#My fingers are very agile

[zanibutch]

Get yourself a boyfriend who plays music all day and rarely wears a shirt 🤍

[tonycries]

SLAM DUNK - G.S.

Synopsis. Gojo Satoru - campus boyfriend, MVP of the basketball team - can score a slam dunk but he can’t score you?! So what could go wrong when he asks you for pointers…in the bedroom?

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem!reader, D1 basketball player!Gojo, college AU, friends-to-Iovers, PINING Gojo, kinda romcom, popular!Gojo, spin the bottIe, kíssing for “practice”, first times (Gojo’s), handj’s, semi-pubIic (locker room), fíngering, he comes back for more, oraI (fem rec.), PÚSSYDRÚNK Gojo, running from it, spítting, p talking, chokíng, matíng presses, manhandIing, he’s tall, Gojo with a big D, making it fit, talking you through it, tummy buIges, p sIapping, rough s, breaking the bed, creampíes, slight cúmplay, confessions, happy ending, pet names, swéaring.

Word count. 13.3k

A/N. *throws loverboy Gojo at you and runs*

“Let’s play spin the bottle!”

There wasn’t much room for rational say. Not when Shoko was already pushing an empty beer bottle into your hands, Haibara practically vibrating with excitement as he shuts the door to the raging party outside.

Okay, maybe it wasn’t the most sophisticated of games - but what else could you expect from one of Geto and Gojo’s infamous house parties?

“Fine—” You’re smiling, to the slurred cheers of your messy lil’ circle of friends. “But if I get you, Sho, you better watch out.”

She puckers up dramatically, “I’m looking forward to it- that is, if someone doesn’t kiIl me fir-” 

“Shut up, bob cut.” Ah, the star of the show cuts her off hastily, a drunken flush creeping down his neck. You’re raising a brow at the impatience - but when Gojo Satoru speaks, everyone listens. Everyone waits as the bottle in the middle spins.

And spins.

And spins. 

And stops-

Geto is the first to crack a grin, “Oh, Satoru~”

“Oh.”

Notorious chatterbox, mean loudmouth, and the student that had oh-so-famously gotten detention for probing into Professor Gakuganji’s sex life - but that was all Gojo had to say right now?

With a slight huff of laughter, you’re staring down the amber bottleneck- aimed directly opposite you, towards where your friend was sprawled across the carpet like he owned it. 

Which was, honestly, how you’d always known Gojo. 

Whether it was on the basketball court or accosting you on the very first day of orientation, there was a reason every student on campus knew his name. Knew his number. Knew the nights of his parties. 

But didn’t know whether they wanted to be him or be with him. 

Which was why it made your heart thud in a singular beat of surprise to glance upwards and find Gojo looking so…lost. Rosy lips parted, chest unmoving like he’d forgotten to breathe. 

And somewhere down the line, you swear you notice him gulp. Biceps straining against his flowery button-up as he pushes back those angelic white bangs of his, Gojo’s azure eyes flit furiously between the bottle, and you, the bottle, and you, the bottle-

“Ehem.” Shoko coughs into her fist, with the pointed subtlety of a sledgehammer. 

You see her flick a finger towards the wide wooden closet that loomed ominously by the far wall. “If you’re going to eye-fuck, I suggest you do it in- hck! there like the game says. Uta’s about to throw up already.”

Said Utahime dry heaves, “I’m not.”

“And who suggested this game?” But you’re standing up to a few jeers anyway- what’s one silly kiss between friends, after all? It was a small group of your friends, and a few stragglers starstruck by their proximity to Gojo. 

Though, turning around, you’re realizing that Gojo was, too. 

Narrowing your eyes in confusion, “Satoru?”

Gojo’s tongue darts out to nervously wet his lips, “Yeah? I- oh.” Geto reaches over to thump his best friend on the back, making the other man startle into a stand.

Stumbling up on agile feet for a few steps, before he’s crossing the circle to grasp your hand in his large ones-

And that just makes the room erupt.

“That’s my boy–!”

“Don’t get pregnant– I can’t be an uncle yet.”

“Yuck.”

Cackles, cat calls, and a few obnoxious moans that ring out even louder than the thumping bass from the party downstairs. You’re crinkling your nose in amusement once Gojo flips them off and speedwalks towards the closet with crimson ears, dragging you straight in tow.

“Sa-Satoru.” You’re giggling, stepping inside the stuffy space. 

The smell of prized vodka and mothballs cling to every surface of the closet like an outdated perfume. And from where you’re pressing yourself up against one mahogany wall, you can feel the soft press of clothes tickle your body. 

It was dark inside - darker than dark, in fact. Your only merciful source of light coming from the dim yellow glow of Haibara’s room from underneath the cracks in the door. 

But even with the cloak of obscurity, you can already make out how snug of a fit it was inside. 

Because Gojo was towering - what else could you have expected from the ace of your university’s basketball team? 

Unruly strands of ivory brushing against the closet ceiling, broad shoulders cushioned by either wall. He has to press two palms upon either side of your body and lean down just to hear you speak, “Do you want to do this? Y’know we don’t have to-”

“Yes.” He’s breathing, labored. Uneven. Before catching the glint in your eyes and sputtering- “I mean- ah, I mean, why not.” Wincing, “…Do you?”

You hum, taking in the heady scent of his cologne. Cherries. “I mean— we should be good sports about the game.” 

“The game- the game, yes.” Gojo nods, a thin line of sweat starting to bead from his temple. And maybe it was the punch, maybe it was the dizziness of being so close- but did Gojo Satoru just stutter? “So you…want to kiss me?”

Your head tilts in question, and he flinches at the teasing look in your eyes. 

Fuck, was he ever-so-glad it was too dark in here for you to see the way his ears burn. 

“I-I mean, of course you want to kiss me.” With a slight puff of his sculptured chest, Gojo fluffs up his hair. Nose turning up in that haughty way it often did whenever someone asked for his number. ��Who wouldn’t? I’m Gojo Satoru, after all. So, of course, I should kiss you, too- and I should s-stop talking and do that right now and- wow, is it just me or is it really hot in here-”

Then you’re shutting him up - with your mouth on his. 

Murmuring into his parted maw, “Shut the fuck up.” And the only thing sweeter than the taste of his soft, candied lips was the way that Gojo presses his ripped body further against yours and moans. 

Low, primal. Like it was something being wrenched from the deepest depths of his throat and he couldn’t possibly control it even if he wanted to.

So the only thing his poor, muddled body can think to do is lap at the glossy crevice of your own lips. Wobbly mouth tuggin’ on your greedily, it was almost cute the way that Gojo’s grunting just as soon as you pull away with a lewd wet noise-

Staring at him in awe, even in the darkness you could make out the ruddied shade of his blush. 

“Uh…” You pipe up, after a few seconds of silence, your friend’s gaze still locked on your lips. The skin of his cheeks flare red-hot underneath where you’d grabbed him with your hands. “Hello? Don’t tell me I broke y-”

He’s attacking your mouth once more. 

Ravenous, Gojo’s sultry lips drag allll across yours. Washboard abs pinning you to the wall of the closet, the pointed tip of his nose bumping messily into yours. He lets off a throaty keen as you’re parting your mouth with a gasp, “M’sorry.”

“H-hngh, Satoru-” The temperature inside this lil’ space heightens enough to make your goosebumps sizzle.

“M’sorry.” He’s drunkenly whispering, one of his meaty knees saddling right between your thighs. You’re whimpering at the feeling of his flexed muscles, “M’sorry m’sorry I-” 

One of his trembling hands slides up n’ down your back, as if Gojo didn’t trust himself to hold too still. And his touch was seeping warmth through your thin dress, lungs screaming for air-

“I’m sorry, it’s just- you. I don’t think I can control-” He’s interrupting himself with another chase of your mouth, sloppily sucking on the tip of your tongue. Gojo lets a slick puddle of drool formulate on the corner of his swollen lips, eyes glassy when he’s kneading his hips forwards to rut- “D-did you know that this is my first-”

“Time’s up lovebirds—! Oh.”

The sudden explosion of light strikes you like whiplash, and both of you snap your heads towards the entrance to the closet.

Geto stands frozen, slightly silhouetted by the bedroom glow. But nothing - absolutely nothing - can hide the way his sly eyes widen ever-so-slightly, caught off-guard by the vision before him.

He darts his peripherals to Gojo’s hands dipping dangerously low on your hips, to the manner you’re pinned against one wall, to the way your lips are swollen.

And Gojo’s were worse. 

It’s only then that your head’s clearing up enough for you to try and half-heartedly push at your friend’s heaving chest- to no avail, of course. Because Gojo doesn’t move a single inch, in fact, he’s only tugging you closer to him with a slight growl. 

Looking over his shoulder at the intruder, his eyes narrow—“Fuck off.”

“This- we-” You’re starting, unsure why you were so heated when this was the entire point of the game. 

But Geto beats you to it- “Well, this is certainly better than I thought. I expected our dear Satoru here to piss his pants and faint. Congratulations.” He points at something near Gojo’s khaki shorts, “Fix that.”

Fix…? In unison, you slowly swivel your heads down and find your mouth drop-

“Fuck! Suguru-” It’s only then that Gojo lets go of you like the mere feeling of your body scalded his own. 

Back shoving against the other end of the closet, both hands flailing downwards to hide the massive outlined bulge you’d caught just a glimpse of. And yet, even that wasn’t enough for him to hide the utter raw tightness in his pants.

Your mind sparks once you register that he was rock-fucking-hard. 

Handsome cheekbones all stained with rouge, you catch the smear of your lipgloss glitter all across Gojo’s lips when he hisses at the other man. “It went down just looking at you.”

“Liar.”

“Asshole.”

“Vir-”

“Shut up.” Slightly slurred by your moments prior, there’s a slight daze within Gojo’s stare as he turns to you - still covering his erection. “I-I can explain, I actually-” 

Whatever half-baked excuse it was, you don’t have the privilege of hearing it. 

Because just then, rings out a call of your name—Shoko. And you could recognize her rarely-serious tone anywhere, making you hastily step out of the closet. Leaving behind a sputtering Gojo Satoru and a snickering Geto Suguru to instead head back to your circle. “Everything alright?”

A few cackles escape your friends at the sight of you - all dishevelled and kissed stupid. 

Hell, even Shoko manages to break through the worried furrow in her brow to let off a slight giggle. “Mhm, my greatest apologies for interrupting Satoru’s little wet dream-” Ignoring the aforementioned man’s cranky ‘hey!’ as he closely follows you. “-but Uta isn’t feeling well, so we might just head back.”

You nod, “I’ll come-”

“No no, stay with-”

“We should get her to bed.” You’re waving off her protests, a no-brainer to go with the friend who was visiting all the way from Kyoto. Picking up Utahime’s bag as she starts to fight back her gags once more. “It was probably that cheap beer, I told her not to trust anything Usami bought.”

It’s with a few rapid goodbyes and promises to send photographs that your little trio staggers out of Haibara’s room, Utahime clinging onto both of you. Babbling weakly, “M’sorry for ruining your love story.”

The pit of your stomach twists with something you don’t know how to name, “You didn’t ruin anything.” Brows furrowing, “And what love story?”

“B-but-” She wails, making a few heads turn. “-but it’s been years- mmpf!”

Shoko sighs, one hand firmly slapped on Utahime’s mouth now. She throws a meaningful glance at her friend, “We’re never drinking again.”

Meandering through the throngs of people and alcohol, at an equal ratio - you’ve just got a foot out of the penthouse doorway; the one that Gojo rents for him and his friends, the hotspot for your university’s student body to be on a weekend night-

-when Gojo himself breaks through the overstuffed crowd. 

“W-wait–!”

“Satoru?” You’re swerving back in confusion, eyelids squinted at the flashing strobe lights. 

The party atmosphere paints his pale hair in red n’ pink, bringing out the prettiest specks of grey in his blue irises. 

And Gojo gasps, he heaves - seemingly more at the sight of you than the entire trek it had been to weave through a party that yearned for but a simple glimpse of him. Even now, he was deaf to the calls of his name from all sides, the hands patting him on the back- only letting out—“Do you…want to do something?”

You almost have half the mind to look behind you, “Do something?”

“An outing.”

“An outing?”

“A science experiment.”

“A science experiment?” You gawk, slightly appalled at the fact that Gojo Satoru of all people wanted to take up extra credit on a weekend. “Did you drink that bad beer too? Because-”

“Dammit-” Without warning, he’s smacking his forehead. “Just- just meet me, to talk about something. I’ll text you.”

You have to fight to keep your voice even- from amusement if not for genuine concern. “And you couldn’t text me that? You had to run all this way.”

He almost pouts with a huff, “Had to say it before I lost my nerve.”

“But-”

“She’ll be there.” Shoko’s vocalizing from your right, still holding up a dangling Utahime. And there’s something knowing - something meaningful - in her smirk, “I’ll make sure of it. If you beg on your knees, that is.”

Gojo flips her off in two seconds.

Then he’s on his knees in one.

“G-get up–!” You damn-near shriek, feeling the party buzz and gape at the encounter - you think you even see one attendant pull out her phone and start recording, sure to make a splash in the campus bulletin by tomorrow. “I’ll be there- just- go-”

Still unsteady from whatever the fuck that was, you’re shuffling into the elevator for Shoko’s Uber. still feeling Gojo’s stare burning into you afterwards. 

Blissfully dazed as the doors close behind his slight, anxious wave, Utahime cups your cheek and slurs. “You’re going to make such beautiful hck! babies. All from you, of course.”

.

.

.

“So…what did you need to talk to me about?”

“T-talking? Did I say talking? Well, I was really gone that night, y’know that-”

“Satoru.”

“-and we’re talking right now, aren’t we-”

“Satoru.”

If it was physically possible for a basketball player - numerous inches over six feet, unfairly chiselled, with a shock of white hair above all - to hide behind a humble convenience store shelf then Gojo certainly didn’t know how. 

But that didn’t stop him from trying.

And his tufts of pale bangs flinch at the stern tone of your voice, despite being separated by an entire aisle. 

Blatantly avoiding being in your proximity, Gojo’s simply pushin’ aside a few bags of chips to peek at you from the other side of the shelf. Shoulders hunched, eyes crinkling once he’s noticing your no-nonsense stance. “You see…remember how, last night, had that little erm- problem-”

“Your erection?” You’re questioning, purposefully not lowering your voice to make him squirm.

And he shushes you frantically, looking around the store - there was only a sweet elderly lady a few shelves down, and he was hoping to the heavens above that her hearing aid was turned down. “Yes- yes, that. And I said I could explain…well…”

“Well?”

Inhaling a deep, deep breath, “I’mactuallykindofatotalvirginandIwantedyoutohelpmewithsomepointersmaybe.” He’s forced to inhale an even deeper breath after that. 

“Y-you’re a…” It felt like you’d just short-circuited. Only one word from that entire jumbled mess standing out to you - virgin.

Not that there was a problem with that. It’s just- there was no way that Gojo was a virgin - not after all the stories that girls and guys alike would whisper about him in bed. Not after the harem of fans that would follow him ‘round each party like a second skin unless your friends dragged him away. Not after the way he had a new number being begged to be put into his phone every day. 

And yet, Gojo’s nodding at your unspoken question.

Somehow, it suddenly made sense that in all the years you’d known him, you’d never seen him go on a single date. But no one had to actually date to hook up. Sputtering, “And was that your-”

“First…kiss…” He grimaces, fingers twitching like they were about to topple the entire aisle of chips just to escape this conversation. Before smoothing his features back with a gasp- “B-but that was the best first kiss I could’ve ever dreamed of- I kinda did dream about it later but…”

As you start to slowly back away, he waves his hands fervently. Panic seeping into his voice, “Don’t run!” Withering at the way the old lady nearby turns, “I-I mean, that’s exactly why I need you. I need you to teach me–!”

You feel your heart race, voice lilting high. “Teach you?”

“Teach me how to—” Your friend waves his hands wildly, and you’ve never seen him so stressed - not even before his biggest games. “-not embarrass myself if I do something like that.”

Crossing your arms, the thought churns over and over in your brain. He wants to…kiss you again? “So…let me get this straight- you want me to give you lessons on how to kiss someone?”

“And maybe…other…stuff.”

“Satoru, you us want to hook up-” 

“Teach me.” He pleads, baritone crackling just a bit. A sharp smack resounds as he clasps his hands together in prayer position, “I just need you to give me a few tips- a few pointers, I swear. Just a few lessons so I won’t embarrass myself like that ever again. I could get on my knees again if you want-”

“No! Shut the fuck up.” You bark out, hands coming up to massage your temples. “I need to…think.”

And all it takes is one look at the other lady beside you two, discreetly turning her hearing aids up, for you to stride your way to Gojo’s side of the aisle. Right where he was holding up a packet of chips like a shield, waiting for you to burst. 

He wants to be intimate with you.

He wants a repeat of the party.

He liked it?

Something about that, you liked. 

You sigh, a sound that felt years older than you were. “Fine.”

“Yes-”

“But we’re doing this platonically. And I’m only doing this because I don’t wanna hear you begging. Or hear any girls laughing at you, because that’s embarrassing for me.”

Your head swivels behind you - ah, perfect. The two of you were loitering right between the chips and contraception shelves. “Lesson number one, wrap it before you tap it.”

Gojo starts into motion, eager to please. Though, it wasn’t very pleasant for you once his hand shoots out immediately to pluck at the gold n’ black box of Trojan Magnum…XL. 

“Hah! That’s funny.” Your grin twitches at his blank expression, “That’s a joke, right?” Then completely dissolving at his silence. “…Right?”

You’re still ogling in utter disbelief even as you walk to the weary young cashier, in line behind that old lady. “Satoru- are you sure you need that one? Lesson number two is you don’t have to compensate.”

“I’m actually worried it won’t fit.” He frowns, closely reading the measurements in the back. And from the corner of your eye, your imposing fellow customer gawks, discreetly hurrying up the payment. “Maybe lesson number three could be the pull out game.”

And right before you can answer - maybe make fun of his confidence, maybe even call off the entire deal altogether - the grim elderly lady taps your arm before leaving. “Good luck, dearie.”

.

.

.

“Sh-shit.” Gojo’s mouth closes and gapes stupidly, and no matter how much his firm chest heaves, he can’t steady his pitch. He can’t catch his breath. 

He can’t even think about anything other than the feeling of your soft, pretty hands wrapped ‘round his rock-hard dick.

A quick trip to your apartment later, with him backed into the corner of your couch, and you’re not making fun of him anymore. 

You knew what they say about men with big feet - but Gojo’s throbbing erection was even bigger than you could’ve imagined. 

Just about nine- maybe even ten hot, pinkish inches that glistened with a steady stream of precum. So hard that it looked painful, so thick that you’re having trouble closing your wrist over his circumference. 

Gojo’s slender hands grabbing onto each side of the couch to push n’ push his restless body upwards. “Shit shit shit- what the fuck-”

Grappling, fighting, in a split-second he feels the crown edge of your thumb graze his slit and damn near loses his mind. 

“Shiiiiit—” Almost whiny, if this was any other time then he’d be fucking embarrassed about the way his bass cracks at the very end of his sentence. 

“Shush, Satoru.” Your voice purrs, and just the sultry sound of it is enough to make his swollen cock twitch. Glistening out a treacly line of pre from the strawberry-pink orifice at the top of his shaft, “Lesson number three is to learn to be quiet. My landlord’s gonna complain.”

“Well, lil’ landlord Higuruma doesn’t have your cute hands on his cock, does he, beautiful?” 

“Well you’re failing the lesson then.”

“Fine.”

In retaliation, you’re giving him a looong, languid stroke along his vein-covered length. Mouth watering at the delicious way it makes him throw a hand up to cover his flushed face, other hand resting on your wrist.

Gojo’s hands were big- bigger than yours, and much more suited to help pump his prolonged cock with ease. 

Possessively, he’s curling your pretty fingers tighter ‘round his girth and bounces up n’ down, up n’ down, up n’ down. Whispering, “Faster- faster now, my girl- I mean- beautiful.”

“It’s just-” You’re nearly biting down on your own tongue, reluctant to state anything that would feed your popular friend’s ego. 

But you just couldn’t help it when he looked so pretty - eyes glazed with unshed tears and need, high cheekbones permanently pink, his fat cock pulsing between your fingertips with each passing second. And you swear the blushin’, bulged tip of his shaft swells even bigger with your intense stare, “Lesson number four is that you’re big. It makes it almost…difficult.”

“O-oh.”

Without a second of warning, Gojo’s slouching his muscular body over. Rosy lips pursed to depart with a glob of spit— straight down to the tip-top of his erection.

Letting the sticky mess trickle down the side of his shaft, he’s moving your hands to glue over his tender underside. Fap-fap-fapping rapidly, the sides of your pinkies spank against his bulky base and make him keen. 

“Difficult? Difficult?” Tonality just seeping with grunts, your touch smears the glossy webs of saliva down each vein. “M’passin’ this lesson with flying colors- oh, you’re gonna take it. How could anyone even- ngh- compete?”

“And here I thought y-you were the competitive one.” You’re garbling out your words, feeling your palms massage with the zig-zagged ridges of his length. 

“H-heh- hell yeah, I am.” With a pant, Gojo’s twisting his hand - one of his encapsulating both of yours, and something primal in you twitches at the stark size difference - to jerk down his slicked cock. “Faster.” Voice ruined. “Faster.” Breathy. “Fast- ngh-”

He can’t even think to finish his sentence before his body ruts- ethereal head thrown back, lips gnawed raw like bubblegum. “Oh, ohhhh, never felt like this.”

And Gojo Satoru - famed for his steadiness, his agility - had never sounded so uneven. With his sweaty scalp lolling back and forth like he didn’t know whether to push backwards or keep looking down at your work. 

Drag after lewd drag. 

He was so lengthy n’ big that your arms were almost aching at this point, repeatedly pumping from the ruby-red globe of his cockhead, and down, down, down. 

“Pretty hands hck! tired, huh?” But Gojo’s only maneuvering faster- capped knees spreading on the cushions of your couch to buck into you faster. “Come on- come on come on- don’t stop.”

“S’this any different from your- hah- usual routine, Satoru?” Even you were out of breath at this point.

You’re flicking your doughy fingerpad in a lazy line underneath the flared line of his slit and watch as Gojo only babbles. “Yeah- never felt something so…f-fuck, why are you so soft.” Large palms pressing down on yours, exactly where you could feel the outline of his shaft pulsing the most. His shoulders shake with each singular thwack! of your hand hitting his hilt, white curls bouncing. “So tight-”

Your friend’s fingers were dexterous, curling inwards so that your manicured nails would graze his swollen balls. 

They were slightly tanner than the rest of him, glittered with speckles of buttery precum that you take it upon yourself to gyrate your palm against. Purposefully pressing down lecherously–

And when Gojo looks up with a slight, dopey grin you knew that whatever fell next from that devastating mouth would not bode well for you. “Wonder if your pretty pussy would be just as ngh- tight.”

You feel your poor heart stutter—“Sh-shut the fuck up.”

“Ohhh- that almost made me cum.” He’s admitting through a raspy gasp, cadence giving way to something needier. Something harder. Something that was nearly scraping the flesh of your hands raw with his white happy trail. “S-say it again-”

“Shut up-”

Sapphire eyes squeeze shut, and the front of your poor skirt starts dripping with a few creamy wads of his pre. He was close. “Ngh-” 

Thighs pressing together, suddenly you’re realizing just how drenched your panties were. “Aren’t you supposed to be- fuck, learning a lesson?” And oh, were you shocked you managed to keep your voice even.

“Mmm, I’m learning alrigh’---” Gojo drawls, looking at you with such heated half-closed eyes that you can only more thoroughly drag your thumb down the line of his sensitive slit. “Shit- stop that- wait, don’t stop-”

Brain sparking, he’s singing out in protesting groans at the same time as your furniture. The cushions dipping as Gojo’s lurching his lanky body off of the couch, like he didn’t know whether he wanted to fuck your first for more, more, more or run away–

“Learning, huh?” You’re cracking a grin in amusement, hands letting off the sappiest squelches as you decide to slow down for his own sake. “Lesson number five…”

“No!” He’s pulling you back, he’s wrestling your hands to jerk faster, he’s grabbing you by the throat- left hand clinging onto the sides of your neck and squeezing. 

Scorching hot breath wafts your face as Gojo’s staring dead-on into your own pupils, “Stay. K-keep going. Keep going.” Something at the back of his throat makes him choke. “M’so close- don’t you fucking stop.”

“Fuck, Toru-”

“So fucking—” Your skin heats up with clammy warmth following the feeling of his sleazy eyes sweeping all down your body. Your hands working over time. Your hips slightly bucking back. Your tits-

Which he’s tugging down to see with an index hooked to the front of your top.

And you catch the exact moment that he does - the exact moment that his long, ivory lashes flutter further open, mouth parting with slick drool, face flushing.

Because that very day, you’d just-so-happened to have worn a special set of blue underwear. The exact same color as his eyes.

And it’s enough to make Gojo cum. Instantly.

He couldn’t even have the rationality to be mortified at the pathetic suddenness of it, because all he could do was lock his heady gaze onto your bra-clad tits n’ cream all down your wrist. 

Hot and aching.

Throbbing.

“Mmm, Satoru.” Splurging out from the swollen end of his shaft - the same shade as a strawberry, and twice as plump. Now with buttery sap to match. Something about that makes your mouth water. “Cum f’me- cum more.”

He was fucking up through each peak of his high like he was dying to pump each n’ every drop into your pussy. 

“Fuh-fuck.” And it’s hot, almost like he was melting out into you. A slow line of sweat dripping down his temple at the utter bursts of pleasure behind his hazy peripherals. “Cumming—m’cumming so much for you, beautiful.” Hauling your body closer to his, he’s spraying such thick, ribbony volumes of cum that you almost couldn’t believe it.

Jaw unfastened at the rapidly-growing puddle of ivory sap on your skirt. He’s so sensitive that he’s flinching just from the sound of your voice, like his favorite song. “Do you always cum so much, Satoru?”

“N-no—” Gojo huffs, slightly squeaky with his unstable pitch. “Only for you. When it’s you, I…”

Trailing off, both of you look down in synchronization at the glaze of white cum that’d started to trail down your forearm. And before you can let out a single word, he has one hand tuggin’ on your wrist.

Guiding your trembling fingers to unglue from Gojo’s pulsing, reddened cock with a sluuurp! He’s promptly sucking on your glossy fingertips with a moan. 

“Mm, so good.” Heavy erection still bobbing with the zaps of his euphoria, he looks up at you through long lashes - in a way that makes you gulp. Something he’s surely feeling, if the way that those fingers tighten on your neck says anything. “S’sweeter when it’s by you.”

Oh.

You’re fucked. 

.

.

.

“Oiiiii—Satoru—!” Whenever Geto spoke in that tone, it couldn’t mean anything but trouble. He looks past the (multiple) groups of the usual onlookers, “Your cute lil’ girlfriend’s here~”

“Geto Suguru, you know my name.” You’re snarling from your close seat on the first row of court bleachers, realizing only too-late that you made a fatal mistake. “A-and I’d never be this one’s girlfri-”

“Ohhh, did you hear that?” Of course, the inky-haired man is ignoring every word that falls from your traitorous mouth. Nudging a disinterested Nanami, who pretends to read something on the ball. “Didn’t deny the girlfriend part. I think you owe me ten yen.”

You squawk, “You bet on us?”

“You bet only ten yen?” Gojo Satoru, equally as indignant, but for a completely different reason, waltzes off of the court as Coach Yaga approves his dribbling check and calls for the next. “Way to show your faith in me, bro.”

Geto grins, walking onto court, “Can you blame me?”

And you didn’t know what made you sigh more - the furious cheers and cat calls emanating from Gojo’s fans, who never failed to show up to a single practice, or the way he saunters right up to you.

Expensive sneakers squeaking on wood, carrying with him the scent of adrenaline and cherry bodywash. With such a devastating grin, he winks towards the audience - and you swear you see at least one in a replica of Gojo’s 06 jersey faint. 

“Y’know, I think our lessons are working, beautiful.” Snickering at your surprised gasp, “The aura of…experience, it’s working. Yaga told me I was on fire today, Sugu said I was glowing and asked me for my skincare routine. Hell, even Nanamin - Nanamin - didn’t recoil in disgust when he first saw me today, which, considering Nanamin, is the equivalent of getting a big kiss on the lips as hello.”

“I thought these were lessons just for your future reference?” You raise a brow in suspicion, one that makes him sweat. 

“S-semantics. Hey, something’s working, isn’t it?” He waves a lengthy hand - and you can’t help but get struck by flashbacks to just a few days ago. 

It’d only been about two weeks since your little deal - and you’d been taking it slow. Well, as slow as you could get when your first day was spent fisting his furiously needy cock. 

A few kissing lessons here, maybe another handjob there. And Gojo was lapping it all up the exact same way he would when he was in the middle of a game, focus laser-sharp - and constantly locked on you. Only you. 

“…Right.”

Your partner-in-stupidity opens his mouth- but just then Yaga barks—“Gojo Satoru. If you have enough time to flirt, throw some hoops before the Kyoto match.”

“Ay ay, captain.” With a slight roll of his eyes, he’s giving you one last glance over his shoulder. Mouthing—‘After. Practice.’ And your heart races as you manage to make out, ‘Locker.’

Throwing a wink just for you - and the basketball in his hands, right along with it. That dimple at the edge of his grin was dazzling, “This one’s for you, beautiful—!”

He shoots. 

And he misses. 

Geto misses too, too busy rolling on the floor cackling. 

.

.

.

“M-mmm.” Gojo’s hiccuping, tone coming out ragged. And then he’s gasping- like he doesn’t know whether to laugh or sob at the tight feeling of your mouth. “Take it-”

You whimper, strugglin’ with the thick, reddened end of his cock bulging all the way near the back of your throat. Oh-so-swollen that it was swabbing into every nook and cranny inside of your maw without even trying. 

Gojo was ruthless - he was mean. 

Fucking into your mouth like this was the first taste of the pearly gates he’d ever gotten, and he’s writhing with each of your hollowed-out sucks. 

Acting like he wasn’t damn-near spearing your mouth permanently open into a cute ‘oh!’ with his size. One hand clawing onto the crown of your sweaty scalp, the other letting go of his useless wet towel now.

You’d just barely seen all the members of your university’s basketball team filter out, before Gojo - freshly showered, already half-hard - had dragged you into their spacious locker room.

And it almost reminded him of that first night in the closet, back scraping against the metal of the locker. Pushing you in so close that he can almost feel the way your tastebuds flood with saliva, “Take it take it- t-take it-” 

Rutting. Grinding. 

Your nails claw red, red lines down the pale expanse of his thighs, each muscle getting newly-decorated by you. “M-mmpf, Satoru.” Nostrils flaring, you feel his plump mushroom tip slip deeper past your throat the moment you relax. 

“Fuck- fuck yeah, say my name.” He’s spitting through grit canines, “Say my name like that- s’better than any fanchant I’ve heard.”

Gojo always became so honest any time he was bending to your every whim like this.

And right now he couldn’t stop prattling away between each heavy groan, eyes rolling to the back of his head at the feeling of his weighty girth sagging on your tongue. “Bet they didn’t know you’d be on your knees like- ngh, this f’me, huh, beautiful?” He titters, giving you a thorough rut of his inches until you feel the globe of your friend’s tip scrape down your throat. “Fuh-fuuuuck.”

It was almost too much.

The scratch of your ridged taste buds, salivating down every sensitive ridge on his erection. The prettiness of your teary eyes peering up at him. 

“Bet they didn’t know that- ngh, that sharp mouth would be shut up like this, huh?” Bucking. Thrusting- the heat of your mouth was just so heavenly that he can’t stop chasing it.

Not stopping for a single second to let the clingy back end of your throat part from his cock. He sticks his pelvis up and probes deeply into a sinful lil’ spot at the back of your maw that you didn’t even think was possible. 

Something hitches in his breath, snowy brows furrowing once he feels the dripping slope of your pussy gyrate up his calf. “That you’d like it so much.”

Again and again. Gojo’s repeatedly pushin’ in until he could feel the soft back of your mouth form a bruise in the exact circumference of his girthy tip. “Think ya like it even more than me, beautiful.”

“E-easy there, tiger. Lesson number number five is to pace yourself.” You’re trying to smoothen your tone - unsuccessful, of course, when he’d just been hitting your voicebox hoarse. 

Sensually - slowly - he’s managing to regain a mere ounce of control in that sloppy cadence of his. Loooong, massaging drags that plunge the ruby-red crown of his girth, Gojo’s still making sure that your velvety tongue licks up every solid inch of him.

You plop your swollen lips specifically down on the flared line of his slit and suck. “And lesson number six is to just- hah- shut up and take it.”

“N-ngh, love when you’re mean to me.” He’s grinning, one hand snaking down to his meaty base. Soon enough, your pursed maw is being positively showered with a spray of his dewy precum. 

A glittery gloss gluing all down your chin, you make sure to stick your lips along the prominent lines of his veins and smear-smear-smeeeear. All down the extra-tender spots of his shaft that makes Gojo shoot his free hand out to grab your throat with a labored whine. 

“R-real fucking dangerous.” He’s spitting - literally, a wad of spit that aims straight onto your sizzling tongue and makes an even bigger mess. 

Squeezing your neck, feeling the large cylindrical bulge that was reaching for your lungs. 

He could feel himself move with each back n’ forth of his toned hips, tightening until that particularly bumpy outline was making him lose his mind. “You’re real fucking dangerous with this pretty throat n’ these- hngh- preeeetty lips.”

You’re mewling, tears welling up behind your eyes when Gojo’s using the restraint on your throat to pull you off of his cock ever-so-slightly. For a few sultry seconds, just to spew out a translucent polish of precum. “And this pretty- pretty gloss.” Milky beads decorate your lips, they’re dripping down the front of your chin and makes him flinch carnally. “H-heh, say it again, beautiful. Say it when you’re hck! like this?”

“Shut the fuck up, Satoru.” Muffled, through the press of his painfully hard cockhead sliding between your lips. Once. twice. 

Thrice. “Nghhh- just like that.” The star player’s head falls back against the lockers with an echoing thud! when you start bobbing your head even faster. Syrupy precum welling up inside your mouth as if someone had just opened up a fountain. “Makes me s-so fucking hard.”

“Tight-” You manage out, gasping for air. Past all the animalistic ruts, past the squeeze of his lengthy fingers on your throat. And you can’t help but motion your pussy down and up the muscles of his leg, leaving a glittering trail of slick everywhere you go. “So- ngh-”

“So- so fucking—” Shit, Gojo cracks open one of his dazed blue eyes and can’t even finish his sentence at the pure sight of you.

Your eyes dazed, jaw stupidly unhinged. the entire lower half of your face glistening with all his bittersweet sap. Taking and taking each of his visceral ruts - you were absolutely ruined.

And he doesn’t think you’ve ever looked more beautiful.

So much so that Gojo’s body moves before his mind, barely even stopping to think before unplugging his cock from the back of your throat with a filthy squelch–! Manhandling you into a standing position with only one arm, he has your back shoved against the lockers with the other.

“S-Satoru, what are you-”

Flipping up your skirt- plump, pinkish cocktip kissin’ the wet slope of your pussy. It’s the only thing Gojo needs to be creaming himself near-dry.

To plaster your jittery thighs together with the silky, white syrup of his cum, soaking your flimsy panties. Gojo’s sweaty bangs tickle the inside of your throat when he plops his face down on your shoulder and groans, “Fuck. F-fuck fuck fuck-”

And he isn’t just reaching his high- he’s trying to fuck you through it.

Trying to drill his aching hot cock between your legs, the fatness of his length keeps on pushing against your clothed cunt needily. “Y-y’know, I’m reeeally good with my hands, beautiful?”

“Y-you are–?” Your breath hitches, limbs starting to quiver weakly. Your entire spine zaps with eager pleasure as he’s lazily sliiiding aside your panties. “S’that lesson number seven?”

“Seven- eight- sixty-nine, heh, whatever.” Chuckling into your skin, you swear he’s tugging astray your panties and cumming once more just at the sight of your pretty, sopping panties. 

Hips surgin’ forwards automatically to smear a line of seed between your plump folds, Gojo’s mouth drops. “Oh.” His forearm comes banging down on the locker beside your head to cage you in, “My first time c-cummin’ on a girl.”

His entire body’s wracking with shivers once he’s guiding up stripes of his meaty mushroom tip along your pussy. Uuuuup and down, stray hand pryin’ your sloppy folds apart to paint your cunt a syrupy white from the inside itself-

Slimy fingerpads pushing you all open to dollop out generous helpings of his cum - fuck, honestly he doesn’t know what feels better. Those electric bursts of his orgasm, or the feeling of your fluttering wet cunt as you take it. “And she’s so preeeetty.” 

“Pretty–?”

It’s a fucking battle for Gojo to rip his half-lidded eyes away from your naked pussy, but when he does it’s to kiss your temple sweetly. “You’re pretty too, my girl- beautiful.”

Something in that gentle tremble of his voice makes your hands grip for purchase on the holed surface of the locker. 

And you can only whisper, “Sh-shut up, Satoru.”

“Shit-” Nearly forgetting that the rotund, throbbing end of his shaft was still aligned with your cunt. Just one move and he’d be throwing away just about all his first times. You’d be all out of lessons. 

Somewhere along the slight pang of disappointment at the thought, you feel his overstimulated length twitch—

Catching Gojo staring wildly at that one particular hand of his - the one that was stuffed between your messy legs and spreading your pussy so that he could splurge out his splotchy cum to the maximum.

“Oh.” Realization hits you like a truck. “N-no, Satoru, don’t-”

Before he sucks on his stained, white-topped fingertips like candy— moaning, the blur of his irises roll all the way back to the depths of his skull. “Yeah–” He’s noisily lapping up each ounce of your slick n’ his cum, like the utmost delicacy. “Yeah, m’learning a loooot from these lessons of yours, beautiful.”

“You’re filthy.” You sputter.

“You made me this way~” He leans in close for a kiss, and you can’t admit to yourself that you’d gotten slightly addicted to the taste of his mouth. The plush, cherry-tinged flavor of his lips, glossed with your filthy concoction from before. “Ya like the taste?”

You scoff instead of an answer, “Go shower.”

Pulling back with a mwah–! of lips-on-lips, he reaches for the puddle of his towel on the floor. “Wanna join?”

“In your dreams.”

“You have noooo idea.”

“Shush- before I end your lessons.”

Gojo laughs, loud and beaming. And you can’t help but smile to yourself, something bittersweet, making a hasty escape from the locker room before you stretched your luck too far. 

If only you’d taken your time.

Because then you might have seen a lone, towering figure standing by the wall leading to the doorway. Hidden by the sharp corner, and his lengthy raven hair. 

He watches as you waddle guilty away - as if leaving a crime scene - and Geto Suguru frowns. 

.

.

.

“Alright- it’s time to lock it in.” Yaga’s gruff voice bellows through every corner of the locker room, “Play your game, play fair, prove you belong. This is D1 basketball and I expect each one of you to play like it. Show those Kyoto fuckers who we really are.”

As deep cheers rattle the atmosphere, Gojo finds his hands almost too shaky to knot his laces - too full of adrenaline, full of pride.

Full of the thought that maybe you might be here in the stands, watching. Maybe.

Beside him on the bench, Geto silently tightens his own sneakers. And Gojo can’t help but crack a smirk, “Why so quiet today, Suguru? Don’t tell me you’re nervous about fucking Kyoto.”

“No, not at all.” He responds simply. 

And ‘simply’ would never be quite good enough for Gojo Satoru. Which is why he’s furrowing his twinkling eyes at the other man, “‘Nooo, not at all?’ Appropriate spaces for commas and all? Who are you- Nanamin?”

“Right.”

Gojo frowns, “You’re off today.”

“Are you sure that you’re not the one off?” Geto states, tense. Until he was registering what’d just slipped out of his mouth, immediately shooting into an upright stand. 

“What do you-”

“Forget about it-”

“No.” But he can barely take a single step before the taller man’s honed reflexes make a swipe at Geto’s elbow. Stopping his teammate in his tracks, Gojo’s voice dips low in that serious, tight way it usually never did. “What do you mean.”

A statement, not a question.

And his best friend can barely stand to look at him, head tilted slightly to the side, as if giving into the concerned looks thrown their way. “I told you not to play with her heart.”

Seething, “What?”

“Satoru, when I said I’d support your feelings for her, it wasn’t to make a fucking fool out of yourself.” Shrugging off the hand, which gives way easily. “So many years, and this is how you make a move? She’s my friend first- and you’re treating her like some fucking game.”

“She-” He gasps, face burning. “She’s just teaching me lessons in-”

But Geto always was the quicker of the two - and the more stern. “How long did you expect this to go on, huh? When you’re all done with your ‘lessons’, then what?” 

“I…I didn’t think-”

“Didn’t think that she might actually enjoy that nice restaurant downtown you’ve kept the pamphlet to since meeting her? Didn’t think that she might want to know that you’ve always kept extras of your jersey for her, her favorite flowers, her favorite movie, just in case?” Geto’s fists clench, “Didn’t think that it’s fucking stupid that you two aren’t together, yet? You deserve to be happy- but she does, too.”

Silence. Deafening, deafening silence. 

“What are you doing, man?”

“It’s sex-”

“Stop fooling yourself.”

As he watches Geto’s disappearing back, Gojo wasn’t sure whether he wanted you watching him anymore. 

But it still stung, just a little, when you weren’t.

Kyoto won that day. And Gojo Satoru has never faced a more devastating loss. 

.

.

.

“-my hometown friend, don’t you dare flirt with her, Satoru–”

What was Geto saying again? 

Ah, does it even matter? Gojo Satoru, freshly-titled ‘campus boyfriend’ after only a few hours on said campus, hadn’t heard a single word out of his high school best friend’s mouth after your name.

After you’d batted your lashes cutely and smiled his way–

Oh– blah, blah blah— He’s letting out an audible sigh as you begin speaking something or the other about your major, the usual for orientation day. Proper name, proper place, backstory stuff-

“-toru- Satoru–!” It’s only with a hearty smack on his shoulder that Geto manages to snap Gojo out of his daze, still staring at you from afar where you’d decided to talk to Shoko. And the black-haired man shifts his weary eyes between you n’ his other friend. “Oh no-”

“Suguru, I think I just found my wife-”

“Hell no.” Dramatically, he shakes the other’s shoulders as if desperately trying to jolt some sense into that basketball-addled mind of his. “Satoru, you’ve gotten about fifteen different phone numbers-”

Geto pauses as another fresh-faced student flounces up to the duo and gives them both two slips of paper with a number scrawled on, one that Geto’s immediately tearing up.

“-sixteen just today itself.” His dark brows furrow, as much as he loved his best friend, he knew the mind-numbing popularity that came with him, too. The reputation. “I don’t care if you’re a virgin who’s never held hands-” Ignoring Gojo’s protesting ‘hey!’ “-if you think I’m about to let you play any games with her heart then-”

“I wouldn’t even imagine it, Suguru. Really.” Leaning back in his chair, Gojo’s azure eyes stray to you - as they’ve always seemed to do since then. Second nature. And only a second before tearing them away, undeserving to have you notice. “There’s just…something.”

There’s a tone there that Geto couldn’t place.

Something tender. Something that makes his eyes light up like they did when he was about to nail a slam dunk.

“Something about her that makes me feel like I can win all the championships in the world.”

.

.

.

“O-oh my god, mm—” Your mouth hangs lewdly open, thighs trembling where they were thrown over the far end of your bed. 

Gojo had himself nose-deep in your syrupy wet pussy and it still wasn’t enough for him- he was still clawing both hands onto your thighs and forcefully dragging you halfway down the silken sheets. “What has- hah! what has gotten into you, Satoru-”

For perhaps the first time in his life, he doesn’t have an answer.

Can’t even think of one.

Not when the long, slimy edge of Gojo’s tongue was dipping past your drenched panties and pushing them juuuust barely to the side. Darkening that pale blue shade with the wetness of his maw, he’s plastering his taste buds to the slope of your pussy and watching you squirm.

And it’d started right after you’d arrived home, wondering whether it was too late to text him about the match - only to find the man of your thoughts himself sat outside your front door.

Waiting for you.

Towering, he’d thumped his head down on your shoulder in silence. 

That is, until you two had made your way inside-

“I-is this about not coming to your- ngh! game?” You’re wailing out a broken whimper, twitchy hands weaving between his ivory locks to try and steal a glimpse of his face. “Because Gakuganji held me back for a club thing and I’m sorry- fuck!”

Without a single warning, without even a speck of hesitation, your friend’s shovelling the inches of his tongue past your elastic entrance until that tight rim resists.

Until he’s keening into your puffy core at the tightness, until he’s usin’ a thumb to spread-spread-spreeeead your glittery pussylips apart even further. “Taught me- taught me lessons, didn’tcha, beautiful?”

Murmuring into your cunt, each syllable is ended off with a heavy lashing of his silver tongue. 

Spat straight into your quivering hole, Gojo’s licking away primally. Each raw scratch of his wet muscle trying to push past your hole, trying to fuck you the way he’s been aching to for years. “Taught me ta kiss those pretty lips- now you’re teaching me a whole hah- other type of kissing.”

“N-ngh, oh my god- Satoru.” He was just filthy. Both his babbling, pussydrunk words and his motions.

It’s like he didn’t know where to stick his tongue to like adhesive - wanting anything and everything, all at once.

From the throbbing nub of your clit, to the weepy orifice of your cunt. Though, he was making sure to lap up every ounce of slick glistening out of you, like the sweetest honey.

You’re whimpering, begging for fucking mercy from the wide, glissading edge of his tongue. You grip the soft tufts of his hair and try to lift him slightly off for dear life. “Fuck- Lesson number eight is to s-slow down–!”

“Then m’gonna hafta fail.” He’s rasping out, starved. 

Barely even breathing, whatever words escaping Gojo depart only reluctantly. Between each pant he’s forced to take by his screaming lungs, he’s unfastening his slobbery maw even wider to suck on your clit. 

Thighs closing sensitively ‘round his clammy head- “You’re being sooo—” You think that might just deter him, but he’s only climbing further up from his position at the foot of the bed, on the ground. 

Chasing your pussy no matter how much you were bucking. Feral. 

“Mmm, think I like it better when you hngh- shut me up like this.” He’s blubbering through a greedy mouthful of your cunt, slick-glossed mouth pinching your clit. 

You’re damn-near yelping as his plush, puckered lips start rollin’ side to side just to tease that nub like bubblegum. Your own thighs ache with the flesh-ridden press of his big, beefy biceps curling ‘round your thighs to push them even closer. “Can you even ngh- breathe?”

“Suffocate me.”

And he sounded dead-serious.

Throwing your trembling legs over two muscular shoulders, Gojo’s leering his handsome face impossibly closer.

Right up until the straight button of his nose bridge presses against your clit, and the front of his face smeeeears with a pathway of your pussy’s sweet, sweet juices. 

“Don’t care.” Spitting, a great glittery glob that sticks just to the side of your outer pussy and makes it so much wetter for him to start dipping his wide tongue inside. “Don’t care don’t care don’t care- I don’t need air, I just need- hah! You.”

Lavishing your snug hole with so much attention, you can’t help but clench ‘round his grazing taste buds. Letting your entrance be tugged n’ snagged according to Gojo’s every whim.

Back and forth, back and forth.

Letting him spit on your pussy once more-

“And her.” Slimy, wet muscle flopped right now, he was running through each line he’d read online about this like a gameplay. Zig-zagging from your clit n’ back to jackhammer into your hole, “We’d made such a loooovely couple, wouldn’t we, beautiful?”

And you don’t even know who he’s talking to you - you or your poor, battered pussy.

But before you can ask, Gojo’s patience snaps with a rut-

“Fuck, your walls-” Just as soon as you’re clamping your thighs surrounding his head. He’s whining, he’s shoving his face in deeper like the prolonged length of his tongue could scour your channel even more. 

Like that particular muscle could maze in a slithering up n’ down- Gojo’s sharp jawline strikes the base of your cunt and he groans in disappointment. Unable to dive in even deeper.

Feral. Thirsting, He’s nose-deep and still filling up your every orifice with his textured tongue for more, letting each ravenous taste bud stir about your sweet innards. “Your walls want me so ngh- badly. Wants ta suck me up so badly- look.”

“What do you- oh!” You flinch at the sudden warmth of another puddle of saliva striking your pussy dead-on, smearing about.

Gojo’s eyes were widened, mouth unfastened as far as it would go. “How the fuck doesn’t anyone get addicted?” Genuinely serious. Genuinely asking. 

“Y-you’re too much-”

“Oh, you want more?” Wait…what? You’re momentarily speechless at how his melty mind had just understood your sentence. Mouth thrashing about on overdrive, grin sleazy. “Heh, I’ve always wanted to do this.”

And then you’re snapping your head down in a split-second, just in time to see two of Gojo’s lengthy, roughened fingers tease the crevice of your slit.

All lightly calloused by basketball, he’s sloooowly circling your puckered hole. “Cute, s’like she wants ta- ngh- kiss me.” He’s giggling, prying apart your folds to ease his way in with a raw, noisy sluuuurp–! “Hope she doesn’t mind how looong they are- or do. My lesson number one is that you’re going to take it all.”

Bucking into his touch, and that makes him copy you - crushing the thick, bulging outline of his erection against the bottom of your bedframe. 

So hard that the mahogany panels creak– jostling you, right alongside the bed. “Fuck-” He hisses, looking down. “Look how you’ve got me - like a fucking animal.”

“You’re so filthy…” 

“S’all your fault.”

You’re sobbing now, legs twitching cutely on top of Gojo’s deltoid after every time his knobbled fingerpads scraped a spot that was particularly sensitive.

His size- oh, you should’ve expected a size to match a basketballer’s hands - because they’re plugging every nook n’ cranny without even trying. Scissoring your gooey walls far apart to claim each hidden area of yours, “All- all your fault.” 

Almost whimpering because it’s just that tight. He’s swervin’ rapidly and surely. “You made me like this-” But he wasn’t done- he was leaning over to spit a web of spit once more, dampening your soft cunt just enough to bully in a third finger. “Made me so stupid.”

Barreling straight into your g-spot. 

“Foooound it…”

“Oh- oh my god–” You’re losing your mind at this point, hips thrashing about. The blankets stick to you like they’re made of adhesive as you’re arching into the perfect curvature-

“Stay down.” Gojo barks - a stern edge to his voice. And before you can make a single move, he has one bicep pinning down your hips, maw opened to suck on your clit so you stay down.

Left too weak to do anything but cry out at the feeling of his tastebuds rolling over n’ over on your nub. Sensitive. Overstimulated. 

You’re gasping at the heated sparks of white that burst behind your lids, “Toru- I th-think m’close- don’t think m’gonna last- hck!”

“Told you I was good with my hands—” He slurs out, ruined on your pussy. "That's lesson number hck! three- maybe two? Ah, I dunno…”

Pump after pump, Gojo curls his digits so they bruise right into the spot locating your bundle of nerves. Feelin’ your soft walls clamp down sappily, “Only thing I do know is that I want you- hah-” Pulling back, he teeths your clit with a sinful squelch. “-oh, I wan’ you cumming on my mouth.” Fingering you so hard that the mountains of his knuckles were reddening with impact. “And I want you screamin’ my name every second of it.”

“Oh please-” The roughness of his fingertips are starting to plunge even deeper, as if Gojo was ready to probe into your womb right then and there. “Satoru-”

“Call me ‘Toru’, beautiful-”

“Toru-”

“Louder.”

Harder. 

It was so hard to speak with tiny sobs catching in your throat, with your body being run ragged by him. Lips wobbling with each long push of his digits- “Toru.”

“How about- ‘my Toru’?”

“My- my Toru—!” You’re squealing; the exact same moment that your pitched voice cracks, your sanity does, too. 

And in mere sultry nanoseconds, you’re shattering into white-hot explosions of bliss. Your orgasm sweeping your entire body with goosebumps, you can only scratch carnally at Gojo’s crowned scalp. 

Your fingers maneuvering his head up and down in sloppy gyrations, it’s as if you were riding his pretty features through each peak of euphoria. “M’cumming- oh-” Your high hitting you so hard that tears pinprick at your pupils, and Gojo was only happy to make them overspill. To dangle his hefty tongue out so that he can lap up your cunt with every drag. “Can’t believe you- oh. Are you sure this is your first time, Toru?”

He finches at the nickname, “Fuck yeah, sweet thing.”

Brushing his tastebuds up and down- probing against your clit. 

He was still ravenous.

Even when you’re blinking back your vision, though, you still couldn’t see with the way that Gojo’s velvety mouth made your pupils criss-cross constantly. 

Toes curling, limbs shaking with sensitivity. 

It was getting to the point that your mind was slowly going blank, spittle falling from your mouth. “I-I’m hngh- m’high’s over-” Still sparking somewhere at the back of your throat, even though you push and push at Gojo’s forehead, he’s only digging deeper. “Oh my god, Satoru-”

He blubbers, “M’fucking starved, beautiful. Been wanting this for sooo long.”

“Then shut up and fuck me.”

Oh.

Oh, that did it.

Because Gojo lurches his head up as if he’d just been zapped with electricity; eyes snapped open, strings of slick still connecting his lips to your swollen ones. 

“F-fuck you…?” He grunts- buying more time, those buried fingers of his pull out from your walls with a slurp. Finding their usual pathway between his greedy lips, he catches your look. “What? Haven’t I ever told you that you make me so–”

Thoroughly cleansed by now, Gojo smacks his lips with satisfaction. 

“-greedy?”

The dark glint in Gojo’s eyes makes you squirm your body slightly backwards- all the way up until you hit the headboard with a gasp. And he only looms closer. Only prowls up to you like he was closing in on the most appetizing prey.

And now that he’d gotten one taste of you, of course he’d be craving more. 

Like you were the sweetest of desserts, he’s gliding his tongue allll down those slick-glossed lips of his. Your juices worn halfway down his face - smearing up to his cheekbones - with utter pride. “And I think m’ready for another lesson now.”

You take one look at him - pupils glassy, face glistening, ears flushed - and immediately dart your hands down to Gojo’s belt buckle. 

Meanwhile he’s shedding himself free of his t-shirt, whatever’s left of your bra, hooking over your panties—

RIIIIIP—!

“Th-those were expensive.”

“I’ll buy you fucking ten more.” Pointedly, Gojo stuffs the ruined fabric into the back pocket of his trousers before disposing of them somewhere by the side of your bed. “Then tear those off, too, next time.”

Next time.

“Excited ‘bout a ‘next time’?” Oh- fuck, you’d just babbled that out loud.

He couldn’t have looked more smug if he tried, pointed canines flashing in a smirk. His thick thumb dips into the hemline of his boxers, pulling them down in a flash.

And Gojo was hard - so fucking rock-hard that his upright erection smacks the front of his abs with a thwack! 

Long. Perfectly thick. Always just so pretty. Bedazzled by a few veins down his pinkish shaft, Gojo’s sensitive cock twitches as he’s panting. Ruby-red tip painting a horizontal line of precum, you’re mentally calculating the measurement and wondering just how deep he’d be inside of you. 

Swatting away your sheeny thighs, that’d just started to close. “Ah ah- where’d you think you’re taking her?” Before his glossy, sleek jaw unhinges ever-so-slightly in wait. 

“You want me to-”

“I’ve spit on her so many times.” Gojo muses, quirking one snowy brow. Holding you by the throat, he pushes his face into your personal proximity, “Think s’time for you to return the favor.”

Whimpering, restless, it was just so cute to him how you’re pressing your lips together shyly. 

Whacking a bead of slobber precisely onto the target of his tongue- and Gojo barely even gives you the time to register your little ministration before surging his entire body and kissing you. Open-mouthed, heated.

At the exact same time that his globed, weeping cock pushes straight past your swollen folds. 

But it wasn’t so easy- “F-fuck.” Gojo shutters his eyes, expression looking like he was just in prayer. Hiccuping, rutting- back and forth in rapid half-thrusts as if he couldn’t bring himself to pull out of your pussy any further. “What the fuck…what-”

“S-Satoru, are you okay?”

“No.” SMACK! He’s trying to strike his pelvis against your own so hard that your thighs are jostled. Fat cock stuck by the resistance of your cute, cute cunt. “No no no- s’just…I lost my virginity to you.” 

You’re speechless as he looks up at you with a giggle. 

Repeating, “I just lost my virginity to you and it’s too- good.”

“And you’re t-too big—” You claw all down his pale back, feeling every muscle flex underneath your touch. 

“Remember my first lesson?” Head tilted, the smile on Gojo’s face was oh-so-tender - even though his mushroom tip was furiously pumping in and out of you like anything but. “You’re going to- take it- all.”

Fuck, but he didn’t know who he was torturing more. 

Because your cunt gives way to swallow up one more of his solid, rovering inches - just past the slick line of his slit - and Gojo hunches over. He heaves. His vision blurs with tears- “Ohhh my god, I c-can’t.” Voice octaves higher, breaking. He’d just started to put it in and he was crying.

Shit, he’d learned nothing. 

With a hand pushing your left thigh open, Gojo’s trying to pull his ravaged cock out. Just too good for him to handle. Maybe he’ll keep some part of his sanity intact if he fucks you with just the tip-

But in that instant, your clingy insides are squeezing around him so tight and he’s thrusting.

Out-of-control. 

Fighting against the stretch, you’re clawing for the headboard above your scalp- “Oh my god- I don’t know if I can- fuck! It’s just so big.” Nine - nearly ten - inches throbbing at the mere sound of your voice. 

“Lesson number one lesson number one- oh, lesson number one-” Echoing like a broken record-player, he’s ruthlessly haaaauling you back with a hand latched onto your hip.

Soft grunts wafting your features like a furnace, “Breathe” Gojo begs into your ajar mouth, pinning you with the prominent muscles of his v-line. “Breathe- one- two-” With each stroke. “Breathe with me-”

Those exact same exercises that he’s taught himself over and over again during the toughest of training regiments. “Feel it in your s-stomach.” You’re nearly screaming as one of his over-large palms come pressing down on your stomach, making you feel like he’s spearing his plump tip all the way into your lungs. “Then let it allll out through your lungs- breathe w’me, one, two.”

One-two. In and out. One-two. In and out. 

Mewling, “One- t-two.” Mindless hips swervin’ back and forth to meet his desperate drilling and it makes him gasp.

“Breathe- breathe. Lesson one, you hafta take this-” Scrambling for your hips, for your throat. “Even just the tip. Just an inch.” Using the leverage to pull you down, “I’m begging here.”

“T-Toruuu–”

And it’s with a final, resounding spank of skin-on-skin that he’s managing to bottom out.

The hot, pulsating feeling of his sheathed cunt barely even registering in your mind before Gojo’s letting off a wet sob. It just felt too good. “You passed with f-flying colors, my beautiful.”

And now that he’d gotten started, he couldn’t stop.

Gojo was pounding you into your cheap bedsprings like a madman, like it was painful for his swollen, vein-covered cock to go even a second without dragging down your walls. Designing your slick insides with the patterns of his veins, “How are you reachin’ a-alll those spots, Toru?”

“Alllll those spots, huh?” Mockingly, he ends up pushing down on your tummy just like before. 

Except this time, Gojo takes the lecherous time to feel the dull thud! of his split-ended tip poking into your cervix. This time, he can follow each single inch you’re clenching ‘round—“Wh-what is…”

Pushing down harder. “Is that my-” Thrusting even harder. 

Gojo’s size is just so staggering that he’s feeling the exact bumpy outline of his mazing shaft. The way he was spreadin’ apart your walls with his circumference - it just renders his mouth watering.

Gracing you with a dopey grin, one that had drool spilling from one side of his rosy lips. Moaning, “Oh, just when I thought you couldn’t be more perfect.”

Sweet-talker. You whine, just so you won’t pay too much attention to the way your heart races, “Shut up, Toru.”

“Yeahhh- say that again.” Bulky base just drenching with your sweet slick the harder he’s thrusting in, you can feel his rock-hard tip twitch after your words. “S’like you’re made f’me.”

“Shut up, Toru-”

Palm massaging down on the tummy bulge he was fucking into you, he could feel each flinch of his oversensitive cock. “See? See? The way this pretty pussy takes ngh- all of me. The way you make me react-” Pumpin’ a thorough push against your slick-filled sweet spots. “The way you make me s-sooo fucking hard. Ohhh, we fucking fit like a- a…”

Poor chatterbox Gojo Satoru is just so pussydrunk by now that he can’t even go on.

He can’t even speak. Can’t even breathe— entire fuzzy brain honed in on spearheading your walls with his flared cockhead like a flashlight. 

Hips gyrating into the exact angle that it takes for him to strike your needy, waiting g-spot. Hard. 

“There-” Your heart-shaped peripherals sprint to the back of your head, back jerking off of the mattress. “Right- ngh- there–!”

And, usually, Gojo would’ve taken this as the perfect opportunity to brag about how it was ‘so easy’ for him to find the almost-mythical g-spot. Usually, he’d have been snickering outright at the cutely awed expression on your face.

Usually.

But the only thing he was fucking capable of doing right now was marvel at both you and your pussy. Gaze darting up and down so fast it was almost like a blur. 

“Cat- hah, pussy got your tongue, Toru?”

“Sh-shut up…”

“You shut up.”

Shit, that makes him nearly cum. Right then and there.

And to cover up this little weakness, Gojo spanks your overstuffed pussy instead. Open-palmed, with the doughy tips of his digits striking accurately on your clit. 

“Y-you little- ngh.”

“What was that–?” Oh, it was like he’d just stumbled across an epiphany. And before you know it, he plants down three more rude smacks on the slope of your cunt; exactly in sensual unison with the thrashes of his cock. “Why don’tcha write my name on your clit, beautiful? Unless…” 

SMACK–!

You get the message fast enough, even despite your thoughtless mind. 

Your twitchy dominant hand slithers between your thighs, thumbing down your perky clit just in that way you liked. “T-Toru–” Trying for all your might to spell a ‘T’, “Oh- wait, Satoru.”

Then an ‘S.’

But you couldn’t do it just how his big fingers had managed to do, and the only thing you’re getting out is a sultry figure-eight. One that renders your throat dry, “Satoru- oh.” An ‘A’ that looks more like a silly lil’ ‘V’, “I can’t ngh- don’t think I can- fuck.”

And Gojo notices your little struggle - of course, he’s noticing. 

It’s the sweetest little entertainment for him, of course, watchin’ you get fucked too dumb to spell out his own name on your clit. Your lips wobbling when he finally smacks your hands away-

“Honestly- aren’t you supposed to t-teach me?” Groaning at the squelching noise of your growing even more aroused. “Watch and learn, my girl- fuck. My beautiful.”

But it’s not like he was any better, thank fuck you were too gone at this point to realize. Just as much as he was. 

It takes Gojo a few slips n’ slides to latch his plush thumb down on the nub of your clit, “F-first there’s a ‘T’- I mean, an ‘S.’” The dual stimulation of his shaft stretchin’ out your tiniest ridges inside, of his fingerpads writing on your clit, was simply incredible. “Then an ‘A’...‘T’...”

Even through the lust-fogged haze in your mind, you could distinctly make out the messy scribbles of Gojo’s fingerpads. 

S-A-T-O-R-U

Repeated. Over and over until it was like that pattern was burned onto your clit, joints working manually faster. Faster. 

S-A-T-O-R-U

S-A-T-O-R-U

S-A-T-O-R-U

And it’s so much that you don’t even realize you’re shrilling out his name with each movement- “Satoru-” Thighs kicking in pleasure, he’s quickly throwing them over his shoulder and folding you in half. Bending you into a mating press. “Satoru- Satoru Satoru—”

You feel a slimy, wet tendril gleam down your cheek, “Why’re you crying?” Gojo’s licking up salty tears you didn’t even realize you were setting free. “S’not because of my hck! biiiig fuckin’ cock, is it?”

In this mating press, your friend(?) had the freedom to plaster his washboard abs down your front. To scratch your pelvis with his pale white happy trail.

“S’not because I’ve wanted to do this for- for aaages, is it?” Nuzzling the crook of your neck, Gojo gives you a slam so hard that you’re being driven further up the bed.

Only for him to pull you back down. To do it over again.

And over and over and over again until the spongy layer of your cervix had memorized the size of his cervix. Stretching open your cozy lil’ walls, he pricks his strawberry divot firmly against the base of your womb like he was meant to be there. “Not because I’ve always wanted to- to break myself on this pretty pussy-”

Roughly, the wooden frame of your headboard rattles-

“O-oh-” Gojo slams his hand down on the banging headboard, remembering something from the earlier lessons about a landlord. 

Only for the mahogany panel to shatter, for your creaky bed to sag on one side– your eyes widen. Gojo Satoru had just broken the bed but he was still going.

He was still claiming your cunt with each sultry jackhammer, still babbling pussydrunkenly. “S’not because you’re haaaah- close, is it?”

“I am–” You don’t have half the mind to be shocked that he could feel your oncoming high before you. Walls clamping down with each vibration of electric euphoria, “M’gonna cum, Satoru. Lesson number nine is to make- me- cum-”

“You’re gonna cum.” More statement than question. “Really, really gonna cum? Because of ngh- me?” 

You can only nod.

And Gojo’s voice is small, cracking. “She’s gonna- fuck! gonna on my cock?” Furiously nodding, “My cock? Because of- oh- me? Fuck–!”

You’re barely even getting out an affirmation for those last few rapidfire questions of this before Gojo’s tense, driving cock explodes. All into thick, gushing ropes of cum that slather your walls.

And if you thought he’d cum in massive volumes before, then you weren’t ready to be faced with how eager he was to fill up your pussy.

Your geysering slick was nothing in comparison to the way Gojo was buttering up your slitted entrance, cobwebbing your tight hole shut with his sticky cum. Again. And again and again he was pumping each drop into you. 

“L-lesson number two-” But it was not like he would let you get off the hook that easy. And the flesh of your inner thighs sting when Gojo only speeds up, accelerating his shaft to target your g-spot in a way that makes you keen. “-n-never cum after me. Only before-” 

Two roughened crowns of his fingers tweak your clit– a final, ‘Y’ And you’re wondering what the hell that stands for.

Y-O-U-R-S

Gojo flushes as he finishes off the singular word, like he almost couldn’t believe it himself. Before pinching on your clit—“Sh-shit- shit shit shit, m’cumming, Toru.” 

Right now, watching your cunt quiver n’ cum around his cock was better than anything he could’ve ever dreamed of. 

Because your mouth was possessive, crashing into his and whining his name with each twinge of your high. Your pretty eyes were practically mosaics of tears at this point, ones he could stare into for eons. 

And he does - straight into your irises when Gojo’s filling you up from the inside out. “I know-” Feeling his own seed slosh out of him and drip straight down to your womb. “Take it- take it, all inside like it- hah- should be. Like it was always meant to be.”

“Inside-” Gasping at the press of his tensed core, pushing down on your stomach. Right where he was spearing straight through you, “A-all inside, Toru.”

It was one of the best orgasms of your life, and, strangely enough, all of them seemed to have been pulled out by Gojo.

Who was filling you up until you were overspilling, like some fountain. 

Now purposefully slapping the veiny length of his shaft against the roof of your cunt, pounding you through each volt of pleasure until you’re seeing stars.

Until your thighs are left shaking stupidly, your mouth gaped, brain so filled with the static of your stomach being in knots that you don’t even register the damp splat-splat-spat–! splashing onto your shoulder.

Something…wet. 

At least, not for a few seconds until your eyesight can adjust. You’re blinking back your vision to look up and see that Gojo Satoru was crying.

Pretty cheeks ruddied, eyes glistening with even more unshed tears. And you wonder just how long he’d been holding them back.

His perspired head drops down to your shoulder like it had hours prior in front of your door, and you can make out the unsteady gasps of his words. “You- you took my virginity but…” Something raw. Something honest. “I-I just…”

He bites back his words until you’re forced to pull him away from the crook of your neck. Pushing back sweaty, ivory bangs until Gojo can look at you properly. 

Look you right in the eye when he utters—“I’ve always wanted to be yours, too.”

Your heart leaps to your throat, and so do those words that have always, always been on the tip of your tongue. “You already are, Toru.”

Something escapes from his lips - maybe a sob, maybe a laugh. But it’s a sound that makes you beam back, though, you think you’d never be able to match the sunlight in Gojo’s smile. Instead, you take the time to memorize the crinkle of his eyes, the wink of that lil’ dimple of his. 

“My lesson number three is I love you, my girl.” ‘My girl’, he can finally say it now. 

He can finally watch your slightly surprised reaction as you hear it, kiss-bitten lips twitching upwards into a grin. “My lesson number ten is I love you, too.” 

Heart shaking, body fully shivering at the music of those words dropping from your lips. “You- you don’t know how fucking long I’ve waited to hear those words.” He nuzzles his nose against yours, still smelling of that same cherry bodywash and utter fuckin’ love. “How fucking long I’d wait just to hear it again.”

“I have a feeling you won’t have to wait long at all, Toru.” You’re combing your fingers through his angelic hair, head turning to the side with a giggle once he starts pecking your face. Your jaw. Your neck. Over and over and over– 

Only for the moment to be broken when you gasp, “Satoru.” Gojo follows your beeline of sight, straight to the top of your bedside dresser. Right where it was proudly displaying a familiar black and gold box, one with a glaring ‘XL’. “We forgot about lesson number one.”

.

.

.

You think you’d never get used to wearing Gojo’s famous 06 jersey. 

An original, of course - one that’d been safely tucked away in the back of his closet, that he absolutely refused to tell you how long he’d kept ‘just in case’ for you. 

It drew stares, though, you think part of that came from being at the very front row to the final NCAA championship game. Your eyes follow each slide of pristine sneakers, each cut-throat pass, each swat of the basketball hitting the polished court. 

Tokyo vs. Curses; it was a tie. 

And right now, you didn’t care about the gaggles of numerous fans gossiping behind your back, or the way Coach Yaga kept yelling at Gojo about showing off for you - and the fact that he was telling your boyfriend to do more of it.

To leave no mercy once Geto’s passing to him, to sprint faster with only two seconds left on the clock, to slam dunk the basketball straight through the hoop—

And that’s exactly what he does. 

A buzzer rings, and suddenly you can’t even see Gojo’s figure through the heaps of confetti bursting from the arena. In blue and white for Tokyo Jujutsu University.

Tentatively, as you’re spotting family and coaches rush onto the court, you’re taking a step. Just a single one - but Gojo always did say he could find you amongst a thousand crowds. 

Heart leading him to you. 

As the confetti and streamers phase just a little, you spot him rip out of his team hug with a call of your name. Being dragged back as MVP, Geto pauses to dap his best friend up - before thumping him on the back and letting him tear through the throng of people to get to you. 

“Excuse me- excuse-” Maneuvering nimbly with his towering figure, “Beautiful–!” He’s calling out, loud enough to turn heads. But Gojo doesn’t care, he doesn’t give a fuck. Not when he’s crashing into your arms, and murmuring into your lips. Such a loving kiss. “Beautiful.”

His grin was contagious, and somewhere in the distance you can hear his team jeer. Hell, even Yaga seems to chuckle from somewhere. “Congratulations on the slam dunk, Toru.”

“It was always for you, my girl.”

A/N. FAWK- the things I would do to have him. Can you tell I’m ovulating because I made him whimper?

Plagiarism not authorized.

[nxrvqna]

newlywed!sylus who couldn’t wait to sink his teeth into your plush skin that had him entranced the entire ceremony. seeing you in white made him dizzy.

after bidding goodbye to your guests and leaving, all that could be heard in your hotel room was the sound of heavy breathing and kissing. sylus had all but molded himself to you, his hands travelling everywhere all at once. clad in your white veil, lace garter belt and stockings; sylus in his dress shirt, tie, and dress pants that were tightening by the minute.

his lips grazed the curve of your neck, his hands coming up to move your veil aside so he could latch his lips onto that sweet spot just behind your ear. you carded your fingers through his white tresses whilst squealing at his movement. he purposely pulled up to gauge a reaction from you. “leave your tie on, sy.” you whispered him, with your honeyed voice, avoiding his gaze. sylus looked down at you, a small tug of his lips. “why’s that, sweetie?”

“so i can do this.”

you pulled down suddenly on his tie to bring him back to your level and gave him a searing kiss, your grip never faltering. you felt sylus’ smile against your red lips. you broke apart and sylus looked at you with a tenderness in his carmine eyes, your lipstick smeared. “whatever the wife says.”

“i have to reward my wife for her courage, don’t you think?” he spoke aloud, unbuttoning the collar of his shirt and loosening his tie. he gently guided you until your back met the wall and he got on his knees. running a hand up your leg, his agile fingers fiddling with the sheer material of your stockings. throwing one leg over his broad shoulder so that he was met with your bare pussy, swollen and glistening under the light of the room

without warning, he glided his fingers between your folds, making sure the cold metal of his wedding band made contact. your legs buckled. his hand moved with ease, manoeuvres unchallenged from how wet you were. he sighed, warm breath fanning against your clenching hole, before licking one long stripe against your wetness. “can’t believe this cunt is mine for the rest of my life. i could die a happy man.”

sylus would put down his gun, leave his life of violence behind and write poems about you. your hair, your skin, your smile. he’d follow you to the ends of this world and the next, worshipping the very ground you walk on, the air you breath. his to hold and cherish, for better or worse, in sickness and in health.

[mahgyu]

Shiu smut + N$FW audio

• minors do not interact!

──── In Shiu's eyes, you were a goddess. And if your neglectful boyfriend, Toji, didn't treat you as such, Shiu would gladly fulfill that role.

Your moans echoed throughout the room as Shiu's tongue roamed your vulva. One of the man's hands firmly gripping your exposed breasts while your eyes rolled back feeling Shiu simulate a thrust with their tongue at your tight entrance.

Your fingers gripped the black strands of his nape as the male hands descended now to grasp your quivering thighs. Fingers sinking into your sensitive skin, Shiu's agile tongue snapped loudly as it explored every inch of your needy intimacy.

"Ugh... Shiu~" You called out in a plea, lifting your partially naked torso to look at him. The dark deeply hypnotic eyes granted you attention, that sensual gaze making you wet within seconds. "Toji will be back soon, y-you have to go..." You cautioned, practically struggling to resist Shiu's intoxicating touch.

In response, Shiu held you even tighter between his hands, inching his face away from your needy area. "Don't talk about your little boyfriend while I eat your pussy, doll." Kong's pink moist lips formed a smirk before he returned his attention to your intimacy.

Your relationship with Toji was not on the best way, often feeling like he used you as a toy only for his moments of boredom. Today, for instance, Toji had agreed to spend the whole day with you, but the disappointing reality came to light when you found out through Shiu that he had gone out to gamble again. But despite feeling neglected in your own relationship, you still felt terrible for cheating on Toji with his own friend, even though Shiu gave you the attention that Toji never even bothered to give you.

"We both know he doesn't deserve you, sweetie" Shiu said, dragging his wet lips along the inside of your thighs. "He shows you off like you're an accessory, but doesn't even care to truly take care of you" Shiu's face quickly turned dark and serious, his slightly wet hair covering his forehead. "Toji doesn't know how to appreciate the queen he has by his side, my love." As painful as it was to hear those words, it still felt so good to be appreciated like that by someone.

"But, we're acting wrong... Hmm, shit! " You said, trying to control yourself from fucking your needy pussy against Shiu's face who just laughed mockingly at your protest and moved closer to your pussy again.

"I wonder what his reaction would be if he saw us like this. Would he learn how to treat you properly?" Shiu said, dismissing other thoughts, leaving a chaste kiss on your sensitive and swollen clit. "I'd love to see the look on that jerk's face watching another man devour his girlfriend's needy pussy" He needled, staring at you.

Shiu sucked your clit hard, hungrier, more ravenous, delighting in your tearful moans that escaped straight from your throat. "Let me enjoy your sweet little pussy just a bit longer, doll, I promise it'll be worth it in the end." You felt Shiu's hot tongue slickening you up more as he promptly inserted two fingers into your needy and slippery hole. Your eyes rolled with the intrusion, Shiu's name repeatedly falling from your lips in the form of a moan, causing him to grunt. "Let me take care of you, my goddess."

⠀

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Shiu's version! I'm curious to know what you guys think. 🤭

Any other character suggestions? Tell me.

Your interaction is very important to me, reblogs and comments are always welcome. 🫶🏻💕

[callsign-datura]

a/n: sorry for the long wait! 4.7k words, the result of my last poll, simon "ghost" riley x f!reader

warnings: smut, unprotected p-in-v, creampie, hair-pulling, degradation, talking to the pussy

ghost didn't have many hobbies, but he did have a few he liked the most. His third favorite was being at the shooting range, his second favorite was cleaning his guns, and his first favorite was sparring.

he often sparred to ensure he wasn't getting rusty with certain hand-to-hand techniques. usually with soap, or gaz. late at night when he had energy to expel, or unwanted emotions to get out.

that's why he found himself in the gym, this time off the mat, wrapping his busted knuckles with bandages. he was dressed in gray sweats, a black wife-beater, and the mask. he flexed his fingers as he tucked the edge of the bandage beneath the edge of another at his wrist, bringing both arms above his head. he stretched, grunting quietly before letting his arms drop to his sides, squinting at the way the fluorescent lights made his head ache.

the door creaked open slowly. he tilted his head, watching you enter. you looked up and met his gaze, and he turned his head away and began wrapping his other hand with the same bandages.

you and ghost were cordial at the very least and hostile at the most. it wasn't that you got along-- sometimes his demeanor just pissed you off. so closed off, and for what? working with another person was better than working alone, to you, and you didn't understand why in the hell he was so rude to you.

you huffed under your breath, not expecting him to be in the gym so late. you watched his shoulders flex, the wife-beater a darker shade around his neck with the sweat that dampened it. he looked like he'd been hard at work for a few hours, the bandages around his knuckles tainted with a deep shade of red.

"what's the point of wrapping your hands after you've busted them on the bag?" you call, watching his shoulders shift a bit as he stops wrapping.

"i forgot to do it before." he retorts, not bothering to face you.

"didn't nurse sullivan tell you to do it before?" you put your hands on your hips. your tone is concerned, and partially, you are, but the other part of you is just looking to get on his nerves. you came here to train yourself, but messing with him seemed a bit more fun. "thought you'd remember what a nurse told you to do."

"didn't ask ya to remind me what sullivan said, i know what m'doin'." he finishes wrapping his other hand and goes back to the bag, getting into position and bringing his fists up. he starts throwing punches, the jangle of the chain and the thuds of his fists hitting the bag echoing in the room.

you approach him. "you know, sparring might be better than boxing." you offer, folding your arms behind your back as your gaze flickers over his stature. he's by no means a small man, and it's been a while since you've had the chance to spar with the other guys on base.

ghost's hands shoot out to still the bag, and his head tilts to the left. brown eyes peer at you from beneath the mask, and he huffs through his nose, looking you up and down. "tch. y'got a death wish? i've got a few inches on ya... not to mention pounds."

"i know you do. it'd be good training for me." you hum, looking to the side, then back to him. "for you too, maybe. having an agile opponent might be a bit challenging for someone so... lumbering."

"lumbering?" he asks, tilting his head as he turns to you completely. "and you... agile? got an ego, don't ya?" though he's excited at the prospect of sparring at all, so he's considering it.

you can tell you're piquing his interest, so you push it, ignoring the little jabs. "maybe a small one. sounds fun though, doesn't it? I heard it's been a while since you've got the chance."

he sighs. he feigns resignation, but there's a sparkle in his eye that you don't miss. he considers it for a few moments before he starts skulking in your direction. "you're gonna regret that," he huffs, stopping just short from you. "i've got some rules. one, you lose after i've pinned ya for 10 seconds. two, no dirty shots. i don't pull y'r hair, you don't kick me in the nuts. got it?"

he sounds so serious, you chuckle. "alright," you nod, agreeing to his terms. then you take your position on the furthest end of the mat while he takes position at the other end.

"ya ready?" he gruffs, and you nod, putting your fists up.

"alright then, you get the first shot."

"really?" you tilt your head, taking a few steps forward as you begin circling in the center of the mat.

"mm-hmm." he hums, rubbing his arms before putting his fists up. "wanna see what you can do."

you huff, then you go towards him, side-stepping and reaching out to grab his arm. you yanked on it, and he barely moved. he almost paused, somewhat amused that you even tried that. you let go and move away from him and he follows-- throwing a few punches without expecting them to land.

they don't. one disadvantage of him being so much bigger than you is the speed difference. you're so much faster than him. you can dodge faster, but if he finally gets his hands on you, you're done.

you're moving around the mat, dodging his punches and dodging it when he reaches for you, and he's growing increasingly frustrated.

"godammit, quit fuckin' moving." he hisses, grabbing you by the wrist and pulling you in. he lets go to grab you by the shoulders, but before he can, you duck and use most of your strength to kick his shins, trying to debilitate him so you can get away. it doesn't work. you scramble away and he follows, grabbing you by the collar of your shirt and pulling you close. he turns around to throw you off before shoving you to the ground and pinning you there by your shoulders, his body coming down on yours as his knees cage you in on either side of your hips.

you're squirming, hips lifting and hands clawing at his wrists in an effort to get him to let you go. his eyes narrow, getting some sort of satisfaction at seeing you squirm beneath him.

"one," he begins counting, signaling to you that you only have a few seconds to get away. his grip on you tightens, and you're almost sure he's gonna win when you get an idea. your grip tightens on his wrist before you drag your hand up it, digging your nails into the surface of his skin. you apply enough pressure to cut the skin, and his grip releases at the same time he hisses. he doesn't let go, but you take the opportunity to throw his hands off of you and turn around in his hold, tucking your legs in against yourself and pushing the bottoms of your feet against him to throw him off. then you scramble out from beneath him, getting up and putting distance between the both of you.

"hmm," he says, eyes focusing on you before he gets to his feet. "slippery fuckin' thing." he laughs, looking at the arm you cut up. crimson dribbles from the thin red lines you've left behind, and he rolls his head, cracking his neck as he goes towards you again.

there's something different in his eyes-- he's surprised that you're putting up such a fight.

"never expected a little thing like you to fight so dirty." he says, his voice low and husky as he stops a few feet away from him, intense eyes following you as you circle him. it's obvious to him you have no intention of making the first move again, so he opts to play with you a bit instead.

"y'r crafty too, huh?" he says, his voice mocking somewhat. "didn't expect you to claw me up like that. i mean, it worked..." he turns as you do, and your eyes narrow.

"i'm enjoyin' this one, that's for sure. maybe i should make sure that you're gonna keep comin' back?" he says, his voice husky again. there's a tone in it. it's almost like he's taunting you, or-- no, that isn't it...

"it's a shame they won't scar, though." he takes another step towards you, and you look behind you to gauge how much space you have until you step off the mat. you stay where you are.

"i like having trophies from my fights... reminds me how much i enjoyed it." he keeps rambling, and you're not sure what the point of all this is. it makes you feel fuzzy inside, kind of, like he's complimenting you.

he gets closer, and his eyes narrow further. you know he's smirking beneath the mask. you look meek-- is he flirting with you? is your lieutenant flirting with you? is simon "ghost" riley flirting with you??? he throws a few lazy punches, knowing you'll dodge them.

"not at all. it's a compliment, actually. small, nimble. i bet you rarely get into any sticky situations, huh? like a rabbit," he chuckles, his voice amused as he lets go, then shoves your shoulders hard enough to make you stumble. then, to make you lose your footing, he kicks your feet out from under you.

"ain't very often i get to fight people like you, after all." he hums, not even sounding like he's taking it seriously. you're visibly nervous, and you hold your fists up defensively. he leans forward, grabbing your arm and pulling you close. the rational part of you is laughing at your idiocy, but the other part of you is melting because-- he is flirting.

"ugh-- people like me? is that an insult?" you say, your chest close to his as he leans down. his face is inches from yours, and you can feel his breath against you.

you yelp, and you fall on your ass. the sudden tone shift is enough to send you spiraling. the way he talks to you makes something heat in your stomach. he gets on top of you again, one of his legs between yours and the other on the outside of you. he puts his hands on the mat between your arms, and he stays leaned over you.

"well... not really fighting back now, are you? that's a shame..." he huffs, his gaze drifting from your face down... your chest is heaving, and your eyes are shut. your hips shift, and he moves his leg up at the same time. the curve of his thigh bumps against your clothed cunt, and it makes you jolt.

"hey!" you hiss, not expecting the contact or the look in his eyes when you finally look at him.

"what?"

"i... i thought you said no dirty shots," you retort, your voice somewhat weak. you look away, your body flooding with some sort of warmth that his closeness produced in you.

he snorts, the corners of his eyes crinkling in amusement. "ain't a dirty shot if you're already on the ground and you've already lost. it's just... overkill." but he stays over you, despite the fact he just won. his gaze rakes over you in a hungry manner, and you can hear him suck in a breath when your back arches up off the ground.

"...you can get off me now," you murmur, avoiding eye contact. you feel shy, all of a sudden, and kind of pissed. he just won because he was toying with you on purpose to win. he was messing with your feelings! "get off me." you hiss, trying to get out from under him.

his eyebrows go up, sensing your sudden hostility. his eyes narrow. he lifts a hand and pins your shoulder down. "ah ah ah, the fuck are you doing? did i say you could get up?" he was enjoying this before, but now that you're fighting back like this he's a bit irritated.

your squirming just results in you unintentionally grinding yourself against his thigh. you suck in a breath when it happens, and your eyes narrow.

"you're such an asshole" you grumble. despite your arguing and your resistance, you press yourself against his leg.

he looks down when your hips shift. he watches the way they move, and when you finally relax, he moves above you and intentionally moves his leg to see your reaction.

your face flushes, and you whimper, looking away.

"well... look at that." he murmurs, his voice lilted and knowing. he looks up at you and makes eye contact, pushing it against you again to elicit another noise from you. you moan once again and your lips curl, eyebrows knitting in response to the jolt of pleasure he causes.

"isn't that cute?" he teases. "does that feel good?" he says, his voice almost mocking as he lifts his thigh and presses it against you, gently pushing it against you in an even motion to make you squirm even more.

"g-god, you're such an ass," you moan, body falling limp and losing whatever ounce of fight you had. you still mouth off. "do you do this with everyone you spar with? i-is that why soap is always asking you to spar with him?"

he rolls his eyes. "shut up, girl. i'm surprised you have the audacity t' speak to me that way when you're gettin' off on my fuckin' thigh." his voice is almost scolding, but he doesn't grind his leg against you any harder. just goes slow... it's almost torturous. you can already feel yourself drenching your panties. it's a culmination of this entire thing. the way he smells, how close he is to you, the way he's staring at you so hungrily... all of it is making you salivate, except your mouth isn't the only thing drooling.

your head falls back, and your breathing is already so heavy. he tilts his head forward, and his lips are on your neck. you feel the wetness of his lips, the itching brush of peach fuzz, the fabric of his mask rolled up over his nose against your neck-- all of it makes you shudder beneath him. he nips at the flesh of your neck, pulling gently and kissing at the reddened flesh afterward. he puts his leg down, and places himself between your legs, one hand cupping the back of your thigh and lifting it to press himself against you. you feel the outline of his dick through his sweats, semi-hard but at attention. the girth of it catches your attention, and when he feels your body stiffen he chuckles.

"hush. we'll make sure it fits, doll." he murmurs, his voice husky and low, sending shudders through you with how close he is to you. he doesn't grind into you from that position. rather, his hands travel up and down your sides as he kisses your neck, sucking small hickeys and trailing them down. his hands shove your shirt up and over your chest, doing the same with your bra. he's intense, and very aware of what he wants-

you.

his eyes focus on your tits. round, perky and the perfect size for him to hold. so he slides one hand up to cup and fondle your tit, his thumb quickly traveling over your nipple. it pebbles and perks beneath his touch and against the cool air, and he hums. he salivates. he wants to taste your skin. drag his tongue over your flesh, feel the goosebumps that raise beneath his tongue. but he can't. he has to make sure you come back for more and that's exactly how he will.

and as always, he'll get what he wants, one way or another. you squirm beneath him, and noises attempt to claw out of your throat but you keep quiet. you don't want to let on how much you're enjoying this, but the subtle rock of your hips gives it away.

"tsk tsk tsk. are you really this impatient? haven't even done anything yet." he snickers, pulling back to look down at you. he pulls his mask back down before you can see anything, and he leans forward with his hips a bit. your legs still hover against his hips, your knees drawing together as a result of your embarrassment. your lips part and you pant, chest heaving once again.

his other hand slips down to your hip, lifting your legs up and together, over his shoulder so he can pull your pants and panties up your thighs.

"such a pretty girl. you know, i've had my eyes on you for a bit..." he starts. once your pants are around your thighs and he has enough access to you, he brings the hand that was on your boob, to your mouth. he eases his pointer and middle finger into it and your eyebrows knit at the taste of sweat. "suck," he instructs. you do, cheeks hollowing briefly as your tongue laves along his fingers, coating them in spit.

"hmm... always wondered whether or not you were the obedient type, but i never got a chance to break you in and find out." he chuckles, withdrawing his fingers from your mouth and bringing that hand between your legs. he drags the tips of his fingers through your folds, humming when he feels how wet you are. you can hear how sloppy it is, and he laughs.

"i guess i wouldn't be breaking you in as much as her," he snickers. your face reddens and you look to the side, panting once again as he starts easing those two fingers into your sopping cunt. you comprehend then that the her was your pussy.

"mm-hm, tight, as i thought. are you that nervous?" he teases, tilting his head as he scissors those two fingers inside you. the feeling knocks the air from your lungs, and you gasp, bringing both hands to your face to hide how embarrassed you are. despite that, your body gives away how excited you are, your hips shifting and your back arching as his thick fingers curl inside you.

if you're moaning, your pussy is screaming. the wet noises of his fingers working you out is embarrassing and brings heat to your face, but you can't really focus on that.

it sounds so lewd, and it is. you let out a gasp as he pushes them deeper, the sheer girth of his fingers causing your gummy walls to strain. your thighs clench and your hands ball into fists. his other hand pulls your pants and panties off completely, humming as your legs fall apart.

"s'it that good, doll?" his voice is husky and low, teasing. he's getting off on your reaction to his touch. "c'mon, girl, look at me..." his fingers stop, and you whine, shifting to look at him. they start moving as soon as your eyes fix on his, and your lips part. you moan again, your lips curling.

"c'mon, talk to me." he encourages, and his touch is downright sinful in comparison to his tone. "does it feel good? this what you wanted when you started grinding yourself on my leg?" he chuckles to himself. "never woulda thought you were this kinda girl if i hadn't of seen it myself..."

his thumb moves, and flattens over your clit once he turned his wrist over. he rolls circles over it slowly, his other hand rubbing soothing circles on the outside of your thigh.

you squirm and whimper, and it takes everything in him not to just pounce on you. instead he opts to listen to your moans and the sound of his fingers inside you. he curls his fingers and inches them deeper until your body jolts, and he hums in approval at your reaction.

"s'that the spot...?" he asks, leaning forward as he curls his fingers against that spot again. you jump, the coil in your stomach growing ever tighter as you moan in affirmation. the pleasure is making your head feel light, your eyes fluttering shut again and your head falling back against the mat. you're squirming and shifting again, and you feel sweat on your neck and chest. you whimper a bit, the air feeling sticky and humid between you both. it's hard to tell whether that's just your body heat, or it's him.

and you whimper at him. you can feel your orgasm encroaching, and he can feel it too. your cunt squeezes around his fingers and he can feel you throbbing. your body tenses, and your orgasm is right there--

he removes his fingers. you slump down, tilting your head to the side and huffing in frustration when you feel so suddenly empty.

"...this proves that you're just... an asshole..." you grumble, bringing your legs together.

he's thick. slight upward curve, blushing tip and definitely not lacking in length.

there's silence on his end, and when you look at him, he's pulling his sweats and boxers down.

"can't be much of an asshole if m'gonna dick you down," he purrs. you don't look, but you feel his cock hit the side of your thigh once he takes it out. a hand wrapped around the base, he gives a few lazy pumps, smirking to himself beneath the mask when you lift up to look.

"hmm? s'this good enough for you? such a rude girl, calling me names," his voice is teasing. he shifts forward a bit and then lines himself up with you before he moves both hands to cup the back of your knees and lift them. he moves you just a bit closer. He shifts his hips, then without warning, pushing himself into you up to the hilt.

you gasp. he's big, and you wish he had told you he was going to do it so quickly, because you weren't expecting it. his size takes a bit for you to adjust to, the sting and the stretch causing you to squirm once again. he grips your hips to still you, and he hums. "shh... you can take it, can't you?" you continue to whimper, and he laughs. "so pathetic. s'it too big for you?" he mocks, leaning over you once again.

"so fuckin' messy. look at you, girl. maybe this-" he emphasizes that with another particularly hard thrust that causes his tip to attack your g-spot-- "is what you wanted all along. maybe you asked me to spar cause you wanted me to fuck the shit out of you," he huffs, his voice low and raspy and his movements aggressive. you can barely speak aside from squeaks and squeals, the feeling of his hips slamming into yours causing your vision to go white. you couldn't respond outside of gasps.

god. yes. yes, it was too big-- and it took you a while to adjust to it. he started moving once your hips started shifting into his. he tilted his head forward, tucking it into your neck and grunting quietly. you're still sensitive, so when your lips part in a moan, it all feels so intense. your back arches and your legs push apart, welcoming him. his thrusts are shallow, yet careful, (for now), and he grunts into your ear. you squeeze around him, and your head tilts back as you moan out, hands finding his shoulders and digging your nails into it. Your eyebrows knit and you whine.

"y'r pussy's noisier than you are. listen to her," he goes quiet and fucks into you harder just to emphasize the paps of his hips hitting the back of your thighs and the squelches of your pussy clenching around his cock. your slick dripped down your cunt, getting his sweats damp a bit with it-- he moved one hand up to pull your hair, tilting your head back so he could talk in your ear.

"fuck," he cursed, pulling your hair again and chuckling when you cried out. you were lost in the feeling. the feeling of him, the feeling of his cock and how roughly he fucked you.

"hah!" you mewled, your back arching up off the mat. you grabbed at his shoulders in utter desperation. your eyes crossed and you tilted your head to the side, your body jolting with each thrust he offered you- getting gradually rougher.

"y'sound so slutty, moaning for me like that... keep doin' it, pretty," he hummed, staying close as he rutted into you with a force that might as well have caused you to shriek. he let go of your leg, and both of them closed around his waist, ankles locking at his lower back.

"m'gonna cum," you whimpered, your voice soft and meek. he chuckled, and his movements got a bit more aggressive. he lifted himself up onto his hands, keeping them just over your shoulders and looking down to where your bodies met. his fat cock was pounding into you over and over, the squeezes of your pussy enough to make him moan a little bit himself. he looked up, meeting your gaze.

when he finally came, you were still on cloud nine, wailing and squirming beneath him when his hips slammed into yours and he spilled spurts of hot cum into your pussy. the sensation was almost enough to make you cum again-- especially when he ground his hips into yours, his tip grinding into your g-spot. plus his lovely groans were sending you straight to heaven. the noises he made were mostly groans as he fucked into you, making your entire body shudder from the feeling and the sensations flooding your body.

your eyes were glazed over. visibly lost in the pleasure and focused on nothing but your impending orgasm, he took that as encouragement. he took your legs again, sitting up and pulling them together but pushing them against your front. the angle allowed him to get impossibly deeper. each time he slammed into you, his tip hit your g-spot, applying enough pressure to graze the plug of your womb and create more tingling, burning pleasure.

"oh! oh, fuck--" you gasped, folding a hand over your mouth to muffle your moans. your heart was pounding in your ears, and you swore you almost fainted when your orgasm finally fell over you. the feeling of the pressure releasing had you seeing stars, shaky crying moans leaving your mouth. your back arched and tears pricked the corners of your eyes. you were sure you'd be bruised on the inside by the next day.

"that's it baby," he hissed, his grip on your legs tightening. "atta girl..." he purred, his tone tense with his own incoming orgasm. he wanted to help you ride out yours first, so he did. his hips kept that brutal, hungry pace, slamming into your drooling pussy with a fervor he didn't even know he had. he wasn't much of a talker in the midst... you didn't notice that he'd gone quiet, though, too absorbed in the aftermath of your orgasm.

he groaned out, his eyebrows knitting beneath the mask as he tilted his head forward to watch himself pound you. "take it... that's it, fuck..." his tone was still encouraging, but it faded as his pace started to slow. your entire body was still ebbing with pleasure and tingling with the overstimulation of your orgasm, and you were almost struggling to come back to the earth. you were both still panting.

when he pulled out of you and tucked his cock away and fixed his sweats, he looked at you-- his tone was full of pride. "well... fuck... look at you, huh?" he tilted his head, sounding awfully smug. he retrieved your pants and panties and helped you get re-dressed.

"you know... that wasn't the kind of session i was expecting, but damn... i think that was the best i've had in a while." he stood up and helped you to your feet, patting your ass once or twice as he held you up while you regained your bearings.

"...whatever, ghost," you grumbled, still holding onto your stubbornness even after you'd been sent to heaven and brought back.

"you know where to find me. don't be afraid to come get some if you're in need," he hummed, "not like i'm in a position to deny ya."

[arachine]

thinking about predator/prey dynamics with hiccup in which you run from him while he tracks you through the forest, and when he finally finds you he's so pent up from the adrenaline of the chase that he has to fuck you there and then...Oh My God 💔💔💔

pairing: hiccup haddock x f!reader

contents: explicit sexual content, first time creampie, mentions of overstim, not proofread bc i'm tipsy

+ note: long overdue so sorry, but thank you for sending this thirst!! i love himmmm ughhhh ;(

it's his favorite form of foreplay, and honestly yours too—but it's especially fun for him because he likes to let you think you've got the upper hand. he'll even give you a head start, sometimes. let's you run around for a bit until he finds you in the thicket of surrounding greenery, or behind one of the several waterfalls in the area.

when it's suspiciously quiet, though, and you've gone too long without so much as hearing the snap of a twig in the distance, you think he's lost you. and you're always so confident that you've outsmarted him this time. that you've bested him at his own game—but your celebration is always premature, because in those few moments of self-proclaimed victory, you usually end up giving away your whereabouts in one way or another.

"no fucking way," you whisper, though terribly. "i actually lost him this time!"

"lost who?" a voice echoes through the trees, seemingly belonging to no one. you tilt your head to the sky in search of its owner, but find nothing but fleeing birds instead. then, the voice speaks again, only it sounds much closer than before.

"and..." the voice drawls, "i've got you."

before you can even attempt an escape, you're up and off the ground in a second, clinging onto your boyfriend's side as he uses a vine to swing across one spot to another. he's got you held captive in his embrace, and it only gets tighter with every squirm, which he gently admonishes. eventually, the vine slowly comes to a stop, and the two of you drop to the forest floor with a soft thud.

"what's the count now? ten? twenty?" he starts, holding up his hands to count on his fingers, "don't know, lost track. but that's another win for hiccup, and...another monumental loss for milady."

you roll your eyes, feigning annoyance.

"tell me, how does it feel to lose to someone so smart, so handsome, so—"

you interrupt his victory spiel, "so...dead? because if you don't stop talking that's what you're gonna be in the next few seconds."

he throws his hands up in the air as if to surrender, and begins walking backwards. clumsily, he missteps and trips over his prosthetic leg, falling to the ground in an awkward manner. the sight alone is enough ammunition to hold over his head for weeks. it takes the strength of odin to not laugh as he looks up at you with a pained, yet embarrassed expression. for someone so cocky, he had the agility of a newborn dragon.

you take one more look at him before you erupt into a vicious fit of laughter, eyes closed shut as you keel over while clutching your stomach for dear life. in your distraction, the mischievous look he gives you goes unnoticed, and when you finally begin to settle down, he's sporting a frown.

"ha, ha, very funny," he says dryly, sitting up, "laugh at the amputee. it's okay, though, you see, because i actually happen to prefer being on the ground."

"oh, c'mon, don't be a big baby," you tease, extending an arm to pull him up. he accepts it obligingly, and just as you're about to pull him up, he yanks you down on top of him.

"ohhhh," you say, as if suddenly enlightened, "so this was your plan all along, huh? wanted to be close to me? well, hiccup haddock, you are quite the little mischief." smoothly, you maneuver yourself to where you're straddling both sides of his hips.

you let a single hand rest atop his stomach, and inch your fingers up slowly until they stop at the crest of his chest. teasingly, you move your face closer, stopping just a centimeter away from his lips. the finger on his chest swirls in purposeless circles, and he glances down once, before flipping your positions. now it's you who lies on the forest floor.

"it's cute when you act clueless," he breathes, whispering in your ear. his hands are impatient, already making quick work of the ties and lacing on his pants. "you know it always ends like this."

"yeah, but the pretending is what makes it fun, right?" you query with a raised brow.

"like, when we pretend that you've almost lost me? yeah, i guess that is pretty fun," he smirks, head dipping down to kiss your neck. you tug on his hair to pull him back up, earning a soft groan in response.

"i did almost have you!" you counter, pointing a finger in his face. he squints his eyes at you as if to say 'really?', but decides to play into your delusion.

"i know, baby," he says, resuming his assault on your neck, "you'll win next time."

and you know it's a lie. he'll win the next time, and the time after that, and the time after that one, too. he'll have you spread out just like he does now—stripped bare and begging, head thrown back in pure, unadulterated bliss.

in your haze, all you can focus on is him—his breathing, the whimpers he kisses into your skin, the feeling of his cock as it drags in and out of you, heavy and warm. it's debilitating, intoxicating. how he somehow manages to turn you into a liquified puddle of flesh every time. something to be made pliable, that he can build up and take apart effortlessly, like it was nothing.

swiftly, you reach up, encircling your arms around his neck. you pull him down forcefully, and capture his lips in a searing, impatient kiss. despite his inexperience, hiccup's always been a good kisser. he likes to take his time, you see, kiss you real slow, lick into your mouth and drag his tongue across every surface of your teeth—because that's how he learns, by feeling, tasting.

but right now? right now he's insatiable. his hands are all over the expanse of your body, touching, kneading, pinching, leaving marks for you to find come morning. they wander aimlessly before settling on the bundle nerves nestled between your legs. when his callused fingertips make contact with your clit, you arch into his touch, whimpers and curses slipping past your lips.

"think it's time for my prize," he says, fingers rubbing in circles with purpose, "think i've earned it." you know he's teasing you, talking sweet into your ear to get you to come all over him—and it was working. there was no in the whole archipelago more persistent than hiccup. even while chasing his own release, he still prioritized your own, making sure to sync his thrusts with the ministrations of his fingers.

"you're so beautiful, so tight, so—shit—all mine," he mumbles, burying his head into the interstice of your neck. everything he was saying was coming out in unintelligible jumbles. in between his mumbles, you could make out a few clear words, most of which were obscenities and praises. his thrusts, once rapid and powerful, were slowly starting to become irregular. you knew both of your climaxes were teetering on the precipice, you just needed one final blow.

"go ahead, i've got you. let go, love." and with that, your climax came over you like liquid lightning. hot, fast, and powerful. you arched into his body, limbs jerking, hands grasping onto his arms, hair, back—anything to ground you. bring you back down from the stratosphere. for a few moments, everything around you stilled—got quieter. much like the quietness during first snowfall.

it didn't register to you that hiccup had been talking to you until his fingers snapped in front of your face. then, his voice came, and the buzzing in your ears subsided.

"there's my girl," he coos, bringing a gentle hand up to cup your cheek, "almost lost you there." he leans down, kisses the centre of your forehead. lets his lips linger for a few before pulling back to rest his head against yours.

"did so good for me. sososo good," he praises, emphasizing each word with a lazy rut of his hips. the overstimulation is almost too much to bear, so much so, that you have half a mind to push him off—but you don't. somehow you're able to find the mental fortitude to ignore the ever-growing pressure in your core.

motivated, you wrap your legs tighter around him, digging your heels into his spine to bring him impossibly closer. in an attempt to coax both of your releases, you begin to grind down onto him, squeezing your walls around him with every movement. he gives a disgruntled moan in response, accompanied with a few curses.

the little energy he had left was fading. the one arm situated on the side of your head was shaking, threatening to collapse, and the other was beginning to tire. you knew his release would ensue shortly after yours.

"inside, d-do it inside," you nodded, "wanna feel it."

his eyes go big, pupils blown entirely. he almost thinks he's misheard you, actually, he's certain he has—but then you repeat it again, and there's not an ounce of uncertainty in his bones. never has he finished inside of you, he usually opted for finishing on other body parts. parts that didn't end in pregnancy.

but now you were giving him the go ahead, and dear odin, he didn't know what he did for the circumstances to change, for the scales to tip in his favor—but he wasn't complaining. and he wasn't going to deny you, not when you were squeezing on him like that, looking up at him through hungry lashes. no, he could never deny you. hiccup was many, many things, but never cruel.

then, with a few more lazy thrusts, he spills his seed inside of you. thick, white ropes of hot semen fill your hole, and the two of you moan in perfect synchronization at the sensation. he collapses on top of your body immediately after, and you pull him tighter into your embrace. when the two of you gather your wits, he rolls over, turning his body to face yours.

"same time tomorrow?" he jests, shooting you a cheeky, shit-eating grin.

"don't push your luck, i just let you put your seed inside of me." he flops onto his back, puts his hand over his chests and makes a gurgling sound as if he's been fatally wounded.

"you've just killed me, do you know that?"

you squint your eyes at him, waiting for him to correct himself.

"yeah, fair. but you can't blame a boy for trying."

[b1asho]

While it's on the mind, here's my wings of fire designs too. Not as much of a brainrot but still fun. Bad take or am I cooking with some of them? Let me know in the comments. Here's some (too many) notes:

I really liked the original designs when I first read these books, but I wanted to try my hand at uhh changing them a little. Mainly making them more distinct from each other (even if this irreversibly breaks canon XD)

-Sandwings live in a mixed savannah and desert habitat and have bodies adapted for resource scarcity, effective hunting, and heat dispersion. They have large ears to help cool off and listen for stuff. They can fly, but pretty weakly in comparison to some others, mainly using flight to navigate their large territories , get onto cliffs, and scan for prey. They typically climb up somewhere and then jump off. They are built like felines, and use a solo stalk and rushdown hunting approach coupled with a sting instakill. They live in family groups, with a ‘queen’ title going to the alpha female 💪 and everyone else hunting and living together. They are immune to their own venom, which acts very similarly to a scorpion’s but in a massive dose, causing numbness, breathing difficulties seizures, and eventually death. It takes time for them to make more once they’ve expended the dose, so they rarely use it outside of hunting or life/death situations (though the prospect of being stung is very scary to everyone else, and they will instinctively raise their tail when startled or threatened)

-Skywings live in high mountainous and forested areas, with some living in the lowlands. They are powerful flyers and very acrobatic due to their tail, though this comes at the expense of their agility on land and the strength of their non wing arms. They have long legs with powerful talons for grasping prey midair or snatching them from off the ground. They hunt and live alone unless they have a partner. Communities are made up of a loose group of related individuals who rarely collect in one place at once(queendom structure are a more recent and ‘unnatural’ thing for them, but very useful for organizing military efforts and empire building). They stay aloft for long periods of time and usually only land on their cliff homes. They need a sprint or a takeoff point to get flying, though. Unlike every other tribe, they have a noticeable difference between male and female (being a nose horn and red face for males.) males are prized for these features, and having a pretty husband is seen as an attractive trait for a queen.

-Seawings live along the coast. They normally only venture out of the water for trade and other resources, since they can get everything else they need underwater. Their large neck houses gills protected by thick pads that will close when on land, while their lungs are in their mid chest. Primarily adapted to swimming, they have very strong tails and webbed fingers and toes. They will also use their wings to steer and paddle, as well as manipulate things their other arms can’t reach. They will hunt in packs, corralling fish and other animals into a kill zone. They are very clumsy on land and in the air with their short limbs and weak wings. Their bioluminescent spots can be flashed for communication, and compared to the other tribes they have pretty poor vocal ability (due to the gills in their neck getting in the way) and will supplement with other spot/sign signals. Every individual has unique spots, though their glowing ones come in consistent numbers, sizes, patterns, and places on their body so they can use them for common language across their group. However, Different groups from different parts of the ocean have different numbers of spots in different areas, making cross communication via only spots difficult. Their whiskers help navigate in close or dark areas, and are seen as a status symbol.

-Mudwings live in warmer areas, specifically marshes and other wetlands (though sometimes in some forested areas too). Their thick armor helps protect them from other mudwings/competition, while also acting as an insulator that allows them to easily venture a wider range than other tribes from warm climates. Physically, they are the strongest and bulkiest. They typically use the element of surprise and their overwhelming size and strength to take down large prey. However, unlike other tribes they tend to eat more plants too due to their large size (all of them are technically omnivores, but meat makes up the dominant part of their diet because of their energy needs and their ancestors). They are also the poorest flyers out of the bunch, having sacrificed that for size and strength, though they can do short bursts similar to a chicken to get to hard to reach areas or to surprise attack prey faster than them, they’re similar to hippos and are adapted to living in the water too, using powerful webbed arms to propel themselves and dig through the mud, and their large lung capacity to stay submerged and hidden for long periods. Their nostrils, ears, and eyes are located near the top of their head, which also gives more room for Tusks. They use these to root around occasionally defend themselves. Tusk maintenance and appearance is very important to them. They live in large groups of families in the same area and have more communal social standards than other tribes.

-Rainwings live in tropical areas and have a very small habitat range. This has caused them to look and act very different than most tribes, leading to poor perception of them. They use their long claws, strong grasping fingers, and prehensile tail to climb around, and are pretty much arboreal. They have wings meant for quick takeoffs and flight in dense areas, and are pretty agile and swift. They and aren’t that great at sustained flight or dealing with high altitudes and winds though . Their frill is delicate and used for emoting (probably originally for mating purposes) Their skin is packed with chromatophores that they can use to match their surroundings, and they have loose ridges in their skin that they can raise to enhance the effect. Their skin is constantly changing color due to their brain activity, though they have set patterns/colors for emotions and communication. They can also choose to focus on organizing their skin patterns to get coordinated colors and patterns, since normally it’s pretty disorganized. They eat a lot more plants due to their environment and due to social standards, but arent herbivores. They have the ability to spit acid out of hollow retractable fangs, and use precise shots of this coupled with their camouflage ability to get prey. They can also spray it at higher velocities for defense and offense, though this expends their supply much quicker. They don’t recognize a queen in their communities and are fairly disorganized into different cooperative groups.

-Nightwings are the result of a group that split off onto an island, though the volcanic activity on their original island escalated to the point where they had to emigrate. They are great fliers, using their wings and tail extensions to travel great distances to track prey and ambush from above. When on land, they aren’t particularly fast or strong, and instead are built for persistence. Their hunting tactic involves getting an initial bite onto prey, then waiting for it to succumb to infection. Their spines, horns, muscles, and talons are mainly for defending their kill from other Nightwings rather than hunting it in the first place. As a result of this competition, they aren’t naturally very social like other tribes, They are mainly nocturnal.

-Icewings live in the colder tundras and snowy forest environments. They are pack hunters, using their speed and persistence to take down prey, similar to wolves. Their long overlapping scales help them trap heat and survive in the cold, and while the guy i drew here is pretty skinny they also store fat much more readily than other tribes. Their bowed wings are mainly used to swoop in in prey, and like falcons they often take steep dives to grapple it. Their antlers only grow in at a certain time in the year, but royalty will wear embellished artificial ones in the meantime.

[fallingtowers]

ahh shit goddamnit i spilled my dang drink. me and my stupid clumsy hands. my stupid, large, strong hands with their elegant & well-formed fingers. my beautiful, skilled hands that have brought many a woman to the very peaks of their ecstasy. yet they can't seem to be trusted with the simple task of keeping a drink unspilled! oh these stupid hands of mine. i could use a beautiful lady or two to comfort me right now. to comfort me and tell me i'm worth something. despite my firm yet gentle hands and my agile tongue and my long cock.

[mapis-putellas]

𝑪𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝒅𝒓𝒖𝒏𝒌𝒚 // 𝑨.𝑷𝒖𝒕𝒆𝒍𝒍𝒂𝒔

Let’s just pretend this didnt take a whole week to write. Spanish is in Italics.

It was nearly midnight when the front door swung open with significantly more force than necessary, followed by a loud thud and muffled giggling. You looked up from your book, a knowing grin quirking onto your lips. Alexia was home from the team celebration dinner, and apparently, she was absolutely wasted.

"My love I’m home" she calls out, her voice ringing through the apartment.

You set your book down and pad to the entryway, finding your wife leaning heavily against the wall, one shoe off, the other dangling precariously from her toes. Her blonde hair was tousled in a way that suggests she'd been running her hands through it repeatedly, something she only does when particularly relaxed or, in this case, incredibly intoxicated.

"Hey, baby," you say, unable to suppress your amused smile. "Looks like someone had a good time."

Alexia's face lights up when she see’s you, her eyes brightening as she pushes herself away from the wall only to immediately stumble forward. You move quickly, catching her before she could faceplant onto the hardwood floor.

“How beautiful you are!” she exclaims, her hands immediately finding your face, squishing your cheeks together. "My wife. The most beautiful in the world.”

You laugh, steadying her with an arm around her waist. "Thank you, but let's get your other shoe off before you break an ankle."

"No, no, no," she insists, pulling away from you and attempting what appears to be a twirl but looked more like an uncoordinated wobble. “Let’s dance first!”

"Dance?" you echo, raising an eyebrow. "Baby, it's late, and you can barely stand up straight."

She pouts dramatically, her bottom lip jutting out in a way that was both ridiculous and endearing on her normally stoic face. "You never want to have fun with me.”

"That's not true and you know it," you reply, carefully guiding her to sit on the bench in the entryway. "We'll have plenty of fun tomorrow when you're not seeing double."

With surprising agility for someone so intoxicated, she catches your wrist and pulls you down onto her lap, wrapping her arms tightly around your waist. “I missed you.” she murmurs against your neck, her breath hot and smelling strongly of tequila.

"I missed you too," you respond softly, brushing her hair back from her forehead and tucking it behind her ears. "How was the celebration?"

Alexia's eyes widen as she launches into an animated recounting of the evening, switching rapidly between Spanish and broken English, her hands gesturing wildly when they weren't firmly attached to some part of your body.

“...And then Mapi, she says that I can’t-that I cannot-drink three shots in a row, but I showed her...”

You listen with fond amusement, catching maybe half of what she was saying through her slurred speech and language hopping. Alexia, the usual dignified captain, was now a giggly, touchy mess, completely unreserved in a way only you and a select few others ever witnessed.

"Sounds like you put Mapi in her place," you comment when she pauses for breath. "Now, let's get you ready for bed, okay?"

Her hands slid under your t-shirt, fingers splaying across your bare back. "I’m not tired." She grins mischievously, attempting to look seductive but achieving something closer to comical with her slightly unfocused gaze.

"Mhmm, sure you're not," you retort, easing her hands out from under your shirt. "But I think a shower might help you feel better."

It takes considerable effort to extract yourself from her grasp and get her standing up again. You manage to remove her remaining shoe and begin guiding her toward the bathroom, one arm firmly around her waist.

"Wait, wait, wait," she says suddenly, stopping dead in her tracks. "It’s hot. Very hot.”

Before you can respond, she was tugging at the buttons of her blouse, her fingers fumbling with the simple task.

"Let me help you with that," you offer, reaching for the buttons.

She bats your hands away. "I can do it myself.”

You step back, crossing your arms as you watched her struggle for nearly a full minute before she lets out a frustrated groan.

"It’s broken," she declares seriously.

"The button aren’t broken, baby. You're just a little uncoordinated right now."

Her response was to simply grab both sides of her blouse and yank, sending buttons flying across the hardwood floor. She looks immensely pleased with herself as she shrugs out of the now ruined garment.

"Was that really necessary?" you ask, trying to sound stern but failing to hide your amusement.

Alexia doesn’t answer, instead focusing intently on removing her pants, which proved to be an even greater challenge. She hopped on one foot, then the other, nearly toppling over several times before finally kicking the pants across the room with a triumphant "Ha!”

Now standing in just her bra and underwear, she grins at you. “Are you going to help me with the rest?”

"Let's get you to the bathroom first," you suggest, knowing from experience that once Alexia was fully undressed, getting her to move anywhere would become exponentially more difficult.

You manage to corral her into the bathroom, where she immediately begins fiddling with the clasp of her bra.

"Shower time, baby," you remind her as you start the water, turning to adjust the temperature.

When you turn back around, Alexia has successfully removed both remaining items of clothing and was now completely naked, examining herself critically in the full length mirror on the back of the door.

"I think I need to work out more. she mutters, poking at her perfectly toned abdomen.

You roll your eyes. "You're literally a professional athlete in peak physical condition."

She continues as if she hadn't heard you. "Look at these legs. They're not strong enough.”

"Your legs are incredible," you assure her, guiding her toward the shower. "Now get in. The water's ready.

Alexia freezes, staring at the shower as if it had personally offended her. "No." The word was small but definitive.

"No? What do you mean 'no'?"

"don't want to shower.” She crosses her arms over her chest, looking surprisingly intimidating despite her complete lack of clothing and slightly swaying posture.

"Baby, you smell like tequila and bar. A quick shower will make you feel better."

She shook her head vigorously. "No shower. I want the bed.”’

Recognizing the stubborn set of her jaw (the same expression she wears when arguing with referees on the pitch) you decide it would probably be best to just change tactics.

"Okay, no shower," you concede. "But let's at least put on some pajamas."

You leave her standing in the bathroom while you went to retrieve a clean t-shirt and sleep shorts from the bedroom. When you return, she was sitting on the closed toilet lid, looking dangerously close to nodding off.

"Arms up," you instructed, holding out the shirt.

Alexia's eyes snapp open, and she regards the clothing with sudden hostility. "No. Without clothes.”

"You can't sleep naked tonight, baby. You're going to get cold."

"I don’t want clothes.” Her voice rises dramatically, and to your shock, her eyes well with tears.

"Hey, hey," you said softly, kneeling in front of her. "What's wrong?"

"You’re ruining my dreams" she says, a tear spilling down her cheek as her lower lip trembles.”

You blink, thoroughly confused. "I'm...ruining your dreams? What dreams?"

"Of being naked. It's freedom.”

You stare at her for a moment, processing this declaration. "You have dreams about being naked?"

She nods solemnly, tears still streaming down her face. "It’s important.”

Fighting back laughter, you stroke her cheek gently. "I didn't realize nudity was so important to you, baby."

"It is," she insists. “Very important.”

Shaking your head, you decide this particular battle wasn't worth fighting. "Alright, no clothes. But you need to use the bathroom before bed, okay?"

Alexia considers this, then nods her agreement. You stand, offering your hands to help her up from the toilet seat. Instead of taking them, she simply stars at you, making no move to stand.

"Alexia," you prompt, "you need to get up so you can use the toilet."

"I can't.”

"What do you mean you can't?"

"My legs don't work.”

You sigh, realizing she had entered the "completely helpless" stage of drunkenness. "You were dancing around the apartment just fine a few minutes ago."

She shrugs dramatically, then lets her body go completely limp, sliding slowly off the toilet seat. You lunge forward, catching her before she hit the floor, but not quite managing to keep her upright. You ease her down, and her bare backside makes contact with the cold tile.

"¡AY!" she yelps., suddenly finding the strength in her legs again as she kicks them wildly in protest. "Cold! Cold!”

"I told you to stay on the toilet," you remind her, struggling to maintain your grip as she flails.

With considerable effort, you manage to haul her up, supporting most of her weight as you position her on the toilet. "Now pee."

Miraculously, she complies without further argument, looking up at you with an innocent expression like she hadn't just spent five minutes fighting you on this very issue.

You help her wash her hands, which turns into another ordeal as she becomes fascinated with the soap bubbles, attempting to blow them from her palms and giggling when they land on your face.

"Bed time," you announce firmly, putting an end to the impromptu bubble play.

"I’m not sleepy," she protests, but allows you to lead her toward the bedroom anyway.

You had just reached the hallway when she suddenly pulls away from you, a determined look on her face. "Where is the kitchen.” She demands.

"You know where the kitchen is. We've lived here for three years."

"I want ice cream.”

"We don't have any ice cream," you tell her, trying to redirect her toward the bedroom.

But Alexia was a woman on a mission now, breaking free from your grasp and making a wobbly beeline for the kitchen, her naked form disappearing around the corner before you can catch her.

By the time you reach the kitchen, she has already opened the refrigerator and was reaching for something on the bottom shelf.

"I found the ice cream!" she announces triumphantly, holding up a stick of butter.

"That's not ice cream, baby," you say, quickly moving to intercept her before she could take a bite. "That's butter."

She frowns, examining the yellow block in her hand. "It looks like ice cream.”

"Trust me, it's not," you assur, gently prying the butter from her fingers and returning it to the refrigerator. "And even if we had ice cream, you shouldn't eat it right now. You'll feel sick."

Her bottom lip juts out in that dramatic pout again. "You're mean.”

"I know, I'm terrible," you agree, guiding her away from the kitchen. "The absolute worst."

She seems to accept this assessment, leaning heavily against you as you steer her back toward the bedroom. You were just starting to think you might actually get her to bed without further incident when she suddenly straightens up, her eyes wide with excitement.

"I have an idea,” she exclaims.

The gleam in her eye immediately sets off warning bells in your head. "What kind of idea?"

"Let's go swimming!”

Before you could process what was happening, she had broken free from your hold and was running surprisingly steadily for someone who'd claimed her legs didn't work minutes ago, toward the back door that led to your small fenced yard and pool.

"Alexia, no!" you call after her, giving chase. "It's the middle of the night, and you're naked!"

"I want to dip skinny" she shouts over her shoulder, fumbling with the door lock.

"You want to what?" you ask, momentarily confused by the mangled English phrase before realization dawned. "Oh, skinny dip. No, absolutely not."

But it was too late. She had managed to unlock the door and was now sprinting across the yard, her skin glowing under the moonlight as she makes a beeline for the pool.

"Alexia Putellas!" you yell, rushing after her. "Don't you dare get in that pool!"

She pauses at the edge, turning to face you with a mischievous grin that was visible even in the dim light. "Are you going to stop me?”

"Yes, I am," you say firmly, approaching her slowly as if she were a spooked animal. "Come back inside now, and we can go to bed."

She pretends to consider this, tapping her chin thoughtfully. "Hmm...no." And with that, she turns as if to jump into the water.

You lunge forward, catching her around the waist just as she was about to leap. The momentum carriesyou both dangerously close to the edge, and for a heart-stopping moment, you thought you were both going in. Somehow, you manage to plant your feet firmly and pull you both back from the brink.

"Let me to!" she protests, squirming in your grip.

"Not happening," you reply through gritted teeth, tightening your hold as you begin half dragging, half carrying her back toward the house.

After a brief struggle, you give up on finesse and simply hoist her over your shoulder in a fireman's carry, one arm securely wrapped around the backs of her thighs to prevent escape.

"Put me down!" she demands, pounding her fists against your back.

"Stop hitting me, or I'll drop you," you warn, though you had no intention of actually doing so.

Her response was to deliver a sharp smack to your behind, followed by a delighted giggle.

"Oh, you think that's funny?" you asked, delivering a light swat to her exposed backside in return.

"¡Oye!" she yelps, though you could hear the laughter in her voice.

Somehow, you manage to get her back into the house and lock the door behind you. By this point, you were both breathing heavily from the exertion, and your patience was wearing dangerously thin.

"Alexia," you say, your voice deadly serious as you set her back on her feet. "We are going to bed. Now."

Perhaps something in your tone finally gets through to her, because she nods meekly. "Okay.”

Relief floods through you as you guid her toward the bedroom once more. You had almost reached the door when she suddenly stops, a familiar stubborn expression settling on her face.

"I’m not tired," she insists again.

That was the final straw. You'd been patient, you'd been understanding, but after chasing your naked, drunk wife around the house for nearly an hour, preventing her from eating butter, and stopping her from diving into a cold pool at midnight, your limits had been reached.

"That's it," you declare, changing course and steering her firmly toward the bathroom instead. "Shower time."

"No-“

But you were done negotiating. With a strength born of pure exasperation, you lift her into the shower stall, step in after her still fully clothed, and turn on the water.

The cold spray hits you both, and while you had been expecting it, Alexia clearly wasn't. She goes rigid in your arms, her back arching as she lets out a shocked gasp that quickly turns into a wail.

“COLD! IT’S COLD!” she cries, trying to escape the spray but finding herself trapped between the shower wall and your body.

"I know," you said, reaching around her to gradually adjust the temperature to something more bearable. "Just give it a minute."

As the water warmed, her struggles subsided, replaced by pathetic sniffles that tugged at your heartstrings despite your frustration.

"Yoire mean.” she says again, her voice small and wounded as she turns to face you, water streaming down her face mixing with what you suspect were actual tears. “I want a divorce.”

Despite everything, you can’t help but laugh at the absurdity of the declaration. "You want a divorce because I made you take a shower?"

She nods solemnly, water droplets flying from her hair with the movement. "Very bad wife.”

"I see," you said, trying to keep a straight face. "Well, we can discuss that in the morning when you're sober."

She opens her mouth as if to continue her complaint, but then her gaze drops to your chest, where your white sleep shirt had become completely transparent under the shower spray, clinging to your skin in a way that left little to the imagination.

"Your boobs" she breathed, previous grievances apparently forgotten as she stares openly.

"Yes, thank you for noticing," you said dryly. "Can we focus on getting you clean now?"

But Alexia was thoroughly distracted, her hands moving to cup your breasts through the wet fabric with a look of awe that would have been comical if it hadn't been so familiar. For all her sophistication and poise in public, your wife turned into an absolute cliché when drunk. A shameless boob woman through and through.

"Beautiful," she murmurs, fingers kneading gently.

You can’t help but laugh at the absurdity of it all…standing fully clothed in the shower with your naked, drunk wife feeling you up as if she were discovering your body for the first time, despite having seen and touched every inch of you countless times before.

"You're ridiculous," you tell her affectionately, brushing wet strands of hair from her face.

She looks up at you with such earnest adoration that your irritation melts away completely. "I love you so mych," she says, suddenly emotional again.

"I love you too, baby," you reply, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "Now let's get you clean."

Taking advantage of her newfound docility, you quickly shampoo her hair and run a soapy washcloth over her body. She allows this without protest, seemingly content to stand under the warm spray with her hands still firmly attached to your chest.

Once she was reasonably clean, you turn off the water and wrap her in a large towel before quickly stripping off your own soaked clothing and grabbing another towel for yourself.

"Tired now?" you ask hopefully as you dry her off.

She nodded, her eyelids already drooping. "Bed.”

Not bothering with the pajamas that had caused such drama earlier, you guid her naked form to the bed and help her climb under the covers. You quickly towel off your own hair and slipp in beside her, immediately feeling her gravitate toward you in the darkness.

Her bare chest presses against yours as she tucks her face into the crook of your neck, one of her favorite sleeping positions despite her height advantage.

"This is nice," you murmur, thinking perhaps you had finally reached the end of the night's adventures.

You are wrong.

Just as you were drifting off, you feel the unmistakable sensation of teeth against the sensitive skin of your neck.

"Alexia," you warn, fully awake again. "Don't you dare bite me."

She ignores the warning, nipping sharply at your collarbone.

Without thinking, you deliver a quick smack to her bare backside, harder than the playful swat from earlier.

"Ay!" she yelp, pulling back to stare at you with wide, surprised eyes.

"It's bedtime," you say firmly, holding her gaze. "No biting. Sleep."

For a moment, you thought she might argue, but then her expression softens into a pout. "I’m sorry," she mumbles, settling back against you.

"It's okay," you reply, gently rubbing the spot you'd just smacked before starting to trace soothing circles across her back. "Just go to sleep, baby."

She nods against your neck, one hand sliding up to cup your breast again in what appeared to be her preferred sleeping arrangement for the night. "Goodnight, my love.”

"Goodnight, baby."

You feel her body gradually relax against yours, her breathing slowing to a steady rhythm...and then it happened. The first snore rumbles through her chest, vibrating against yours, a peculiar phenomenon that only occurrs when she was thoroughly intoxicated.

You roll your eyes and sigh, knowing from experience that the snoring would continue for most of the night. Yet despite your exhaustion and the guaranteed disruption to your sleep, you couldn't help but smile as you tightened your arms around her.

Morning arrives with harsh sunlight streaming through the windows you'd forgotten to close in last night's chaos. You awake to find yourself in exactly the same position you'd fallen asleep in, though Alexia had slid down slightly, her cheek now squished against your breast while her hand still cupped the other one possessively.

You smile down at her sleeping form, taking a moment to appreciate how peaceful she looked. Her hair was a tangled mess, fanning out across your chest, and there was still a faint smudge of mascara beneath one eye that hadn't quite washed away in the shower.

As if sensing your gaze, her eyelids flutter open, immediately squinting against the bright light. She groans, burying her face deeper against your chest.

"Why is there so mych sun?" she mumbles, her voice rough with sleep.

"Good morning to you too, sunshine," you reply, unable to keep the amusement from your voice. "How's your head feeling?"

She groans again in response, finally seeming to register her position and the fact that she was completely naked. Slowly, she lifts her head to look at you, wincing with the movement.

"What happened last night?” She asks cautiously, though her hand remains firmly in place on your breast, apparently comfortable there even in her confused state.

You grin down at her. "What's the last thing you remember?"

She furrowed her brow in concentration. "Dinner with the team. Mapi brought tequila...”

"And after that?"

"I got home?” she asks hopefully.

Your grin widens, “Oh, you definitely got home. And then you tried to eat butter because you thought it was ice cream, attempted to go skinny dipping in our pool at midnight, and told me you wanted a divorce because I made you take a shower."

Horror dawns on her face as fragments of memories apparently began to surface. "That's not true.”

"It absolutely is," you assure her. "You also cried when I tried to get you to wear pajamas because apparently clothing was 'ruining your dreams.'"

She groans, hiding her face against your chest again. "My God.”

"Don't worry, there's more," you continue cheerfully. "You refused to use the toilet until I physically put you on it, then acted like you hadn't just spent five minutes fighting me about it."

"Stop, olease" she begs, her voice muffled against your skin.

"And let's not forget how you became absolutely fascinated with my boobs in the shower, despite having seen them literally thousands of times before."

She raises her head just enough to glance down at her hand, still cupping your breast. With a sheepish expression, she starts to pull away, but you catch her wrist.

"I didn't say I minded," you tell her with a playful wink.

A small smile tugs at the corner of her mouth despite her obvious discomfort. “I’m sorry,”," she murmurs, her voice softand genuinely apologetic.

"For what specifically? There's quite a list to choose from."

She winces. "For...everything?“

You laugh, pulling her back down to rest against you. "It's okay. Though you owe me at least three uninterrupted bubble baths and a massage for the emotional labor of preventing you from diving naked into a cold pool."

"Did I really do that?" she asks, sounding genuinely concerned.

"You really did. You're surprisingly quick when you're drunk and determined."

She was quiet for a moment, then asks in a small voice, “Did I really ask you for a divorce?*

You stroked her tangled hair gently. "You did, but only because I got you wet."

She looks up sharply, eyes wide. "What?”

"In the shower," you clarify, enjoying her confusion perhaps a bit too much. "You got mad because I put you in the shower with your cold water."

"Oh," she relaxes, then immediately tenses again. "Wait, you put me in the shower with cold water?”

"After you'd spent an hour running around the house naked, refusing to go to bed, trying to eat butter, and attempting to go swimming at midnight, yes, I did. And I got in with you, fully clothed, I might add."

She buries her face in her hands. "I'm an idiot.”

"No argument here," you agreed cheerfully. "But you're my idiota, so it's okay."

She peeked through her fingers at you. "You're not angry?”

"Baby, if I got genuinely angry every time you did something ridiculous when drunk, we'd have serious problems," you tell her, gently pulling her hands away from her face. "Besides, it makes for a great story to tell at team gatherings."

"You wouldn’t dare," she gasps, looking horrified.

"Try me," you challenge, raising an eyebrow. "I've got years of material stored up."

She pouts, but there was no real annoyance behind it. “You’re mean," she grumbles, echoing her drunken accusation from the night before.

"So you keep telling me," you reply, leaning in to press a soft kiss to her forehead. "How about I make us some coffee and get you some painkillers for that headache I know you have?"

"Yes, please.” she mumbles, reluctantly releasing her hold on you so you could get up.

As you slide out of bed, you glance back at her sprawled naked across the sheets, her hair a golden mess against the white pillowcase. Despite the drinking, despite the chaos of the previous night, despite the fact that you'd gotten maybe four hours of interrupted sleep, you couldn't help but feel your chest ache with affection.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" she asks, pulling the sheet up selfconsciously.

"Because I love you," you answer simply. "All versions of you. Even the one who tries to eat butter and calls me mean for not letting her skinny dip at midnight."

Her expression softened, a smile spreading across her face despite the pain you knew she must be feeling. "I love you too,” she murmurs softly. "Even though I'm apparently a nightmare when I'm drunk.”

"The best kind of nightmare," you assure her, heading for the door. "And definitely worth every minute."

**

Tags:

@simp4panos @silentwolfsstuff @goldenempyrean @xxnaiaxx @liloandstitchstan

[kooqitas]

#pairing: best.friend!mingyu x reader ♡ #rough sex, humiliation, unprotected sex,

you always imagined that mingyu had feelings for you even though he was one of your best friends, and even if it was a little wrong maybe that was why you knocked on his door when your fertile period arrived.

it was actually easy, you always knew that mingyu was a 'pussy drunk' and that when it came to YOUR pussy he would be even more necessary. you arrived at his apartment with pizza and wine, you ate, drank, watched movies and before you knew it you were telling him how much the wine changed you! how 'easy' you became when the drink hit and made you feel unbearably horny.

maybe you were making fun of his feelings and no, you wouldn't be proud of it, but the horniness makes you so dumb that soon you started saying that your fingers weren't long and thick enough, that since you finished you relationship you hadn't been able to cum and that frustrated you, and you saw every gulp of saliva that mingyu made, every grip on your thigh that he gave in an attempt to control himself. and there you knew you would end the night exactly where you wanted: in his bed.

"you should try a vibrator," he suggested, a little uncomfortable, trying to pretend he wasn't imagining you fucking yourself with the toy.

"it's not funny... i want someone to fuck me hard."

you saw mingyu swallow again... "do it for me, gyu, fuck me!"

things happened in a complicated way, one second mingyu was on top of you and the next he was saying he couldn't, that you were too drunk. but he gave in, slid his hand into your panties, cursing how wet you were, and put one, two, three fingers inside you.

mingyu looked like a puppy, completely bewildered by the whole situation, he just needed to make you cum. his left hand went to your breasts, pinching the tip of your nipple while he continued fucking you with all three fingers.

"you are a bitch!" he said, still pushing his thick fingers against you, you couldn't tell if it was desire or anger, but whatever, it felt fucking good. "you're a fucking slut destroying our friendship over an orgasm"

"you say that but you keep fingering me… am i the bitch or are you a pathetic puppy?"

mingyu didn't answer, he just hit you, his heavy hand hitting your face without any hint of remorse, and then hitting your clit next, making you moan loudly.

"don't you dare make fun of me, not when you're a slut humiliating yourself to be fucked"

mingyu wanted to get up and tell you to leave, but all he could do was put your legs on his shoulder and start eating you out, his hot tongue going down all over your folds, making you squirm as he seemed to want to devour you. mingyu was agile, he made it clear how much experience he had and damn all you could think about was why you hadn't given yourself to him before

"i-im gonna-" you moaned, but mingyu stopped you before you could finish your sentence. "why did you stop?"

he laughed, machiavellian, the smile tugging at the corners, making you a little worried.

"what? you come to my house, act like a good girl, drink, act like a poor thing, beg me to eat this pussy and think that's enough?"

"but gyu, i-"

"shut the fuck up! you're a pathetic bitch"

you even wanted to argue, to say no, the only pathetic one there was him, but when you saw him, he had answered something very different.

"yes, i am!"

mingyu smiled, making you realize what you had said out loud, you thought about taking it back, but damn, he was so attractive and you wanted to cum so badly… maybe the best thing would be to just go with his flow.

"fuck me, gyu! make me your pathetic bitch… your cum dump…"

"you're sick…"

"please, gyu, i need you so much!"

he pushed you against the couch, not giving you a second to think as he thrust his thick cock inside you, making you whimper from the slight suffocation that the pillow beneath you offered you.

"is this what you want? to be fucked like a bitch in heat? a slut? do you want me to eat you and leave you here alone leaking my cum? i can do that, bitch!"

"g-gyu." You moaned. "s-slowly." you teased, making a sly little voice to irritate him.

"didn't you want this shit? didn't you want to end our fucking friendship just to feel a thick cock inside that disgusting pussy? do now take this shit."

mingyu pulled your head down, pushing your head even further against the pillow at the same time he gave your ass a loud slap, making you moan and lower your hips. and then he hit you again.

"don't be useless, keep that fucking hot ass up for me."

he continued to thrust hard, now pulling your hair hard with the intention of making you look at him and fuck, and god, looking at mingyu through the shoulders, sweaty, naked, with a pissed off look while he fucked you was simply the first wonder of the world

"stop screaming fuck, you begged so much for dick and you can't hold out a little without looking desperate?"

you didn't know THIS mingyu, and it was a surprise to discover that he was not only exactly how you wanted but much better. he kept thrusting hard, scratching your things, pulling your hair and your neck, and you came when his thumb ended up on your clit, you came embarrassingly, closing your legs as he kept fucking you until he finally filled you.

of course you wanted it, but you never thought you would be able to feel mingyu's cum dripping out of you, but more than an orgasm, it felt like a personal satisfaction…

he pulled away from you, still half dazed, his head dizzy from what they had just done, damn, it was a five-year friendship…

"gyu…"

"no. shut up, holy shit, what the hell did we do?"

and reality hit the door, damn, mingyu was one of your best friends… what the hell had happened.

"i… i'm in my fertile period, okay? i'm sorry!"

"fuck, and then you chose ME to deal with you like a dog in heat?"

"gyu…"

"no 'gyu'… fuck, you crossed the line… and you know the worst part? i liked that shit!"

"so we can do it again… hm? in your bed? your kitchen? balcony?"

"don't test my patience…"

"gyu…"

"fuck, i hate you!"

and yes… you came in his bed, and also in the bathroom, in the kitchen, on the balcony, you even tested the building's elevator afterwards…

[cowboygenesis]

18+ knuckle up | astarion x reader

| buy me a coffee?

summary: after a drunken night and a dumb bet you're left in an emotional (and physical) chokehold by your favourite vampire companion.

pairing: astarion ancunin x afab!bard!reader tags: 18+, smut, fluff, switch dynamics, m/f, fingering, unprotected sex, resolved tension, playfighting, sex after training session. word count: 7.8k notes: this fic was SO fun to write even if im a gale girlie myself. this is my first attempt at writing ANY bg3 character, so i really hope i did okay. if not, let me know! comments help me improve my writing (and warm my heart, seriously, thanks to anyone taking the time out of their day to comment). anyways gang, no beta as ALWAYS, you know how we roll. ENJOY! masterlist.

It still made little sense to you.

You had honed your skills at the most prestigious music schools in Faerûn for years, pouring your heart into every note, every chord, only to find yourself shamelessly ridiculed for an entirely different kind of performance. And by a man you’d grown to like, no less.

"Get up, darling," Astarion’s voice drips with amusement, the self-satisfied smirk tugging at his lips with infuriating smugness. His crimson eyes watch you with a predatory glint, locking onto your vulnerable form sprawled in the dirt—a definitive result of his frustratingly agile moves.

You groan lowly, propping yourself up on bruised elbows, wincing as a dull ache pulses through your body. A stray lock of hair falls in front of your face, and you blow it away in frustration.

"I’m starting to think this isn’t educational at all." You glare at him with all the venom you can muster, eyebrows furrowed as his arms cross.

Your eyes absentmindedly scan down his body, taking note of his slightly disheveled shirt and tousled hair. He looks… good. Beautiful, even. Basking in the soft moonlight seeping through the vast greenery above, he stands there like he’s in his element.

He chuckles, seemingly unbothered by your vapid tone. "Oh, but it is, my dear. Think of it as a new, humbling experience. Valuable in its own right."

You bite back a retort as he offers you a hand, his expression making your eye twitch. You never thought you’d fall for arrogance, yet ironically it’s your own conceit that might have brewed your upcoming downfall.

After a particularly boisterous night of drinking in camp—brought on by the recent victory over a pack of gnolls—you foolishly accepted Astarion’s challenge to best him in hand-to-hand combat. Your alcohol-addled brain had been more confident than your body, and now, after a series of harsh jabs and sidesteps, you were being taught the harsh reality of “real” combat.

Defeated, you eventually obliged a quick lesson from the master himself, which he had (admittedly suspiciously) made you take after losing your bet.

At the very least, the bruising would rid you of your lingering hangover once you were done taking the thrashing. Plus, you hoped it would bring you two closer. Figuratively and physically.

He raises an eyebrow, clearly enjoying your hesitation. "Come now, my dear, don’t be so stubborn. You seemed so eager at first,"

"You told me you’d teach me to fight, not fall on my damn face," you lament, but begrudgingly accept his help, allowing him to pull you to your feet.

His grip is firm, and the coolness of his skin sends a small jolt of electricity down your spine. You had often imagined what holding his hand would feel like during the colder nights alone in your tent, and while the circumstances ended up being less than ideal, it was good enough for you. For now.

You rub at your sore arm with a frown and catch that Astarion, unmistakably, stands completely unscathed, his pale complexion almost glowing in the ambient light.

"I’m thinking…” he muses, glancing at the weathered lyre resting peacefully by the roots of a tree. His lips curl into a smirk, and you can feel the teasing jab sting your pride. “Perhaps you’re better suited to the more... delicate aspects of life,"

Your jaw clenches. While bards famously went underestimated— a fact you were reminded of frequently— it hurt more coming from someone you so badly wanted to fuck.

"Oh, I don’t know," you say with a saccharine tone, brushing the residual dirt from your pants; your favorite pair, yet you’d probably end up having to toss them out after your poor performance today. "I think a harp string could make a fine garrote in the right hands."

Astarion’s laughter rings out clearly, and your heart skips a beat unbeknownst to you. "Dully noted. Fortunately for the both of us, we’re stripped of any weaponry in our current pinnacle."

Your eyes roll, running a hand through your disheveled, sweat-slick hair and adjusting your posture to the one he had taught you: one foot forward, back straight.

"Again," you demand, squaring your shoulders. If he wanted to mock you, fine— but you wouldn’t go down without a proper fight.

Astarion’s eyes widen, but his smirk never falters. He sighs in faux exasperation but quickly matches your posture. "So eager to be tossed into the dirt again, darling."

Your face flashes with heat at his painfully languid remark, your mind going places it probably shouldn’t. You knew the pet names were simply an inherent part of his vocabulary and that he used them generously, with everyone, yet a part of you liked to imagine they were reserved for you, and you only.

“Try me again,” you reply curtly, lowering your gaze as you feel the tension sprawling through your aching body.

He shoots you an arrogant smirk, his gaze penetrating your soul with an intensity you didn’t think possible. He bares his fangs, licking over his bottom lip lazily. “Let’s see it, then.”

Astarion approaches, but this time, you’re ready. As he moves to close the distance, you anticipate the first jab, ducking low before he can catch you off-guard. You dart to the side, aiming a swift thrust toward his midsection. It’s clumsy and unpracticed, but it seems to work.

Your fist connects with his toned stomach. He topples off-balance, but only for a fleeting second. His reflexes are too sharp, too honed through his century-long life for you to overcome with your pitiful attempt.

He catches himself with a graceful pivot, turning the stumble into a curt spin that has him facing you once more.

"Fast learner, are we?" he muses, watching you closely through his fists. "I might actually have to try now."

"Don’t flatter yourself," you shoot back, heart racing. At that moment, you recognize you can’t win. Not this time, probably not the next. But you don’t want to forfeit, even if it means enduring a day or two of terrible muscle soreness.

Every sidestep, every deflected blow, brings you closer, the air between you growing heavy with static. You aren’t sure if it’s the heat of the fight or the dangerous proximity, but you can feel it—an irresistible, undeniable pull.

"Careful now," Astarion purrs as you barely miss his face with a rugged swing. He catches your wrist, holding it tight as he leans in, breath ghosting over your ear. "You wouldn’t want to harm me, would you?"

You swallow hard, your body tensing under his tight grip. The closeness is intoxicating, but you force yourself to stay focused, pushing back against the growing heat in your chest.

"Maybe I would." You don’t.

For a moment, neither of you move. The world seems to narrow, the charged atmosphere thick with tacit suspense. You can feel your pulse hammering in your throat, senses sharp, attuned to every breath he takes as they intermingle with yours.

"Darling," a dramatic pout creeps onto his lips, only to be replaced by a sly grin seconds later. You feel his grip on your wrist loosening just enough for you to slip free. It’s a calculated move, once he grants you himself. "You wound me with your words."

You take a step back, breathless. This isn’t over, not by a long shot, yet your muscles fight against that thought. They scream at you with pain, worn and stretched by what feels like hours of sparring.

“Sounds like you’re the one trying to wound me,” you taunt, shooting him a lowered gaze. “Why’d you take me out here? Trying to make your next kill less obvious?”

The vampire had insisted you two train away from the bustle of camp, even if it meant missing out on tonight’s feast. While the rest of your companions enjoyed the finest ale Baldur’s Gate could offer, you were stuck trying to prove something to your crush.

Astarion's grin widens, his eyes flashing with amusement as he takes a slow, calculated step forward. “Now, now,” he purrs, voice dripping with mock innocence. “If I wanted you dead, you wouldn’t have seen it coming— no need for childish theatrics.”

You hold his gaze, refusing to let him see the slight tremble in your legs from the strain of the sparring—or maybe it’s from something else entirely, you can’t be sure. You know he’s dangerous, that this game you’ve been playing with him has always had its sharp edges. But there’s something about that edge, about the way he dances so easily between teasing and threatening, that weakens your knees and makes you breathless every damn time.

"Then why are we here?" you challenge, taking a step back to match his forward one. Your voice is steady, but your pulse is hammering in your throat. The woods feel like a world apart from camp, the sounds of chatter distant as you sit in your isolated little bubble of the world. “It’s a little… intimate, don’t you think?”

Astarion tilts his head, studying you with a curious twinkle in his crimson eyes. “That sharp tongue again,” he says quietly, “Do you truly believe I’d go through all the trouble of bringing you out here just to end you? If I wanted your death, I’d make it enjoyable for both of us.”

Your breath catches at his words. His words drip with venom, but somewhere deep down, in the depths of his blackened heart, you swear you feel an instance of temptation.

“What’s the game then?” you ask, holding his gaze despite the anxiety twisting in your chest. “Because by the Gods, I know you love those.”

Astarion’s smirk softens, but the intensity in his eyes never falters. He steps closer again, until there’s barely any space between you, his presence intoxicating. “Maybe I just wanted to see what you’re capable of,” he murmurs, his voice low and velvety. “Maybe I wanted to see how far you’d let me push you before you push back.”

His hand hovers near yours, fingers brushing lightly against your skin, but he doesn’t make full contact.

“And maybe,” he continues, leaning in just enough that his breath grazes your cheek, “I’m curious what could happen once we both stop playing.”

Your heart is racing now, and you’re not sure if it’s the adrenaline from the sparring or the charged air between you that’s making your head spin a hundred miles an hour.

“You’ll never know,” you murmur, meeting his gaze with a boldness you don’t quite feel. “Because I’m not backing down from this.”

His grin widens at your rebellion, and with a swift, fluid motion, the man’s playful smirk turns into a vicious one. Before you can react, he spins you around, movements smooth and practiced, making you lose your balance.

Your back hits his chest, and within seconds he wraps one arm around your neck in a tight headlock— his grip is firm, but not painful. Your mind strays to his other arm, feeling it press against your waist to keep you securely against him.

“Such a feisty little thing,” he purrs into your ear, his breath warm against your sweat-slick skin.

You struggle against his hold, trying to twist free, but his grip is relentless. “Fuck you,” you manage to scowl, though the words are strained by the pressure on your throat.

Astarion chuckles softly, and you feel it reverberate through your body. “Oh, she bites back,” he teases, his voice a dark, seductive buzz. “Are you taunting me, darling?”

You try to shift your weight, to find a way out of the headlock, but his grip doesn’t waver. “You’re projecting,” you growl breathlessly.

“And you’re persistent,” he replies, “Suits you well.”

You feel a warmth spread through your belly, tickling your nerve endings and making your thighs squeeze. You thank the Gods he can’t see your flustered face right now.

And suddenly, he releases. Not fully, but his grip weakens enough to allow you a moment to slip out again, stumbling over your own feet as you face him.

“Here’s your second freebie,” he chuckles, getting into position again. “Careful, next one might come at a price.”

“Like I need a third one,”

You recalibrate, then in the spur of the moment, pounce. Your arms extend as they barrel toward him. His eyes widen, but he manages to catch them mid-air; his hands clasping into yours and pushing against you.

“Fair strategy,” he commends, and you sense it might at least be partially earnest. “Desperate, but fair.”

You strain against him, breath hitching when he periodically pushes back. Whenever he does, you feel his gaze boring into you with a crazed intensity.

Then, you try not to think about the fact your digits fit together really damn well— and fail. Take what you can get, right?

“What’s wrong, my dear?” he sneers, slender fingers tightening around your palm. He leans in, your chests threatening to collide. “Getting distracted?”

You grit your teeth, leaning in with your full body weight, but he barely budges. “You wish,” you shoot back breathlessly.

“I feel it,” he corrects in a whisper, leaning in just enough that his lips hover dangerously close to your ear. “It’s in your eyes. You’re not even thinking about our little lesson anymore, are you?”

Your breath hitches at his words, the undoubted truth in them cutting through the haze in your mind. He’s right. The bet, your lesson —somewhere along the lines, your sparring posture went lax. All that matters to you now is the palpable closeness, your hands in his, and his hot, idle breath on your neck. Your throat threatens to cast a strained groan, but you withhold.

“I—” you start to protest, but your voice falters. His chest is now pressed flush against yours, pushing you forward.

“Admit it,” he murmurs, his voice low, seductive. “And I’ll let you win.”

Your hands tremble in the small space they lock with his, the smoldering red of his gaze telling you he knows exactly what he’s doing—how his actions leave you a mess in body and soul.

“I won’t, I— I can’t,” you manage to stutter, but the words sound weak and unconvincing even to your own weary ears.

He chuckles softly, the sound reverberating through you like a slow current. “Liar,” he whispers, and you catch a glimpse of his pearly fangs in your hazed peripherals. “Not a good one, either. Another thing I should school you on.”

Your eyes roll, but the implication accelerates the growing tension within your guts. “Just how generous you are.”

His head tilts gradually, and you go pale as you catch his tongue running along the length of his bottom lip.

“No, darling,” he purrs, “I haven’t shown you generous just yet.”

And then, you catch his eyes darkening. There’s a certain mania to them when they widen, pupils blown out like a cat’s when he suddenly pushes firmly against you. Your feet stumble backward, staring into him as a wild grin plasters on his face.

You yelp when you lose balance, lips ajar and eyes closed shut as you feel your back crash into something soft, or at least, soft enough to leave you un-bruised.

When your eyes flutter open, he’s on top of you. You study his broad shoulders, the pale neck between them, and finally let your half-lidded gazes connect in a silent, tension-filled juncture.

The ambiance of dusk quiets down to a soft murmur, crickets chirping in the distance as his strong body hovers inches above you, hands placed firmly around your wrists to successfully lock you in place.

“Seems to me you’ve lost our little bet,” he purrs out, and your breath hitches as one of his legs slides between yours, slowly inching to put a distance between your knees.

All you can do is stare up at him hungrily, desperately, drinking in his weathered features and pray he’d let you run your fingers through his flaxen locks at some point in the night.

“No clever retort? That’s not the little bard I know and love,” he teases, and your hips almost buck into him at that one word. You know he doesn’t mean it, yet your teeth still clench when your body jolts in response to his familiar lilt.

“You’re playing dirty,” you finally breathe out, cringing at how strained your voice sounds as you lie under his weight.

“No one ever said this would be a clean game,” he retorts, his crimson gaze boring into you before gradually disappearing into your neck.

His lips hover over your skin, hot breath tickling the soft spot near your pulse point as you gasp quietly. You feel him hesitate, arms tensing and releasing over your own as if soaked in apprehension. You strain your muscles, eyes shutting in preparation for the inevitable, sharp bite coming onto your poor vein. Gods, was this his plan all along?

But then, you feel the grip on your wrists loosen.

Your eyes flutter open, and you quickly catch the tousled white locks in your neck as the vampire looms over you.

“Here’s your chance to run,” he hitches, and somehow he sounds just as out of breath as you do.

You lie on the blanket of moss, chest heaving and gaze tracing languidly over the treeline as you feel your body go limp. He’s giving you one last opt-out before… before something happens, be it a bloody massacre or... Or?

Your mind shrieks at you: take advantage, prove yourself on top in this stupid bet— but the little voice in your heart urges you to stay under his firm body; find out if your instincts rang true after all.

You stay. Not only that, but you let your hands slip out of his, one of them snaking down his shoulder while the other runs through his waves. They’re silky, and soft, and when you catch a whiff of rosemary in the air, your grip tightens.

“Astarion,” you whisper, voice surprisingly steady as your heart beats a constant rhythm into the space between you.

His body jerks abruptly, albeit subtly, and you feel him smirking— smiling— into the soft flesh of your neck. “So I was right, after all.”

His face withdraws from you slightly, the residual condensation of his warm breath leaving you shivering. You catch his gaze, half-lidded and scanning your expression with apt concentration.

“Feisty, spirited little thing,” he continues, inching towards you again.

Your stiff body jerks, grazing against him as your shaky hand snakes to his cheek. You cradle it gently but with urgency, and there’s a beat of silence before you finally understand what to do.

You inhale softly, catch his questioning gaze, and crash your lips onto his.

He groans softly when you meet in the middle, lowering himself with his arms. Your chest thrums with the beat of your heart, shooting waves of dopamine down your worn spine.

When you feel his nimble hand on your jaw, your lips part with a sigh. He matches your buzz with his own self-satisfied murmur, stroking your cheek with the pad of his thumb.

You smile. He’s sweet and bitter, and you whine gently into the kiss when you recognize brandy on his tongue.

This is what you’ve been waiting for all these lonesome months.

The culmination dawns on you like a powerful current, making your eyes squeeze and your hands tremble in his waves.

He seems to notice your tremor, but instead of slowing down or (Gods forbid) stopping, he dives deeper. You moan into his mouth as he wriggles a hand around your waist, holding you close to his hips and suddenly, you feel a steady pressure grinding into your crotch.

The movement is slow, precise, practiced. His hips buff into yours in a controlled rhythm, making you sense his already taut erection through the thick material of his linen pants.

“Do you get it now, darling?” he murmurs, breaking the kiss to stare lazily into your glassy eyes. “Look what you do to me.”

His hand snakes to your blouse, and before you can register what’s happening, you hear three ivory buttons pop off followed by the cool, evening breeze tickling your heated skin. You don’t need to open your eyes to know your nipples are standing taut in the chilly air, yet the image makes you redden.

“How— how unceremonious,” you croak out, moaning softly when his large hand begins palming at your right breast.

His thumb and forefinger squeeze at your erect nipple, toying with it in smooth, tactile movements and relishing the way his name sounds coming out of your kiss-swollen lips.

“Mm, forgive me,” he chuckles darkly, planting a quick, ardent kiss on your lips before lowering his face to your chest. His tongue licks a slow, tender strip up your sternum before he looks up to smile at you; it’s a genuine look of satisfaction, untouched by the plague that is his faux arrogance. “I’ll make sure to be good next time.”

’Next time?’

You look at him lazily, gaze puzzled and lips ajar to ask but he doesn’t even offer you the chance. His hand dips from your tits to the band of your pants, sliding underneath it with his finger, the coolness of his skin making you gasp.

His mouth assaults your other nipple with sucks, nibbles, and gentle bites, making you mewl under him as his hand continues to travel down the soft flesh of your thigh. He rubs it gently, lovingly, starting under your hip and slowly stroking his way toward the inner region, where you’re most sensitive.

“Divine,” he mumbles against your chest, pressing a kiss to your rib. “So divine.”

His free palm moves to your exposed belly, massaging it gently. You sigh at the slow, consistent pressure, moving your trembling hand to the back of his neck.

When your one eye pops open in curiosity, you see him snug against your body, face contorted with empathic fixation as he labors down your body. It’s intimate, yes, but also… loving. His tongue is warm against your breast, and his palms caress your skin with slow, delicate strokes; the same hands you’ve seen wield blood-soaked daggers and longbows.

He runs two digits along the stretchy fabric of your bottoms, lip caught between his teeth. He catches you staring and smirks up at you.

“Enjoying yourself?” he husks out, and you’re desperate enough to nod wordlessly.

He chuckles at your enthusiasm, hand smoothing down the waistband of your panties that peers from behind your bottoms. Not even your cutest pair, but oh well. He doesn’t even seem to notice, as his digits play with the elastic.

You’re already so exposed, but nothing can prepare you for what he does next.

With a few more kisses to your breasts, he tugs at the two waistbands, pulling down your pants and panties in one go.

The material slides off your legs and you hiss out, feeling the coolness caress your slick core. Your hands instinctively reach to cover up, but you’re stopped in your tracks by a strong grasp around your wrist.

“Oh no, no,” He looks up at you with an arched eyebrow, and somehow, despite his collected mien, you catch a soft dusting of pink across his cheekbones. “Don’t you dare deny me this view. Not after I’ve waited for so long.”

Your face heats up at the brazen comment, but that only seems to draw him closer. Your eyes flicker down to his lips, and he takes the hint immediately.

You connect in a heated kiss, and this time, Astarion is the one groaning against you. You work in tandem, like a gentle, effortless dance, heavy breaths intermingling in a sweet symphony of hums and sighs when…

You feel a touch against your heat. The contact is almost impalpable, yet your eyes flutter open in shock as the man’s fingers trace over your slit.

He withdraws from your kiss, hovering inches from your lips with a soft smile.

“S’unfair,” you slur, gazing up at him with a pleasure-drunken gaze. He exhales loudly, and you gasp. His fingers dip in, rubbing slow circles around your clit. “You— Gods—”

“Yeah? Tell me,” he taunts lowly, continuing his torturously languid movements with a devious smirk plastered on his perfect face. “What’s got you so bothered, my sweet?”

He dips down, teasing your entrance with his index. You pant softly at the prolonged stimulation, trying your damn best to stay focused on furrowing your eyebrows in mock anger.

“Got me so exposed and—” you trail tensely as his finger probes your entrance. “—And you’re still in your damn clothes.”

He hums in acknowledgment, but you doubt he’s even listening to you by how he surveys your body, bottom lip caught between his fangs. “I’m about to show you ‘generous’, like I promised.”

And then, he bottoms out. You moan, feeling two of his digits sliding into you, the slickness of your opening making it an easy feat.

You squeeze around him, and he pumps into you once, then twice for good measure. The sound of his movements is unbelievably and utterly obscene, making your stomach knot in delight.

“So wet already,” he purrs through a smirk, watching you writhe under him, “Don’t tell me our little sparring session got you this bothered.”

You roll your eyes, thighs squeezed tight around his wrist as you move your hips in tandem with his rhythm.

“Come on, talk to me,” he taunts again, pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek and letting his fingers fuck you in a steady, purposeful rhythm. “Now’s not the time to get coy.”

He switches gears, stopping his movement so he can curl his fingers inside you. He presses against the sweet spot, his thumb reaching to simultaneously rub slow circles against your swollen clit.

You cry out at the newfound pressure, the warmth in your belly twisting into a vortex of fiery delight.

“I—” you mewl against him, wrapping your fingers into the soft fabric of his shirt. “I’m gonna— c-cum—”

His movements quicken at your desperate words, digits working hard against your favorite spot.

“Cum then, my darling,” he taunts firmly, his free hand roaming under your jaw and holding it in place. “Cum for me. Let me— let me look at you, sweet thing.”

Your glassy eyes struggle to focus on his face, but once they do, he hits something white-hot inside you.

His lips crash desperately onto yours, but you struggle to kiss him back through the blinding pleasure of your climax. It thunders down your legs, up your belly, making you cry out against his mouth as everything melts away into a wonderful oblivion.

The last thing you see before your muscles go lax is red.

He rubs your clit methodically through your high, letting you ride it out peacefully as he burrows into your neck again.

When your breath steadies, you feel his fingers slowly withdraw. The emptiness that follows makes you cry out softly, helplessly watching as the man runs his palms up and down your sides.

He presses a soft, soothing kiss against your swollen lips, and you can’t help but glare when you see that he’s still fully dressed, even after your heated orgasm.

He catches your pouting and raises an eyebrow.

“Yes, darling?” he purrs, pulling away to take you all in. You’re caught speechless when his hungry gaze scans down your nude body; starting at your smitten face and ending with a lingering glimpse at your spent pussy.

“Please,” you mewl out, raking your hands down his clothed abs. “Gods— Please take these off, I can’t—”

He does.

His hands momentarily withdraw from around you, and with a swift, deft move, he tosses his shirt off.

The silken cloth comes flying into the night like a phantasmal figure, and you watch it catch onto a stray branch to your right.

Your gaze skims hungrily down his sculpted body, watching his muscles tense and release with every little movement. Yes, you’ve seen him shirtless before, yet the context of your current predicament somehow makes it feel like it’s the first time all over again.

Unbeknownst to you, his hands work at his bottoms, swiftly unbuttoning the waistband and letting it sit loose against his hips. You catch a soft, white trail against the edge of his undergarments, leading down to a straining, tented mess below.

Your hand reaches out absent-mindedly, still drunk off the high of your climax and so, so desperate to finally feel him for yourself.

“Not so fast, darling,” he scolds, gently slapping your hand away and letting it wither at your side.

“Let me touch you,” you retort desperately, but he only chuckles as his fingers begin working at his waistband.

“You lost our bet,” he explains, sliding a thumb under the elastic and letting it lower. You catch the very base of his straining erection, and that taunting alone makes you gasp. “Gives me the upper hand.”

“Says who?” you hiss under your breath, failing to give him the glare he deserves as your eyes bore into his.

He gives you a once over, gaze drawing languidly over your exposed body, and only then does the extent of your nudity finally dawn on you.

“Don’t make me laugh.”

You shift under him, shimmying within the small space he allows, and he takes your brief distraction as a moment to unravel his pants completely. They drop to the ground behind you, leaving him in his undergarments, and you bite your lip at how dangerously lax they sit around his hips.

“I think I’ve left you waiting long enough,” he mutters, and your lips go ajar.

The thumb hooked into his briefs starts sliding down his waist, lower and lower until you’re finally even in terms of undress— and you’re ever so starstruck by the sight of his bulging cock hovering over your belly. It stands thick and taut within arm’s reach and you find the fact makes your mouth water.

Then, before you can think of touching him, you feel him place either hand below your knees. He looks up at you with a sly smirk, and you gasp softly when he pushes your thighs flat against your torso, feet in the air and scandalously exposed in front of him.

“You’re playing with me,” you mutter breathlessly, hissing as you feel his length stroking against your inner thigh.

His arms compress you tighter as you feel him lowering, the underside of his cock slapping against your tummy. The gasp that leaves your throat at the sudden contact widens your eyes, and he catches your gaze with his self-satisfied one.

“Do you like that I’m playing with you?” he follows up without a beat, his hips rutting forward. The movement is gentle, yet the pressure is enough to make you whine out in desperation— it’s also the only answer you manage to choke up for him before his cock slides between your wet folds.

“A-Ah— you fucking— fucking prick,” you hiss at the vampire, and so he bears his fangs at you through a wide grin. You find that it makes your breath hitch even amidst your despair.

“Now, now,” he reprimands, words syrupy, “bold words coming from someone so vulnerable.”

His nails dig into the soft flesh of your legs as he slides back and forth, taking meticulous care so that the head of his cock butts against your clit with every dip. The stimulation feels electric, and soon enough, you feel your still-sensitive body ramp up with heated energy for a second time this night.

A minute passes, yet it feels like an eternity. The air between you is thick with tension and the soft, repetitive harmony of your strained moans and his little gasps. You watch his eyes close in concentration, and despite his otherwise relaxed facade, you can tell he’s struggling to resist you by the way his eyebrows knit in the middle.

“Fuck me,” you breathe out, one of your hands extending to claw at his withholding forearm.

When your gazes meet, he looks surprisingly spent; eyes glassed-over, mouth ajar, and the slightest hint of sweat glazing his pale forehead. You realize that his domineering act seemed to come at the expense of his stamina: a resource you had slowly replenished in your comfortable position.

“Not— not yet, darling,” he hitches out, but the words appear tender and helpless to your trained ears. “I— I want to enjoy this— enjoy you—”

Your grip on his forearm tightens, making the bucking of his hips stutter. His eyebrow raises at your touch, but before he can shoot you a witty comment, you’re pushing him forward.

It happens within seconds.

Your knees straighten, feet slamming into his abdomen. He coughs at the sudden, unexpected impact, and you take the opportunity to grab tight onto his forearms. He falls backward, and just before his spine hits the soil beneath, you use the momentum to push yourself onto him.

When his eyes flutter open, you’re straddling his waist.

He blinks in brief confusion, surveying his surroundings before the crimson gaze finally turns to you.

He surveys your face, and you let him. The moment is like a silent meditation, heavy breaths intermingling as he takes your raw beauty in; the longing in your eyes, the soft dusting of pink across your nose, and ultimately, the plush of your lips he had ravaged mere moments ago.

Next, he moves to your body. His eyes scan down your taut nipples, down your tummy, and to the softness of your thighs squeezing his midriff to the ground. When he reaches the junction between your bodies, your hips buck as if on instinct.

“My, just how courageous we are,” he purrs under you, hands reaching to rub down the outside of your thighs. “I wouldn’t be so nice about your dirty tricks if I didn’t find this view thoroughly delectable.”

You shiver at his honeyed words, yet your gaze stays determined on him. Your palms go to rest atop his, marveling at the eccentric softness of his knuckles and the polarizing edge of the nails.

“No one ever said this would be a clean game,” you grin playfully, rocking your hips back to feel his hard length against the curve of your ass. When a soft hiss escapes his lips, you feel your ego inflate. “Sound familiar?”

His eyes roll, but the grin creeping onto his lips deceives him immediately.

His head tilts at you, fangs bearing in the soft moonlight. “You’re trouble.”

The mischief of your smile spins into a warm fondness. Your cheeks warm, and your heart swells, but you don’t quite understand why. “Oh how rich that is coming from you.”

And then you’re rising on your knees, hips hovering over his throbbing erection. Your palms connect, digits intertwining with his as you lower yourself onto him.

You test the waters first, letting his tip brush over your slit with feather-like touches. You hum gently at the teasing pleasure, and so does Astarion.

When you feel your tummy tightening with anticipation, you dive in. With a light shimmy, you line your hips with his, and with more desperation than you planned, you slide down.

You both hiss as the head of his cock penetrates you, the stretch making your palm tighten against his. You bend at the knees, eyes rolling into the back of your head at the delicious sensation of being filled to the brim after such a long, lonesome time.

Finally, you let your hips slam against his. The sudden, harsh movement makes you gasp out into the tantric air as his tip pokes against your womb. The dull pain quickly shifts into a flat, resonant pleasure, and you waste no time.

Your hips begin to buck against his, building a slow, steady rhythm until you’re confidently riding your vampire lover with a self-satisfied smirk on your lips.

Each thrust makes you mewl, moan, and cry out into the night, that pleasant angle of his cock hitting that same spot his fingers did just minutes ago.

His head rolls back into the ground, and with the remnants of his energy, he issues an occasional, quick rut into you. As it’s rare, you decide to savor it. You squeeze around him with the thrusts, and soon, you feel yourself running out of breath.

“I— I could let you do this for—hells— forever,” he hisses out, and suddenly, you feel his hands unclasp from yours and snake around your waist. “Where have you been all these centuries?”

Your upper body is dragged forward, your tits colliding with his toned chest when he pulls you into a tight, possessive embrace.

You gasp at the warmth between you, and your eyebrows soon furrow when you realize the position limits your hip movement. As you’re forced into a pause from your delirious riding, his lips crash onto yours.

Your tongues share a private, slack dance, heads tilting to adjust as you both hum and groan into the fiery kiss. You attempt to rut into him, and soon enough he gets the hint.

Keeping you immobilized against his chest, his hips pound up into you. The first few smacks are scandalously loud, and you revel in the newfound angle.

You’re lost in him, completely and utterly. When he moans, you respond with a hum— when his embrace tightens around you, you kiss him harder.

The familiar, fiery heat in your tummy bubbles up again. You feel it amp up, grow, and send jolts up your spine when suddenly, you’re being pushed up. When your eyes flutter open, you catch his still closed.

His chest stays firm against yours as he positions you upright, letting you straddle his hips as you’re both left sitting in the soft patch of grass and wildflowers.

With your body regaining its mobility, you start grinding against him again. The position allows for a deliciously intimate closeness, his cock burrowing deep into you as you resume riding him.

The pressure within you grows, emerging as a knot— threatening to unravel with every other thrust. Your clit rubs against the base of his groin, amplifying the pleasure into a sensation you’ve long forgotten about.

“A-Astarion—” you mewl out between kisses, and his hot breath tickles your face when he chuckles.

“Cum for me,” he sighs out, and the assertion comes off soft and pleading as it settles into the groves of your heart.

“O-Okay— I… I—”

He tightens his hold on your waist with one hand, as the other moves to cradle your cheek. His touch is unbelievably delicate and affectionate, and out of all the stimulation he had so graciously provided you this night, it’s that soft touch that sends you over the edge.

Your lips connect in one last kiss, and you moan throatily into his mouth. Your hips still, thighs squeezing as your pussy tightens around his cock in a moment of pure bliss. The steadily rising pressure in your belly finally tips over, sending a wave of bliss down your entire being.

Still, he keeps moving. You almost want to scream against him as his hips begin pounding into you again, the soft slaps quickening as he slowly peaks with you.

Withdrawing from the kiss to lean against your neck, he cums. Hard.

Your slowly declining climax seems to slam the gas pedal as you feel him release deep into you, the warmth spreading through your body like a genial embrace, a fact that makes him groan loudly against your mouth. Your breath stills in your throat, before finally releasing into a long, guttural moan— it echoes into the night, and your vision blurs.

White-hot bliss envelops your body, and you melt into Astarion’s for solace. You feel him grip you, caress your face, kiss away your adrenaline-fueled tears, and pant softly against your lips as your pussy spasms again.

Your orgasm envelops you in slow, pulsating waves as it withdraws, and you’re soon left huffing into the vampire’s flaxen locks. You think you hear him speak, but the ringing in your ears is too potent to know for certain.

Then, as the ringing finally retires, you hear him whisper your name. It’s a soft, patient call against the burning skin of your neck, one you commit to memory as you’re finally awarded your senses back— if only partially.

The forest feels exceptionally silent as you fall into his arms. You recognize the soft chirp of crickets in the distance, perhaps a distant hoot of owls, but it all seems to blend into an indecipherable blur as exhaustion floods your system.

Your head falls into the crook of his neck, and your mind sinks into the soft, languid thumps of his heart. His hand caresses your back, and you sigh deeply.

You sit there for what feels like hours, drinking each other in. You’ve waited so long, and finally, you’re at ease— it’s a feeling you wish to cherish, and if it wasn’t for the pesky passage of time, you’d choose to stay in this damned forest for eons; with him.

You feel him shift against you. His hands withdraw from your waist, and he whispers softly against you. “Come, my love.”

You hum in disagreement, face burrowing deeper into him. Yes, rosemary and brandy— now it’s clear to you.

He exhales sharply, and you smile into his neck. He waits for a beat, before placing a soft kiss to your temple. “Wait here.”

You nod gently and finally allow him to withdraw. The separation makes you sigh, your body shivering in the newfound cold of the night, but you persevere. In the longing to hold on to the moment for a little longer, you keep your eyes closed and hope he’ll return before you open them again.

You hear him shuffle around, walking from left to right, before finally returning to face you. “Hands up,” he mutters softly, and you do as you’re told in your pleasure-drunken stupor.

You feel him drape something silken over your sweat-slick body, the soft material draping your hips before coming to a stop at your thighs. When you breathe in, you immediately realize it’s not your shirt, so you grin.

When you’re comfortably wrapped up, he leans in. Once you finally sense the familiar warmth of his chest, you lean against his shoulder and breathe in his scent.

You’re surprised he does this for you. Tenderness is not exactly something you’d connect with a man of his past, of his skill. Yet, when his hands move to rest under your knees and back, you don’t resist.

He lifts you off the ground, letting your fatigued frame rest against him. He takes it upon himself to get you back to camp, safe and sound, and only slightly perturbed.

You drink in everything you can, letting yourself be greedy for once. The steadiness of his breath, his warm chest, the crinkling of leaves under his feet— it’s an image you swear to place, no matter what difficulties might threaten to befall you in the future.

And he’s silent up until you reach the campgrounds. The chatter of dinnertime has long died down, and when you open your eyes, you spot the crackling embers of firelight flickering away among a circle of stones. The flames cast a soft, warm light onto the closed tents, and you revel in the intimacy of the moment.

“Everyone met their bedtime while we’ve been naughty sneaking out,” he murmurs with a chuckle, and you close your eyes hurriedly in hopes of feigning slumber. Still, you can’t help the smile that creeps onto your face at his brazen comment.

You reach the outskirts and finally spot his tent just below an old, sturdy oak tree. You recall the talks you had out front so many times before, back when your feelings were just sparks of something much stronger and much, much warmer.

He crouches down and with an unsurprising agility climbs into the little shelter with you still in his arms. You lie slack against him, letting his arms lay you gently onto his woolen mat. You melt into the warmth almost immediately, sighing out dreamily when you feel his presence beside you.

It’s silent for a moment, and when your eyes finally flutter open, you catch him staring at you. His gaze is thoughtful but warm, lingering over your form with a certain glimmer.

“I guess it’s official, then,” you sigh out, closing your eyes again and letting a lazy smile drift over your features.

He pauses for a moment, then clears his throat. “What… what is?”

You chuckle softly at his awkward tone, shifting to the side and letting one of your eyes pop open to glance at him.

“My victory,” you state matter-of-factly before quickly shifting to your other side, facing away from him just to let a satisfied grin creep onto your face.

You don’t witness it, but his expression goes from tense, to disconcerted, to irritated in a matter of seconds. His eyes roll, and you suddenly feel a flat slap against your ass.

“Woah there, hey!” you gasp, followed by a cheeky giggle. Your head turns to face him from your comfortable position, and you catch him mirroring your grin.

“Quiet, now,” he commands softly, pivoting to lie beside you. His arm comes over your waist, pulling you into his chest. “Bet’s over, darling. I’m sorry to say, but you’ve not proven yourself capable. Shame, really.”

You blow a raspberry through your smile and shimmy closer to him, your body melting perfectly into his— a fact that has you near to falling asleep.

“Shame indeed. The look on your face was priceless when you ate dirt,” you shrug nonchalantly, “At least that’s the version I’ll be telling everyone come morning.”

He scoffs, the low rumble of it vibrating against your back, but his arm only tightens around you. You feel his face in your hair, breathing in your scent.

“If you do that, I might just have to kill you,” he mutters, but despite the intensity of the words, his voice is soft and loving against your head. His hand drifts to your belly, fingers tracing lazy circles against the soft skin there.

“You would never.”

He’s silent for a beat. Your lips open to build on your clever retort before you feel his sharp exhale on your neck.

“Sleep, darling,” he reprimands, squeezing your midriff gently.

You sigh contentedly, your lips brushing against the pillow as you settle deeper into his embrace. The tent is cocooned in warmth, but you feel the cool kiss of the evening breeze filtering in through the small opening at the entrance. Outside, the campfire crackles faintly, the last embers glowing like distant stars before fading into fine ash.

As you drift closer to sleep, wrapped in the steady rise and fall of his breathing, the world around you blurs into the peaceful haze of near-dreams.

Just as the veil of slumber begins to pull you under, you feel his lips press against your hair, a soft whisper brushing against your skin.

“As long as I'll live, I never could.”

[januaryembrs]

just rewatched 4x24 amplification so here’s a silly thought

reader and spence get stuck together & reader just flirts with him the whole time and he’s like ‘please help me in finding something to go off of’ and she’s just like ‘anyone ever tell you you look good all sick and sweaty reid’

meanwhile penelope is on the verge of a panic attack

PRETTY | Spencer Reid x Reader

description: Spencer seems to be the only one keeping it together when the two of you get hit with the new Anthrax strain.

length: 450wds

warnings: anthrax, sweating, intoxication, flirting

“How’s she doing?” Penelope asked, her voice crackly and quiet through the phone as Spencer rooted around the office for the cure to whatever strain of Anthrax their UnSub had cooked up. 

He took a shaky breath, feeling his hair sticking to the back of his neck with the sweat that gathered there. “She’s…” He trailed off, flipping a look over his shoulder where you were leaned against the desk, your head a little wobbly and heavy as you strained to keep yourself upright, “She’s hanging in there,” 

“Did I ever tell you how handsome you are with the long hair, Reid?” You slurred, sounding somewhat drunk as you spoke, no doubt a byproduct of the fever, and he hoped you weren’t in any pain, since you didn’t seem in any state to complain. You seemed euphoric if anything, judging by the intoxicated grin on your face as you reached for him, your hands lightly sheened in sweat. 

“Yes, you did,” Spencer replied, his cheeks burning with more than the high temperature that he was running, “Multiple times. Sweetheart, do you reckon you could help me look for the cure?”

“Sure!” You hopped away from the counter, almost throwing yourself to the ground in your excitement, and you felt the room spinning as you reached up to the cabinet above his head to search for the medication, “When this is all over, you gotta let me put some cute braids in it or something, Spence, I mean you’re really missing a trick-”

“Ofcourse, you can put the prettiest pigtails in my hair, the second we find that antidote,” He promised, his agile fingers flicking through every drawer in the cabinet, despite the fact his chest was pounding at your flirtatious tone. 

“Reid, that does not sound like she’s hanging in, that sounds very much the opposite of hanging in there,” Penelope rushed through the line, her fingers whizzing across her keyboard, the clicking clear through Spencer’s speaker, “She wants to primp you like you’re little girls in a playground, Reid, that is not hanging in there- oh good heavens I think I need a happy place right about now,” 

“I’ll say,” Spencer said where his head was in the fridge, rooting through the packs of diet coke and sparkling water the scientists had. He felt fingers rooting through his hair, and he sighed as he glanced up at your dazed expression, because he hated telling you no, “Cure first, honey, then you can braid my hair,”

“Right! Right, sorry it’s just so pretty, you’re just so pretty-” You mumbled, helping him empty out all of the files onto the floor so he could start skim reading. 

He hoped for his own sake the paramedics close. 

[chikaras-garden]

Hi petal! May I request Dick Grayson and Damian Wayne dick headcanons? Like, size and width kinda thing? Thank you!

Sweet Jesus. Yes. Goodness. Oh my god.

DICK GRAYSON 💦

Not the longest. Not the girthiest. A pretty pink head that demands kisses. But the curve of his dick helps him reach places inside you that no one else could ever dream of. This is a cock that finds every spot that makes you squirm and scream—and then invents new ones, just to be sure no man has ever made you feel as good as he does. 

He uses his whole body to fuck you. Hands cupping your cheeks, forehead against yours, breath fanning over your lips in between kisses. When he’s inside you, you’re two halves of one whole, and the point where your body ends and his begins may as well not exist. He’s so agile, so flexible; he’ll work as hard as is necessary to find every position that has you coming undone all over his cock.

Loves to stay inside you. He came so much, so hard, so fast—so he’ll just plug you up, you know? You don’t mind, right? He’ll be so impossibly gentle about it, too; laying on top of you, weight on his knees so he doesn’t hurt you, peppering little kisses up and down your face until his cock softens and slips right out.

DAMIAN WAYNE 💦

A cock so perfect that they should be making dildos based off of him. Very long. Very thick. Tanned and super veiny. Honestly, the worst part is that he knows this because he’s heard it a billion times. Praise does nothing to him after hearing so many people say he feels so good, that he splits them open just right—but the look on your face when he thrusts hard, fast, and deep until your eyes roll back in your head? 

That has him feeling something he’s never felt before. He’s buried to the hilt inside you, you feel him all the way up to your lungs, and you reach down to grab his wrist and hold him right where he is. When your fingers wrap around him, he groans, seeing stars of his own. You reach around his hips and press your hands into his ass to pull him even deeper, and he starts forcing himself into breathing exercises to stop himself from coming right there.

Prefers you to come first. Also prefers when you have the time for both of you to come multiple times. He has a thing for coming on your tits first, and he’d love to come on your face if you’re into that, but sex isn’t finished until he fills you, duh.

@uc1wa I wasn't kidding

[buckiverse]

hiiii, im callista, the one who actually made the CAWK ANALYSIS DIAGRAM, and im begging you to talk about xav and raf too so i can add them to our very important research <3

☆ warnings: mdni, a cock analysis for rafayel (including lemurian form) and xavier

☆ a/n: when i saw your post on twitter I was so shocked >< (in a let me pick up a mf pen and paper type of way) but, when I started cooking this one I did in fact realize I am a monster fucker when it involves rafayel (and sylus too who am I kidding fr), so I am looking forward to the updated research hehehe

sylus, caleb, and zayne ver.

R6.76GGPV - #dc9ca2

Rafayel’s physique is striking. He’s tall, with a lean, wiry frame that speaks to his grace and agility. Don’t be fooled by his size—this man is one with the water. His strength is deceptive, fluid, and undeniable. And, let’s be real: he’s lean, he’s sculpted, and damn, he looks incredible. His stamina is off the charts—of course, he’s a God of the sea. Hello?

Now, let’s get to the real topic at hand: his cock. It’s not the biggest—6.76 (17.1704 cm) inches, rounded to the nearest decimal—but Rafayel is a grower, okay. And what he has is a masterpiece. Gorgeous. I mean gorgeous. The kind of cock that makes you want to worship him, offering yourself up at his altar. There’s a bit of girth to it, too, and trust me, it’s a blessing in itself.

The head? Perfectly shaped, a stunning, pretty pink—honestly, it could be my new favorite lipstick shade. As for his pubic hair? None. Nada. Rafayel is smooth, clean, and pristine. (or he has designs because, yes the fuck he would) But here’s the thing: he doesn’t care what you do with yours. Whatever you’re working with, it’ll drive him wild.

Oh, and the veins. He doesn’t have many, but each one is perfectly placed like his cock was crafted by the gods themselves (maybe because he is one). No more than three, all connecting at various places on his shaft, and if you trace your fingers on it—even if it's a feather-light touch, his cock will jump. It’s almost too pretty—like a work of art you can’t stop staring at.

☆

Now, let’s talk about Rafayel as the Lemurian. His cock in this form? Thick. Fat. Gloriously imposing. At a solid nine inches (22.86 cm), it’s crowned with a knot at the base that’s thick and impossibly enticing. And his shaft is covered in soft, smooth scales—silky to the touch, like oiled skin or delicate petals. That knot? It’s primal, and when he’s overcome by the need to breed, it’s game over. Once he’s inside, don’t even think about running. You’re his, and he’s not letting you go until he’s filled you with his little sea heirs.

Oh, and just imagine him murmuring in that low, teasing voice: “Isn’t this what you wanted, pretty girl?” And you know his eyes are dark and overcome with need.

The scales don’t stop at his cock, either. They trail up his sides, climbing his torso, adding a texture that’s as sensitive as it is otherworldly. When you run your hands over him, he’s electrified, almost trembling with the intensity of sensation. And his cock? Hyper-sensitive. In this form, he’s consumed by the urge to breed, to claim you completely.

Careful what you wish for—because when Rafayel takes you, there’s no turning back.

X6.5GGPT - #c97677

As we all know, Xavier’s figure is quite shrouded in clothes. But truly—his figure is imposing. He’s tall, surprisingly muscular, it’s easy to forget this man is a trained (experienced) hunter. Of course he’s in good shape—it’s impossible for him not to be. He needs to be agile and perceptive—just like how he fucks by the way (like a jack rabbit).

So, his cock. Well, it's pretty—too pretty. A solid six and a half inches (16.51 cm), and yes, he’s a grower. Like I said, his clothes hide everything. And it’s thick, too thick for his own good—Xavier has a habit of reveling in your reaction to it—everytime. When he pulls his pants down and he watches your eyes grow big, your pupils dilate, he can see the wheels turning in your head. 

The head is like a mushroom and is so pretty pink, it has a beautiful red tint to it. So thick and it stretches you out everytime, and the tears pooling in your eyes get him going, he might say something like “You’re everything—do you know that? Everything.” Oh gosh and he keeps the hair low and trimmed or he’s bald—a perk of aging slowly is that everything grows slowly too.

And did i mention—he can make it glow. The craziest thing about him is that he's a come machine. He has this innate ability to pump endless amounts of come into you—he needs too. He has too much stamina and can go forever.

He’s literally fucking insatiable, once he has a taste of you. 

☆

R6.76GGPV: rafayel-6.76inch-girthy-grower-pink-veiny

X6.5GGPT: xavier-6.5inch-grithy-grower-pink-trimed

[unoislazy]

Hello ! Sorry for my bad English, it's not my first language I do my best

First of all, I love how you write <3

Second, my request would be Hiccup getting jealous and confessing to fem!reader by accident

That's all !

Thanks for writing so well, I send you a little kiss

Hello!

Congrats you’re my first request!

I hope I could do your request justice, enjoy

Just Talk To Me!

Hiccup x Reader

Word Count: 2.8k words

Summary: You and Eret have gotten pretty close due to your constant fighting practice. Of course, a certain chief isn’t too happy about it but he has a bit of trouble trying to tell you why.

————————————————————

“You’re getting better at this!” Eret praised, ducking under your fist as you swung at him. He continued to dodge your strikes as you smiled.

You both had begun sparring together a few months ago, after the whole Dragon War fiasco. You realized that without your dragon, you weren’t as strong or as agile as the other Vikings, so you asked Eret to help you train.

You swept your foot under him, finally taking him down and putting your foot on his chest, signifying that you had one the fight.

“Have I gotten better, or have you just gotten worse?” You asked teasingly, taking your foot off of him as he smiled up at you.

You held out your hand to help him up. He obliged, taking it as he stood up once again, wiping off his clothes from that dust that truly didn’t even seem to be there.

“You’ve certainly made improvements since day one. I can tell you that.” He said, stretching a bit. “You could definitely do well even without your dragon, if you’d ever need to.” He continued, looking back at both of your dragons who were simply chilling off to the side, as they often did when you two fought.

“Hopefully there never comes a time.” You said in a lighthearted tone, but you truly hoped there would never be a time where you’d have to fair without your dragon.

“I second that. It’s funny, I never thought I’d ever change my ways when it came to dragons. Yet here I am, looking after this beast.” Eret joked, patting Skull Crushers head lightly causing the dragon to groan and slightly shake its head in response.

“Well I’m glad you had it in you to change, who knows maybe I would’ve taken you down myself.” You gloated sarcastically, walking towards the pair as Eret smiled back at you, acknowledging your joke.

“Yeah you wouldn’t have made it even close.” He let out a chuckle as he watched your teasing smirk turn to a pout. You knew his teasing was all in good fun but realistically if it had come to it you would’ve taken him out if you needed to.

“Just cause I’ve gotten better doesn’t mean I wasn’t skilled to begin with.” You reminded.

“Fair. Now how about best two out of three?” Eret asked, getting into a fighting stance which you very quickly mimicked. Just as you both were about to start fighting you had heard a very familiar growl come from above. Your head shot up towards the noise and you spotted none other than Hiccup Haddock, the chief of Berk, flying above you.

“Guess not.” You joked, no longer standing in a ready position as you turned to face the aforementioned chief who had landed not too far away from the both of you. Hiccup hopped off of Toothless with ease, slipping his helmet off in the process, and walked over to the two of you with Toothless close behind.

“Morning you two.” Hiccup greated, earning a nod of acknowledgement from the both of you. “What are you guys doing all the way out here?” He asked but you noticed it wasn’t in the sense of his usual curiosity. There was an underlying tone that you could quite put your finger on so you figured you were just simply thinking too much into it.

You hadn’t really thought about it but you suppose you and Eret were more or less in the middle of nowhere in the woods. It was the most quiet place the two of you could find to practice in peace without going to the Arena.

“Eret and I have been sparring, I figured I should eventually learn how, considering most of my strength comes from them.” You said, gesturing to your dragon who was sleeping peacefully only to be startled awake by Toothless patting them on the head. You couldn’t help but laugh a bit, Toothless always reminded you of a cat in a way, you found it adorable.

“Alone?” Hiccup asked, which honestly surprised the both of you. You looked towards hiccup in confusion only to see the shock he had on his own face. Clearly he didn’t mean to let it slip out but it was too late to take it back now.

“Well no… our dragons are here with us?” You stated but you were so confused about the reasoning behind Hiccups question that you couldn’t seem to phrase it as anything other than a question. You all fell silent as Hiccup swayed his arms in an awkward fashion, something he only does when he’s trying to avoid talking about something.

Eret looked between the two of you, realizing he had no part in the conversation he simply cleared his throat.

“I’ll just leave you two be, I have some… things to take care of..” He excused himself, quickly hopping onto Skullcrusher and exiting the awkward situation as quickly as possible. Once Eret had flown away you quickly turned back to Hiccup who was clearly avoiding even looking in your general direction.

“Spill it.” You said bluntly causing Hiccup to finally make eye contact with you. His face held a confused look but you both knew what you were talking about.

“I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about.” Hiccup said, again clearly avoiding the topic as he walked over to Toothless. “Have you seen the new addition I added to Toothless’s tail?” It was clear he was trying to think of anything to change the subject because obviously there was nothing different about Toothless’s tail and you both knew that.

You crossed your arms as you stared at the brunette before you, your face holding an expression that clearly said ‘seriously?’. He dropped Toothless’s tail with a sigh before getting up and walking towards you. Silence quickly swept over the two of you as you continued to wait for Hiccup to say something. You raised an eyebrow at him before he blurted out,

“Have you seen the new scale armor?”, giving one more quick shot to derail the conversation.

“Hiccup.” You said quite sternly. “Spill it.” You repeated, your arms still crossed over your chest as you watched the man nervously fidget. He may be the chief but he still held some of his nervous quirks. Sure he had the ability to look powerful and calm when his people needed their chief, but when he wasn’t the ‘Chief of Berk’ he was just Hiccup.

Just Hiccup.

And you’d be damned if you said you didn’t love him. Ever since you met hiccup you knew he always tried to meet everyone’s expectations only to have a long history of falling short. Hiccup as he was was always overlooked, everyone looked to him to be ‘the Chiefs son’ the ‘next chief of Berk’ and the one he really struggled with, was ‘Stoick’s son’. No one ever truly looked at him as just Hiccup.

Well everyone except you.

You liked him from the very beginning when he was just a scrawny boy obsessed with earning his fathers approval. Did you have the courage to say anything about the way you felt? No of course not, why would you? As much as you loved to see him as ‘Just Hiccup’ you couldn’t deny the fact that he was still pretty far out of your league, especially given his title of ‘The Dragon Master’. What title did you have? Nothing.

Well you had the title of being one of his closest friends so you stuck with that as being enough for you.

“I just don’t think you and Eret should be so far away while training.” He finally spoke up. It was clear he was still keeping something from you but at least he gave you something to work with.

“Why?” You asked, trying to nudge more out of him. He put his hands on his hips. As he began to pace slowly in a circle.

“I don’t know, I just think it would be safer if you-“ Hiccup began only for you to cut him off.

“Hiccup we have two dragons here, one of them being Skull Crusher. I’d say it’s pretty safe to say nothings going to attack us out here.” You argued, now mimicking his pose with your hands on your hips.

“Well still I just don’t like the idea of you guys being alone.” He said, looking up at you. You rolled your eyes in response,

“Hiccup I already said, we’re here with the dragons. We’re not alone.” You stated as if it wasn’t getting through his head. It hadn’t even occurred to you that he was trying to hint at a different concern and you were missing the point entirely.

Your response only caused Hiccup to groan as his hand shot up to his face. He dragged his hands down his face as he turned around, now facing Toothless who simply looked at his friend in utter confusion. The dragon looked from you, then to Hiccup, then back to you. You simply shook your head with a shrug of your shoulders before Toothless walked away, deeming him your problem.

“Hiccup I don't understand why this is such a big issue to you, we used to be in the woods alone all the time together. You didn’t seem to have a problem with it then.” You stated quite bluntly.

“That was different!” He shouted. His face had ever so slightly turned the faintest hint of red, but it was still enough for you to notice. He seemed almost exasperated as you continued to swim around the very vague point that he was failing to get at.

“How was it any different than what me and Eret are doing? If anything it’s safer now because we’re both adults. Granted we did have a Night Fury with us back then…” You began to mumble to yourself, accidentally going off topic. Hiccup sighed, walking up to you and grabbing you by your shoulders. He was stern but still managed to be gentle as he forced you to look at him.

“I can’t control what you do or who you spend your time with, but I just don’t like that you and Eret spend so much time together, so far outside of the village, alone…” Hiccup said, practically laying it all out for you.

“Hiccup?”

“Yeah?”

“We’re not alone.”

Hiccup merely stared at you, eyes wide in shock as he tried to calculate your intelligence in that split second. He practically spelled it out for you and you still weren’t getting it.

What hadn’t occurred to him however, was that you had already caught on, you were just trying to get him to admit it himself. Granted, you had just caught on maybe seconds before, but you still thought it might be fun to mess with him a little. Besides, who were you to make the assumption that the Chief of Berk himself was jealous that you were spending time with another man. It could be considered a reach… Unless he just said it himself.

“Why don’t you want me to be alone with him so badly?” You asked, figuring you should try and at least break the loop that you two seemed to be stuck in.

“Because…” Hiccup began, trying to think of a way to phrase what he wanted to say. You waited patiently, just looking at him and occasionally switching your gaze over to the dragons who were chasing each other around.

“Because?” You repeated, waiting for his response. His green eyes staring back into yours. They looked almost as if they were trembling as they bounced between the features on your face.

“Why is it so hard to talk to you?” He shouted abruptly, quickly letting go of your shoulders and flung his arms into the air with an exasperated groan.

“If it was easier for you to tell me about the dragon you were keeping hidden from a village filled with bloodthirsty, war hungry Vikings, I’ m almost afraid of whatever this could possibly be.” You joked, trying to lighten his mood.

“It’s not the same thing.” He muttered in response as you laughed.

“How could anything you have to tell me be worse than that?” Hiccup sighed in response as he went back to pacing. Clearly it was his way of thinking about what to do next. It wasn’t a trait he often exhibited but you knew once he started pacing, whatever he was thinking about was pretty serious.

“It’s not about what I have to tell you, it’s about your response.” He finally said, you rolled your eyes lightheartedly. You’ve known this man for years, and in those years you’ve learned countless embarrassing facts about him that he had less of a problem about you knowing than ‘whatever he had to tell you’.

“What does my response have to do with anything? Hiccup, anything you have to tell me won't change anything.” You stated with a laugh as you tried to comfort him. You almost started to second guess what you thought he was going to tell you. If he was truly this worried about what he was going to say maybe it was actually a very serious matter?

“Ha, yeah you say that now.” He laughed sarcastically, quickly looking up at you before returning to his pacing.

“Hiccup, I'm serious.”

“So am I.”

If there’s one thing about Hiccup it was his stubbornness. Anyone would just shrug that off as a Viking thing but you knew if anything, it came from his father. As much as Hiccup would deny being able to compare to his father, he shared many similar traits with him. You knew it, his mother knew it, even Gobber knew it, but he frequently denied it.

Stubborn.

“Why are you so concerned about me and Eret in the first place?” You decided to bring up the last topic, because if he wasn’t going to get to the point, you were.

“Because…” He muttered quietly in response as if he was holding something back.

“Because what hiccup? Seriously, I know you have an issue with communication sometimes but you can't just keep dancing around the issue here-“ You rambled a bit but before you could continue, Hiccup interrupted you.

“Because I have feelings for you!” He blurted out suddenly.

You both froze. He turned away from you as you simply stared at him. He finally said it, he actually really said it.

“Hiccup…” You muttered quietly.

He didn’t move. He didn’t want to move. The last thing he wanted right now was to turn around and have to face the potential of rejection.

“Hiccup.” You called out again, walking towards him and lightly placing your hand on his shoulder. He finally turned towards you slightly, but he still refused to face you all the way. “You’re serious?” You asked, to which he simply looked at you with confusion.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“At least one of us finally admitted to it.” You joked. For some reason Hiccup had registered that you were making a joke, but not necessarily what you were joking about.

“Yeah okay, go on, laugh it out- wait.” Hiccup quickly turned back to you. You nodded with a smile, confirming his suspicion as he clearly thought he had misheard you.

“Wait but- for how long?” He asked excitedly, almost as if he didn’t believe you. “Oh this is great! I thought you were going to hate me for even saying anything about it, but you’re not! You feel the same-“ He cheered, slightly beginning to ramble as all of his previous anxiety seemed to just melt away.

You smiled as you watched him celebrate before quickly planting a quick kiss on his cheek.

The man froze before you, clearly not expecting even such a small act of affection. You never knew him to be entirely bold, you always saw him as a very awkward man, but you watched as the awkwardness practically jumped out a window for a split second or so as Hiccup grabbed you by the waist and pulled you closer to him.

He was the last person you’d expect such a smooth act to come from, and honestly you didn’t mind it. His eyes drifted from yours to your lips in a matter of seconds as if he was silently asking for your approval, to which you nodded.

Before you knew it you were kissing the literal man of your dreams.

It was wonderful.

It was a very soft kiss, the perfect kind to be shared for the first time.

Once you pulled away you looked to hiccup before dramatically gasping.

“What? What is it?” Hiccup asked, panicking that he had done something wrong.

“Does that mean… you were jealous of Eret?” You asked with a joking smile.

“Oh come on- really?” Hiccup said, jokingly pushing you away with a laugh.

Safe to say you never let him live this moment down, and much to his dismay you had excitedly told your friends about it not too long after.

[lavenders388]

i've been hooked on squid games recently, could you possibly do one of the guards or the frontman protecting the reader from dying in a game?? bonus points if the reader gets hurt. please and thank you!! no pressure at all ofc! good luck with college!!

~One Lucky Day~

˚⋆𐙚｡ 𖦹.ᡣ𐭩˚ Pink Soldier x Reader

requested 💌

a/n: sorry for being super slow writing its for the silliest reason ever! my hard gel nails are grown the fuck out and its SO hard to type expect like one million fics in a row when i get these mf knives taken off of my fingers here in a few days!!! as always thank you for all the support!!!<3 -matcha

˚⋆𐙚｡ 𖦹.ᡣ𐭩˚ As you were led through the sickeningly colorful halls- an almost disrespectful contrast to the dark place you found yourself in, your mind raced uncontrollably about what the next game would be. You worried, like everyone else, about whether you would be able to survive and move forward. you looked around as you climbed the pink staircase. noticing how many men there were compared to women. your stomach began to turn thinking about how difficult it would be to compete against those who appeared to be much stronger than you. you tried to calm yourself; thinking about how during the previous game you had an advantage by being able to stop easily and stay balanced. you hoped that in this game strength wouldn't be much of a factor.

as you entered the game hall, your mind began to race a little less. "this doesn't look like it'll be too bad for me." you thought, noticing that there wasn't a whole lot that the set gave away; just two rainbow circles. "it looks like a track, maybe this will be more like red light green light again." you pondered; the thought of a more agility-based game making you feel more confidently. the recorded voice echoed within the hall as you were instructed to form groups of 5. The thought of being in a group also aided in soothing your fears, knowing that whatever ability you lacked there were other players with you to make up for it.

you eventually found your group, finding it hard to be accepted due to not being male. your group- 3 women and 2 men- ended up being picked to go dead last. you all breathed a sigh of relief- agreeing that this could be a very good thing, you weren't going first, and you had the most time to prepare. you all got to practice your individual mini-games, and you were able to calculate what the other players struggled with more and how to better handle that without wasting too much time. as you and the rest of the crowd cheered for the other groups, you began to feel more confident about the game.

finally, it was time for the two last groups to compete. you were happy to be closer to the end of this horrible place, but you trembled with the thought of what would happen if your group wasn't time-efficient enough. the other group- very kindly you thought- agreed that they would be cheering you on and you them; referencing to the lack of cheering crowd the other groups had. this gesture made you feel supported- and ready to compete in what would hopefully be the last game before you got to leave.

as your group moved through all of the mini-games, your heart sank realizing how little time you all had to spare. "fuck." you thought to yourself; not wanting to scare the rest of your team. "okay, we can't afford to mess up on this last one." you said to the man about to attempt the last game. you tried to sound encouraging. to hide your fear in a way that might help that man. with 5 seconds on the clock, you watched the other team cheer in relief as they completed the game and got to leave. your team wouldn't make it, your skin crawling as you came to the sinking realization.

five... four... three... two... one... you barely heard the recording counting down what you believed to be your last seconds on this earth. you wanted to cry, but you didn't have the time to even do that. as you watched your teammates fall to the ground, you expected the same fate to become of yourself. you felt a bullet graze the side of your upper shoulder; the pain sinking into the muscle like fire traveling through each of your veins. the pain almost distracted you from the conversation you began to overhear as you lied on the rainbow ground with your fallen teammates.

"i missed on purpose so that they'll be fresh." you heard coming from one of the masked guards. "fresh? what the fuck does he mean fresh?" you thought, the type of fear racing within you amounting to more than you've ever felt before. "okay, load them all up like normal." you heard from another guard as the pink-bowed coffins began to be lifted onto the ground beside you. you felt yourself being uncuffed; gently. and then loaded into the coffin. "don't worry. trust me." you almost didn't hear it as he said it so quietly under his breath as you were lowered with care into the coffin.

the lid was closed but not stapled shut like the rest. you didn't get moved either. time stood still as the rest of the guards left with the other coffins. after what felt like hours but was most likely only a few seconds, you saw the lid opening.

"hey just stay quiet, don't freak out or try to run. please just trust me." came softly from the only guard left in the room. you didn't know what it was, maybe just the desperation of having nothing else to do, or maybe it was his voice that made you trust him almost immediately. you lifted yourself out of the box that was supposed to be the last thing that ever touched your body. gingerly, as to not upset the gash on your shoulder. you winced, catching his attention as he began to help you up.

"why- why did you save me? i lost the game." you said, your voice trembling in shock and as the pain traveled up your arm. "i don't know." he said, soundly almost as scared as you were. "I'm so fucking sorry i shot you." your eyes met his, he looked to be near your age. his face was young and soft, with short black hair. he was the type of guy that if you weren't in this place, you would have considered going up to him to ask for his number or something along those lines. "thank you, so much." you said genuinely, your voice softening as you assessed that the situation was safe.

"what do we do now?" you asked him, even though it didn't look like he knew for himself. "ill patch your arm up, and ill lead you back to the other players when its lights out." your second chance at life was shocking; a bit disappointing that you still had to go back to the games. you found yourself not wanting to level him.

"what about you?" you questioned as he began to gently wrap some gauze around the wound on your arm. "ill be okay, they thought you went with the rest of the coffins, and they don't really seem to care about what happens to the players once they've been eliminated." you tried not to think about the last part of his answer. "will i see you again?" you asked, without really thinking about it. you weren't sure how to properly express your gratitude to the stranger who had saved you, and a part of you twinged with sadness about the thought of never looking into his brown eyes again.

"ill look after you in the games." he stated in a way that made you know full-heartedly that he meant it; and would do so.

as he walked you back to the hall you once dreaded returning to, you found yourself no longer feeling any fear at all.