reveal more of his tip before pressing the heat to your swollen clit, both of you gasping from the contact.

Remmick--yes, that's his name, you recalled, shot one hand to pinch the nape of your neck and cradled the back of your head once more. This time, you let the weight of your skull crane your neck and winced from the protrusion of his girth stretching open your entrance. The muscles of your walls tightened with fluttering contractions that made your hips twinge and your thighs burn. You sniffled, for the first time a tear leaking from the corner of your eye as you rolled your hips slowly, leaning back into his forearm for stability.

"Shit, you're jus' as hungry as me," Remmick chuckled, his chest rising and falling heavy as his feet kicked out in front of him and he cleared his throat, his eyebrows turned upward before he licked his lips and felt your whole body press into his like a child's. His core tightened to keep him from falling back, and a fresh sheen of sweat dripped from his hairline. "Fuh-fuck-"

Your forehead resting in the crook of his shoulder, you turned your head to the side and mewled like a kitten when arching your lower back, keeping him deep inside with slow, heavy digging motions of your pelvis. Remmick nearly forgot about his need to feed, and his initial desire to drain you for the sole purpose of satisfying it. Now, the sweet ache of his gums throb of his canines matched the gooey, warm, heavy pulse of his cock, and with his other hand caressing the swell of your breast, when he finally sunk his teeth into the side of your throat and latched on like a child himself, gulping down the cherry red that filled his cheeks until you felt it gush down your chest just the same as your pussy melted over his length and could feel a mix of both of your pleasures leaking between your thighs and soaking the front of his pants, he shortly after unlatched and lapped at the wound, messily, groaning, while you kept on bouncing with your fists pressing into his stomach. You wouldn't have long, now, till your teeth came in. Your blood was already filled with secrets. He could see the flash of all the fantasies you had had upon first seeing him. His jaw craned open with a flex of his mandible and the strain of his neck as more images flooded him, all of your secrets, your memories coating his tongue. You were hungry, more so than he suspected by the look of you. Still, his raspy voice came out hushed, and he reached for your wrists to guide your touch to his throat. Your teeth were still flat and you were growing slower, more tired in your movements as your veins filled with his poison and your mind clouded from the transition before you fell asleep and would awake wholly his (during which he had no plans on leaving the warmth of your cunt), but he still wanted you to bite him, now.

"Bite me as hard as you can, darlin', go on," He could feel the nearing strength of his climax, the heat of your blood in his belly almost making him nauseous from the yanking tension. Both of his arms wrapping back around you, he found his claws gone, replaced by thick fingers massaging the roundness of your ass as you pressed the curve of it back into his palms. For a moment, he could feel himself as just a man. "Taste me, please-"

Your face hot, pleasure rippling through you faster than the pain, your limbs buzzing from the blood loss, you don't know what got stirred in you, but your tongue pressed to his pulse, and you bit down as hard as you could. When that didn't work, you began chewing--tearing at him, twisting his skin and feeling it start to squish and crunch before the black blood came. It was rotten blood, grave blood, but it tasted even more potent than he smelled of what had caught your attention even before you laid eyes on him. Both of you had smelled each other before finding the source of that scent. Remmick cried out as the pain burst and blistered through him, huffing, and fell back. You pushed his face away the same way he had done to you before, flaring your nostrils and biting at him again until the flesh came easier. You didn't just drink his blood, you swallowed the meat in your mouth and felt his hands squeezing your hips as you sped your thrusts up and claimed the beast as much as he had made you his own. And you wouldn't stop until after he'd popped like a hot yolk inside you twice and until you threw up viscous black and could remember the slightest, smallest detail of his life, and until you knew exactly how it felt to fuck you. Like the best damn thing he'd ever experienced. Like love at first bite.

[thedeadstoryteller1]

𝒮𝓃𝒾𝒻𝒻𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒫𝓁𝑒𝒶𝓈𝓊𝓇𝑒 - 𝒞𝒶𝓁𝑒𝒷 𝓍 𝑅𝑒𝒶𝒹𝑒𝓇 𝙿𝚃 𝟸- 𝒩𝒮𝐹𝒲

𝚂𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: A tense, charged encounter unfolds when Caleb is caught by you after indulging in an intimate moment of self-exploration involving your underwear. The confrontation is raw, filled with guilt, desire, and a deep need to be honest. The two of you navigate the emotions, expressing desires that were previously hidden, leading to a passionate and intense physical connection.

𝚃𝚊𝚐𝚜: Multiple Orgasm, Breeding, Rough Sex, Forbidden Attraction, Love Confession.

𝙰𝚛𝚝𝚒𝚜𝚝: _peachybunny on X

𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝙲𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 2171

A shadow.

“Oh no.”

His stomach drops. That shadow isn’t just anyone. It’s you.

You’re home. Early.

You hadn’t said you’d be back so soon. Maybe you forgot something. Maybe you didn’t want to leave things the way they ended this morning. But whatever the reason, you’re standing just outside his door—and he knows there’s no way you didn’t hear at least something.

His throat goes dry. His hands are still trembling. He doesn’t dare move, doesn’t breathe. Maybe if he stays silent, you’ll go. Maybe you didn’t see anything. Maybe you’ll convince yourself the noises were just a movie. Or music. Or—

Knock.

A soft one. Gentle. Hesitant.

“Caleb?” Your voice—so quiet, but not angry. Just confused. Concerned. Like you’re unsure of what you think you heard.

He doesn’t respond.

Another pause. Then—

“You okay?”

His chest tightens. He wants to disappear. The shame, the lust, the twisted craving he just gave into—it crashes over him all over again.

“Y-Yeah. Just… taking a nap.” His voice cracks. Weak.

You wait a beat.

“Alright… I just forgot my badge for work.” Another pause. “I’ll be out in a second.”

Footsteps.

He listens to every one like a countdown. The front door opens. Then closes.

Silence.

He sinks to the floor, hands in his hair, heart pounding all over again—not from desire this time, but from fear. And something worse.

Guilt.

Because the truth is… he wants you to know.

He wants you to see how far gone he is for you.

And that scares him more than anything.

The apartment is quiet when you walk in.

Too quiet.

You take off your shoes, hang up your bag, and glance down the hallway. Caleb’s door is closed. No music. No light coming from underneath. Just silence.

Your eyes linger on the door.

You heard him. Every moan, every whimper, your name falling from his lips like a prayer. And the guilt in his voice when he lied… it hit something in you. Something dangerous.

You walk to the kitchen, grab a glass of water, trying to act normal. But your heart is racing.

Enough pretending.

You march down the hallway and knock—this time with intention.

“Caleb.” No response. “Open the door.”

Nothing.

You press your palm to the wood. “Please.”

A click. Slowly, the door opens. He stands there, hoodie on, hair messy, eyes wide like a deer caught in headlights. Guilty. Embarrassed. Scared.

“I—”

“Don’t lie to me again.” Your voice cuts through the room.

He swallows hard. His mouth opens, but nothing comes out.

“I heard everything, Caleb.” You step inside. The door clicks shut behind you. His body tenses, like he’s bracing for impact. “I know what you did. I know what you used.”

His cheeks turn red. “I’m… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

“No.” You walk closer, heart pounding in your chest. “You wanted me to hear. You didn’t lock your door. You didn’t even try to hide it.”

His breath catches. “That’s not true.”

“Then why did you say my name?” you ask softly. “Why did you use my underwear, Caleb?”

He flinches.

“You didn’t just want to jerk off.” Your voice lowers. “You wanted me to catch you. You wanted me to see what I do to you.”

Silence. Heavy. Suffocating.

“I… I can’t stop thinking about you,” he finally whispers. “I know it’s wrong. I know I fucked up. But I’m losing my mind, (Y/N). You’re everywhere. Your scent. Your voice. Your fucking panties—” His voice breaks, thick with desperation. “I want you so fucking bad it hurts.”

You’re so close now. Inches apart.

“Then show me.” You reach for the hem of your shirt, slowly pulling it over your head.

His breath hitches.

“This time, I want to see everything.”

Your shirt hits the floor with a soft thud. Caleb stares like he’s forgotten how to breathe. His gaze travels from your chest—bare except for the lacy black bra hugging your curves—to your lips, parted just slightly as you watch him.

You take a step forward. Then another. Until there’s no space left between you.

“Touch me,” you whisper, your voice soft but commanding. “You’ve been doing it in secret for so long. Let’s see if you can handle the real thing.”

His hands hover, trembling. He wants you—desperately—but fear roots him in place.

You guide his fingers to your waist. “I want this too, Caleb. I’ve wanted this.”

That’s all it takes.

He surges forward, capturing your lips in a kiss so deep, so full of repressed hunger, it knocks the air right out of your lungs. His hands grip your hips like you might vanish, his body pressed so tightly to yours you can feel the hard line of his cock—already straining against his sweatpants.

You moan into his mouth, and he growls—growls—in response. “You don’t know how many times I’ve imagined this,” he whispers against your lips.

“Then stop imagining,” you breathe, fingers slipping under the hem of his hoodie and tugging it upward. “Make it real.”

He tears it off. You reach for the waistband of his sweatpants, and he shudders when your fingers brush over his erection.

“Fuck, (Y/N)...”

It takes everything in him to not cum at the sensation of your fingertips. Fighting the urge to mess himself up right then and there.  

“Is this what you were using my panties for?” you murmur, hand now palming him over the fabric. His hips buck into your touch helplessly. “Fucking yourself while moaning my name like a filthy little perv?”

His head drops against your shoulder, breath ragged. “Yes. God, yes.”

“Good.” You push him back gently, guiding him to the bed. “Because now you’re going to fuck me.”

He sits, eyes glued to you as you strip slowly—every inch of skin revealed like a gift he never thought he’d receive. When you slide your panties down your legs and toss them in his lap, his jaw clenches.

“Keep them.” Your voice is a tease, your smirk sinful. “That way you won’t have to steal them next time.”

He groans, reaching for you. You straddle him, your dripping core grinding against his cock through his sweatpants, both of you breathless.

“I need you,” you whisper in his ear. “I want you inside me, Caleb.”

He lifts his hips, pushing the pants down just enough to free himself, his cock flushed and so hard it twitches at the sight of your slick folds above it.

“Condom?” he pants, but you shake your head.

“Not tonight.” You reach down and line him up with your entrance. “I want to feel all of you.”

With a slow, deliberate motion, you sink down onto him—and it’s heaven. His hands grip your thighs, and his head falls back with a strangled moan.

“Fuck, you’re so tight. So warm.”

You roll your hips, watching him unravel beneath you.

“Tell me how many times you thought about this,” you whisper, picking up your pace.

“Too many,” he gasps. “Every night. Every time you smiled at me. Every time I smelled your perfume. I wanted you. God, I wanted this.”

Your nails rake down his chest as you ride him harder, your own moans matching his.

“I’m gonna cum,” you gasp.

“Me too. Inside. I want to cum inside you, princess—”

Your bodies tense, then shatter together—pure, messy pleasure washing over both of you like a storm. His hands hold you tight as he fills you, his mouth on your shoulder, your name breaking from his lips like a confession.

After, you collapse on top of him, both of you slick with sweat and satisfaction.

The air is quiet again.

Only this time, it’s not tense.

It’s heavy with something else.

Something real.

Your body is still trembling from your release when Caleb flips you over in one sudden, fluid motion. You gasp, your back hitting the mattress as he hovers over you��eyes dark, lips swollen, chest rising and falling with raw, animalistic need.

“We’re not done.” His voice is low. Dangerous. Almost a growl.

You don’t get a chance to respond. His mouth crashes into yours again, hands already roaming—possessive, hungry, like he wants to memorize every inch of your body all over again.

He kisses down your throat, your chest, your stomach—leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses along the way. When he reaches between your legs, his tongue swipes up your slick folds, and you whimper.

“You taste like sin,” he murmurs into your skin, gripping your thighs and spreading you wide. “And I’m gonna worship you like the filthy little goddess you are.”

You moan as his mouth returns to your pussy, tongue teasing your clit while two fingers slide inside you, curling just right.

Your back arches. “Caleb—fuck—”

He doesn’t stop.

He devours you. Sucks your clit, fucks you with his fingers, moaning into your heat like a man possessed. Your thighs shake, hips twitching up into his face. You’re already close again.

And he knows.

“Cum for me,” he demands against your pussy, voice rough. “Cum on my fucking tongue.”

You shatter. Loud. Desperate. Legs trembling as the orgasm hits you like a wave crashing on the shore. He doesn't stop until you're crying out, pushing at his head, overstimulated.

But he’s not done.

He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, looking up at you like a man who's just tasted paradise.

Then he grabs your wrists and pins them above your head.

“Now it’s my turn again.”

He pushes inside you in one hard, deep thrust—and you scream.

“That’s it, baby. You feel that?” His mouth is right at your ear now, breath hot. “That’s how deep I need to be. I want to ruin you for anyone else.”

He pounds into you—harder, deeper, each stroke making your whole body bounce beneath him. The bed creaks. The headboard hits the wall. His rhythm is brutal. Precise. Perfect.

“Say it,” he pants. “Say you’re mine.”

“I’m yours—fuck, Caleb—I’m yours!”

That’s all he needs.

He lets go of your wrists, one hand grabbing your throat—not tight, just enough pressure to make your breath hitch. His other hand slides down your body, rubbing circles over your swollen clit.

“You gonna cum again for me, princess?”

You nod frantically, lost in the pleasure, completely undone beneath him.

“Good.” His eyes bore into yours. “Then you’re gonna take every fucking drop when I fill you again.”

You scream as the orgasm hits, and he follows with a deep, guttural moan, his cock twitching as he cums inside you again—harder this time. So much cum, you feel it dripping out as he slows, hips still rolling into you gently.

He collapses beside you, pulling you into his arms, breath still uneven.

“We’re never going back from this,” he murmurs, voice hoarse.

You smile lazily, chest still heaving. “Good.”

The room is quiet now. Only the soft hum of the ceiling fan and your mingled breathing fills the space.

You’re curled against Caleb’s chest, his arm slung protectively around your waist, skin still warm from everything you’d just done. His fingers trace slow circles against your back, grounding himself—grounding you.

He finally breaks the silence.

“I was scared.” His voice is raw. Vulnerable. Not the cocky, composed Fleet Colonel. Just… Caleb.

You glance up at him, your cheek still resting against his chest. “Of what?”

He swallows hard. You can feel the tension in his body like a tightly wound wire finally beginning to loosen.

“Of wanting you this much.” He exhales shakily. “Of screwing everything up by being some perv who can’t stop stealing your underwear and jerking off to the thought of you.”

You blink, then snort softly. He looks down, startled, until he sees your smirk.

“You are a perv, Caleb.”

He groans, throwing his head back into the pillow. “God, I know—”

“But,” you cut him off gently, reaching up to cup his cheek, “you’re my perv. And I’ve been just as bad.”

His brow lifts slightly. “What do you mean?”

You shrug with a little grin. “You think I didn’t notice how good your ass looks in those tight flight suits? Or how I’d fake interest in your cooking just to hear you moan when you taste something you like?”

He laughs, soft and disbelieving. “So this whole time we’ve just been… dancing around each other like idiots?”

You nod. “Idiots in love.”

His smile fades, replaced by something deeper. Softer. He brushes your hair behind your ear and presses a kiss to your forehead.

“I love you.” No hesitation. No fear. Just truth.

You blink, heart stuttering. But you don’t panic. You don’t freeze. Because you feel it too.

“I love you, Caleb.” You lean up and kiss him, slow and tender. There’s no heat in it this time—just warmth. Affection. Everything.

He wraps both arms around you and pulls you into his chest like he’s afraid you might disappear.

“No more secrets?” he murmurs.

“No more panties going missing?” you tease.

He chuckles, kissing your temple. “No promises.”

My lovely ferrymen ! Thank you so much for the support in this short series. I hope you guys liked the ending. We all know MC wants to jump his bones lol a special thank you to @cordidy @april-likes-smut @mcdepressed290 @hwangintakswifey @twilightsmissingfur @rukii-afterdark @quacker180 @lumieresdreams @nanaminsmuse @tofufairy for enjoying the first part. I hope you love this part as well. As always don't forget to show some love and support. The new banner also dropped today for us in the American Server .. IM SO NOT OKAY ..

With Angsty Love,

~The Deadstory Teller~

[rafesangelita]

…‘THE OTHER WOMAN’ AU

⋆𐙚₊˚👰🏻‍♀️⊹♡

DARK!RAFE who lives a double life— attending prestigious events all over figure eight with his wife on his arm, presenting this ‘picture-perfect’ persona even though his relationship with her is anything but. you’re everything she isn’t, and everything that his world would never accept if you were the one with the ring instead. his wife was born-kook, and unlike yourself, she comes from an established family who is loaded with both old money and status. marrying her was necessary in order for rafe to keep up with his reputation, considering he had already butchered that in his younger years, he’s doing everything he could now to recover and revitalize his family name, even if that means staying in a marriage that he emotionally and mentally checked out of years ago.

SHEEP!READER who has no clue about rafe’s lifelong commitment to another woman, his absence piquing her curiosity every time he goes days, sometimes weeks on end without any contact. he could be with her all night, doing what he does best, and she’ll wake up to an empty bed every single time. she cries when he leaves and jumps to her feet excitedly when he comes back, whenever that is. she fights the urge to ask him where he’s been, but she knows better than to question rafe, having made that very mistake before. rafe lacks control in his household, so when he comes to yours, he’s relieved when you hand it over to him without a fight. everytime he’s over at your place, it’s a breath of fresh air from the tension-filled, screaming match, nightmare fuled shell of a building that tanneyhill had become over the years.

DARK!RAFE who feeds you lies concerning his whereabouts. he tells you that his work schedule keeps him far too busy to be ‘checking in with you every second of the fucking day’— his words. he gaslights you and manipulates you because you make it so easy for him, your naive mind believing everything that comes out of his mouth. he has power over you even though he’s not with you everyday. he does it by planning your outfits and making you do your hair and makeup the way he likes, he tells you when you can and can’t go out, who you can and can’t talk to or spend time with, he knows your every move. he fantasizes about marrying you instead, but all thoughts of that dream dies the second he thinks about everything he has had to do in order to paint himself as a ‘changed’ man.

SHEEP!READER who never goes against rafe’s word, her obedience to him making him feel like he has the balance he has spent his entire life looking for. she’s the only good thing rafe has all for himself, and he makes sure to show his appreciation by sending her gifts and keeping all of her bills paid. he even goes as far as giving her a hefty allowance in order for her to use it on whatever her heart desires. he compensates for lost time with money, and although she has told him on many occasions that his funds don’t matter to her, rafe still goes above and beyond so she never gets the idea to leave him. sheep!reader had grown to be co-dependent on him for everything, but that’s exactly what dark!rafe wanted the second he saw her and knew she was the answer to all of his problems. she had become his safe haven from not only his marriage, but also himself.

DARK!RAFE who tells sheep!reader to stay off of figure eight out of fear that she might find out about his wife. he doesn’t want to chance her finding out the truth about him or his past, so he threatens her and tells her that he’ll leave her if she violates what he says. anytime rafe takes sheep!reader out (which is rare), he takes her out on the mainland so that he’s not looking over his shoulder every five seconds to make sure he isn’t caught red handed. sheep!reader assumes he does this since there isn’t really anything special to do on the island, so in her mind she thinks rafe is doing all of this as some grand gesture for her when really he’s just trying to have his cake and eat it too. she’s always fighting between her heart and her brain, between love and logic, and even more so when she finds a gold wedding band in his pocket one day..

[dontbesoweirdkira]

I'm not saying yandere Dick Grayson would baby trap his darling...but he most definitely would

Warnings: toxic and abusive themes. forced domesticated life, mentions of baby trapping, purposeful weight gain, manipulation, dick is a good hubby though, he's just so desprate

Please just hear me out on this concept. Now i've said before that Dick Grayson would've realistically had to put a halt on his personal life and relationships because alongside being nightwing and keeping his family together, it'd just be too much.

Could you imagine Yandere! Dick is like hitting his mid-thirties at this point, work is growing old and all of his siblings are just about adults and he's exhausted. One day, the siblings are all just chilling around the mansion and the topic of what they plan to do with their life after being a vigilante comes up. Dick hadn't though about it ever because well...this consumed every minute of his life but he figured he'd probably settle down and start a family. Jokingly one of his siblings said, "How could you ever find time for another family when you're already the matriarch of this one?", and it just hasn't left his mind since.

Fast forward and he's sitting in a dinner alone after patrol and he's just watching this family and their kids and it just hits him that he'll never have that at the rate he's going. If he doesn't end up dead from his work, he'd probably end up rotting in that mansion alone because he's too busy fixing the messes Bruce made with the others. He's been a "father" to his siblings since his teen years and he has not much to show for it. I mean he's proud of all of them but...he's still just their older brother...

He goes home and is thinking about just how happy that father looked while throwing his kids up in the air...or how beautiful his wife looked carrying their unborn child. He envied how simple and perfect their life was. They didn't have to miss out on life to fight crime around the clock or to piece back together something he never broke. They could happily go home..with each other and be proud of what they've made. He's looking back at his life and while he knows he's accomplished so much but being an actual dad is something he'll never get a chance to be. Not while he's still playing as the head of Bruce's household.

Yandere! Dick Grayson who now wants to be a father so badly and to come home to a pretty wife who truly loved him. Not just some one nighter who couldn't see past his body.

He met you by chance a few weeks later. It was while he was grabbing food before his nightly patrol, and the spark was like never before. It was fate. or delusion You were destined to be his pretty wife and be his ticket out of that mess. You're so perfect

Dick is maybe a little too eager to make his desires a reality. Like he's completely ready to let go of his previous familial duties to make way for his new ones. It's a huge shift but it's a necessary one. This is his Fiona Gallagher moment. He's steadily loosening the grip and ignoring calls to be fully focused on you. Dick wants to prove he'll be a great husband who won't neglect you for anyone else even if they're as close as family. He can't let them get in the way anymore.

He doesn't care if he has to manipulate his way into your heart, he's going to have you. He's the only one that'd ever be as good to you as he will be. There's not even a money limit on how much he's willing to pour into this process. If it takes paying your rent or car note to prove he's provider material...then so be it. Anything for the future mother of his children.

!Yandere Dick Grayson who doesn't even know if you want kids or marriage but he's so far gone in his own fantasies that he just assumes you have the same goals as he...even if you don't...you soon will..I like to think he slowly shifts you into being a stay at home girlfriends and floods your mind with ideas of this being your purpose. He needs you to know just how great you are at being domestic...this isn't so bad right? You could do this for the rest of your life!

Like i said he doesn't mind throwing money at you if it'll make you desire this life with him. Besides, he prefers you to be financially dependent on him. You are so shy when you ask him for things but he loves knowing that you need him, just like a good wife does.

First he's just always wanting you over his house for cute dates, then it's becoming a weekender situation...then a few days out of the week and now you practically live with him.

In the meantime he's doing subtle things like cooking dinner and breakfast with you at the same times every day. This is so you'll automatically start doing this on your own and so you know what he likes and at what time. He's got you doing shopping runs for the home. He's a sneaky little shit who asks you to throw in his laundry and clean up his messes while he's at work. He of course compensates you for being such a great helper. Your new job is here at his home. It fills him up with so much joy when he comes home and all your tasks are completed.

Yandere! Dick who is always surprising you with foods and snacks you cannot resist to make you plumper for when you're carrying his baby. Of course he's denying the allegations when you jokingly tease him about making you fat on purpose but we know the truth. Still, he's loving your body regardless, it needs to be healthy with extra fats to keep your children protected. He can barely contain himself though when he sees your little stomach pudge , it gets him all too excited for the real deal. It makes him feel all the less guilty about tampering with the contraceptives when he thinks about how gorgeous you'll be when you're swollen with his baby. I mean you're already this cute with a little bloat.

Oh just the thought of you walking around in public and everyone who sees you know that you're already claimed..ugh He doesn't know what to do with himself. You're all his and no one can steal you away from him. Not when you don't have any time. You're too busy taking care of the home and the baby to be bothered by anything else.

You won't be too mad at him, right? I mean just so desperate to have a quiet new life. He wants to be a father so bad, please let him have this. He'll be so so good for you and the baby.....he needs this.

[jjjjisun]

Early Access: Snap Decisions (Leeseo Incest Fic)

It is now available for early access here. This might be the longest smut I did—god, it's 30k+ words.

Might also be the best so far? Hmmm.

I've added a teaser sneak peek below.

....

His fumbling fingers typed of their own volition:

[Not in a million years… You do look beautiful in that like I thought you would baby. even though you might as well be wearing nothing.]

When her phone finally buzzed almost thirty minutes after she'd sent the photo, Leeseo jumped in bed. She couldn't hope to fall asleep; her drunken-self was simply too anxiety-ridden about how her dad would respond to the message she sent.

His response floored her. Like before, she had to read it over almost five times before she was sure she hadn't taken it the wrong way. Her lithe little body buzzed with excitement - her thumping heart, the butterflies in her stomach, and a needy little tingle beneath her bottoms. There was only one appropriate response to her dad's message…

~So… this would be out of the question then?~ said the words that appeared on Jae's screen before he swiped his finger to open the message.

If he had been floored before, this time Jae couldn't contain himself. He told the taxi to stop immediately - he needed some air. The driver obviously thought his passenger was about to hurl as Jae overpaid him by about $20 nearly a mile short of their destination and bounded out of the car to the sidewalk.

He stared down at the image, putting his face entirely too close to the screen. Leeseo was on the bed as before, but she had turned sideways and there was something significantly different about her clothing.

The tiny white bottoms she'd been wearing were halfway down her thighs and her legs were tucked underneath her. She was perched on the bed and only a perfectly placed shadow concealed the most unholy place a father could ever see of his own offspring. Likewise, her bra had been unclasped, and the arm that wasn't snapping the photo of her was all that held it in place on her unbound breasts.

Whether he would have admitted it to himself while sober or not, Jae looked at the photo with more lust than he could recall ever feeling towards his wife or any other woman. This wasn't just him hungering for her over some online posts she didn't even know he'd seen. It wasn't Jae silently admiring how his daughter looked in her cheerleading outfit or swimsuit. Leeseo had sent HIM a photo directly - one so seductive and entrancing that he couldn't tear his eyes from it. He couldn't withhold his desire for her. She was an adult now, she always reminded him, and this was his gorgeous, adult daughter teasing him with more of her body than he ever hoped to see.

And yet, Jae was still, above all things, a father. He couldn't just send back what he might have if Leeseo wasn't his own little girl - 'why don't you take it all off and wait for me to get home,' or something like that. He kept it together as best he could.

[Dear God Leeseo, you're going to give me a heart attack at 38! I swear you are in so much trouble if that photo goes anywhere but my phone!]

This message came back to her sooner, she was immensely grateful.

~Don't worry daddy, for your eyes only…~

[Good. Now quit tormenting me and get some sleep, my beautiful daughter.]

Once again, her body begged for attention. It wasn't hard for her to come to the realization that the attention she wanted that night was from the man she was sending naughty pictures to. Maybe it was just the booze talking, but she couldn't get the fantasy out of her mind that her dad might barge in and help her take the dangling lingerie off the rest of the way.

He didn't send anything else, and neither did Leeseo. Jae was afraid of what he might say. The two pictures and words weighted with taboo and desire were enough for that night. He didn't need to bring his phone into the bathroom with him as he showered off the smell of the bar; Jae knew every inch of his daughter's body well enough to imagine that she was right there next to him.

With the steamy-hot water of the shower cascading over him, and the erection that had existed since first opening Leeseo's message, Jae soon found himself stroking himself up and down. With his eyes closed, he imagined his teenage daughter just as she had been in the photo - just as she likely was in her room nearby… just as she wanted him to.

Likewise, Leeseo fidgeted about in bed, rubbing her legs together against the covers and thinking of her father in ways she knew she wasn't supposed to. After she heard him come home and regrettably not come in to kiss her goodnight, Leeseo simply couldn't help herself. She kicked her covers down furiously and pulled her bottoms all the way off.

While Jae pretended it was his daughter's hand stroking him instead of his own, or perhaps something naughtier, Leeseo firmly rubbed her clit and dreamed it was her father's fingers upon her. Her young pussy was already dripping wet, and when she began to rub it, the slick sound of her fingers moving needily were present in the room.

If he were to merely walk a few steps over to the bedroom across the hall, Jae knew what could be in store for him. His knees spasmed just thinking about what he and his daughter might accomplish together.

If Leeseo were to merely text her dad that she needed him to come to her room, she could allow him to find her the way she was now - knees up on the bed and in perfect position for him to do any number of things she could beg him to.

The two of them masturbated with unstoppable lust, unknown to each other but knowing they'd started something forbidden and undeniable between them. Leeseo's back arched, her hips lifting off the bed and her fingers moving relentlessly over her pussy while she struggled not to scream. Her father's body tensed and his head rolled back, feeling orgasm wrack him.

It was so bad, and she knew it, but nothing had ever made her cum harder than she did that night. Leeseo had to roll over to the other side of the bed and change her sheets in the morning because she made such a wet, naughty mess thinking of her dad that night. With a twinge of shame and a refusal to shake his baby from his thoughts, Jae held his hand firmly at the base of his cock, imagining it buried deeply while he ejaculated an impressive amount to the shower floor. His head found his pillow with surprising relief, feeling the alcohol lull him into a deep sleep.

...

[https-lvesick]

( 천러 ) ── college boyfriend headcanons!

content . . 𝜗𝜚 fem!reader, jealous chenle, smut, groping, dirty talk

lola’s notes .: i don’t think i have any intentions to do more of that... AND THE FLUFF WILL COME IT WAS JUST DONE!!

college boyfriend!chenle, who goes above and beyond for you—doing everything, from the simple to the impossible. he makes sure you get to and from college safe and sound, always treating your safety as his top priority. and, of course, he spoils you, paying for lunch and anything else your heart desires, because seeing you happy is his greatest reward.

college boyfriend!chenle, who takes on your assignments when you’re too tired to keep your eyes open. even if he’s in a completely different course, he’ll dive headfirst into your subjects, determined to learn just enough to give you the best work possible, because your success matters as much to him as his own.

college boyfriend!chenle, who constantly tries to convince you to move in with him. he lives closer to campus, and it just makes sense—logically and emotionally. he pulls out all the stops: pleading with puppy-dog eyes, sweet-talking you with tender words, and even decorating his sleek penthouse with cozy accents that match your vibe just to make it feel more like home… your home.

college boyfriend!chenle, who can’t stand it when you have to pair up with another guy for a project. the thought of someone else taking up your time—time that belongs to him—drives him crazy. he’s always present during your meetups, subtly asserting his place by your side with that confident, protective smile.

college boyfriend!chenle, who’s constantly stealing kisses—whether you’re surrounded by classmates or not. you’re his girlfriend, after all, and he believes he has every right to kiss you whenever and wherever he pleases. if he feels deprived, he’ll whisk you into an empty room, locking the door behind him, refusing to let you leave until he’s thoroughly satisfied.

college boyfriend!chenle, who can’t resist sending you suggestive texts and making obscene gestures while you’re in class. the way your thighs press together, and you squirm in your seat when he has you all hot and bothered is pure perfection to him. watching you try to keep your composure when your panties are soaked? priceless.

college boyfriend!chenle, who constantly praises your beauty and the way you make his heart race—and more. he’s not shy about showing you exactly what you do to him, guiding your hand to rest firmly over his hard, throbbing length, making you feel how much he needs you.

college boyfriend!chenle, who lives for teasing in public but draws the line at public sex. the mere thought of anyone hearing the sweet sounds you make just for him sets his possessive heart aflame. but nothing stops him from whispering filthy promises in your ear, leaving you dripping with desire while you burn under the weight of his words.

college boyfriend!chenle, who’s far too impatient when it comes to you. if you take too long with your lessons or assignments, he’ll hoist you onto the table, his impatience unraveling as he claims you with passionate abandon. he’ll make you forget everything but him—how he feels, how he moves, and how completely he overwhelms your senses until you can only focus on the ecstasy he delivers.

did you enjoy your reading? why don’t reblog, like or leave a comment? this way i know you liked what i wrote and surely will keep up with the good content! 𖹭 masterlist

🏷 @jungaji @spacejip @lyvhie @sinisxtea @jirsungs

[sourpeachsayshi]

Hiiiii Peach! Could I request something with Zayne? Like Akso Hospital has an important dinner and MC/Reader was teasing Zayne the whole time and on the ride home he is very quiet but once both step into the apartment he loses composure and goes all out? 👀👀👀 please and thank youuuuu!!!

minors - ageless - blank blogs dni 

notes: . cw: zayne losing his control; sex without protection

you stare out the car window, your eyes shifting towards zayne whose gaze remains fixed on the road. it's silent, but not in a comfortable way. you nervously play with the string of your necklace, a worrisome lump lingering at the base of your throat.

you really put in a lot of effort to get dolled up for this dinner tonight. you picked a dress that would surely make his jaw drop at the sight of you. but instead, zayne gave you a quick up and down look before instructing bluntly that you should head out so you can make it in time.

you weren't expecting a massive reaction, but you at least hoped that he would say something as simple as "you look beautiful".

you did everything in your power to lure a compliment out of him, but there was not a single reaction. and now that you're both driving back, you're starting to wonder if maybe you crossed a line.

it was an important dinner, after all.

and zayne takes everything far too seriously.

sometimes you wish he would loosen up, and you feel selfish for being this disappointed by the obvious lack of enthusiasm.

it stung your pride.

he parks the car to his apartment, and opens the door for you like the gentleman he is. your eyes shift to the ground, and you mumble a thank you before pattering to his door. you pull out the spare key and unlock it, completely unaware of how zayne's attention has darkened in your direction.

you step inside and sigh, before placing your clutch down onto the first surface you see.

"I should get changed," you say with discontent. "It's late..."

But a hand grips your wrist when you walk away, pulling you back with enough strength to make you lose your balance and fall directly into zayne's arms.

he spins you around, and pins you to the wall.

one hand holds your wrists, the other finding your cheek and he holds you there before pressing his mouth against yours in a hot kiss.

"where do you think you're going?" he whispers.

he pulls out a breathy reply from you, "bed?" you answer with no confidence, your heart pounding in your ears from the sudden reaction.

he lets go of your wrist, and curls one hand on the small of your back. his other hand clasps around your throat, and he looks at you with an intimidating stare and blushed cheeks.

"I have you to myself now" he exhales pointedly, his eyes lingering over every detail of your body. from your lips, to your heaving chest, to the way the dress clings onto your curves and lines in a seamless flow. he licks his lips like he's famished, and flickers his attention back up towards you as he watches your lips part in surprise.

"where is this coming from so suddenly?" you ponder with innocence and a furrow of your brows.

zayne leans his head forward, and drags his nose up the column of your neck to breathe in your perfume. "I made a mistake bringing you tonight," he hums into your soft skin, "I thought having you by my side would be good for my nerves. instead, you had me on edge the entire night..."

you squeak when the hand on your back dips lower. zayne grabs your ass and sinks his teeth into the side of your neck. you whimper underneath his frame, both your hands finding the breadth of his shoulders.

"fuck, I knew it-" his voice breaks out of desperation, "you're not wearing anything under this dress are you?"

he pulls away and you look at him guiltily. "uhm-" you proceed to speak, finding the words to explain yourself, "everything else was showing through the fabric, so I just thought-"

he huffs out a laugh like he's being tortured, and bites his bottom lip before looking down at you with a burning desire, it makes your heart shake with excitement for what's to come next.

"you just thought you would test me on the one night I needed to keep it together?" he scolds, "I'm supposed to be working for grants from these sponsors for the sake of the hospital, but instead all I can think about is you. and how do you help me?"

he slides his hand forward, and cups your pussy through the fabric. the space between your legs pulses, "you distract me. over and over again. have every man at the gala salivating over you. have me wondering if I should explain to them that I can surgically remove their eyes if they keep looking at what's mine..."

"zayne..."

"I'm not supposed to be violent towards my sponsors," he explains, like he's trying to maintain whatever dignity he can. "I'm not supposed to think about the ways I would take you in front of them, to show them how thorough I am with all the responsibilities I hold..."

he's rubbing the material of your dress, pressing it up against your wet pussy.

"I can see the look on their faces when they saw us. how someone like you would ended up with me...but they have no idea," he whispers, "of the distinctive ways I force prayers out of your mouth when we are all alone in bed at night..."

you gulp down your reply, your nipples hardening at the way his voice dips.

"I think I would like to hear it again actually," he dictates, and that's how you find yourself getting fucked up against the wall. the two of you are still fully dressed. zayne has one of your legs hooked over his arm, and he was holding it in place while the other struggled to maintain balance. you were begging him in "pleases" and calling out to god from the sensation of his thrusts. each one deep and filling you to the brim. your standing leg was quivering, your sore bottom lip trembling but zayne doesn't hold back.

he captures your lips with another bruising kiss, can feel your grip tighten around his neck as you try to maintain your pose.

"so," he thrusts, "fucking," he thrusts, "hot."

your lashes flutter.

you're completely delirious.

for one, zayne always compliments you with tender words and rarely ever curses. but that simple sentence coming out of his mouth sounds vulgar to your ears.

the man is coming entirely undone before you.

he's not even wearing a condom. so caught off guard by your seduction that he chose to fuck you raw.

"zayne, m'gonna-oh god, I'm so close, I'm so close..." the words roll off your tongue frantically.

"then cum," he mumbles against your lips, drunk off of lust. "wanna feel you when it happens..."

your throat catches as your eyes roll to the back of your head, which falls to the wall behind you. your shaking so hard, your lower belly fluttering through the pulses of your orgasm. zayne's fingers dig into your skin roughly, and you know for a fact that you're going to wake up with bruises in the morning.

his movements grow sloppy, the sound of skin slapping skin faltering until he finally moans as he releases his load.

his heavy eyes watches focuses on pulling out of you, his chest tightening at the white releases that spills from between your petaled folds. he sighs, and drops his head to kiss your own as he carefully places your shaking leg back down. his hands firmly hold you from melting away, and the two of you pant heavily as you try to catch your breath.

[gfguren]

pro hero!bakugou x reader | fluff, a little bit domestic, a little bit intimate, a little bit suggestive? (not really) | cw: cursing, a very modest bath scene

-bakugou only knows how to give, you wish he'd let you do the same for him-

Thinking about the newly domestic give and take between you and Katsuki. It doesn't come naturally to him. He's hell bent on doing everything himself, at first. That's the way he's always lived after all—hyper self-sufficient, independent to a fault, and so goddamn stubborn about it all.

It makes you feel almost useless, his insistence on doing everything, not only for himself but for you as well. Honestly, you should have expected it; he was like that well before moving in together. Taking all the responsibilities on himself, wrangling you out of the way when you so much as try to help, because he "feels like it", or he's "better at it", or "just move, f'r I make ya".

But you were a guest in his house, then—so you let him have his way, bullheaded as it was. Now that you share a house—a home—you want nothing more than to take care of it, of him.

Though moving mountains would be easier than convincing him to accept it.

You try brute force, first. And it goes as well as you might expect, like throwing pebbles at a brick wall. Putting yourself between him and the dishes is just as futile; he cooked dinner, you should be the one to do this. It's only fair. Still, he takes it upon himself to pick you up and physically remove you from 'his' spot by the sink, ugly yellow gloves dripping dishwater all the way to the counter.

The floor is completely soaked by the time he plops you down on the countertop, as are your jeans, your flailing arms and exasperated "Katsuki!" having done little to deter him. Your mouth opens in protest but his hands, firm at your sides and eyes, red, and stern and definite leave no room for discussion.

So you try to 'talk about it', second. When his mood has cooled and he's feeling a little sweet. He usually is, when hero work has worn him down, chipped away at his fire until there's nothing left but his worn down bones and the aching desire to be enveloped in you—his head on your chest, your fingers in his hair.

He's nothing but mush in your arms by the time you bring it up, nearly two hundred pounds of limp muscle, eyes half lidded, and slow, warm breath. You think he doesn't hear you at first, more likely he pretends not to; but then you hear a half-hearted, "hmph". And you sigh.

"I'm serious, Kats." you rake your fingers across his scalp absently and he groans in appreciation, furling into you more. "You can't do everything, just look at you."

He peers up at you with one eye, an almost glare, more playful than anything; too tired for anything more. He huffs gently, warm breath across your chest when you don't back down. "We'll talk about it later."

'Later'; meaning never. Still, you don't press him. Not when he's so tired, not when this small moment of peace is all he allows you to offer him.

Ever predictable; there isn't a later, and he finds a way to avoid the conversation, in one way or another. Over and over and over again. You're at the end of your rope just trying to get him to listen.

So you try a last ditch effort at patience, at compromise (usually a losing battle, with him); working him over, little by little.

And it works, mostly.

You find that, most times, you can slip past him while he's cooking to steal the dirty mixing bowls and discarded pans; wash them while he's preoccupied trying not to burn the chicken or fretting over cutting the vegetables 'just right'. That him doing the cooking is non-negotiable, but he'll let you help as long as you stop trying to kiss him while he's "tryin' to make y'r dinner over here, god damnit".

(Don't let him fool you, he likes it).

That it takes you far too long to realize how much he craves being asked for 'help', instead of your usual insistence on helping him. That when he feels appreciated and useful, he's almost eager to share the housework with you, looking almost boyish standing there, hands stuffed in his pockets, the tepid scowl twisting his pretty face betrayed by the blush creeping up the back of his neck when you hum a lilted, "Thank you, Katsuki".

Your strategy's not foolproof, of course; he's still quick to steal whatever you're working on once he's finished his, itching to make himself busy once more.

But it's progress.

Still, no matter how much you try, or how long you pester him, he puts his foot down at taking care of him while he's sick, while he's training or on patrol. Anything that could end with you hurt, or put you in harms way is a hard 'no'—always, always, always.

That's not to say he doesn't let you take care of him ever. Though it was more hassle than it should have been, getting him to just sit comfortable instead of disappearing into the bath for hours, or taking his frustrations out on his poor, battered training equipment.

These days, when he's had an especially tiring evening, he'll sink down into the sofa without you having to say a thing, let you press your fingers into his shoulders and down his spine until the knots unwind. That occasionally he'll let you take him by the hand even, coax him gently into warm water and vanilla scented bubble bath.

That he becomes particularly docile when you're massaging your flowery conditioner into his wily blonde hair. The scent of you—over his waist, around his shoulders, in his hair—it's almost intoxicating, and he wraps his arms around you, like he's desperate for more, burying his face in your chest; sighs like he's at ease for the first time in his life.

It isn't easy, teaching Katsuki to take—but when he lays down with you at night, his eyes are a little brighter, hands hold you a little tighter, a little longer than when all he knew was how to give, give, give. And when his lips find yours, and you can feel his smile against them, you figure all the trouble is worth it.

And when he rolls the both of you over til you're pinned beneath heavy thighs, impish grin on his lips and calloused fingers beneath your shirt, trouble and promise brewing behind his newly fired eyes, well that's just a bonus.

[perrywrites]

Absentmindedly murmuring that you want him inside of you during his practice;

NSFW 

Includes; Isagi, Hiori, Bachira

Part 2 (Chigiri, Reo) and part 3 (Kaiser, Barou) and part 4 (Nagi, Shidou, Kunigami) and part 5 (Sae, Rin, Karasu, Otoya, Yukimiya)

Isagi: it’s time for his break during practice, and he’s gulping down water, adam’s apple bobbing as he hydrates himself. He’s loosely aware of your dazed stare as you continue looking at him from the bench, after all you haven’t been very subtle in staring at him throughout practice - and although he could ignore it on field, not so much off of it. He’s still gulping down water, about to go towards you afterwards just for a quick chat, and to ask you why you’ve been staring at him so much, unusually quietly. Then you say something that makes him freeze up, setting fire to his face and nearly killing him in the process. “I want you inside of me…” you mumble that, sighing in a manner as if he had romanced you. The surprise proves near fatal, and he’s choking on his water, turning away from you as his ears burn up fiercely. What? What? Did you actually just say that? Or has he somehow actually gone crazy now? Some sort of brain fatigue? An answer to his unasked question comes in the form of your lighthearted giggle, as you apologize casually for letting your thoughts slip out. That doesn’t do anything to calm the fire heating up his skin, heart thundering throughout his body, especially not when your eyes are still just as dazed when you look up at him, all lovesick and opaque with longing. “You can’t just say that,” he says, voice quiet and strained, face still heavily flushed. You giggle, and tease him a bit more, before he goes back to practice. Except now he can’t focus on anything anymore. All he can think about are your sweet words, that lovesick gaze of yours, and the softness of your plush walls. His mind is failing, and you’ve proven to be a magnificent distraction. The only thing on his mind right now is how badly he wants to sink into you and fuck you hard for even daring to say that outloud. He wants to pin you down and have his way with you, make you so dumb on his cock, fill you up - and oh god. He’s clenching his hands, flexing any muscles in his body that he can, trying to divert the blood away from his cock, because his shorts were starting to feel a little too tight. Fuck, look at what you’ve done. Are you proud of yourself? You’re not going to be getting away with this, you know that, right? Why did you think it was a good idea to tease him like this during practice, make him want you so badly? Was last night not enough? Just wait until the end of practice. He’ll be pouncing on you with a growl, dragging you somewhere private he can pound some fucking sense into you. Don’t bother trying to run away, you know he’ll catch you.

Hiori: he finds himself raising an amused eyebrow as he walks towards you during his break, noting how you’re still looking at him, all dreamy and dazed, gaze thick with longing. He knows more than well enough the meaning of that stare, your expressions always give away far too much, but he doesn’t call you out on it. Instead, he asks you lightly if something’s wrong, taking sips of his water. He freezes before he can go in for a third sip, some water spilling out from the top of the bottle at his sudden pause. Did he hear you right? Did you actually just say that? He blinks, looking at you, and his eyes narrow darkly when he catches that spacey fuzzy look on your face. How do you manage to look so innocent and corruptible despite just saying such a perverse thing? He doesn’t understand it, no matter how many times he thinks about it, but what he does know is how that spaced out look on your face never fails to stir sinful desires within him, cock twitching in his pants as his body heats up. On the surface, he looks calm, as always, nothing amiss - but his eyes are clouded over deeply, and his jaw is tense. You love to test his self-restraint, don’t you? For some reason, when you two first started dating, you seemed to have the impression that he doesn’t yearn, doesn’t have a sexual appetite, and it was amusing for him to prove you wrong again and again, take you by surprise - because every time you’d be befuddled by the fact that he wants you, and that he wants you badly. That’s why you’re capable of saying something so inviting so carelessly, right? Even right now, you don’t know a single thing that’s running through his mind, do you? How he wants to watch your eyes turn all dewy, tears pooling as you whimper and sob out his name beneath him, face flushed and lips quivering, an expression only for him on your face, make you vulnerable and helpless underneath as he loves you to death. He wants to do all of those things and more, make you so weak and useless, cherish you and make you take him until you break. But, he doesn’t do any of that. Instead, he smiles impassively, walking over to you as he pats your head, but when he speaks, there’s something veiled in his controlled voice. “Don’t worry, ya only have to wait a little longer, okay?”

Bachira: throughout practice he catches your stare, noting your listless gaze as your eyes follow him run and score across the field. He’s not oblivious, though, he can tell well enough the simmering desire sitting heavy and darkly in your seemingly empty and unthinking eyes. “What’s with that look?” he asks, all toothy smirk and teasing eyes as he drinks from his bottle, eager to badger you during his small water break. But it seems like you’re a little too out of it, feeling a little too bold, because you respond bluntly, murmuring quietly that you were thinking about wanting him inside of you. He’s taken aback at your unintentional provocation, blinking away the shock as he smiles, amused. You really will be the death of him, won’t you? He tries lightheartedly teasing you, asking you what made you so impatient that you couldn’t even wait until you two were alone to tell him this, and when you say that neither of you would be able to resist right now if he got you alone, he damn near loses his mind. He can feel the heat spreading through his body, itching to do something to you as you continue looking up at him all dazed and yearning, and he tells you that exactly so, voice all husky. With a smile as normal as ever, except his eyes are glinting in a way that sends fire down your core. A whimper bubbles up your throat. “I want you to do something to me so badly, you have no clue,” you say, whimpery voice bursting out, and you’ve done it. His eyes darken needily, smile faltering, and he quickly ditches his towel and water bottle; practice be damned. Hand on your arm, he pulls you up and begins lightly dragging you somewhere else, somewhere isolated, somewhere he can fuck you and make you cry so hard on his cock you lose your voice. That’s what you get for tempting him. This is what you want, right? He’ll give it all to you, don’t worry. Just be good and submissive for him, spread those legs for him and leave your body all pliant under his hungry touch. He’ll fill you up, and he’ll keep filling you up until you’re satisfied - or rather, until he’s satisfied. Because you’ve lit a fire in him that you absolutely can’t handle - but don’t worry - he’ll hold you and love you even when you become a babbling mess on his cock, so let him break you apart right now. You’re the one that started it this time anyways, so he doesn’t have to hold back, right?

[insidekatmind]

Assistent- Berlin(Song Jung-ho)

Wearning: +18,smut

The room is suffocating, the silence between the hostages heavy as lead. You find yourself in a corner, trying not to attract too much attention, but you feel it. You know he’s watching you. Berlin. You feel his gaze like a weight on your neck, as if you can sense it even without turning around. You’ve just grabbed the coffee, bringing it to him as if it’s just another task, but inside, something torments you. A knot in your stomach, a mix of nervousness and desire that you can’t explain.

As you take your first step towards his door, your legs tremble, but it’s only for a moment. Then you take a breath and step through the threshold. He’s there, sitting at his place behind the table, his eyes focused on the surveillance monitors. You stop a few steps away from him, the coffee in hand. You feel that every movement you make, every breath you take, is weighed, as if every action is measured in that moment.

"Bring me the coffee?" His voice penetrates you, calm and authoritative, without a trace of emotion. Yet there’s a kind of hidden malice behind those words that sends a shiver down your spine. It’s not an order. It���s something more. It’s a game. And you’re the pawn, aware of it, but unable to take a step back.

You move closer to him, your heart beating faster as you feel drawn to him like a magnet. You stop in front of his desk, your hands trembling as you offer him the cup. He raises his gaze, his black, piercing eyes locking onto yours immediately. There’s something in his stare that makes you feel as if you’re naked before him, as though he’s reading every thought in your mind, every beat of your heart.

"Thank you," he says, but it’s not just a simple thank you. It’s the way he says it. It’s as if he’s giving you something more, something that goes beyond courtesy. His hand reaches out to take the cup, but he doesn’t let you go. His eyes never leave yours, and his gaze is so intense that it feels like you can’t breathe.

"Come closer," he orders, and the word is a command, one that forces you to respond, even if you don’t want to. Your body seems to move on its own, as if it’s already been trained to follow him. You approach slowly, your heartbeat quickening, your hands cold, your breath irregular. When you finally get close to him, he gestures for you to sit, but not in the chair. No. He motions for you to sit on his lap.

A wave of embarrassment overwhelms you, but you can’t do anything but obey. You sit down, your legs trembling slightly as you adjust to his position. The atmosphere between you two is thick, as if the air around you is too dense, too hot. He looks at you as if he were a predator, and you his prey. His hands graze you slowly, but it’s as if every touch is amplified, charged with unbearable tension.

"You don’t seem very relaxed," he murmurs, his voice a warm whisper that makes you shiver. His hands move across your back, tracing thin lines, as if he wants to explore you, as if he’s marking your body as his own.

The silence is broken only by your labored breaths and the beat of your heart filling your ears. "Stop for a moment," he says calmly, but that calm is far from reassuring. It’s a calm that hints at something dangerous. He holds you still, forcing you to stay there, overwhelmed by his presence.

The air around you seems to grow denser, charged with something you can’t grasp. Every little movement feels amplified, every touch of his makes you tremble. You can do nothing but obey, and yet inside, another part of you doesn’t want to stop feeling it.

You rest your hands on the table, focusing on the cameras trying to distract yourself from the fact that you're sitting on his lap. He leans closer to you, pressing his chin onto your shoulder, the warmth of his breath brushing against your skin. “Not interested in the monitors anymore, huh? Do I make you that nervous?” He asks, his voice a low, velvety murmur.

His hands move, sliding down your back, as if to soothe you, but it's not calming. It's a slow, sensual caress that makes your heart speed up, its beat echoing in your ears. He continues, his voice still soft but with a hint of a smirk in it. “You’re trembling,” he says, his hand now tracing patterns along the side of your torso. “Don’t be so tense, honey. I don’t bite.”

His fingers reach the curve of your waist, his touch burning into your skin even through the fabric of your clothes. His other hand goes higher, up to your neck, gently tilting your head towards him. His eyes are now focused on you, studying you. There’s a deep, dark intensity in his gaze that makes you shiver. His hand is still on your neck, thumb gently caressing your skin. “Look at me,” he orders, his tone a calm but firm command.

Your eyes slowly move to meet his, unable to refuse to obey. He’s so close that you can see the flecks of gold hidden in the darkness of his irises. His gaze locks onto yours, taking in every detail, studying your every reaction. “There you are,” he says, a hint of satisfaction in his voice. “I like it better when you’re looking at me.” He leans in closer, his lips hovering just an inch away from your ear, his words a low, almost inaudible whisper. “You’re an interesting one, aren’t you? You think I haven’t noticed you sneaking glances? The way you watch me when no one else is looking.”

You swallow hard as you look at him. He watches you closely, noticing the way you swallow. His hand on your waist tightens its grip, pulling you slightly closer to him. “I see you, you know. Even when you think you’re being inconspicuous, I notice.” There’s a hint of amusement in his voice, a hint of satisfaction. “You think I don’t feel your gaze whenever I walk into a room?”

You can feel Berlin's hand caressing your ass. The touch sends an electric shiver down your spine, and you have to bite down on your lip to keep from making any noise. His hand glides down, giving you a firm squeeze, a gesture both possessive and pleasurable.

“You like that, don’t you?” he asks, his voice a low rumble in his chest. He can feel your tension, the way your body responds to his touch. “You’re not very good at hiding these reactions, sweetheart.” He continues to caress your butt and every now and then he gave you little slaps while looking at you with a smirk.

With every soft slap, you have to clamp down further on your lip to prevent yourself from letting out a sound. The mixture of pain and pleasure is almost overwhelming, and his gaze, heavy and intense upon you, adds another dimension to the experience. The smirk on his face is maddening, taunting you with his power, but at the same time drawing you closer, making you want more.

His hand then moves up, under your shirt, tracing warm lines on your bare skin. The touch is more possessive now, his fingers leaving behind a trail of heat wherever they go. “Undress” he orders you, slapping your ass before licking his lips and looking at you.

The command is firm, leaving no doubt that it's an order, not a request. A mix of arousal and trepidation fills you, but you know you have no choice but to obey. You stand up, away from him, and start removing your clothes, feeling his eyes on you, watching your every move.

As you begin to undress in front of him, the air in the room seems to grow thicker, charged with anticipation. His smile only grows wider, his gaze becoming more and more intense with each piece of clothing you take off. He gives you a sign with his finger to make you understand that you have to do a spin around yourself to make him understand your entire naked body. You hesitate for a moment, feeling incredibly exposed, but his gaze is so intense it feels like you can't refuse. You spin around, slowly, feeling his eyes on every part of your body, burning into you and searing into your mind. You can feel his gaze like a physical touch, and you shiver, unable to control the way your body responds to him.

He leans back in his chair, taking in the view, his hand rubbing his chin as he looks at you. You feel vulnerable, but there's also something strangely liberating about it, as if you're allowing him to see a part of you that no one else has ever seen.

Berlin waves you over and slaps his right thigh to let you know he wants you to sit on him. "sit on my right thigh" he orders you. You approach him, your legs feeling shaky and your body on edge. Slowly, you sit down on his right thigh. His leg is firm beneath you, and the feeling of being this close to him is overwhelming. You can feel his body heat radiating against yours, can smell his cologne, a subtle but intoxicating scent that seems to invade your senses.

He smirks and squeezes your ass before letting out a satisfied hum. “Ride my thigh like a good girl,” he orders, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. The words ignite something inside you, a mix of embarrassment and desire. You shift, moving on his thigh as he instructed, feeling the friction of your body against his. He leans back in his chair, his hands on the armrests on either side of you, and watches you with an amused, self-satisfied expression.

"That's it," he purrs, his words a low rumble in his throat. "You're a fast learner, aren't you?" His hands grip the armrests even tighter, a clear sign of his control, of his dominance over you. As you continue to move, his hand slowly slides towards your back, tracing lines on your skin. His touch is both gentle and possessive, sending waves of heat through your body. His leg moves beneath you, providing just enough pressure in all the right places, and you can't help but respond, your movements becoming more involuntary, more desperate.

He leans closer, his lips almost touching your ear, his breath hot against your skin. "Keep going," he urges, his voice low and velvety. "You're doing so well, sweetheart."

You moan looking at him as you place your hands on his body to support yourself as you continue to ride his thigh. The feel of your pussy on his thigh as it repeatedly touches your g-spot makes you moan loudly. “Berlin,” you moan.

The sound of your moan hits Berlin like a wave, fueling his desire even more. He leans closer, his hand moving up to the nape of your neck, holding you steady so he can look at you. His gaze is intense, his eyes locked onto yours, and you can practically feel the heat coming off him.

"Say it again," he commands, his voice a low growl. He wants to hear you say his name again, he wants to hear how he makes you feel. You repeat his name, the syllables a strangled sound that escapes you with each movement. "Berlin," you moan again, and it's a sound he can't get enough of. His hand tightens on your neck, his touch possessive and demanding. "Louder," he demands, his voice now more hoarse, more strained. He's losing control, but he still needs to hear you say his name.

You moan feeling his hand on your neck and ride his thigh faster. “Berlin” you moan looking at him longingly. His name on your lips, combined with the feel of you riding his thigh, drives him insane. He's losing his carefully crafted control, and you can see the effect it has on him. His grip on your neck tightens, grounding him but also expressing his dominance. He looks at you, his gaze clouded with hunger and need. "You're mine," he growls, his voice possessive and authoritative. "Say it."

You moan feeling close "fuck, I'm all yours" you moan desperately and Berlin slaps you on the ass, growling satisfied and moving his leg under you quickly. The stinging pain from his slap mixes with the pleasure building between your legs, driving you closer and closer to the edge. You moan louder, the sound filling the room, and Berlin responds eagerly, his leg moving even faster, adding more pressure for you core. His hand moves again, running down your back, resting on your waist. He squeezes lightly, guiding your movements. "You're so close," he says, his voice gruff. "I can feel it. Come for me, honey."

The words are commanding, but they're also something more. They're a plea, a demand, and an acknowledgment of the power you have over him. He needs to see you fall apart, he wants it, and he's going to get it.

You moan and hide your head in his chest as you breathe heavily, you wet his entire thigh with your cum and Berlin smiled as he caressed your ass. "What a good girl".

He feels the wetness spread across his thigh, and that only adds to the satisfaction he feels. He continues to caress you, his touch tender but still possessive. “Well done,” he whispers, his voice a mix of praise and pride. He likes this, the way you respond to him, the way you surrender.

Berlin uses his free hand to lift your chin, forcing you to look at him again. The intensity in his eyes increased. He smiles and caresses your cheek, knowing full well that he has you in his grasp. He runs his hands over your body, his touch both possessive and tender. "You belong to me now," he says, his voice low and soft. "You're mine, do you understand that?"

His hands grip your waist, as if trying to anchor you to him, to make sure you're not going anywhere. The intensity of his gaze, his possessive touch, mixed with the occasional tenderness, it's a combination that's hard to resist. You nod obediently and hide your face in the crook of his neck.

He's satisfied with your compliance, and his tone softens a bit. "Good," he murmurs, his hand moving up to your hair, running his fingers gently through it. "You're learning quickly."

Berlin leans back a bit, allowing you to nestle into him, his body providing a solid, supportive presence.

The atmosphere in the room has shifted, the tension giving way to something more intimate, something more vulnerable now that you've given in to him.

[jessiexflem]

– not so friendly | jessie fleming x reader

content: light cursing, overprotective reader

word count: 1.1K

“You okay?” Sam holds a hand out to help you up. You nod, grabbing her hand and pushing yourself off of the ground. You had been fouled for the umpteenth time, your ankles getting clipped from behind as you dribbled the ball on a breakaway. 

Back on your feet, you brush the turf beads off of your legs before jogging over to your spot for the free kick. It was the second of two friendlies this international break, and tired legs were leading to a chippier game this go-around. You were starting to feel like you spent more time on the ground than on the ball, and your frustration was building at the lack of cards shown. 

Lindsey stands over the ball as she waits for the referee’s whistle. She sends a cross into the box, the ball bouncing off of multiple heads before falling at your feet. Seeing a defender out of the corner of your eye, you attempt to lay off a quick one-touch shot – which goes straight into the keeper’s gloves. You shake your head and groan, knowing that you should’ve found the back of the net.

“Is that all you got, Y/L/N?” your opposing mark jeers as you jog past. You ignore the younger girl, who had been chirping at you most of the game. You normally kept a level-head when it came to trash talk, your opponents finding it difficult to get under your skin.

“You could use your girlfriend’s little drone next time to see how we defend set pieces, but it probably wouldn’t help your shitty finishing anyway,” she continues. 

You stop in your tracks, heat rising up your face. “What the fuck did you just say to me?” you turn around, trying to keep composure. 

“I said, even with your spying, cheating girlfriend, you’re still a terrible ass player!”

Your heart starts pounding, and your ears begin to ring. Your breathing quickened, your chest tightening. You could feel the veins in your neck popping out. Stomping toward the opposing player, you repeatedly clench and unclench your fists at your sides.

“Who the hell do you think you are talking about her like that?” you shout, getting into her face. You were absolutely seeing red at this point. “You have no fucking right to speak about Jessie that way.” 

You could see the girl’s mouth moving, but couldn’t hear anything she was saying. You felt an arm wrap around your shoulders, pulling you away from your opponent and snapping you out of your daze.

“Y/N, let it go, it’s not worth it,” Sam steers you away from the group that had formed around you, Lindsey and the opponent’s captain attempting to get their players back in order. You nod at your teammate, knowing you wouldn’t be able to. You didn’t care what anyone said about yourself, but bringing Jessie into it was too far. You tried to shake off her comments, but a few bad touches later found you on the bench in the 74th minute. The game ended in a 1-0 win for the United States, and you went straight into the locker room after your obligatory pleasantries with the other team, having no desire to entertain anyone else.

A few days later, in the Portland locker room, you’re bombarded with questions about the game from your club teammates.

“Y/N, what’d she say to you? I’ve never seen you react like that,” Morgan asks.

You shake your head, giving her the same answer you gave Jessie when you had gotten home, “Nothing, she was just chirping shit all game, and I was tired of it.”

“Oh, come on,” Mackenzie nudges you with her cleat, “She had to have said something insane.”

“It was nothing, not a big deal,” you shrug, hoping your teammates drop the subject. You get up from your cubby and head to the trainer’s room to get your ankle taped.

Once you’re out of the room, the entire team turns toward Sam and Sophia, who both had their mouths closed in a tight line.

“Okay, spill, what the hell happened?” Morgan probes.

Sam and Sophia share a look, the former shrugging before turning to the group. 

“So, it was after a free kick, I’m running back toward half, and Y/N’s in front of me, right?” Sam begins to relay the story.

Jessie listens intently, face dropping when Sam reveals what caused her girlfriend to lose composure. 

“No, literally, I was on the opposite side of the pitch, and when I saw Y/N approach her, I was like ‘holy shit, what is happening?’. I thought she was going to punch her,” Sophia shares.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been more scared of her,” Sam chuckles, shaking her head.

After training, you and Jessie find yourselves on the couch, you laying with your head in your girlfriend’s lap. Jessie glances down at you, biting her lip.

“Sam and Soph told us what happened.”

“Oh,” was all you could get out. You weren’t planning on telling Jessie what was said during the game, not because you were embarrassed or wanted to hide it, but because you knew how much of a toll the Olympic scandal had taken on her. 

“You didn’t have to do that, babe.”

You shift yourself to a seated position, “Jess, she was saying horrible stuff about you, I couldn’t let her think that was okay.” 

“Y/N,” Jessie places her hand on yours, “I appreciate you, and I love you more than you know. I just don’t want you to get in a scuffle, or carded, or whatever because of someone else thinking they should speak about something they don’t understand.”

You stare down at your lap, embarrassed. Morgan was right. You had never reacted that way to anything before, and you’re realizing how childish you probably looked. It was a friendly, nothing to play for except pride, and you blew up in front of 50,000 people. 

Jessie gives your hand a squeeze, drawing your attention back to her. 

“Are you mad at me?” you sigh, unable to look her in the eye.

“No, of course not,” your girlfriend shakes her head, “I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I’m sorry,” you whisper.

Jessie lifts your chin up with a finger, forcing you to look up at her, “Don’t be sorry, love. I know you meant well in trying to defend me.”

You give her a meek smile, “I don’t know what happened, Jess, she wouldn’t stop talking about you, and I saw red. I didn’t mean to go nuclear, it just happened.”

“I know, but no more, okay? Promise?” Jessie holds her pinky out.

“You’re ridiculous,” you roll your eyes despite locking pinkies with her, “I love you.”

“I love you, too, even when you do go nuclear,” your girlfriend gives you a cheeky grin, “I will say, though, you were pretty hot when you were mad.” 

“Yeah? But you don’t want me to get in any more fights, right?” you tease, “Or, have we found something new that you’re into?”

“And I’m supposed to be the ridiculous one?”

[exquisink]

sweeter uncertainty.

cw: cult leader!geto, oral (m! receiving), domestic stuff, yandere geto, non-sorcerer fem!reader

summary: Suguru Geto is an anomaly—an anomaly you haven’t quite figured out yet, and maybe never will.

wc: ~1.8K

Suguru Geto is an anomaly.

His justifications for his actions don’t line up, but perhaps it’s not meant to make sense for someone who’s come from a smaller world than his, from a smaller, simpler world where there is no room to ponder over such complexities.

Everything he ever does with you is to keep you in line, to keep you from acting out or to keep you from doing anything you might regret. When you try to put things into perspective, you want to believe that being in his care isn’t as bad as he could make it for you. Only you can’t go as far as to call any of what he does kind or generous–even if he insists that it is, because why is he sparing you, someone who goes against everything he’s working so hard to erase?

Suguru Geto is an anomaly. An amalgamation of complexities, conundrums, and a certain brand of casual cruelty that’s unique to him. You don’t know what about you has drawn him in like a moth to a flame before catching itself on fire, or perhaps like a bee to honey like it’s won the jackpot? Has he seen something in you worth harnessing, worth foraging? Or are you something to be kept to himself, to hoard selfishly from the rest of the world because he feels entitled to whatever you have to offer? You still haven’t figured it out. You don’t understand, and maybe you never will.

The warm glow of the evening sun leaks through the window of the bedroom, where you remain bare beneath the silk sheets, mindlessly flipping through one of the magazines tossed carelessly on Geto’s nightstand. One of those bogus Cosmopolitan magazines he’s caught Nanako reading on multiple occasions.

“She’s just too young for that stuff,” he mutters to you, “She should hang onto whatever youth she has left and not worry about attracting boys her age with their monkey brains.”

You can’t help but agree, but you also can’t blame Nanako for allowing her curiosity to get the best of her. She’s well around that stage in her teens, but Geto’s a young adoptive father and utterly mortified by the kind of language she spews and the kinds of questions she’s asked him upon reading such foul magazines.

You hear some shuffling behind the door, and your head snaps in its direction. The doorknob twists, and into the room he strides after a trying day with a lot of those idiot clients of his he liked to bitch and moan to you about. (You can’t care less, but you listen anyway, because what better things do you have to do around here other than being his pretty trophy?)

A smile graces his worn features. You have noticed his neglect of himself. Deep-seated eye bags that are so huge that you’re surprised no one’s ever commented on them. (No one ever dares.) Open, gaping pores on his otherwise flawless skin that often left you feeling envious. Dryness around the nose and cheeks. His skin is a little blotchy from some redness.

Heh. You almost want to pity the idiot, but you can’t find it in your heart to do so because he doesn’t deserve your grace.

“Didn’t miss me too much?” he teases as he slips into bed with you after kicking off his sandals and socks, and loosening his yukata, sighing as he rests his head on your lap.

Hardly at all, you sneer in your mind while swallowing the bitter feelings that threaten to bubble forth in your response. You hold your tongue. You know better than to show any insolence anymore. A part of you no longer desires to argue or to fight back when it’s a losing game for you each time.

Instead you rake your fingers through his silky black locks, admiring the shiny sleek finish in spite of his overall negligence. He comes here seeking respite from his responsibilities. You have no choice but to play his game; that’s fine. You have accepted that he is not as cruel as he could be with you, but that doesn’t mean it’s true kindness, true purity of his heart.

“Suguru,” you murmur in a silken, syrupy tone that nearly rivals his when he requests something impossible of you. “You look ill. Have you even been eating?”

“No,” he admits, breathing out through his nose. “I haven’t.”

“You should take better care of yourself, Suguru,” you sigh, but you are not here to chide him like he’s your child, except in this instance this is exactly what he wants–moments where he doesn’t have to lead or to parent or to be himself. Even absolute terrorists need to turn their brains off which you find difficult to wrap your head around. Your finger pads continue to scratch lightly along his scalp, lulling him into a period where he can disengage his defenses. Drop the mask. He really is not who he says he is, and he really is not what he’s built his entire foundation on, either, isn’t he?

You rest the palm of your hand against his cheek, and he leans into your touch, kissing the heel of your palm. You fight back a wince, cursing to yourself. This man, this man capable of so much atrocities, seems so vulnerable that you are almost in awe that no one has exploited this side to him. Then again, he secures his pride and ego so much that you doubt anyone else has ever seen this side to him except perhaps his twin girls.

And you doubt they even saw this side to him all that much.

“Do you want to join me in the shower?” you propose, brushing your thumb along his lips. He hums as he considers your offer, but you know he never outright refuses. He doesn’t seem like he has the energy to argue tonight, either, which is a rarity from someone like him.

“If you let me bathe you,” he negotiates as the corner of his lips twitch into a little half-hearted smirk. He’s trying to find his energy again. You kind of want to kick him while he’s still down but you know that won’t bode well in the future for you.

“Whatever you want,” you concede, and he reluctantly lifts himself up from your lap, removing the covers and scooping you into his arms. You yelp a bit, and he chuckles to himself as he carries you to the restroom.

He disrobes before hauling you into the shower with him once the water finishes preheating. Muscular arms cage you against the stone tile as desperate lips find yours, tongue rolling along your teeth. Your hands rest against his hips, balancing yourself.

Your kiss breaks but his tongue lingers entwining with yours before he drags it down the column of your neck, along your collarbone, between your breasts…

And his mouth latches onto one, wet muscle laving along your bud and your breath catches in your throat.

“Fuck,” you hiss, and he purrs in response. The hardness of his fat, veiny cock brushes against your stomach and you dig your knee into him, smirking when he’s caught off guard, sharply inhaling.

Your hand replaces the knee rubbing into the skin, fingertips scratching along his shaft the way you do his scalp with the same loving, close attention. Whatever sells the idea to him—you have surrendered, in a state of acceptance, sheer indifference to the man caving above you. He groans, eyebrows scrunching and you relish in this small moment where you do possess some power over him.

Because he does quiver beneath your touch, starves for your approval in spite of what he may say to your face.

“I adore you,” he murmurs between your breasts, peppering heated kisses along the skin, reverent, bewitched by you, and yes, he may have deluded himself into thinking every action of his is an act of devotion to you.

But you don’t, won’t, and can’t trust him.

Your hand grasps the base of his cock and his eyes nearly bulge as he chokes on a desperate gasp, resting his head between your breasts to ground himself. Steam from the water beating down your bodies begins to fog the space around the two of you, but now you kneel.

You let him believe whatever he desires. It has worked better for you this way. You kiss the tip of his cock, leaking, swollen and needy, like the rest of him and he growls, bony hand clutching onto the back of your skull as you inch some of his cock into the velvety walls of your mouth.

That’s a mistake. Because from above you hear him utter a feral snarl before jerking his hips so he can bully his cock deeper into your mouth, hitting your throat—

—you don’t get a chance to react, he doesn’t give you a chance to, when he’s fucking himself so deep in your mouth, and all of your groans are pacified by his girth.

You’re impressed you don’t slip or lose your balance, when he bucks into you a final time, holding your head in place as stringy streams of seed shoot down your throat.

You don’t need him to command you—you swallow all of his load, audibly, and he smirks down at you in approval, affection shining in deep indigo eyes. Your face is flushed, and he eases you off of his length, a line of spit still connecting your lips to the tip of his cock which you break with a swipe of your tongue. He cups your face as he helps you to your feet, thumbs brushing along your cheeks.

“My perfect girl,” he gushes, and you say nothing, as the water rushes down your bodies.

“What happened to bathing me?” you quip, eyes half mast. Geto laughs at that, reaching over your shoulder for your shampoo bottle.

“I haven’t forgotten,” he states as he begins to emulsify the formula between his hands before pampering you.

Once you get out of the shower, you massage lotion into his skin once you’ve both dried yourselves off, murmuring something about how he should take some time to restore himself before tossing himself so carelessly into work.

You swipe a bit of eye cream along his eye bags.

“It’d be wise to take better care of yourself, Suguru,” you state, pecking his lips. “It’s not a good look for a leader if he can’t show up at his best for his subjects.”

Chuckling, Geto brings your hands to his lips, pressing soft kisses along each of your knuckles.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he vows, “I love you, little dove.”

You, once again, say nothing, but he takes your silence as a response, pressing a kiss to your temple as you both slink back to bed.

Suguru Geto is an anomaly.

An anomaly you don’t care enough to compartmentalize and dissect in a thorough examination thinking you might crack something, because there is no true depth in him.

Only a kind of emptiness that he’s cursed to be burdened with, and he’s taken you along for the ride.

[ashtavula]

OMGOMGOMG COULD I ALSO REQUEST THE REST OF DIASOMNIA WITH THE ACCIDENTAL LOVE LETTERS?!?!!

I LOVE YOUR WORK AHDJBAJSNFF

aaaaa thank you!!!

Sebek, Silver, and Lilia accidentally receive your love letter

Sebek:

-The two of you had been studying together. Well, more like Sebek had been fussing at you while you struggled to understand the complex theorems in front of you. You end up having to leave in a rush, and your love letter ends up fluttering to the floor. Sebek tries to tell you that you dropped something, but you leave without paying attention to his words. He picks it up, and his eyes go wide when he realizes what's been written.

-Sebek sputters as he reads, and his cheeks turn pink. He'd been trying to ignore his feelings for you, but your letter makes his heart pound in his chest. Sebek is consumed by the desire to go to you, to tell you that he loves you more than anything. And before he can think to try and stop himself, he's already shoved his things into his bag and is tearing off after you, still holding your letter.

-When he finds you some time later, he immediately grabs your hands and pulls you close. Sebek, in all of his usual enthusiasm, loudly declares that he accepts your feelings. He goes on to vow that he will be a devoted husband to you, and that his adoration for you will never wane. As usual, he's going too far, but that's just one of the many things you love about him.

Silver:

-Silver was confused when he woke up to find a letter sitting on his chest, delivered by one of his avian friends. He rubs his eyes, yawning as he opens the folded paper. The lingering drowsiness quickly leaves him once the contents of your letter are revealed to him.

-You...you love him. Silver has a hard time coming to terms with that. He loves you too, but he's not sure if he'll be able to give you the sort of life you deserve. Silver isn't oblivious. He knows that his condition is difficult and frustrating. He also knows how most people see him. It takes a few long minutes, but Silver eventually decides that there's no harm in at least trying.

-A week later, a letter arrives for you, telling you to go to the botanical gardens after sunset. When you arrive, you find Silver. He appears almost ethereal in the moonlight, holding a bouquet of flowers for you. The two of you wander through the garden, and Silver points out all of the flowers that only bloom at night. He shows you just how beautiful things can be in the quiet of the dark. At the end of the path, surrounded by the sweet scent of the flowers, Silver gets down on one knee, and he confesses to you. He tells you that he can't promise much, but he can promise to love you, no matter what.

Lilia:

-He tilts his head to the side as one of his little bats comes flying towards him with some paper clutched in it's claws. Once Lilia receives it, he's quick to note that the page is covered with your handwriting. And it doesn't take more than a few words for him to realize exactly what kind of letter you've written for him.

-Lilia's lips spread into a sly smile as he reads, little giggles escaping him. He's happy, but also rather amused by the novelty of actually having a love letter addressed to him. It reminds him that even he can be surprised every now and then. And since you're being so sweet to him, he decides that it's only fair to return the favor.

-Since you sent him an old-fashioned love letter, he's going to show you some old-fashioned fae courtship. He surprises you by arriving at Ramshackle one evening, bearing a container of homemade food and his bass guitar. Once you've been given the food, Lilia clears his throat, and starts strumming on his guitar. He's written you a love song. The lyrics are lovely, even if he does take a few...liberties with the vocals. And once you accept his somewhat odd courting, he'll give you one more gift. A sweet kiss, right there on your front porch.

[callistoscope]

soaring ahead

Summary: Harvey deserves some extra loving, and you’re more than happy to voice that opinion. In multiple ways.

Pairing: Sub!Harvey x Soft Dom!Reader

Word Count: 2.0k.

Warnings: explicit sexual act/smut! more specifically, harvey gets a bj!

a/n: this doesn’t really have hard sub/dom undertones lol, reader is a verrryyyy soft dom, but it’s really important to me that it’s made clear! Harvey’s the biggest sub in the world in anything I write!

——

It isn't about control. This is not about making him vulnerable in your hands, for the sole sake of satisfying your own whims— but it's getting embarrassingly close the farther you get into this.

Harvey is a gentleman, with not a single bone in his body dedicated only to his own pleasure, and he will remain that way for the rest of his life likely. In some minute way that sprawls out through all of his actions, all his shy but endlessly loving glances. He's selfless with devotion.

Here, Harvey is still wholly himself, every bit of the soft man you love. Not that you'd expected differently. His brown eyes faltering, but still steadfast in their approach to meet yours as he continues to whisper if you're really sure about this— right as you drop to your knees in front of the bed.

It's taken a lot of reassurances to get even this far. Harvey, in his unyielding consideration of your feelings, can never quite bypass his need to assuage any pressure he frets over putting you under. He'd even tried to insist you both lay down on the bed, so you don't hurt your knees from being on the floor.

You still aren't sure if you've ever seen him turn redder than when you'd insisted you prefer it— this way, I get to see your face more clearly, you'd told him maybe too honestly.

Despite stating the reason for your preference, Harvey is still shying away, torn between looking at you in admiration and averting his eyes in mortification. It's cute, to see him flounder between either option, hesitantly holding his first to his mouth. He seems to decide on closing his eyes, fist trembling with the effort it took to not fully cover his face. Trying earnestly to please you without completely forfeiting his desire to hide. He squirms a little when your hand makes contact, wrapping carefully around his dick.

"Hey," you start, voice low but soft. Plush like a warm blanket, knit with thick yarn, "... Can you look at me?" One of your hands goes to rest on his bare knee, right where it bends, thumb rubbing where you can feel the faint indents of his bone.

You can see his shut eyes scrunch closed a bit tighter for a moment, whining quietly when your other hand moves a little as well, stroking his dick in a slow and smooth motion. You'd already gotten his pants and underwear down, were already well on the cusp of giving him the attention he deserved. You trail your thumb up towards the underside of his tip in a misshapen circle. This makes Harvey's eyes fly open with a start, an exhale sharply bursting from his lungs. He still presses his hand to his mouth, the fingers curled into his palms digging in particularly hard when you carefully lick up from hilt to the very top.

His hand flexes, another little noise regretfully getting muffled into it. He blinks wildly, and it shakes you then how disheveled he looks, hair mussed from your hands, face flushed scarlet. The thin sheen of sweat adds a shine to him, but where Harvey truly becomes striking is at his eyes.

It's not unusual to catch him looking at you as if you were a miracle, as if that's the only way he could comprehend a person like you coming into his life.

It's not a look you didn't expect, but there's a rawness now that you've only seen a handful of times. When all the attention's on Harvey, when he allows it to soak into his heart instead of gently ushering you back into the loving spotlight along with him. It's not that he only ever tended to you— he seemed to like it plenty when you were in the lead, guiding you both, gently guiding him where to go. Lavishing him with praise that got him all but melting under you, but he rarely let you take care of just him much farther than that. Not for more than a few moments.

The warmth in his brown eyes causes you to raise your hand, the one that had been on his knee, stretching it until it comes into contact with his cheek. You have to strain your arm like this, but you hardly care, especially when he readily leans into it, effectively abandoning his wrist. You press a kiss right to his tip, getting to feel him inhale shakily against your palm, nuzzling your hand in another attempt to hide.

"... You're so pretty." You barely have a chance to ruminate on the thought before it slips out of your mouth, Harvey's eyes rapidly focusing back on you. His hand and your own partially disfigure the look you get at his face, but the warm light of the lamp shows the red color settling on him nicely. "... I love you so much, sweetheart. You know that?"

Harvey seems to want to answer, his lips parting only to close with an unabashed moan as you settle your mouth down, taking him halfway and carefully keeping your teeth from grazing him. It seems to hit him all at once, whimpering as you look up at him, his hand that had been at his mouth, interestingly enough, rushing for the one on his cheek.

He takes it into his right hand, pressing a sweetly chaste kiss to your knuckles before lowering it to his upper thigh, away from where you were settled. His fingers twine with yours, holding it in a way that felt all too pure. He's looking at you with stars in his eyes, like your own have galaxies and more. You have a sneaking suspicion he knew you were straining your arm.

"... I love you, too." Harvey whispers in a wavering voice, body trembling when you push yourself farther down. You twirl your tongue around the head of his dick, and you can feel him fight the reflex to buck up from his next shiver, the next sound that escapes him sharp, head falling back for a quick moment before he's leaning back forward to look down at you. You suck and he almost repeats the motion, his free hand reaching to tenderly press some of your hair back.

You back off for what might look like a breather on Harvey's part, but it's only really because you want to talk. You shift on the floor, knees starting to ache. "Do you know that I love you?" You say gently, voice a little more hoarse than you'd expected. He hadn't answered your question.

That makes him glance down bashfully, which only seems to make his embarrassment worse since he mostly gets a reminder of what exactly's going on below the metaphorical belt. "O-Of course." He breathes shallowly, seeming to have needed the breather more than you.

"Of course... I wouldn't doubt you." Harvey says softly.

It's not that you don't trust him, but you know him. The doubts that are always riding his coattails, coasting along no matter how adoringly you touch him, no matter how much you praise him. You could give him the world on a sliver platter, kiss every atom of his body, and he'd still struggle to accept it. You want him to know it, down to his bones. For your love to be the airplane he can trust to see in the sky, through the radio, a certainty he can glimpse even in the clouds.

"Can you say it a few times for me?" You ask, swallowing as you gaze up at him determinedly. One hand continues to stroke his cock languidly, the other squeezing the hand he's holding. "Say that I love you."

Harvey blinks, looking a little uncertain. He shudders faintly regardless, sensitive to every touch. "You... love me?" He echoes doubtfully, as if not sure that's quite what you meant him to say, only to gasp when you take his dick back into your mouth, bobbling steadily. You nod as best as you can, which you're sure looks a bit silly, but Harvey doesn't seem to be focusing too much on how silly anything might be, thankfully.

In any case, he seems to be getting it, eyes widening in understanding. He whimpers again, maybe also because he understands. You can't remind him when you're like this, so you're pushing him to remind himself.

"... You love me." His voice shakes, but there's something imbedded in it that warms you. His face is twisting faintly with emotion, eyebrows scrunching when your free hand strokes at his base as you slide your mouth further down. Harvey's grip on your hand tightens, his breaths coming out quick, every other one a bit whiney. He's shaking.

"...Y-You—" His sentence is thoroughly chopped in half when you keep going, fighting your gag reflex as you aim for getting Harvey as deep as he can go. "— God, y-you love me. I love you. So— So much."

You roll the flat of your tongue against the very tip, light and cautious. Harvey's body goes tense before abruptly twitching.

"Honey..." He gets out, brown eyes fluttering shut, "H-Honey, I'm not gonna... I'm not..." He trails off with another noise, breathy and a touch desperate.

Embarrassment creases a few lines into his forehead from his own implication. You squeeze his hand this time, thumb moving to stroke the skin of his own. You're looking up at him again, the way his eyes soften impossibly for you. You can't really nod now, but you try to tell him when your eyes: It's okay. He flinches, endearingly sensitive.

You breathe through your nose, relaxing your throat before you go for the next inch. You don't think you quite succeed, but Harvey seems to think you have regardless. He's holding your hand like a lifeline. The hand in your hair retreats, going back to grasp the sheets with a grip that would have been painful. Your heart flutters with love as much as lust, doubling your efforts.

Harvey's whole body trembles, and you're focusing a bit too much on swallowing to fully appreciate how he sounds, high pitched and shuddering. Even still, it echoes loud in your subconscious mind.

When his body loosens, his hold on your hand loosening but firm enough to portray how little he yearned for its absence, you pull away with a sharp inhale, breathing a bit deeply. Harvey had moved his hand behind him to keep himself propped up, and you can tell it's taking some energy for him to not fall back-first on the bed in midst his bliss, but you can feel his concern reignite.

You leap up on sore knees before he can say anything, arms finding his back and tugging him forward tightly. His face ends up finding the crook of your neck as sinks into you like a ship consumed by the sea, nuzzling into your warmth and hugging you back as if you've been separated for years.

"I love you," you murmur, stroking his back, "I love you, I love you." It's as if you're making up for lost time, saying the words for when you couldn't. That makes him pull away, and you're quick to cup his cheeks, eyes looking meaningfully into his own as you rest your forehead against his. "I love you." Your voice wavers, caught up in a tide of affection that ebbs higher the more you look at him.

Harvey smiles brilliantly, a bashful tinge to it, as if he's still questioning his right to such joy and fortune. He leans until your noses brush in a featherlight touch, needing to touch you however he can. "I... I love you, too." He's still breathless, words a little too hushed, but his eyes glimmer a little from his own emotions. A deep brown that still somehow shines like the sun as they start to glisten with tears.

You pull him back into a hug. His chin rests on your shoulder, a content filling him as he relishes in the feeling of floating— the one time being so high up in the sky doesn’t feel so terrifying.

[lustnhim]

‘ corruption. ‘ — elvis x fem! reader

note: requested + dead-dove(ish) / warnings: big age gap (18 + 35) corruption kink, innocence kink, size kink, naive reader + demanding elvis, elvis has been lusting over you for a while, pervert elvis, elvis is a family friend, goes from gentle to rough pretty quick, p in v sex, no protection, fingering, oral m-receiving, loss of virginity, bleeding, prop typos/spelling mistakes. / summary: elvis offers to ‘babysit’ while your parents go off on vacation, when the two of you are left alone– he wants to see just how much you know and how much he has to teach you.

A staring problem. That’s what Elvis had. He cursed himself for every glance he took at you, his eyes would wander to your chest, your legs and thighs– he could stare forever at your pretty lil’ face too though. Your eyes were gorgeous, your lips, pouty and your cheeks still a bit chubby. Babyface. He had called you that a few times, when he thought about it too much it made his stomach turn. At your birthday, he watched intently as you leaned over the table, your little blue dress too short to cover your pretty behind. He had sung the last bits of happy birthday through clenched teeth and excused himself to the bathroom while the image was still fresh in his mind and when he was done, he begged God for forgiveness. He had watched you grow up, been around for all your life– what would your daddy do if he knew? If he knew his best friend wanted his daughter more than anything else in this world. Being pulled aside by your father, he thought the worst. He knew his gaze wasn't well hidden-- even though he tried with everything in him. When your father asked him to ‘babysit’ he couldn’t believe his ears. "Me an' the wife are heading down to Florida, just the two of us this weekend. Will you be free..." Elvis' mind blanked. Alone with you. For weeks. Just the two of you. It sounded like heaven— it was to him. He could hardly listen to the rest of what your father said, stuck on the thought of being alone with you. His mind was blank, nodding mindlessly and making small ‘ah’ sounds and saying ‘gotcha’ with every other sentence. This weekend could not come any faster.

Elvis was shaking. When he pulled up to the house he struggled to stay still— his knuckles white from the grip he had on the steering wheel.  He forced himself to take slow, steady breaths as he made his way to the front door, trying to calm his nerves. When you open the door, he felt his heart skip a beat at the sight of you. The cutest little sundress, white with small blue detailing, black knee high socks, one slightly lower than the other. Elvis swallowed hard, trying to keep his eyes from wandering too far. “Oh hi Elvis, mama n’ daddy already left–” You said simply, giving a soft smile to him. “Ah, they ain’t been gone too long have they?” He asked as you scooted out of the way, allowing him inside. His voice was surprisingly calm, he was afraid it would’ve came out hoarse and strained. “No,no bout’ five minutes–” You say, closing the door behind Elvis. “Here, I'll show you your room.” You smile, carelessly taking Elvis’ hand as he sits down his suitcase. Your skin is so soft and warm against his cold and calloused hands. Your fingers intertwine with his, he takes note of how small your hand is. How small you are compared to him. It would be so easy to grab ahold of you, hold you close to his chest as his free hand would wander across your body. He can feel it. The heat. The straining against his pants. He prays you don’t notice. “Here! They moved the guest room– it’s beside mine now.” You let go of his hand once the two of you are upstairs. Elvis watches as you let go of his hand, a sense of loss filling him as your warmth disappears. He clenches his fists, trying to control the overwhelming desire that threatens to consume him. You open the door and walk inside the guest room– your mama had made it all up for him, even leaving some spare clothes in the wardrobe just in case he needs them. Elvis watches as you plop on the bed, your sundress riding up slightly exposing more of your thighs. Elvis clears his throat before speakin, “Thank you, Darlin’...I appreciate it..” He says, this time his voice is shaky. The heat becoming overwhelming. “You’re welcome! I already ate dinner– did you?” You asked, falling back onto the bed and staring at the ceiling, your legs carelessly parting just slightly. Elvis’ breath hitches, the small sliver of baby blue panties just barely visible. Elvis could feel his heart pounding in his chest as he tried to keep his eyes from wandering too far down your legs. He swallowed hard, trying to keep his composure. "No, I ain't ate yet," he replied, his voice strained. "I reckon I could go for a bite though." He forced a smile, hoping you wouldn't notice the way his hands tried to cover himself. You sat up, adjusting your dress as you did so. "Well, there's plenty of leftovers in the fridge if you want some. I could heat it up for you if you'd like." You offered, standing up from the bed. Elvis nodded, his throat feeling tight. "That'd be mighty kind of you, darlin'. I appreciate it." He managed to say, his eyes following you as you walked out of the room. He took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart. This was going to be a long weekend.

Following the next few days, Elvis tried to keep some distance from you, he didn’t know what he would do to you if he didn’t. Innocent, sweet, bubbly– and so eager. He would give anything to be the one to teach you, to teach you how to feel good, how to make him feel good. Only him. There had been a few instances in which you had habitually walked out of the bathroom and into the hallway past his room, only wrapped in a towel and Elvis had to fight everything in him not to stand up from his bed and follow you into your room. The two of you would talk in the morning, every now and then in the evening– and virtually none at night. He was cooped up in his room, and you were cooped up in yours. Elvis could feel the tension building up within him as the days went by. He knew it was only a matter of time before he caved to his desires. The way you moved, the way you talked, the way you looked at him with those big, innocent eyes, it was all too much for him to handle. The night air was heavy with the scent of blooming flowers and the distant sound of crickets. Elvis couldn't sleep. He tossed and turned, his mind racing with thoughts of you. He got up from his bed, unable to stay put any longer. He quietly slipped out of his room and headed towards your bedroom. He didn’t know why he was, his mind was telling him to just go back to his room but his legs just kept moving. You were fast asleep, your soft breathing the only sound in your room. Elvis hesitated for a moment, his hand on the doorknob. He took a deep breath and slowly pushed the door open. The moonlight filtered in through the window, casting a soft glow on your sleeping form. Elvis walked over to your bed, his heart pounding in his chest. He watched as your chest rose and fell gently with each breath. He couldn't resist the urge to touch you. His hand brushed against your hair, tucking a loose strand behind your ear.You stirred slightly, your eyelids fluttering open. You looked up at him, confused, and a bit sleepy. "Elvis? What are you doing here?" He smiled gently, his hands resting gently against your cheek now. “I couldn’t sleep babyface…” Elvis' gaze lingered on your face, his desire for you burning like a wildfire. He wanted nothing more than to crawl over top of you, to have you experience what he so craved. His fingers traced down your jaw, making their way towards your neck. His touch was feather light, sending shivers down your spine. "El-Elvis what are you doin’?" You stammered, rising up in your bed– your mind foggy from sleepiness. “Nothin’ yet, Darlin’...” Elvis' eyes darkened with lust as he leaned in closer, his breath hot against your ear. "But I aim to do plenty," he whispered huskily, his hand drawing small circles on your collarbone, "You're so innocent, so pure...You’re old enough now, somebody’s gotta show ya honey…." Elvis eyes scan your face. Your eyes were so wide and confused you looked like a lost puppy. “I don't..” You started but Elvis shushed you, “Scooch over baby.” He says, taking his hand out of your hair and pushing you over giving him room. 

Elvis watched as you moved, the soft mattress creaking slightly. He crawled over you, his body pressing against yours. “Tell me baby, what do you know about sex..?” He asks rather bluntly, causing a pink blush to spread across your face. “Uhm, I- I know enough.” You could feel his hardness against your thigh, causing you to squirm slightly. Elvis chuckled softly, his hands gripping your hips, keeping you in place. “I doubt that honey…” He replies, his hands tracing along the hem of your nightgown. “I do know enough…why are you even askin’?” You replied huffing and annoyed. Elvis smirked, his fingers inching closer to the hem of your nightgown. "Because I'm 'bout to teach you, darlin'." He said, his voice low and seductive. He could feel your heart racing against his chest, the feeling only fueling his desire. "I'm gonna teach you everything, from the tip of your head to the tips of your toes." His hands slid under your nightgown, his fingers ghosting over your skin, causing goosebumps to rise. Elvis leaned in, his  lips brushing against your ear. "Do you wanna learn, babyface?" He whispered, his breath hot against your skin. He could feel your body tense up, a mixture of fear and excitement coursing through you. He gave you a moment to respond, his fingers continuing their exploration. He bit his lip, waiting for your answer. He wanted nothing more than to take you then and there, to have you experience all the pleasures he'd been craving. But he wanted you to want it too. He wanted this to be something you'd remember, something you'd crave as much as he did. “E-Elvis..I ain’t sposed’ to…” You said, your body shaking. You didn’t know what to do, of course– you’ve never done anything with a boy, let alone a man. “I won’t tell if you won’t.” He replies hastily, the desperation in his voice was overly evident. You hesitated, looking at the man–studying his expression. Pure lust. “Okay…” You said and that was all Elvis needed to hear.  "No runnin' off now, Darlin'." He whispered, leaning in immediately, his lips trailing kisses down your neck. You gasped, arching your back, your head falling back. His lips found your earlobe, nipping and sucking gently. A soft moan escaped your lips, your body responding to his touch. "Elvis...what are you doing?" You whispered, your voice trembling. "I told ya, teachin' you things, sweetheart." Elvis replied, his hand moving gently up your thigh, his fingers sliding across the fabric of your panties. You let out a sharp breath, your eyes widening as he rubbed his thumb against your clit. “Elvis! S-slow down.” You pleaded and felt his fingers move off. “Oh honey..” You cood, his hand moving gently to your chest, groping you gently. 

“Can I pull this down?” He asks, and you nod. Pulling down the top of your nightgown just enough to where both of your breasts pooled out he let out a shaky gasp. “Perfect.” he moaned before bending down to take one in his mouth causing you to gasp. Latching on to your nipple he sucked gently as his hand massaged the other. You looked down at him, your fingers finding their way in his hair. This felt...so strange yet so good. Elvis was in heaven. Your soft skin in his calloused hands as his tongue flicked against your nipple before moving to your other breast– giving it the same treatment. Palming himself through his pajamas you let out a soft whimper as he bit down gently onto you before pulling away. “So fuckin’ soft.” He groans before palming himself through his pants one last time and pulling out his erect cock, pre-cum leaking from the tip. “Gonna show ya somethin’ else babyface. Get tween’ my legs.” He orders, stroking himself lazily. Elvis could’ve died and gone to heaven as he watched you crawl across the bed and lay between his legs, your face right next to his cock. Elvis watched as you hesitantly reached out to touch his cock, your small hand wrapping around him. "That's it, baby. Feel how hard you make me." He encouraged, his hands gripping the sheets beside him. He could feel his heart racing, his breath hitching as you touched him. “Like this?” You asked and Elvis nodded slowly, "Yes baby…Good girl...such a good girl. Can ya put your mouth on it baby?" He whispered, his fingers tangling in your hair . You hesitated for a moment, looking up at him. "Do it, Darlin'." He urged, his voice thick with lust. You opened your mouth, your tongue flicking out to taste the pre-cum coating the tip. Elvis groaned, his hands gripping your hair as you took him in, your lips wrapping around his cock. You sucked gently, your eyes wide as you explored him with your mouth. Elvis could feel his control slipping as you took him deeper, your mouth warm and wet. "Fuck, baby...that's it."  He praised, his hips bucking into your mouth. He was losing it, his body trembling as you continued to suck him. "I'm gonna cum, Darlin'." He warned, his fingers tangling in your hair. He exploded, his hot cum filling your mouth, the taste overpowering. You pulled away, swallowing the last of his cum before looking up at him. "That's a good girl." He praised his hand, smoothing your hair as he caught his breath. "Here honey," he said, tucking himself away for the time being and moving closer to you.

His hands raising to remove the rest of your nightgown. Looking down at you in just your panties Elvis could hardly wait. Sliding two fingers into the sides of your panties he pulled them down and watched as you shyly closed your legs. “Now now baby.. Keep em’ open.” He said, opening them and admiring you. So perfect… he could see the wetness pooling from your core.  "You're so wet for me, baby." He said, his voice heavy with lust. "I'm gonna show you how good it feels to be touched, how good it feels to be wanted." He slid one finger into you causing you to immediately gasp. His fingers were much bigger than yours, not that it ever mattered– you hardly touched yourself anyways. Stretching you open, you cried out, your hips bucking against his hand. "Fuck, you're tight." Elvis groaned, his other hand moving up to knee to make sure your legs stayed spread. Elvi slipped in another finger, curling them up inside of you, a moan escaping your lips. Elvis giggled and began pumping his fingers in and out of you, stretching you open as sick wet sounds filled the room.You could feel a buildup in your stomach, your walls clenching around his digits. Elvis was about to cum in his pants. The sight of you so overwhelmed just by his fingers was too much. "Cum for me, baby," Elvis growled, his words sending shivers down your spine. He felt your body tense, your walls squeezing his fingers as you came. He smirked, pulling his fingers out of you, coating them in your juices. He brought his fingers to your mouth, "Taste yourself, Darlin'." He said, watching as you licked his fingers clean. The sight a dirty contrast, your soft pink lips sucking eagerly at his calloused wet fingers. 

Pulling out his fingers from your mouth with a soft pop he positioned himself above you. "Now baby, m’ gonna need you to relax." Elvis said, straddling your legs. He positioned himself at your entrance, his eyes never leaving yours. "Ready, baby?" He asked, his voice thick with desire. “Please go easy…: You begged and he nodded, rubbing his swollen tip against your slit. “I will baby, I promise…” He said, as pushed inside of you, your walls stretching to accommodate him. You cried out, your back arching. He waited for a moment, letting you adjust to his size. "That's it, take all of me, baby." He encouraged, pulling out slightly and pushing back in. You gasped, your hands gripping his shoulders. Elvis started to move, his thrusts slow at first but picking up speed. "Fuck, you feel so good, baby." He grunted, his hips struggling to keep this slow pace.  Elvis felt himself getting lost. He wanted you so badly, and this slow, tantalizing pace was killing him. Gripping your hips roughly he pushed you down onto him, his cock splitting you in an instant. “Elvis!” You yelped, feeling a sharp pain rip through your body. . He leaned down, kissing on your neck as he moved one hand down to between your legs, rubbing gently on your clit. “I’m sa’ sorry baby…I- I can’t help it.” He apologized, as he began moving rapidly. Each thrust causing a loud whimper to escape your mouth. The pain was evident but pleasure soon replaced it as his fingers worked expertly onto your nub.  "I'm gonna cum, baby," he warned, his thrusts becoming more erratic. "Cum with me." He urged, his pace increasing. You let out a soft moan, your body trembling as you came, your walls clenching around him. That was all it took for Elvis, he let out a loud groan, his body tensing up as he filled you with his cum. He collapsed onto you, his heart racing as he caught his breath. He could feel your heart beating against his chest, the sound of your heavy breathing the only noise in the room. Elvis pulled out, his cock leaving you feeling empty. Dribbles of cum and a bit of blood oozing out of you,, “Oh honey…” He whispers, running his hand gently across your slit as if to soothe the pain. “Didn’t know any better…” He said, pulling you close to him, kissing gently on your forehead. Elvis was feeling rather satisfied with himself…he had been your first. He had done it.

He had corrupted you.

i promise the next fics will be better i jus gotta get back into it 😓 hope y’all enjoyed nonetheless!

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