#tickle with fingernails

[tickleinvaforums]

My girlfriend used to be ticklish and now she isn't Now, I am wondering. Will she be ticklish again? I mean, Can you become ticklish again? Thanks for your help!

It is possible to become more familiar with feeling ticklish by practicing being tickled. This may help to desensitize people to the sensation, ultimately making them feel more ticklish. As we age, our reduction in ticklishness may be due to changes in nerve function and sensitivity. It could also be that children often see tickling as a fun, playful interaction, while adults find it to be more invasive and less enjoyable. Further studies have discovered that when the pain nerves are severed. Scientists found being tickled stimulates your hypothalamus, the area of the brain in charge of your emotional reactions, and your fight and pain responses. The level of exposure to tickling can also play a role. Those who experienced more tickling in their childhood, especially during their formative years, may develop a higher sensitivity to it. Some people do indeed have an extreme tickle response known as Hypergargalesthesia.

[strang3lov3]

omg about your dentist appointment i swear my hygienist has it out for me too cause why is it so painful!! i’ve had a bajillion cavities filled and the process is 1000% quicker and easier than a cleaning 🦷

Yes dude, I totally agree! I was pants shittingly nervous last year about having cavities filled for the first time to my surprise it was easy peasy! I think my fiancé found it healing, too. He has a difficult time being numbed and has bad memories associated with the dentist. So I think it was very good and relieving for him to see my dentist be so liberal with the numbing shots for me and prioritize my comfort. She says she knows nobody likes to go to the dentist but she wants to make it as painless as possible for her patients.

Hygienists - I know they’re important, I know they’re just doing their job and they would probably get in trouble if they did not thoroughly clean my teeth before my dentist checks on me, but godDAMN. Ouch. I’m sore right now lmao. And It was a fucking sensory nightmare too, all the noises of my teeth being scraped and the whirring of the tools. And just the feeling of having my teeth touched, blech 🤮

[shnashq]

idk. i just think his laugh is cute no matter how it sounds. i feel like he'd be the most ticklish and no one can tell me otherwise. fr just imagine the mf getting absolutely fucking ✨WRECKED✨ with whatever tools you can think of. like i'm doing it rn and i'm absolutely fucking ✨LOVING IT!!!!✨

[holeforzenin]

YUJI LETTING HIS GF USE HIM

Tw- Both are twenty, degradation n praise, overstimulation. reader is cockdrunk n has a high sex drive :3 Not proofread!!!.

“S’good Yujiii Soo good, Mmm! Can feel your cock throbbing inside of me, ohh fuckkk!” you moaned out through gritted teeth, too caught up enjoying how deliciously his achy, abused cock was repeatedly curving into your sensitive g-spot over and over just the exact way you intended it to. You can’t even remember how long it’s been and well frankly you don’t really care. Too distracted by the overwhelming pleasure you're receiving by frantically bouncing your ass on his swollen cock.

“F-fuckkk, you’re so greedy baby Goddd, you look so sexy like this!” he huffed, letting out breathless curse—his fingernails digging into the plushy sides of your bouncing ass as goosebumps and adrenaline coursed through his bulging veins. He’s trying his very fucking best to keep up with you but God you were killing him. It got so bad that you’re more of a filthy sex fiend than he was in the past few overestimating days. Not that he was complaining but the way you’d randomly grab him by the shirt—fucking wrinkling it and pulling him into the clustered janitor closet just to feel his hard dick in your slobbering cunt at school with him pushed up against the cool wall and you manically throwing your bouncing ass back at him eagerly like little cock-hungry slut—forcing every last drop of cum from his thick balls to drain out into your horny pussy then pouncing on him four more times throughout the day at home has become a bit overwhelming…he’s trying his best to keep up with your crazy ass sex drive but fuck he was shooting blanks at this point.

His sweat-covered pinky bangs tickled his forehead as the moonlight from the illumining window glistened onto his milky abs. He bit his lips so many times that he probably ruined his gums by now, in a futile attempt to restrain his perverted urges at the way your tits were bouncing in fast circles. He’s sooo tempted to grab and fondle them but it’s like he can’t even control his own fucking body.

“Ohooo fuck! You’re stretching me so good around you Yuji, fuck I love you—Looove your cock so muchhh baby!” You cried out, tears welling up in your eyes as his pink tuffs of slick covered pubic hair grazes against your sticky clit—making the pleasure even more intense as more and more creamy rings formed at the base of his pretty cock.

They were hearts in Yuji’s eyes seeing just how much his little horny slut of a girlfriend was creaming on him, seeing you so desperate and addicted to his cock like a brainless zombie whore unlocked something primal inside of him that he never thought existed. He fucking loved being your human dildo to fuck yourself on, the thought of it made his cock throb feverishly right against your gushing, gummy walls.

“Jesus–mmmph! You’re such a nasty slut. Ohh shit-, is my cock all you ever fucking think about baby? bet you couldn't even last a day without my cock being up this needy, little pussy yeah?” His groans along with his filthy mouth filled the air as he gropes both of your fleshy ass cheeks—his fingers purposely kneading into it pervertedly as he feels you up like a creep.

You felt the mushroom tip of his length brushing against the depths of your cervix as you clamped around him harder, you playfully smirked down at him as you bent down slightly towards him to grab his biceps—moaning sweetly as you felt them flexing against your touch. “Y-yess! Need your cock inside of me at all times Yuji, gonna make me lose my mind, hnngh!”

“Yeahhh? My cock making you that dumb baby??” His sultry voice is weighed with exhaustion as he grants you a fucked-out smile. “Yuji, Yuji m’gonna cum again, fuckfuckfuck yessss!”

You continued bouncing faster and faster—grinding your hips against him fervently in the process to make it even more intense causing you to spasm around his girth, you can’t see it, but you are 100% sure his entire cock is covered in your cream. You can feel it.

Your head falls back, the strands of your hair cascading down like a waterfall. your lips parting to release loud, needy moans that mingled in the air as Yuji gazed up at you in awe, seeing you like this was one of his favorite things. You were such a mindless slut for his dick and he enjoyed it.

“I- m’cummming!” You cried out in a certain tone that was like filthy music to his ears, your cunt pulsated around his jumpy cock as streams of liquid gushed out of you, spurting every fucking where, on the bed sheets, spattering on Yuji’s abs, his thighs everywhere. Your body trembles as you try to process everything. You fucking came and squirted at the same time.

“Did you just-“

“I-“ was all you could let out before you felt the wind getting knocked out of you as Yuji suddenly gripped your branded ass that’s filled with his handprints and lifted his legs up a bit, thrusting with constrained force and fucking his throbbing, soaked cock into you with vigor. The lewd, nasty sound of “plah plah plah!” reverberated throughout the room your hands clutching the pillows tightly beside him, overwhelmed by the intense sensations.

“Yujiii, stop fuck! Too much—tooo muchh” you screamed in a frenzy. your thighs shivering as he relentlessly thrust deeper, splitting open your cunt even more with his animalistic pace. His pistoning cock brushes further against your sweet spots as it twitches inside of you. His poor, fucked out cock sooo desperate to cum.

“Such a lil fucking slut for squirting on me like that baby—God I’m gonna stuff you sooo full after this, it’ll be entwined into your slutty fucking brains”

You were so fucked out you couldn’t even fucking register what the hell he was babbling about.

It was so fucking nasty and hot, the scent of raw sex filled the air as both of your moans echoed throughout the room, at this point your eyes were rolling to the back of your skull in ecstasy as you were being overstimulated, your pussy pouring more juices onto his cock as beads of sweat glistened on his entire body.

“M’cumming m’cumming m’cumming Godddd love this fucking pussy!!” His hoarse voice exclaimed as he bit his lips, thick gooey ropes of warm cum filling up your womb as the two of you cried out in unison. You were so full, every inch of your pussy was stuffed so full of just Yuji, Yuji, Yuji. You’d be surprised if you weren’t actually braindead from his cock by now.

Your body collapsed on his sticky skin and you landed on his toned chest. both of you attempt to regulate your breaths as you cockwarmed his soft cock. Unfortunately Succumbing to exhaustion, you both drifted off to sleep in that position but within the next three hours, you were fucking him again.

[nymphoniah]

needy little thing

just thinking about how logan is a munch, and he is absolutely shameless about it. nothing can stop this man from eating you out!

pairing: dom!logan x afab!reader

warnings/tags: NSFW (minors DNI, 18+ only), pussy eating, cunnilingus, oral sex (f!receiving) dom!logan, teasing, orgasm denial, swearing, pet names (princess, his girl), spitting, mark-leaving

the second he comes back home from a mission, a side hustle, or whatever it may be, the first thing he does is make a beeline for your room.

logan doesn’t waste a second, deftly making his way to your bed, finding purchase between your legs. “i need to see that pretty pussy of yours,” he whines, pawing your thighs apart with his calloused hands.

“you just got home logan, take a shower at least,” you chuckle, running your fingers through his hair, tugging slightly at the tufts that peek upwards.

“that can wait darlin', i need to see you now.” he growls, sliding down your skimpy little pair of sleep shorts, which left nothing to the imagination.

his grip on your legs tightens, his fingers molding the plush of your inner thighs as he pulls your panties to the side with his teeth. he lets out an almost primal growl at the sight of your cunt.

your cunt is glistening with your arousal, shining under the pale light of your bedside lamp. "fuck," he whines, his nose hovering over your clit, "didn't even 'hafta do anything, you're already soaking for me"

the scent of your arousal fills logan's senses. he hastily places wet kisses all over your cunt, paying close attention to your clit. he gently sucks on the swollen nub, pulling away with a pop.

"been so needy for you, i missed you-" you lull, cutting yourself off with a moan as he bites your inner thigh, a stark contrast from the pleasure from earlier, but a well needed balance of pain.

he flattens his tongue, licking a stripe from your sopping hole, all the way to your swollen clit. you whine out his name, pulling his face closer to your cunt, the scratchiness of his beard grounding you as it grazes against your skin.

he continues to hungrily lap at your cunt, his tongue working between your folds with ease. he teases your hole, flicking his tongue in, lingering there for a split second, then slips himself out.

"want more..." you beg, lifting your pelvis upward so his nose nudged against your clit. he pulls away swiftly, his warm breath tickling your core, and you whine at the loss of friction.

he spits on your cunt, using it as lubricant as his thumb lazily rubs rough circles against your clit. "such a needy little girl, aren't you?" he hisses, feeling himself hardening from your displeasure.

logan peers down at your cunt, "poor thing can't even handle a bit of teasing?" he says smugly, observing how your hole pulsed around nothing.

before you even got the chance to respond, he pulls at your thighs, his fingernails leaving crescent-shaped marks on your skin. manhandling you, he rests your legs on his broad shoulders, his face now a mere centimeter away from your aching core.

"i can do this for hours, princess" he says cockily, pressing a wet kiss to your clit. "surely she can handle that, yeah?". he adds teasingly, talking to your cunt.

you take in the sight as he dives back in, working hastily at your swollen nub. his face slicked with your arousal, beard glistening as he pulls away from your cunt.

you tilt your head back into the mattress, tugging his head to where it once was. "then give it to me," you murmur, the grip on his hair not nearly as tight as the grip he has on your thighs.

oh, the beard burn from tonight is definitely going to be worth it.

[satorena]

satorena.. 🌞prone bone with gojo that’s it.

୭ ˚. you snatch his soul via pussy— call that soul tie or whatever.

cw. explicit content. foul language. light dirty talk. love making. prǒne bǒne. spit play. praíse kink. afab!reader. lowkey sub gojo. 900 wc.

“fuuuckk baby,” he whines, head lolling forward as his arms tremble beneath him. the plushness of your soft ass ripples against his pelvis hypnotically, your velvety walls sucking his cock in almost achingly. tousled white hairs are matted with sweat and bangs glued to his forehead, as his eyes squint shut, focusing on anything but cumming too soon. “yeahhh, take this dick, lovely. ‘s all yours— shit,”

your feet lock around the back of his knees, arms spread as your fingers tighten around the dampened sheets beneath you for stability. with a slackened jaw, you moan wantonly as your hips push back to fuck yourself onto him. shit, you think you feel him reaching your throat with how large he is— so hot, thick and invasive inside your guts, the penetration just right at your spongy spots.

your back dips into a tantalizing curve as you find a rhythm in the sound of his heartbeat drumming against his pec. you tilt your head back, chin now upwards and lips ghosting right beneath his own parted ones. his breath is warm, bottom lip tickling right above your top one.

“open up f’me,” he says breathlessly, and as if you truly know him to the core, your jaw slackens further as your pink tongue lolls out. he lands a wad of spit right onto the muscle rather slowly, cerulean eyes narrowed into the sinful sight of you. you moan eagerly, awaiting his saliva down your tastebuds. with a soft plop, you roll around his taste in your mouth before sticking your tongue out to show your obedience, “ugh, my perfect fuckin’ girl.” a trickle of spit escapes and dribbles down your chin, past your neck and right in between your tits.

your breasts jiggle in sync with the clash of your asscheeks against him, and he’s so overwhelmed in fuck ton of emotions— your pussy kegels around his dick, so painfully wet he can barely feel his own cock anymore, perfect tits bouncing in plain sight and the way your face contorts in bliss as you shamefully use him for your own pleasure.

and as your voice drips in honey, so sultry and seductive he’d think you’re a siren lulling him into the depths of hell, “mmh, you like that, huh?”

fuck,

“marry me,” he whispers softly before capturing your swollen lips within his own. he moans inside your mouth and swallows your own sounds like a thirsty man, pulling away just barely as a thin string of saliva connects between you both. “oh god— marry me, please, marry me princess,”

your giggle sounds as breathless as you feel, tilting your neck in favour of peppering kisses at his sharp jaw. he groans loudly when you pamper him at his sensitive spot, cock twitching madly inside your warmth.

you trail your tongue against the slope of his neck, “toru, shut up.” you smile softly, though you bring an arm forward to wrap your hand around his bicep. your fingernails graze at his bulging muscles tenderly, and the look in your eyes make his heart skip a beat. his pretty girlfriend with her pretty eyes and pretty lashes and pretty nose and pretty smile and pretty full cheeks,

so maybe he proposes to you one too many times during sex, but how can he not want to cuff you when you fuck him on the brink of tears? who else is he supposed to find that’ll have him surrendering his entire being to? his stomach feels in knots, whether it’s butterflies or an oncoming orgasm— he’s not too sure, but god, he knows he never wants to pull out.

“want you for a lifetime, baby,” it’s as good of an explanation you’ll get, his hips now grinding into your cunt, hoping to explain the rest of unsaid words. he smiles boyishly when you gasp at the feeling of his tip rolling around inside, clawing tightly at firm muscles. your head leans forward as your legs drop back onto the bed, and you’re biting your bottom lip, “need you for a lifetime.”

“‘m all yours, toru,” you whimper, feeling both powerless yet empowered as his sweaty chest meets your sweatier back. his hair tickles at your neck as his lips ghost over your ears, his tongue dragging all over the shell, “always have been, ngh, always will be.”

fuck, you have him wrapped around your finger. his balls are heavy and ache, begging to release his proof of undying love inside of you— where it belongs. his strokes work frantically, shamelessly desperate for more of that gooey wetness the second he pulls out. he feels that coat of your unity around the base of his cock, and at a particular angle, you tremble beneath him.

bingo.

“in this lifetime,” he aims at that golden spot again. your body quivers pathetically and he presses a kiss at your temple, “in the next,” he pistons his tip at the same area, and now you have tears rolling down your cheeks. he leans forward to lick them away, “and the one after that,” your legs flail as your heels dig into the small of his back.

the pressure is getting too much for you, he notices as your body reacts before your mind can process, instantly reaching forward to evade the overwhelmingness of his thrusts. no, he won’t let you run away. not when you’ve just said you’re his. not when he hasn’t had a chance to say—

“i’m soul bonded to you. my entire being is yours, baby.”

first attempt ever at a drabble. . . perioddd ( ? )

[dmitriene]

cw: mommy kink, some emotional hurt because of simon's past, sex and comfort.

simon never had a normal relationship with his family, not in the form of conflicting misunderstandings, easy everyday quarrels, which often develop into more understanding relationships with age, no, simon's family was a nightmare, dysfunctional, with addicted father, violence and constant fear, the grin of the skull that was his dad, tormenting him, his mother and brother.

the strong mock the weak, and so he became a broken toy, instead of the carefree, fearful boy he was, until deciding to run away from everything that was happening to the army, immersing himself in the service completely, and letting that constant, hard work fill up the empty space that gradually devoured him from the inside, or, as it turned out, for the time being.

simon thought that he no longer missed his mother, that he had outgrown it, because he didn't even cry when he came to put flowers on her grave, and most memories, even the worst and the best, faded somewhere distant from his head, leaving a slight feeling as if it had never happened, until his heavy gaze caught yours from the other end of the pub that he and his teammates got out to for the weekend.

no, you don't remind him of her, and you don't even look like her at all, you're just a woman, and gorgeous as that, he can't deny it, simon doesn't remember the last time he felt interested in any form of intimate contact, but you look as if you caught your prey, with heavy eyelids and fluttering eyelashes, a little grin, knowing what you want, looking at him so hungry even at this distance, even though he wears his mask, and his cock twitches traitorously.

simon thinks about how to approach you, just come up and say hello, maybe put his hand on your rounded hip and dig his fingers in to make everything go faster, or he can order you something to drink, something suitable, but before he can get up from the too narrow table full of his now drunken friends, there's a glass of alcohol placed in front of him, exactly what he drank before, voiced as a gift from another customer, and you wink from the bar, before disappearing into the dancing crowd, throwing a bone to a puppy.

and he takes it between his canines and runs, drink forgotten, any conversation he had cut off, when he pushes with rough, broad shoulder through the crowd and looks around with an overly excited, ragged breaths, searching for you, by the crown of your head, by curve alone, by the sparkle of your eyes, but you find him first, press against the wall of his back, tracing his hip with one hand, tickling your fingernails over the pale skin where his shirt had slightly raised, making him flinch, turn around, squeeze your hand in his and let you pull him through.

— “dance” you purr, not insist, but simon knows better than argue, and he doesn't wants to, not when you let him snuggle up to you from behind, clench his fingers on your hips like he wanted, just like you let, before you start chasing the rhythm of the music with them, your rounded ass pressing against his crotch, firmly, deliberately, rolling and holding him here, trapped, despite all his arousal, the way his cock strains against the plushness of you, until it's too tight, too painful.

a whimper in your ear, followed by a huffed, scorching puff of breath, a terrible, stammered apology that you soothe by turning around and cupping his masked face, he's hot, not by the look, not only, but his skin is hot, you know there's a bright, cherry blossoming flush all across his cheeks, as his eyelashes, pale and wispy, catching the dim, colorful light and reflecting it, quiver at the contact, and he nuzzles in your palm, subtle, still unsure, but then you reach over to his neck, raking up the fabric that hides him from you, fingers trailing over the column of his throat, before your lips meet, messy and desperate.

too fucking sweet, you've never seen a man of his size acting so charming, he snuggles up, tries to kiss you a little more gently, as if afraid to hurt you, as if it wasn't you biting his lips while he kneads your hips and waist like a kitten, and unable to stand it, you pull him towards the restroom, where it's getting darker, less people, and more privacy in order to do the thing you attracted his attention for in the first place, what made your panties so wet that they stick to your throbbing pussy.

simon tries to suggest that you do it somewhere else, his or your apartment, the hotel room, he'll pay for anything, but you lure him deeper, into the toilet stall, onto the closed toilet lid, before rolling the hem of your tight dress, making a show of how wet you are, panties sodden, even prettier like that, barely concealing your puffy folds, making him growl, as you straddle his muscular lap, ready, all by yourself, unbuttoning his tented fly, while having time to kiss and scratch your nails against the nape of his neck, nimble fingers carding through his hair.

he grunts, he moans, gnaws against your throat and jaw like a starved creature, while you spur him on, bouncing on his lap, letting his fingers, calloused and rough because he can't control himself, bruise the supple skin of your hips and thighs, as he helps you up, and down, rippling gummy walls of your cunt swallowing the engorged girth of him down to the base, then up to the drooling tip, and down again, feeling every twitch, every webbed vein, listening to the wet, vulgar plaps and squelching that come from where you keep him snug, as your slick and his precum mix.

you're warm, you're kind, you're sexy, and simon's mind is a complete mess, he missed this so much, to be cradled close, to his hair being stroked, to being called a pretty, sweet baby you moan he is, and paired with his cock being stimulated, clutched in the wet, hot insides of your clenching pussy, his thoughts and words scatter, stutter on his tongue, choke in his throat, and you enjoy it, claw at his chest, tight shirt soaked with sweat, not concealing the impressive bulk of his body, the flex of sinew and tendon, before murmuring, keening, as your soppy walls flutter, and simon's vision erupts in fireworks

— “you gonna cum for mummy? gonna fill me up?”

simon's breath shudders out of his expanding chest in a a long moan, before twisting in a lump of following, loud sob that burned on it way out through his bobbing throat and fluttering eyes, clumping his sooty eyelashes, tingling down his cherry tinted cheeks, over the scars that you traced with your fingers just before, gathering down to his chin, passing his wobbling, chapped lips, and then he chants, “mommy mommy mommy”, head lolling down, trying to bump somewhere between the crook of your sweaty neck and shoulder, as he trembles, and his cock jerks inside of you, spilling rope after rope of vicious, milky seed, plugging your hole.

poor, poor man, you hush his cries tenderly when your shudders subside, ignoring the starting cramp in your thighs and the flutter of your hole as it's oozes cum, instead cupping the back of simon's head, tugging at his hair in a grip that is not too tight, more of grounding, and let him nuzzle in against your shoulder, quivering, sniffing, his stubble uneven and scratchy against your sensitive, bitten bruised skin, and still, you pat down his hair, to his nape, down his trembling back, cooing and telling that mommy's gonna make it all better.

and simon believes you, he does, so, so much, especially when he stops crying, showing his face back to you, red, wet, his crooked nose leaky, as he rubs there with the back of his hand embarrassedly, even the tips of his ears colored hectic, and you just cup his cheeks and place kisses upon every inch of warm skin, brushing his salty tears away, until he's calm, until he feels better, body sagging slowly where he sits, feeling so much more tired than he was, every muscle loose, but you will take care of him.

and he would let you, he would go, accept your help in getting cleaned with some wipes you got in your bag, fix his rumpled, halfway tugged off clothes, fix your dress with shaky fingers and stare as his cum drips down your thighs and into your ruined panties, before letting your hands entwine, clasped tight and comforting, as you lead him out the restroom and past the seemingly unmoving crowd to the exit, simon would text his friends later, let them know he's alright, but for now, he stands beside you as you order a taxi, because he would come home with you.

main masterlist. quidelines.

[skeltnwrites]

Break the Bed In— ⋆₊˚⌂

The first morning in your new home is slow and soft, spent tangled up in bed with Steve.

mdni 18+ fem/afab reader, p in v sex, oral (f receiving), switch!steve/reader, the fluffiest sweetest smut you'll ever read | 4k

a/n: this is dedicated to all my single ladies. happy valentine’s day you freaks! coincidentally i also moved houses yesterday so this feels extra fitting

── .✦

You wake well-rested; like every inch of you was unraveled and woven back together while you dreamt. Your wrist hangs off the side of the mattress, fingernails brushing the carpet. Your bed frame is a heap of wooden slats across the room, as is most of the furniture currently in your house. 

Steve’s arm is warm under your neck, his breath a steady string behind you. You flip over, your ear landing in the crease of his elbow. 

He’s softer in sleep. Cheek squished to his shoulder, lips pressed to a pout. He’s boyish in a lot of ways still, but growing less so the longer you know him. He’s got stubble and sun spots and smile lines. And you love each of those things, swearing he’s getting more and more handsome with them every day. Blame it on the lingering moving high but today the feeling triples. 

There’s a unique kind of joy in buying your first home together. It’s perpetual surprise, popping up in the most mundane of moments. It’s picking taupe over eggshell for the living room and it’s paying extra for matching key designs and it’s waking up beside your favorite person on a mattress on the floor. 

You stamp your lips into his skin in good morning, and again because it’s a satisfying warmth on your mouth. He smells sweet, like your new body wash since he couldn’t find his last night. You decide you like the scent on his skin better than yours. 

The quiet is strange but the farthest thing from unwelcome. No neighbors or roommates or parents to wake to. Just the soft hush of rain against the roof and the swish of your ankles underneath the blankets. 

Your fingers chase the hair from Steve’s eye socket, your thumb perching behind his ear. His pupils shift under his eyelids and he sighs the softest little sound you’ve ever heard. 

It’s cruel to wake him, certainly. He did most of the heavy lifting yesterday and was up organizing later than you were. But you’re feeling especially selfish this morning, tickling him awake with a swarm of several more arm kisses. 

There are worse things to wake up to, you reason with yourself as Steve hums, his fingers curling against the sheet. He’s quiet for a long beat and you decide maybe it's better to let him rest. 

But his lips part and he rasps out, “Mornin’.” 

“Mornin’,” you parrot. Your grin is immediate, spanning ear to ear with an overwhelming sense of gratitude. 

He smushes your face to his bare collar, the heel of his free hand climbing up his cheek. 

You turn to watch his eyes unstick themselves of sleep and continue to wonder how you got so lucky. You press another kiss to his chin. Another to the coarse thatch of hair on his chest. Another to his shoulder. You just can’t help yourself today. 

“It’s so quiet,” he murmurs, hand crawling under your shirt in a long splay up your spine. 

You beam, weaving a leg under his heavy one. “I know.” 

“We have a house.” 

“I know.” You sound as excited as you can be without yelling. 

He hums, the corners of his smile creeping wider, a hand steady on your back. 

Your finger twists a curl at his nape idly. “What’re you thinking?” 

Steve’s gaze flickers from the ceiling to you, eyes like old pennies under the clouds coloring your room a gloomy shade of gray. “Nothin’,” he whispers, lips skimming the corner crease of your eye. “Just happy.” 

You hum, one part agreement, two parts delight. “Can we get a dog now?” 

He huffs out a chuckle, vibrating the place where your chests kiss. “I can’t believe it took you this long to ask.” 

“‘Cause you always say no.” 

“‘Cause it didn’t make sense before.”

“So, we can?” 

He has a hard time pretending to hate the look you show him. Your jutted lip and raised brows show no mercy. He wants to say yes, of course he does, but he’s not as impulsive as he used to be. He’s a homeowner. His responsibilities extend beyond just himself now. 

“Can we unpack the house first? Then we’ll talk about it.”

You flick his collarbone. “Excuses. Excuses.” 

If there’s a fond way to roll your eyes at someone, he’s figured out how to do it. Steve knows you’re all drama. And he knows you’re over the moon with or without the promise of a dog. 

You bend out of his embrace and regret sitting the second you’re up. Your back aches twice its weight, muscles sore with yesterday's labor. 

But Steve relishes his view. You're in nothing but underwear and one of his shirts, the dip of your lower back exposed where the hem has scrunched up. He might buy you new pajamas if he thought you’d actually wear them or if he didn’t adore just how lovely his clothes look on you. 

And he doesn’t give you a chance to ask, his fingers automatically massaging a path up your aching shoulder. You squirm but you love it. You kiss his hand in thank you and carry it around your waist to play with. 

“Don’t get up,” he says. Pleads, practically.

You face him. “But we have sooo much to unpack.” 

“It can wait,” he argues. He steals your entwined hands for a persuasive set of kisses. One to each knuckle and then a flurry up your arm. And his hands are an equally convincing force, coercing you right back onto his chest. 

You’re putty, melting into his hot hands like candle wax. You throw a leg over his waist and settle down in a more comfortable straddle. The possibility of you falling back asleep jumps an alarming percentage. 

You bolster your chin on his sternum and meet his eyes. “But I really want that dog.” 

“More than me?” 

You hum debatably into his puckered lips.

He smiles hard and forgets about kissing you, pinching your side until you yelp. Your giggles spill through twin smiles, overlapping each other in layers. “Might have to put the house back on the market if you keep being so mean to me," he says.

“I’ll be nicer if we go look at the shelter today.” 

“Mm. Not letting this go are we?” 

You shake your head.

He pecks the corner of your mouth. “We’ll go–”

You see the shift in his expression before he even says anything. Your eyebrows jump in excitement. 

“If,” he tacks on quickly, “we finish downstairs today. Hmm?” 

“Mhmm. Easy.” 

“Easy,” he repeats. But not one lick of him believes you. It wasn’t easy carrying so many of your boxes yesterday and it certainly wasn’t easy getting you to pack everything up in the first place. 

But ultimately he’s amused. And he thinks you’re especially pretty when you’re confident. So Steve kisses you like he has something to prove. 

He gropes the swell of your ass mid-kiss and while it’s not unusual for him to do so playfully, you can’t perceive it in any way innocent when you’re pressed up against his morning wood. 

“Steve,” you scold lightly. 

He hums against your mouth, a faux sound of innocence. He knows exactly what he’s doing. 

You break apart with a wet smack. “Gotta unpack.”

“Have all day,” he says, words all smushed together so he can sew his lips right back to yours. 

“Mm-mmm.” You turn your cheek, but the hands on your waist don’t let you go far. “‘S, like, ten-thirty already.” 

He works a slow line past your jaw, spending extra time on the sensitive skin around your throat. Devious. 

“Steve.” 

“Hmm?” 

You push off his chest until you're sitting upright on his thighs.

His heart tick tick ticks under the flat of your palm. His pupils are wide, mouth kiss-bruised a bright shade of red. He’s so, so dreamy, all flushed and starry-eyed like this. He’s got you wrapped around his finger just as much as you’ve strung him with yours.  

You sigh. “Why do I let you win?” 

He smirks that stupid victorious smirk you love so much. “‘Cause you love me.”

“You’re so annoying.” 

“Me?” he laughs. 

“Mhmm. And a hypocrite.” 

The hand clasping your hip pressures you back down, the other cradling one side of your jaw. “A hypocrite?” he whispers. 

“Mhmm.” 

He fills the tiny space between you, half-lidded and heavy-handed in a fervent kiss. He’s not rough but he is eager. Open-mouthed and persistent like he’s trying to weld his face to yours. 

You meet him with the same intensity. It’s instinctual. The push-pull of your bodies, like you’re more one entity than two. You’ve been dating Steve long enough to know what he likes and what he doesn’t. You’ve made out more times than you can count. And he’s a simple man. You’ve got him hard, properly hard, in a matter of minutes. 

His bottom lip is pinned between your teeth, your chests rising and falling in sync. You grind back on his crotch and his breath hitches. 

“Ahh,” he pants. “Can I…” 

You don’t know what he’s trying to ask but you nod anyway. It’s not hard to piece together, though; not when he’s fisting the fabric of your shirt like it’s causing him physical pain to see you wear it. 

You help him hitch it up your back and down your arms to be tossed out of the way. Steve quickly stops you from lying back down. His large palms spread wide against your tummy, thumbs kneading either side of your belly button. He roves up your ribs attentively, studying how your skin pulls and dips beneath his fingers. 

You swear you feel him down to the divots in his fingerprints, the slow speed of his hands tantalizing. 

His thumbs pause at your breastbone, sweeping up and around your nipples as if he’s never played with them before. They perk up easily, to Steve's obvious enjoyment. 

He’s told you a thousand times how pretty you are, naked and not. And he doesn’t have to say it now for you to know he’s thinking it. 

He stares at your chest, your tummy, the soft stretch of your thighs, each like they’ve been carved from marble, destined to end up behind a glass at some museum he’s never been to. 

You get shy eventually, needling past his hold to hide in the slope of his neck. Your mouth peppers lazy kisses where it can reach. Soft ones, not nearly as greedy as before. You work your way up, suckling long enough to leave a couple of red rings in your wake. 

Steve's hips shift under yours as you arrive back at his mouth. He’s getting antsy, the finger fidgeting with the hem of your panties no longer satisfied. So maybe you shouldn’t be as surprised as you are when he holds your hips down and bucks up into your clothed cunt. 

Your jaw slackens, a broken moan dampened against his mouth. 

“Can be loud ‘s you want now,” he assures. His hands roam, around your ass and back up your sides. Soothing, but so feather-light you shudder. 

“Still have neighbors.” 

He hums in half agreement. Yes, you have neighbors, but their bedroom wall isn’t attached to yours. He imagines you’d have to scream bloody murder for the neighbors to hear you here. 

You slink back up to sit and Steve’s fingers fall to your hips. Your pelvis rolls into his. Again when he shudders. 

“Shit,” he sighs. 

“Feel good?”

His eyes disappear behind his lashes, Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows. “Mhmm.” 

You continue to work him through his briefs, a slow back and forth forming a hot puddle between your own legs. With one hand propped against his sternum, you force your eyes over to the stacks upon stacks of moving boxes in the room. 

“Condoms… condoms.” 

Steve almost misses your mumbling– and to his credit, you’re talking more to yourself than him– but he blinks out of his daze and sighs vaguely at the nearest box. “Fuck. Bathroom, maybe.” 

Not ideal. 

“Think I have one in my purse,” you remember, swaying heavily to the side to scan the floor beside the mattress. 

Steve’s hands fly to your waist to balance you as he huffs. “You mean your bottomless pit?” 

“Don’t shame me. It comes in handy.” The bottomless pit in question is spotted, half buried under yesterday’s clothes across the room. “One sec’.”

Steve grumbles as you climb off of him. But his heart turns in his chest as you saunter off. His love for you is always there. It’s the shape of you as you crouch, how you tip your purse upside down and fan the contents out across the floor with a hum. 

“Aha.” You pop up, waving a glossy, square packet as you skip your way back. “My trusty bottomless pit saves the day.”

You clamber back on top of him clumsily, planting yourself in his lap like he’s no more fragile than the kitchen barstool. 

Steve groans under his breath. You’ve got him really wound up and his patience is thinning. 

Your hips roll into his again, the curve of his cock a strong silhouette through two sticky layers of fabric. You scoot back on his thighs and palm him with modest pressure. 

“Babe,” he shudders, thumbs pawing the sides of your underwear again. “Please.” 

“So impatient,” you tease. 

You watch him intently. How his nostrils flare the second you break the seal between his hot skin and the band of his underwear. How his eyebrows crinkle together as you push the cotton down his thighs. 

His cock bobs free before you take it gently by the base. Steve’s not just a pretty face, and he’s not cocky for no reason. He’s well-endowed, a dusty shade of pink blended tan into the dark curls at his hilt. 

“Fuck, baby.” 

He shifts his gaze past you because he’s certain if you make eye contact with him this’ll be the shortest sex of his life. And even the half-blurry blob of you in his peripherals is still too fucking enticing. He forces his eyes up at the popcorn ceiling and traces the shapes in his mind. 

You spread the pearl of precum down a vein on the side of his cock, using the slip to tug him a handful of times. The slick dissolves, and your hand catches twice before you’re getting ready to spit in it.  

But Steve whines, “Need to feel you.” 

Your hand stops but the pad of your pinky trails a sneaky line from tip to base. “My hands not enough for you, Stevie?” 

“Not gonna– mm– last.” 

“Well, we can’t have that, can we?” 

You mean it rhetorically but he quickly shakes his head no. You forget how much you enjoy being in charge until you have Steve squirming under you. 

You stabilize yourself on his chest, hiking one leg up at a time until you’re underwear have been flung to the floor. The slick between your folds is more palpable as you sit back on his thighs, hot skin to hot skin. 

His eyelids flutter closed as you roll the condom on. He’s flushed up to his ears, breath nimble off his open mouth. 

“Ready?” 

He nods like you’ve asked something outrageously silly. 

You guide the head of his cock up to your folds, sinking down in one tedious stride. It’s a good kind of ache, scratching the deepest part of your tummy. 

His hips jerk involuntarily as you release your full weight onto them, his nails leaving crescents on your skin. “‘M not gonna last,” he warns again. 

“I’ll go slow.” 

It’s not much consolation. No matter what you do to him, he’s not gonna last. You’re too damn irresistible for your own good. 

You rock your hips forward and back in a continuous cycle. The pace is indulgent, just slow enough to make things last. Your eyes unfocus, your head tipping back. Every drag squeezes the coil in your stomach tighter. 

Steve’s eyes flick to yours, his voice wavering as he mumbles, “Tease me too much.”

“I do?”

“Mhmm.”

You smile softly at him and his eyes jump away. He’s drawing loopy patterns into the meat of your thigh to distract himself. And it doesn’t help when you cover his hand and sweep your thumb across every digit. He’s so focused on not blowing his load that he can’t even speak. 

You pause your rhythm and hum to yourself before continuing. “Know what I just realized.”

“Hmm?”

“Forgot the shower curtain.”

Steve exhales hard, words sticking to his teeth.“We’ll get a new one.” 

“I really liked that one.”

He can’t think straight long enough to tell if you’re purposely trying to distract him or not and he doesn’t care all that much either way. He just needs you to be the same level of fucked that he is. 

His hand trembles over to your pubic bone, thumb snaking right up to your clit. 

You nod as he presses. Right there. 

He rubs slow circles, a spark of pleasure each time he closes a loop. 

“Fuck,” you drawl simultaneously. 

You laugh, blissfully unaware as your muscles clamp around his cock. 

But Steve’s fingers pause on your clit, his other hand tense at your hip. “Don’t,” he shudders out. 

You close your mouth, a soft little apology grin that sends Steve’s stomach flipping. He’s so fucking in love it’s not even funny. 

“Sit on my face.”

You hum, so high on cloud nine you’re sure you’ve misheard him. 

“Let me taste you.”

Your breath stutters. He’s serious. 

“Come here,” he’s pushing you up and off him before you have much of a chance to process it. “Wanna make you feel good.” 

Your cheeks burn a hot shade of embarrassment, your tongue suddenly too heavy in your mouth. You wriggle up his body, guided by the relentless hands on the backs of your thighs. Steve’s eaten you out, but not like this. 

“Steve,” you manage. 

“What?” He knows you better than he’s known anyone in his life. He feels your shaking and he hears the rampant doubts coursing your mind. “I want to,” he promises, pressing a long, love-packed kiss to the soft flesh of your inner thigh. 

You’re unconvinced. You’re certain you’ll break his face the second you sit down. You’ll be so mortified you’ll have to break up with him if he doesn’t first. You’ll have to sell the house before you’ve even unpacked–

“Please?”

He’s not trying to be pushy or even funny as he bats his eyes. He just so genuinely craves to see you unravel in the same way you’ve spun him around. And yeah, he has a sweet set of brown eyes. Sue him. He loves you too much to look at you with any less adoration. 

You nod emphatically. 

It’s been a long time since you’ve been this nervous about sex with Steve, but you’ve learned just about everything there is to know about him since. You trust him in every capacity, especially in bed.   

He nips his way up your thigh, pulling you lower and lower until his breath is hot on your cunt. Steve licks a wide stripe up to your clit, sucking before swirling his tongue around the sensitive hood. And then his mouth starts lapping you like you’re his last meal. 

Your fist jerks, fingers knotted through the hair on his scalp, and he moans. You don’t hear it over the wet smacking as much as you feel it, the vibrations sending pleasure through you like a pulse. 

His tongue drives you to a mess. He’d push you completely over the edge if you didn’t stop him.

“Okay, okay,” you gasp, pushing up onto your knees. “We’re even.” 

He smirks and strokes down the backs of your calves. “Are we competing?” 

“You seem to think so.” 

He shimmies to a sit with an arm around your waist and bestows you with a fleeting kiss, lips washed with the taste of your juices. “Lay down.”

How the fuck could you say no to such a pretty face? 

You scooch down, face up on the sheets. Steve parts you by the ankles and crawls up your body, planting kisses like seeds. His teeth graze the inside of your wrist before he stretches it up and flat against the mattress above your head. 

Your fingers thread through his, his other hand steadying his cock at your entrance. He swipes the head up and down your wet folds before sliding in with a groan. There’s less resistance this time, a fluid in and out to his hips. 

His thrusts are languid. He indulges more closely in the taste of your mouth and the balmy feel of your waist. 

The winding in your tummy resumes, your fingers naturally finding your clit while Steve rocks into you. A heavier thrust and your lips detach, Steve’s rehoming to the skin beneath your jaw. He picks up his pace, puffing and panting into your neck in short bursts. 

Your legs wrap around his, the heel of your foot digging into his lower back. “Mm– Steve.”

“Yeah?” he huffs. 

“Mhmm.”

If the sounds you’re making are anything to go by, Steve thinks he’s doing a pretty good job. And you know he’s just as close to cumming. You know his little sounds and twisty little expressions like the back of your hand. How his stomach tenses and his breath catches. 

You burn the entirety of this to your brain, rubbing yourself faster, more in time with his movements. 

“‘M close,” he says, desperate and hopeful that you are too. 

You nod, focused on the high climbing higher each second. 

His hips stutter when you clench around him. The coil releases and you come undone simultaneously. 

“Fuck, ah– fuck,” he whines, sharp but breathy in your ear.  

Your fingers slow and his thrusts wane and the pleasure softens. Steve wobbles down onto you as gently as he can, taking your interlaced hand between your bodies. Your hearts kiss with each rise and fall of your chests. Steve mouths over the most accessible bit of skin under your ear, thumb sweeping the gentlest curves around your face. 

You exhale into his crown, raking a hand through the dark mop of curls damp at his nape. Your other eases down his back, savoring the contraction of his muscles as he breathes. You travel down the curve of his ass and give him a firm squeeze. “How’s your ass? Still sore?” 

He huffs at you, nose crushed to your neck. “I fall down one flight of stairs and I never hear the end of it.” 

“I told you to be careful.” 

“I was being– whatever.” His thumb continues to caress your jaw, his lips idle on your neck. 

This is Steve’s favorite part of sex. To hold and to be held, easing off a high that’s miles better than a good smoke. There’s nothing greater. 

“Should I check for bruises?” 

“If you kiss ‘em better.” 

Your chest aches with the sweet swell of laughter. Steve’s your person. You realize it time and time again. 

He peels himself off like you're double-sided tape. His hair’s still crazy despite your finger-combing and his eyes are just as heavy as they were when he woke up. He slides out of you with a hiss, sitting back to knot the condom and toss it toward a pile of bubble wrap. 

He looks back at you fondly. “Shower?” 

You shake your head. “Just lay with me.” 

“Downstairs isn’t gonna unpack itself, you know.”

“Shut up.” You palm his chest until he lays and you throw an arm across his middle. “This was your evil plan all along.” 

He chuckles, taking your hand to massage between both of his. “I’m just the worst aren’t I?” 

[hearts4hughes]

dbf!rafe who’s low key flirting with you while you guys clean up after a summer backyard party 🫣🫣

(also, love your writing!!)

your dad’s already gone inside with a bourbon in one hand and half a cigar forgotten in the other, leaving just you and rafe in the backyard to deal with the mess. summer’s bleeding into the edges of the sky, gold and navy, and the fire pit’s just embers now. a few string lights flicker tired above your heads. the party’s over, but rafe’s still here.

you don’t know much about rafe. to be fair, you spent most of your life with your mom in the city. backyard barbecues weren’t exactly in the rotation. especially not with the beach less than a mile away. it wasn’t until last fall, when you graduated college and decided to live with your dad, that you even remembered rafe existed.

he used to be a name in old stories. rafe cameron, your dad’s wild friend from college. the one with a million dollar grin and a reputation for knowing how to talk his way out of anything. the one who inherited a billion dollar company and still shows up to cookouts with dirt under his fingernails and a six-pack in tow.

you figured he’d be some middle aged finance guy with a comb over and a golf addiction. you weren’t expecting him. you weren’t expecting the way his jaw ticks when he’s thinking, or how he holds eye contact a beat too long. you weren’t expecting the way he looks at you sometimes. like you’re something new, like you make him nervous.

and now here you are. summer night tickling your bare legs, plastic cups sticky with dried lemonade, and rafe calling you sweetheart like it’s a challenge.

he nudges an empty beer bottle with the toe of his flip flops, glances at you. “you always clean up after everyone else, sweetheart? or is that just for me?”

you blink and straighten up from where you’re crouched by the cooler. “you think i’m cleaning for you?” you shake your head with a grin. your dad’s older friend flirting with you was a foreign situation for you.

he shrugs, slow, all smug posture and damp hair from when he dramatically ripped off his shirt and jumped in the pool. the sleeves of his white dress shirt are rolled just below his elbows, revealing tan forearms and a frayed woven bracelet that looks older than you. “wouldn’t blame you if you were.” he smirks and your eyes can’t help but fall to the scrape of his stubble.

your stomach flips. it’s stupid. you hate how he talks like that, like it doesn’t mean anything. like his voice isn’t doing that low, scratchy thing that curls around your spine.

you shove a stack of used paper plates into the trash bag between you. “and what would you be doing if i wasn’t here, huh? letting raccoons do the clean up?”

he chuckles, low. “maybe. though i doubt the raccoons would be as pretty.” his white shirt clings to his back, contouring his muscular back. his smirk deepens as he follows your gaze.

your eyes snap to him. he’s watching you shamelessly. all calm, relaxed confidence. as if he’s not your dad’s best friend. like you’re not half his age with your life ahead of you. “you’re gonna get yourself in trouble talking like that,” you say, voice a little quieter now. your eyes burn holes into the grass. you avoid his gaze like wildfire.

he leans on the deck railing, beer bottle dangling from his fingers. “you think i’m scared of a little trouble?”

you don’t answer right away. you chew on the inside of your cheek and focus too hard on picking up a fork from the grass. and then, because you don’t like the way he makes you feel small but warm all at once, you throw it right back. “no. i think you like it.”

his lips curl upwards in a warm grin. he smilies with his mouth, but you felt it through his stare. your knees began to buckle under the weight of it. “there she is,” he says, voice low and a little amused. “knew there was some bite in you.”

you look at him for real this time. your voice still soft, still unsure, but your chin’s lifted. “you don’t know anything about me.”

“mm,” he hums. takes a swig of his beer. “no. but i’d like to.” he holds your gaze just a second too long. then, he moves, walks past you with the lazy ease of someone who knows he’s being watched. he grabs the last two red solo cups and chucks them into the trash.

“grab the bag, will you?” he says, halfway up the porch. “it’s gettin’ late.” you swallow. hoist the bag onto your shoulder and follow, heart tripping over itself. just before he disappears into the house, he glances over his shoulder and adds, “don’t worry, sweetheart. i won’t tell your dad how you’re blushing right now.”

a wink, a grin, and then he’s gone. you’re left standing there, cherry cheeked and fuming. because a part of you is buzzing. because you liked it.

taglist ~ @ren-ni @bungurus @kayperrysinging @cupids-diner @mojitrvo @babygirlboeser @makiplan @ladyatwalmart @qversazex @favbrnette @nothingtosee333her @soft-starr @f10werfae @bibissparkles @brennanyay @grungefck @kravinoffswife @restinpaece @illumoria @meetmeintheemeraldpool @miaaaoa @imtalkinnonsense @strawberrymilk99 @angel06babysworld @rafesteddy

[tickleinvaforums]

Real Ticklish Worker Story:

Now, this is a real ticklish worker story where this woman gets tickled like crazy by her boss. Her boss has long fingernails and tickles this woman like crazy. You can tell she is very ticklish. Now, I like watching her play around with her employees. However, most of the time she plays around with the same worker. This a real story and I hope you enjoy reading this story.

I was at this clothing store In Virginia and I saw her boss pushing her up against the ladder and started tickling the back of her legs and the side of her ribs for throwing some socks at her boss cause they belonged on her store manager's end. Her boss told her you made the mess so clean it up. Her boss made the worker climb the ladder and started tickling the back of her legs. The worker said please stop, but her boss wouldn't. Now, she couldn't move because her boss had the worker pined up against the ladder. I can tell she likes to tickle the same worker cause this worker is very ticklish. I see her tickle this woman all of the time and it is fun to watch. She has a cute laugh and I love to hear her say that tickles.

I think tickling is a fun way to play around as long as the person doesn't mind a little tickle play. It is all about boundaries. Now, I can tell that both the boss and the employee were having fun that day. They are close friends and they respect each other boundaries. It was all about them having some tickling fun to make each other laugh. It is very cute to watch them laughing. Please feel free to comment down below and let me know what you think about this Real Ticklish Worker Story.

[osachiyo]

"JUST THE TIP, BABY ! "

❐ content warnings ➩ nsfw (mdni), penetrative sex, teasing, somnophilia, petnames, established relationship, dom!character & sub!reader, full nelson (toji), prone bone (suguru), semi public sex (satoru), unprotected sex (don't do this), whiney satoru etc

❐ author's note ➩ I've been going feral for jjk men, and I find this trope so sexy. anyway, happy reading 'n hope y'all enjoy this <3

❐ summary ➩ your lover promises to only put in just the tip, but will he keep it?

≛ MINORS DNI OR I'LL KICK YO ASS ! ≛

๑ satoru ๑

"please baby− need ya s'bad," your boyfriend whined, rutting his hips into your clothed pussy. You two were on a mission, to defeat some special grade curses. "satoru− we can't! we're outside and on a mi−!" you couldn't even finish your sentence before he was sliding your panties to the side, stroking himself before lining up with your entrance. "please, just the tip− I promise, yeah?" he panted out, desperate to be inside you, staring at you with those ocean blue eyes as he waited for your permission. Once you reluctantly gave him the go-ahead, he slapped the tip of his cock against your clit before slowly pushing into you with a wet 'pop!' Your fingernails dug into his broad shoulders, strong arms propping you against the cold brick wall. "sh-shiit baby, fuuuck," he drawled, resting the urge to just slam into you without warning and fuck your brains out. But he couldn't− he promised he wouldn't.

All thoughts of resistance went out the drain when he looked at your face. Your pretty little face; mouth slightly agape as soft moans and hums escape your glossed lips, brows furrowed slightly as you looked up at him with those hazy eyes of yours. I mean, could you really blame him for slamming into you when you look at him like that? He could feel his eyes slightly roll back as your pussy engulfed him fully, loud and lewd squelching and skin against skin noises bounced off the walls of the alley. Your juices ran down your legs and his balls. God, he was insatiable when it came to you. "you− you said just the− mmh!− tip!" you babbled, hands reaching up to grip and tug at his white hair, some of it sticking to his sweaty forehead. "so sorry, pretty− this pussy's just too fuckin' goood−" he slurred, hips slamming into you as his lips smashed into yours for a messy kiss.

Really, you should've known this would happen.

๑ suguru ๑

His smiles slyly before nodding, knowing from the start that it won't take long before you crumble and beg him to fuck you silly. Snickering when you shyly ask him to put more of it in, impatient and needy for his throbbing cock inside you. He wouldn't admit it, but he's glad, he doesn't think he could stand another minute without fully plunging inside your gummy walls.

You could feel his bangs tickling your back as he presses soft kisses on the dip of your back, all the way to your shoulders before biting hard and slamming all the way into your awaiting cunt. He groaned as his hips were flush against your ass, pulling your head back by the roots of your hair before kissing you roughly. The headboard slammed against the wall with each harsh snap of his hips, abs clenching everytime a filthy noise escaped your parted lips as tears gathered on your lashes. his ravened hair cascaded down his muscular and scarred back, "thought you wanted− haah− just the tip, princess? can't even go by your own− mm yes fuck! juust like that−!" he groaned, rolling his hips against your ass with even more vigour, "can't even go by your own words, princess?" you could hear the grin in his voice, so damn smug, but you were in no position to complain, were you?

๑ toji ๑

you were peacefully reading a book, laying on your stomach− when your giant of a husband laid on top of you, his crotch right against your ass. "whatcha' readin', mama?" he questioned, breath low and gravelly against your ear. "jus' an erotic novel," you hummed, neck snapping to look at him when you felt him grinding shamelessly on your ass, "boooring, and whatcha' need erotic novels for? I'm right fuckin' here," he scoffed, making your eyes roll. "yeah okay, toji. only reading it for the male lead, he's like this god at sex−" you got cut off by your own gasp, as his large hand wrapped around your throat, squeezing it lightly, "oh yeah? betcha' 20 bucks I could do better." You pouted, excitement already pooling in your panties, "but, I reaaaally wanna read this." Toji only rolled his eyes, "c'mon baby, y'know I'm more fun than a goddamn book?" "okay, fine... but only the tip, alright?"

Toji was not happy, only getting to feel your pussy clenching on his tip, god you were so stingy! He figures he could just fold you and fuck the living daylights out of you− wait, why isn't he doing that right now?

You could feel him in your throat from how deep he was, a small bulge forming on your lower tummy everytime he thrusted into you ruthlessly. He had you in a full nelson in front of the full view mirror you loved and decorated with your cute little stickers. Heavy breaths of 'atta girl' and 'so fuckin' tight f'me, mama,' slipped out of his scarred lips, your face heating up from the desire in his voice. A palm reached down to smack your pretty pussy, your eyes opening as your gaze landed on his face in the mirror. He was smirking triumphantly, strong arms holding you up with ease, "heh, guess ya owe me 20 bucks now, sweet girl."

๑ kento ๑

Your husband, Nanami questioned his morals when he found himself hiking your nightgown up your thighs in the middle of the night, moonlight seeping in through the opened window, illuminating your features with a gentle glow, and it made him fucking feral.

That's why he had your skimpy little gown bunched up at your waist right now, he already prepped you, eating your pussy out until you gushed in his mouth, he felt too guilty not to, even if you reassured him beforehand that it was okay. He only planned to put the tip in, not wanting to wake you up at 2 am just because he couldn't keep it in his pants− even if he knew that you didn't mind, you never did. But fuck, your walls were clenching and unclenching around him so deliciously and... the next thing he knew, he was ramming into your drooling pussy, jaw clenched as he muttered soft applogies. He buried his face into your neck when you woke with a yelp, moaning and sputtering as you try to process the situation. your pussy was practically drooling and sucking him in eagerly, back arching offt he bed as his thick fingers found your clit, giving it some attention to make you cum on his cock. He smelt like cologne, and still had his work clothes on− letting you know that he came home not too long ago. His cock was hitting your sweet spot with each snap of his hips, gooey cunt swallowing him whole as he let out the most guttural noises, "fuck− sorry for the rude awakening, dear− I couldn't help myself.."

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

[toxycodone]

cw. nsfw! + feat. the Tulpar creww

an. I did NOT expect this to blow up lol. It was literally just me posting some thoughts I had 💀💀 but anyways….put a nsfw warning on this and a read more

thinking about the way they fuck you…

Curly’s got those slow, deliberate strokes that have your orgasm building up brick by brick. He’s all about eye contact and kisses your temple while whispering praise to you. He’s such a groaaaaner too, right into your ear because he wants you to hear what you do to him. He’s so deliberate and knows all the tips and tricks. Totally presses against your pelvis or puts a pillow under you so you’re seeing stars with every thrust. He’s confessing his love for you every time his orgasm builds up and right when he cums. He can’t help it. Very romantic.

Jimmy’s rougher, he pounds into you like he’s got something to prove. But as time goes on he has to slow down (partially because he can’t keep up that pace and partially bc he’s gonna cum too fast). He’ll get slower. Rough growls and fingernails digging into your skin as he chases his own high. His balls smack against your ass and the sound can basically be felt. He also nips at your skin too. Like, not biting (unless you want) but he’s holding onto you with his teeth. When he’s close to cumming (and yall are in a established relationship) he moans your name when he cums.

Anya’s a lot more classic. She likes missionary for the intimacy, and she rides you slowly at first, before grinding against you and rubbing her clit on you until she’s drenching the in between of your thighs. But also…cowgirl. She likes when you let her be in control. And she isn’t nice about it either. She’ll tease you through your underwear, dry humping you until you cum in your pants, then tease you for how sensitive you are. (as if she isn’t a thrust away from cumming lmfao). Anya liiiives for foreplay and just wants to be aching and desperate, both of you just eager to cum, before getting to the main event. She will stifle her noises at first, but if you move her palm and tell her you wanna hear her she’ll practically sing your name.

Daisuke’s so desperate. Like, each time you fuck he’s legit trembling from the sensations. Doesn’t matter if you’re on top or if he is but he’s always gonna be whining and muttering praise between bouts of “please, please, *please*”. (see Josh Hutcherson in that one movie for ref. Like…he’s a beggar and a moaner.). He’s touchy and loves cupping your chest and sucking your nipples. His pace just can’t be slow, he totally fucks like a rabbit and will bust like one too, so he spends a lot of time on foreplay to get you where you need to be before he fucks you. (He gets a wet spot in his boxers that’s so prominent you’d think he has a pussy). He’s watched so much porn he does the classic throws his head back and rolls back his eyes when he enters you btw.

Swansea. He’s fucking using you like a fleshlight. This man knows what the fuck he’s doing. He doesn’t go fast, but he doesn’t need to. His cock does a lot of work because it’s so girthy and stretches you out enough you can feel him in your tummy. He prefers having you bent over something so all he has to do is thrust his hips into yours. He also like, angles down so his stomach isn’t too in the way and you can feel him fully, his pubes tickling between your thighs. He’s a grunter. Groaner. Throwing out curses between grit teeth while you’re practicing sobbing on the desk. He’ll say cocky little lines too like “right there? That feel good?” And chuckles when you cum all over him. Oh and he never forgets about stroking you too. Swansea always has his fingers circling your clit/reaching around and stroking you off at all times. And he keeps going while you cum until you’re twitching and pushing his hand away from you.

[bruhstories]

decompress

summary: you and silco are business partners pairing: silco x afab!reader warnings: minors dni - swearing, smoking, fingering, lil handjob, unprotected p in v, creampie, some fluff. w/c: 1.6k

a/n: listen, i know this is shit but i need to get back into writing somehow and this is practice. liking and reblogging are heavily encouraged cause i am losing motivation from the lack of interactions lol

Sometimes Silco needed to decompress, to unwind and relax. It wasn't often that he visited you, and every time he did, he swore to never step foot in your establishment again. But you knew better. You knew he always returned. Maybe not in a week, not in a month, but he always came back.

You were a useful tool to him. The owner of the most well-known brothel in Zaun, you always made sure to inform him of anything your girls found out through an effective weapon, one better than guns, blades, or magic — sex. Enforcers, Zaunites, councillors, they all visited your establishment, and they all left breadcrumbs that you pieced up together and sent to Silco. He tried to hire you, but you wanted freedom, and he respected that. He wanted the same for Zaun, and so Silco would've been a hypocrite if he forced you to work for him. Besides, you did him plenty of favours, enough to grant you and your employees independence and protection. It was a partnership that worked perfectly fine.

He entered through the back door, not wanting anyone to spot him visiting a brothel of all places, and he always greeted you the same way — his dagger pressed against your throat, his free hand wrapped around your waist, his breath tickling your ear. It was a power move, one you allowed him to have because you knew he wouldn't hurt you. He needed you in more ways than one.

"Business or pleasure?" You asked him, unable to contain the smile spread on your crimson lips.

"Pleasure." His whisper sent chills down your spine.

You got one of your most trustworthy girls to swap places at the front desk, then lead Silco up the creaky stairs. The corridor was dim and smelled of jasmine and vanilla incense to help your clients relax. At the very end of it was your room, one that Silco was too familiar with. You locked the door after he entered, then slowly untied the knot that held your dress in place, only for him to smack your hands out of the way.

"How many?" "None." You told him, but his fingers dug into your cheeks, forcing you to look at him.

"How many men have you fucked since I last visited you?" Silco clarified, as if you didn't know what he was asking.

"None." You reiterated, manicured fingernails dragging down his chest until they found his belt. "You don't believe me?"

"No, I don't." Silco scoffed, his right eye twitching when he felt your hand palming his cock through black trousers.

"Jealous?" You bit your lip grinning at him.

"Don't mock me." His fingers dug into the plush of your hips, pushing you against the wooden door. "You're nothing but a cheap whore."

"Ouch." You pouted, feigning offence. "I'll let you know I'm an expensive whore."

"And yet I never paid for your... services." Silco's hand trailed up your thigh and you whimpered at his touch.

"That's cause you're my favourite client." You gently unbuttoned his vest, letting it fall on the floor.

"Is that all I am to you, then? A client?"

"Business partner." You corrected yourself. "Better?"

He didn't reply. Instead, he crushed your lips under his while you gripped his silk shirt and tore it open, buttons clattering on the floor. He didn't care — you had spares in your wardrobe for him. Silco yanked a fistful of your hair to look at you, at the smeared lipstick and the eyes full of lust. There was one thing he could never understand.

"Why aren't you disgusted by my face?"

You were taken aback by his question. He wasn't much of a talker during your meetings, unless it was business you discussed. He held your head in place, forcing you to look him in the eye, but you didn't want to look any other way. Your hand reached out, fingers ghosting over his scar.

"There's nothing wrong with your face, Silco. You're beautiful."

"Tsk. Are you saying this as my business partner, or as an expensive whore?" He scoffed.

"As me. I'm saying it as me."

You weren't trying to flatter him, to get under his skin. You were genuine with your answer, and it annoyed him. It was as though Silco almost wanted you to lie to him when you told him he was beautiful. But no, you were honest, and it riled him up, because that meant you weren't afraid of him, that you didn’t loathe him. He pulled you away from the door and bent you over the desk inside your room, but you wriggled and turned around, not once wanting to look anywhere but at him.

"Why can't you hate me?" His elbow pushed your knee away, spreading your legs for him.

The lack of response from you almost confirmed his suspicions — you felt something for him, something more than professionalism. And how could your partnership be professional when violently pulled off your lace underwear, and his fingers rubbed circles over your clit? How could it be professional when he easily slipped his fingers past your slick folds, and you fucked yourself on them? How could there be any ounce of professionalism left when you unzipped his trousers and fisted his cock while he tossed his head back, your name spilling from his lips?

No, there wasn't anything professional anymore.

His tip pushed into you painstakingly slowly, until you arched your back and curled your toes, accidentally pushing away the trinkets on your desk. The rattling sound didn't bother any if you, and you wrapped your legs around Silco's waist, and your arms around his shoulders to feel him closer to you. Skin on skin, soul to soul, the desk squeaked with each thrust, each push and pull, and like magnets, you were drawn to each other.

He nestled his nose into the crook of your neck, taking in your scent — roses, patchouli, and him. You smelled so much like him that it intoxicated his brain worse than shimmer could. He believed you. He believed that you didn't fuck anyone else but him, and as a reward, he thrusted into you faster, deeper, harder, just how you liked it. Just how he liked it.

His name was a prayer on your lips and music to his ears. It didn't sound so good when other spoke it. The way you whispered it was intimate, sensual, loving. You loved him. Truly, you did, and you were willing to give everything up for him if he just asked. But he never did. He only came back to fuck you, never to claim you. And you weren't one to beg. Besides, it was better to have him in your bed, or your desk, than to not have him at all.

Electricity seeped into your veins every time he touched you, and Silco tilted your chin up to once again look into your glossy eyes, eyes he always saw when he closed his. Short black strands of hair framed his face, softening his sharp features, and he was so handsome like that. You were a work of art yourself, with your smeared lipstick, long thick lashes and beads of sweat on your forehead. And he asked again.

"Why can't you hate me?"

Silco used your own weapon against you, because the pure pleasure that bubbled in your core broke down all of your defence mechanisms. You were vulnerable and weak, caught in his web of mind games and power play. You tried to deny it, tried to wriggle your way out of it, but you couldn't. Not anymore.

"I love you."

Eyes squeezed shut, you refused to look at him, ashamed not of the squelching sounds and smell of sex, but of your confession. Love made people weak — weaknesses could be exploited. And you refused to be exploited.

"Good." Silco brutally slammed into you, your words like fuel to his fire. "You took too long."

You blinked once, twice, then stared at him in disbelief. Before your brain could form any thoughts, he kissed you, bruising your lips, and his taste lingered on your tongue when he pulled back — tobacco, whiskey, shimmer. He was the drug you eagerly abused, and you were his. You were entirely his, mind, body and soul.

"Forever." He murmured into your skin. "You’re mine forever."

You could feel he meant every single word. He didn’t have to say he loved you for you to know it, and that was enough to gasp and pathetically moan his name as you reached your climax. Your cunt clenched around him, your fingers almost breaking through his skin from the pressure of your grip to just feel him impossibly closer to you. You were made for each other, even if it was difficult for him to comprehend how or why. He was a broken man, broken beyond repair, beyond salvation, beyond redemption. And you loved him just like that.

His hips stuttered, the frantic thrusts a signal of his climax. You held him in your arms as he eased out of you, leaving you feeling empty, despite his cum dripping down your thigh. Silco sighed, his lean body heavy against yours. The haunting silence in your bedroom was soon broken.

"Marry me." "What?" You did a double take, slightly pushing him away to get a better look of him.

He scoffed, reaching into the drawer under your desk to take a cigar you had ready for him.

"Well, you won’t bloody work for me. Work with me, then." Silco exhaled the thick smoke. "As my equal."

"Very weird way to propose." You chuckled. But what else did you expect from him? He was not an ordinary man. And you were not an ordinary woman.

"Yes or no?" He passed you the cigar, and you took it, then kissed him on his scarred cheek.

"Yes. But you’re doubling my security."

"And you’re moving in."

"Deal."

[lnfours]

you | l.n

summary: what’s more romantic: laying cuddled up next to the fireplace on christmas eve with the love of your life, or that special item in the little black box with a bow?

warnings: established relationship, mentions of sexual content, holiday vibes, and tooth rotting fluff.

message from jordan: hi everyone! here’s to the first christmas fic you’ll be receiving from me! don’t worry, focal point is still very much in production and will most likely have a chapter coming out later this week :) i hope you all enjoy!! sending you all my love, as always 🤍

masterlist | inbox

the orange and yellow flames kept the both of you warm as you laid with your head on his chest. his fingers absentmindedly drawing shapes into the soft skin of your bicep, your head resting on his chest as you found yourself listening to the sound of his beating heart.

the one that only beats for you.

your legs were intertwined with his, and you had found yourself tracing over the indents in his abdomen with your fingernails. silky soft and tanned skin littered with moles and freckles. the same ones you made sure you pressed kisses to every time you found yourself in their path. they littered his skin like stars in the night sky. and to you, they were just as beautiful. one of your favorite features of his.

his breath tickled your neck, smiling softly when he placed a kiss to the skin where your neck met your collarbone. you felt him pull you closer against him, leaving no gaps between you. not even enough space for air.

it was the little moments like these that you cherished the most, the ones you held close to your heart. the ones you’d think of whenever someone would mention how well the two of you mesh together, that you’re the definition of his soulmate. his version of a nice, warm soup you crave on a cold and windy winter day.

simply enough, you were each other’s soul healing medicine.

“missed you,” he mumbled against the crook of your neck, “sorry i couldn’t help you bring your stuff over.”

he had told you to bring more things from your apartment to his house. and when you protested, he argued that you already had a side of the vanity in the bathroom filled with your makeup, skincare and any other possible hygiene products you could think of. you had even taken over a side of his closet.

and maybe a drawer or two of his dresser that you hadn’t told him about. instead, while in search of a pair of socks, he had found a couple pairs of your pajamas in the drawer.

the simple fact that you had been leaving your things behind whenever you’d go back to your apartment for a couple days was like little reminders to him. reminders that you’d be back in a few days time, that it wasn’t a temporary situation to you. this was real. and you were all in, just like him.

“‘s okay, max was here to help,” you said, “sorry i took over one of your shelves. i wanted to bring some books,”

he shook his head, “don’t be sorry, i like your stuff being here. makes it feel more like home.”

you smiled, tilting your head to meet the pair of blueish-green eyes you had fallen head first in love with. the ones you had seen one night out in london, the ones that you had been mesmerized by ever since.

he tapped on your arm lightly, a silent signal that he was going to move. you untangled yourself from him with a soft frown, not really wanting to reposition yourself beings the previous state had been far more comfortable. you sat up as he did, watching as he kneeled towards the tree, picking up various packages and looking at them before putting them back down. it was like he was looking for one in particular.

“what’re you doing?”

“looking for something,” he said softly, “i can’t remember where i put it- oh here it is.”

you furrowed your eyebrows when he turned around with a small little box in his hand. a black box with a white bow on the top, too neatly done to have been done by him. you squinted at him, taking it cautiously.

“it’s not christmas yet,” you questioned his actions.

“i know, but i’ve been trying to decide if i wanted to give it to you early,” he said, “but i think now is the perfect time. besides the fact that i’m impatient.”

you chuckled softly, undoing the bow on top and playfully tossing it his way. his reflexes allowed him to catch it, placing it down on the floor next to him. he took the time to take in your figure, how pretty you looked in the dim light of the christmas tree and city lights shining in through the windows. how his tshirt had ended up around your frame, hair slightly messy.

to him, you were the most perfect person in the world. the only person he envisioned a life with, who he wanted to come home to at the end of the day. the only one who understood him better than he knew himself. he thanked every god possible and counted every lucky star for the night in london that had changed his life.

“i swear, if something pops out at me, so help me god,”

he laughed, “nothings gonna pop out at you, baby. promise.”

you squinted, narrowing your eyes towards him as a sign that you didn’t necessarily believe him. you lifted the lid of the box with slight caution, and when it was clear that he was telling the truth about there being no surprises, you fully opened it. however, the gift inside the box raised more questions.

“a key?” you lifted your head, letting your eyes meet his as you held it up, “to what?”

“our home.”

you blinked at him, speechless for a moment as he smirked at you.

“wait, what-?”

“move in with me,” he said, “i’ve been thinking about it, for a while now actually, and you’re the person i want to have a life with. i want to come home and find you on the couch watching tv or dancing along to the music playing in the kitchen while you’re cooking dinner. youre the one i want to wake up next to every morning, the one i want to say goodnight to every night before i fall asleep. it’s you, not anyone else,”

you fought the tears welling up in your eyes from his sweet words as he continued, “and i love the fact that every single one of your things has a spot next to mine. i want this crazy little life that we have forever, so this is my way of asking if you’ll move in with me.”

you bit on your bottom lip as you smiled, “i mean, i don’t really go to my apartment anymore anyway, so-“

he didn’t let you finish before he was pulling on your arms to bring you closer to him, making you squeal as you landed on top of him on the floor. you giggled when he pressed his lips to yours, kissing him back. the kiss only breaking when your smiles got to be too wide.

“i love you,” he mumbled against your lips, “more than anything.”

you hummed, “i’ll always love you more, though.”

warmth spread for your chest at the idea of taking your relationship one step forward. you had known for a while that he was the one you wanted to do everything with, but knowing he was on the exact same page as you was a feeling like no other. a state of euphoria. one that made you feel giddy inside, like you were back in high school with a crush all over again. the same kind of exciting feeling that you prayed never died.

and as long as he was yours and you were his, that was never going to go away.

he flipped the two of you over so he was back to hovering over you on the floor, the same position the two of you had been in earlier in the night. you played with the hairs on the back of his neck absentmindedly as you spoke.

“even though it’s not a new home, does this count enough that we get to christen every surface of this apartment?”

he laughed softly, nose bumping against yours, fingers lightly tracing into the skin of your waist underneath your shirt, his lips brushing against yours sending shivers down your spine. the kind only he could cause.

“do we even have any spots left?”

“oh i’ve got a mental list, don’t worry.” you smiled as his head fell to your collarbone. the sound of his giggle echoing through the room, causing you to laugh too.

your eternal happy place.

“then, what’re we waiting for?”

“i like the way you think, pretty boy.”

[acidblum]

shower sex with babysitter!vi <3.. MDNI 18+

violet firmly believed that the moment she saw god was under your body, colliding in a push and pull form of dance that left her reeling. ears buzzing, filled with nothing but the moans and whines the fell out of your lips like pure honey.

yet here she is with you, bodies pressed against each other’s under the hot stream of the shower, hands lathering your pine scented soap all over each other’s body as she tucks her head in your neck and inhales, wet hair tickling you.

“a-ah viii, c’mon we have to get out before the water gets cold” you reprimanded with no annoyance evident in your words and the redhead just inhales even harder against your pulse point. soapy hands sliding down your navel and grasping at your thighs with such hunger you’d swear her fingernails left a trace.

“i wanna make you cum f’ me” she murmurs too quietly you’d miss it if she wasn’t right behind your—lips brushing against your earlobe, sending a shudder down your body. “hm and how will that be?” hands gripping the back of her thighs you grind back against her, a groan leaving her lips. “f-fuck”

her hand reaches for the shower head, the other adjusting the water pressure just right against you. her thigh slides between yours—opening you up for her so beautifully. “ just like that” she whispers through heavy breaths, light kisses pepper your cheek as the water pressure hits your clit just right. "h-hah violet" hand reaching to hold her bicep tightly, nails digging into her skin.

she chuckles at the state of you, still holding onto her as your body quivers “i’ll make you cum jus’ like this how about that hm?..the pressure hitting you clit just right f’ me.” earning an eager nod from you as she grinds against you, using your thigh to get off. “so fucking pretty” gritting between her teeth.

the pressure of the mildly hot water hits your clit and it burns on so good. vi’s calloused fingers reach out to roll a pebbled nipple, tugging just the way you like. “you’re gonna make me c-ahh.” her hips never ceasing as she-with no shame-uses your thigh to get off—and you can swear the sticky wetness was smeared all over your thigh. “n-gh jus’ like that.”

“cum with me vi p-please” you beg as your toes curl, vision going hazy and all the same foggy as your hand reaches to hold onto her ass. helping her grind harder. she groans, head resting on your back. “y-yess fuck ‘m cummin’.”

she never moves the shower head off even as you gush and moan. eyes rolling to the back of your head “vi ah-h” body fully convulsing as you try to escape her strong hold against you.

it’s fair to say your clit was so sensitive for a day or so afterward.

© acidblum

[yandere-romanticaa]

"By the stars, how foolish can one person be?"

His voice was quiet as night but dark as sin, his grip on your wrist tighter than any chain made by mortal hands. Fingernails dug deep inside the soft flesh but his face remained stoic as ever. The professor's pale face seemed to almost shine underneath the moonlight as his one visible eye leered down at you as if you were no better than a mere cockroach he could just squish with his little finger.

Honestly, he probably could and for the longest time that was your opinion on him.

For ages now, you had thought that Anaxagoras did not fancy you whatsoever. Whenever you would cross paths the man would do nothing other than poignantly glare in your direction, arms crossed on his chest as he would turn his gaze elsewhere whenever you'd make eye contact with him. Trying to reason with him proved to be pointless as the man would only spew absolute venom at you, but he would do it in such an elegant way that you were often left speechless at the sheer refinement of it all, as if he was writing up some twisted poetry for you. Amphoreus was known for its endless sea of romantic songs, secret love affairs and honeyed words but this was different.

This particular rose had thorns. Sharp thorns.

And it had no desire to be plucked whatsoever.

Eventually, you stopped trying. The desire to get to know the scholar had all but diminished, it was instead replaced with an inkling of dread. Simply spotting him in a crowd sent shivers down your spine, especially if he was coming straight towards you. He would always carry himself with such vigor and confidence but that would all melt away into childish pettiness the moment he stood before you and opened his mouth.

It was as if he actively enjoyed making you uncomfortable.

And you had no idea just how true that assessment was.

Enough was enough. Mustering up all of your courage, you decided to confront the seemingly devious man for his heinous actions. You grilled him profusely, practically begging him to just say what it was that he disliked about you. Heck, you had even offered to steer clear from him for good, that if you ever even caught a glimpse of him in a crowd that you would make yourself scarce.

Anaxa was oddly quiet after that proposal. No snarky comment, no nothing. It almost made you miss his old attitude that day.

But now standing before you was a man who was scorned. Even with the mask he tried to wear, you could still make out the ghost of a quiver on his thin lips. He was wracking his brain for an answer, his eyes wild as he suddenly broke into a maddening grin, his other hand now finding a place around your waist to bring you even closer to him. Pressing your hands on his chest proved futile, his grin wider than any beast ought to have.

"Oh how I despise you..." he whispered in the dark night. It was beyond difficult to understand him but you regardless kept your mouth shut.

He never did like to be interrupted...

His hand trailed downwards to your waist as one of his fingers started to trace a soft pattern on your spine, almost as if he was trying to be affectionate with you.

"You are like a knife that keeps stabbing my heart, over and over... You simply never seem to stop, do you?"

He suddenly pressed his forehead against your own, his hair tickling your entire face as Anaxa was now fully taking up every part of your personal space. From the corner of your eye you noticed the gun which was holstered on his waist but he spoke up just as fast.

"Eyes on me, sweetling. You do not have the luxury of running away from this."

It was hard to breathe, hard to think. You wanted to hit him, to shout at him to do literally anything - but it was all so pointless, especially since he had you so close.

"You have become my punishment, my ultimate temptation." purred Anaxa, his grin still just as big if not even bigger now. With wide eyes you gaped at him like a fish out of water but he merely cackled at your bewildered reaction, it clearly being amusing for him. His lips ghosted over your own, as if he was contemplating whether or not he was going to steal a kiss.

"Oh how I despise you with my whole entire being and yet all I can do is beseech you to just humor me. You have committed the crime of making me fall for you and I cannot forgive you for such a transgression."

He was punishing you. Anaxa was not able to comprehend the depth of his feelings so he showed them the only way he knew how. He had a little bit of madness in him and he wished for you to see it, to feel it.

Bear witness to his pain. See just how completely and utterly you had ruined him with nothing else other than committing the crime of existing. You had wormed your way into his heart without ever meaning to and Anaxa was going to make you pay dearly for that crime.

A/N: a few of you asked me how I'm doing since I wrote my last Anaxa post and I just wanted to thank you all for the kindness! But to ease your worries - massive mood swings are just a part of my character and that's just not going to change LMAO. I'm just the kind of person who has extremely good highs and very deep lows. I am easy to sadden but the up side is that I'm just as easy to cheer up!

But yeah - more Anaxa fics! Heck yeah! He's really tricky for me to pin down but this is the best I can do for him, so far anyway. This was written before 3.2 so I wonder how much his character will differ compared to the idea of him that I have in my head. I also simply must give a shout out to the lovely @harmonysanreads because her Anaxa fics really helped me!