#//i like how it says 'he doesn't wish for them to feel pushed away like it isn’t that he doesn't want it on a whole

[sovereignxfae]

@distopea​ said; 

A light chuckle escaped his lips when he saw how they just frowned so hard trying to read the book that was opened onto his desk. “You’re trying to read the latin version. You can translate it with Terminator.” He said before he dragged the book closer to him, and closed it. They weren’t interested in astronomy, and he wasn’t there to give them a lesson either. That was a side of Astra they didn’t know, and perhaps one he would keep for himself. Yet, as he didn’t wish for them to feel pushed away, he decided to give them a proper explanation. “It’s the line on the Moon or a planet that divides the bright, sunlit part from the part in shadow. People who appreciate astronomy tend to like observing that phenomenon through a telescope.”

He observed them and wondered if it was making sense in their head. But then, he decided to shrug it off and extended his fingers. “Do you have the information I need from your father?” He inquired while he skirted the desk and sat down. He had requested K’in to find a few clients' names inside the Astoria’s files. Of course, it was only to gain precious information. “I’m sure you did a good job. I have total faith in your capacity, K’in.” He purred, but only to encourage them to betray their family a bit more.

Their concentration on the foreign words were just to fill their mind as they waited for him. K'in allowing themself opportunity to be left alone with their thoughts always left them with unwanted thoughts. It’s worse when they’re around him, alarms ring when they’re in the same room but it makes no sense. Warnings flash and they ignore them wilfully-they hold no truth anyway. 

Why would he waste time rather than just do it now. Like everyone else. 

So instead they fill their mind with anything in reach. Even a language they have not even an inkling of knowledge of. They blink when the book is taken. Watching quick hands close it before rushing upwards to meet his face. Their left in shock, as they usually are, but try to cover it up by nodding to his words. 

“Ah, stars. You like them?” Should they get him a gift related to it? Would he need one? As a student to teacher gift, obviously.

At his subject change their head tilts. Their hands turn them around to where they left their bag. On one of the chairs in his office, he said to get comfortable earlier. 

With bag in hand and needed list, K’in settles again in front of the desk. They’ve never been more thankful that their father had no qualms with them working so closely within his office. It made compiling the list quite easy. The list wasn’t long but it was vital. Most of the names were recurring clients of their ‘family’. Underneath each name was what they’re order/needs etc were. 

They thought it would be important to add. Helpful. 

They were being helpful.

“Here! The list. I added some notes too.” They grin, proud to be able to give him what he expected and maybe more. Their nails tap against the desk as they slide over the paper.

[astralmarionette]

im currently writing an atsugawa (I hate the name shin soukoku or whatever I'm sorry but I'm actually not. also I cannot pronounce soukoku {this is the real reason I don't use soukoku}) and I don't even ship it lmaoo

[makkir0ll]

"you have really long eyelashes"

it catches him off guard. you guys are just laying in your bed scrolling on your own phones. he didn't even feel you staring at him. how long have you been looking?

"thanks?" he replies

"no i mean seriously like drop the lash serum." you joke at him as you continue to observe him.

they're long and thick. the kind of lashes that have a natural curl, unlike yours, that fall straight down and take several minutes to curl to your perfect liking. not to mention the layers of mascara you apply to get them to even remotely look like his.

he turns his head to you and you don't miss his dilated pupils as his eyes bore into yours. you take note of how the lashes perfectly frame his eyes. and you're so jealous.

but then an idea pops into your head, you smile to yourself and he senses it coming.

"can i-"

"no" he cuts you off.

"babe please you don't even know what i was about to say!" you grab onto his shoulder as you plead.

"whatever it is im sure it's going to be bad." he retorts, turning his face away from you and going back on his phone.

"i'll buy you you're favorite food."

and that's how you end up here on his lap with your mascara in your hand. his hair is pushed back as his hands rest on your hips, drawing small circles as he awaits your actions.

you open the bottle with the black liquid and bring the wand close to his eyes. "don't move" you whisper and he listens. mainly because he's scared that you're going to poke his eye out as you bring the wand to the base of his eyelashes and wiggle it slowly before moving it up to coat the length of the lashes. some of the mascara gets on his eyelids. you repeat the actions on the other eye before going back and doing a second coat. you can tell that he might be slightly nervous that you're going to blind him with the way he holds his breath and the grip he has on your hips get ever so slightly tighter.

you move yourself off his lap and he goes to grab his phone so he can see what he looks like.

"wait no not yet, i'm still not done" you say as you go and grab ur q-tips and micellar water.

"still?"

"yes still, i need to clean up the mascara on your eyelids," you say as you place yourself back on his lap. you open the bottle of micellar water and carefully put the clear liquid on the q-tip. you bring the white stick of cotton to his eyes and you tell him to close them. he feels the wet cotton and it's a weird feeling. you watch the q-tip turn darker the more mascara you wipe off.

"okay i'm done!" you say and he opens his eyes and you don't think he's ever looked more majestic. his already long lashes looking even longer and bolder now that he has the mascara to bring them out. you notice that the color of his eyes pop more. "you look so pretty" you smile as lean in to pepper kisses along his face. his cheeks feel warm and he can already tell that they're probably red.

he reaches over to his phone and opens the camera app and switches the camera so he can see himself. and he immediatly notices the stark difference in his eyes with the mascara. he brings his fingers to his lashes to touch them. it feels weird and his eyes kind of feel weighed down. but he has no regrets when he sees you smiling at him so fondly.

"they look nice." he smiles at you, dropping his phone to the side.

"i know right, ugh im so jealous i wish i had your lashes. all my problems would be solved." you say, thinking about the long and excruciating lash routine you perform every morning.

"all of them?"

"yes, all of them."

he chuckles at your words. "alright, but can you take it off now, it feels weird." he says, hands coming to touch his lashes again. you pout as you grab the micellar water you put away and a cotton pad and remove the mascara from his eyelashes, being gentle so that he doesn't lose a few. he appreciates the action. and maybe he would let you put more than just mascara on his face another day.

KAGEYAMA (has the best lashes argue with the wall), suna, tsukishima (genuinely terrified that you're going to make him go blind), OSAMU, kuroo, MATSUKAWA MY LOVE, iwaizumi, OIKAWA (he would eat that shit up), akaashi, kenma, +ur fav.

[silasours]

ৎ⸝⸝⠀EATING YOU OUT ! —

#pairing : lucifer, alastor, vox, valentino, x fem reader. #cw : 18+ content, mdni. face sitting. edging. overstimulation. oral sex. toys usage. sub/power sub reader. praise kink. fingering. squirting. vox pleasuring himself while desperately eating you out. calling vox a 'good boy'. pretend that val has a nose here. #summary : just them enjoying their time with their face stuck up in between your legs. #note : feels like i have nobody else to write for but, oh well.

ʚ LUCIFER .

your fingers grip lucifer's blonde locks tightly, legs shaking on either side of his head. his forked tongue moves skillfully thrusting into you, hungrily gathering every drop of your juice onto his tastebuds. he groans at the taste, the vibration sending straight to your core which earns another moan that spills from your lips. the eyes of his glow in the weakly dim room, peering at your face from between your legs.

"my, aren't you a delicious one." he coos against your puffy lips before pressing his lips against them. he exaggeratedly sucked on them before releasing, his ears blessed by your high-pitched moans while his hands hold your legs apart by your thighs. lucifer draws his tongue out and licks a long stripe down your clit, teasing for a short moment before thrusting his tongue into your entrance once again.

your hold on his hair only grew stronger, face growing more flushed as you threw your head back in pleasure. your vision starts blurring up from the tears that gather around your eyes, feeling your body burn from how close you are.

of course lucifer knows you're close; he knew the moment your inner walls clenched around his slithery tongue tighter than they did before. your hips involuntarily rock against his tongue, pushing yourself further onto his face with trembling muscles. watching this made him chuckle as he allowed you to push yourself closer to him.

"pretty girl, gonna cum for me?" you nod the moment he says those words, triggering the coil to break faster than before. he groans lowly at how soaked you're getting, doing his best to not let a single drop escape from his hungry tongue. with a loud breath sucked into your throat, orgasm hits you like a strong wave that flows throughout your body.

you moan to the point where your voice cracks ever so slightly. lucifers lap your juices clean, patiently helping you to calm down from your intense high with lazy draw of lines of his tongue. once you're done, he presses a light kiss onto your clit before climbing up from your legs. his mouth and chin glisten from your release as a grin sits on his face, the sight alone making your face burn further.

ʚ ALASTOR .

how many times have you been denied release now? you've lost count. your head is clouded with desperation to finally break, yet this demon here is stopping you from doing so over and over again. with a frustrated cry, you open your eyes to gaze at alastor all teary, only to find him taking his sweet time with his lips pressed against your clit. "please, alastor.. w-wanna cum.." you barely managed to hold back a hiccup, a soft mewl rolling off your tongue.

you can feel his grin growing against you, his face pulling away which made you whine. his tongue draws out to lick around his lips, finger sneakily moving to tease the sensitive bundle of nerves of yours. "is that so?" you nod desperately, moaning at his touch in hopes of being able to convince him. he doesn't reply with any words but a smile, slowly lowering his face back to where it was.

"be careful what you wish for, my dear." he whispered before ramming two digits into your hole, your warm, gummy walls instantly tightening around them. your back arches off the bed as your eyes roll, a hand instinctively moving to his hair to tug on it. the burn on his scalp made him groan against your clit as well as his cock throbbing in the confinements of his pants.

alastor's tongue moves sloppily against your soaked clit; it was more than enough to make your body tremble especially with his fingers carelessly abusing your pretty hole. his fingers always work like magic, never once missing that sweet spot buried deep inside of you once they figure out where exactly it is.

you came without getting the chance to tell him, the back of your head pressing hard onto the bed sheets. you choke on your moans while struggling to breathe properly; alastor isn't giving you a break just yet. his maintains the speed of his tongue and fingers as you try to push his head away weakly. "too much- mnh-!"

"too much?" alastor chuckles, almost mocking your words. he withdraws his face but not his fingers, slowly sinking his teeth into the skin of your thigh while sucking on it. "we're not done just yet, darling."

ʚ VOX .

"yeah? you enjoy me sitting on your face?" you grip the headboard tightly, doing your best to maintain upwards as vox works his tongue on your clit. he moans against you at your words, his hand moving to stroke his leaking cock with a slight squeeze. despite your attitude, you can't deny how good his tongue is at targeting exactly where your weak spots are.

moans slip from your lips, your noises only causing vox's hips to thrust up into his hand. you chuckle weakly which soon gets cut off by another moan, your grip on the headboard gradually growing weak. you keep your gaze on his face, occasionally turning your head to glance over your shoulder, to see him pleasure himself and those pathetic whines of his. you breathe out a small 'good boy' at the sight.

vox groans loudly at the praise, his tongue now matching the pace of the hand on his member. his breath is hot against your soaked crotch, the increased speed only causing your legs to stumble. "fuck, vox," you whine with a sweet tone, resting your head against the headboard; the sole item that supports your body to stay upright.

he hums in return, the heavy breath signaling that he's close to his own release. you're no different, feeling the coil in your stomach crumbling with every thrust of his tongue. you huff as you gaze down at him, meeting his silent desperate plea for release. you keep your eyes fixated on his while grinding against his face, dangling the sweet release right in front of him.

you only grant him permission once you're close enough, feeling your whole body shudder as release consumes you. you screw your eyes shut, listening to vox's low groans. he lifts his hips up from the bed sheet, white strings of hot seed decorating his stomach. while you're trying to catch your breath, you notice vox's gaze on you as he slowly speaks with a shaky, muffled voice.

"please.. can i put it in you now?"

ʚ VALENTINO .

valentino's workplace is practically filled with nothing but the smell of your sweat, your sweet noises, and the buzzing sound of a vibrator. the lower half of your body is raised high from the couch, high enough to reach his face as he stands by the edge, a leg of his folded up on the plush couch. his pairs of arms hold your body firmly.

the vibrator is pressed against your sensitive bud, his long tongue twisting and turning inside of you. you squirm under his hold, hands still struggling to find a suitable place for you to hold onto because of the position you're put in. your mind is clouded, drool slowly rolling down from your lips while struggling to keep yourself from turning into more of a mess than you already are.

"looking so pretty like this, amorcito." his nose is pressed up against your clit, the liquid coating his skin as he moans at the feeling. your body shivers, feeling heat crawl up onto your face partially from how embarrassing this position is. you're fully exposed in the air as he enjoys your taste right there, not paying any mind the both of you are in his workplace with the potential of being seen and heard.

"val.. put me- down.." your voice is nearly quiet from the continuous pleasure you're receiving. valentino scoffs, ignoring your pleas without stopping his tongue. his teeth graze against your skin, the small worry of him biting into you causes you to whimper while digging your nails into one of the arms that's holding your body.

perhaps it's because you're overly clouded by pleasure, you didn't notice him reaching for the small controller that's attached to the vibrator and swiping it all the way up. the sudden strong vibration made you cry out loud, the heel of your foot digging into his shoulder, toes curled. you shake your head, eyes squeezing shut at the feeling. "no, w-wait, hngh! i'm gonna-"

you didn't even manage to finish your sentence before being fully consumed by a strong orgasm. you squirt as your legs shake violently against his hold, vision turning white while valentino watches with a grin. he slightly removes the vibrator from your now extra-sensitive bud, allowing you to calm down from your high. with a sense of pride and satisfaction sitting in his chest, he licks around your spasming pussy for a taste.

"didn't know my baby could put up such a show. do it once more for me, will ya?"

© silas ( @silasours ). all rights reserved. every work posted on this account belongs to me, and only me. please refrain from reposting, plagiarizing, translating, or reproducing my work in any form possible.

[luveline]

I NEEEEEED MORE STRIPPER!READER X SPENCER

fem, 1.2k

You and Spencer aren't dating, but he thinks you might be in the before. 

"You're home!" you say, clambering at the door to slip out of your shoes. You throw yourself at him as soon as you're close enough, the salted caramel and sandalwood of your new perfume washing over him. "You're here! I missed you." 

Spencer tries not to blush. He wishes you weren't so close —his hair is lank from two days unwashed, his five o'clock shadow obvious and embarrassing. If you notice anything unappealing about him you don't give the slightest inclination, your arms crossing over his back as you drive your face into his neck. 

"I can't believe how much I missed you, Dr. Reid," you say warmly. 

"I missed you too." Morgan would laugh at him for being this earnest, maybe comment on his lack of charisma, but Spencer doesn't know how else to show that he's interested beyond sincerity. 

You step back but work your hands up his neck and into his hair, raking it away from his cheeks. "That's better. I can see you better now." 

Spencer thought he remembered only horrible things from being a teenager, but he remembers this feeling, sweaty-palmed, heart-racing want. You tilt his head gently one way and then the other like you're following the motion of a wave, fingertips scratching in his hair, the sensation stirring the very pit of his stomach. No trace of tiredness remains on your face, only spritely joy to see him. 

"That feels nice," he confesses. He's not weird about it, more friendly. 

Your aswering grin tells him he nailed the casualness he was aiming for. 

"You've been working hard," you say, tucking his hair behind his ears and dusting down his shoulders, "I can tell. You look tired." 

"You don't. Short shift?" 

"Is it weird that bad weather genuinely keeps people home? I guess they prefer their wives when it's cold." 

"No, really? Who could ever pick the woman they married over you and those silver shorts?" he teases, peeling out of his sweater.

The shirt underneath is rumpled, but he doesn't care about that. Anything to be seen between you has been seen. Spencer has, unquestionably, seen you half naked. You've seen him in his boxers, so you're just about square. "Idiots, all of them." 

You're staying with him again while a security company fits your apartment with the appropriate trappings. Or, that was the initial reason. Spencer went with you to assess after it was done, discovering black mould in the corner of your bedroom and spreading its evil way across the bathroom ceiling. 

What is that? he asked, knowing what it was, hoping you'd at least pretend to be concerned. 

That's fifty bucks off a month, Spence. Don't look so horrified. 

"I missed you," you say for the third time in as many minutes. "And I hoped you'd be home, so I brought Chinese food for two."

You and Spencer change into pyjamas, and it's cliche but whatever, you look beautiful undone —he's not stupid enough to lie to himself about how he feels when you're wearing your little outfits, but he prefers this side of you a thousand times over because you like it better. You wear your prized baseball tee, white with blue sleeves, and a pair of sweatpants pushed up high on one leg while you ice your sore knee. He sits cross legged opposite, jabbing his chopsticks into one of your crispy spring rolls just to watch you gasp. 

"Can I ask you something too personal?" 

You rub down the length of your naked calf, sighing as some of the tension releases. You're more bruise than girl lately, splodges of tender skin patterning the inside. "What don't you know about me, at this point?" you ask. 

Like it's a good thing. Like you're glad for it. 

"Are you making enough money?" he asks. 

You steal back your spring roll, answering him through rice paper and greens, "Kind of. Not tonight, but enough for dinner. I'll be okay." 

"Did you think about it?" 

You shovel through your waxy box of rice, shrugging. "I thought about it, but… it's not realistic. What office would take me? What drug store?" 

"I could loan you the money while you apprentice, and get some experience, you could go back to school–" He says it all in a rush and you still knock him down. 

"It's real sweet of you, Spence, it is, but I couldn't let you do that. That makes me your charity case, and not your friend." 

"What else do you do for the people you care about?" he asks. Let them stay at a job they don't like, even if they're good at it, one that puts them statistically at higher risk for femicide or assault? 

"I wouldn't need a loan, Spencer, I'd need more than you have," you say gently. "I'd have to start my life from scratch. How would I pay rent? You couldn't afford to keep us both." 

"You could stay with me again." 

You shake your head. "You're the best friend I've ever had, which is why I'm saying no." 

He doesn't get what you mean, but you finish your dinner and help him clean up. He more than trusts you to stay here alone while he's on a case, you've honestly left it in better condition than you found it, and he insists you sleep in his bed again while you're here. 

"Don't be silly," you say, throwing a sheet out over the couch. "This is your place. You need to sleep in your own bed." 

The disaster is that it smells like you. Spencer says goodnight to you reluctantly and leaves you on the couch with every throw blanket he owns, climbing into his own bed and pulling the comforter up to his nose. He imagines you here at night, your body wash still clinging to your skin from a late night shower, your hand tucked under his pillow. There are so many things he'd like to give you, if you'd just let him. 

He spends a quiet thirty minutes like that, missing the warmth of your skin and your casual touching, wishing he could offer you the fresh start you desire, even if it meant he wasn't involved. 

The couch springs creak as you toss and turn, the sound finding it's way down the short hall from the living room slash kitchen to his bedroom. Hesitant, Spencer shifts in bed, hitting that one coil in his mattress just right, the twang resounding.  

You appear in his doorway with your borrowed pillows crushed to your chest not long after that. You don't need to ask, Spencer doesn't need to answer. He can't give you everything that you want, but he can give you a quiet, comfortable night next to someone who loves you. 

Ever well-tempered, you slip into the sheets beside him and curl up toward him, your fingertips brushing his side. You don't look at him in the dark, but you mumble sleepily, fingers twitching, "Night, Spence." 

You're out like a light. 

[aakeysmash]

prompt here; reader going on and on about how they never find someone and bakugou is just looking at them ready to snap

hehehe love this prompt tbh 🌸

"Katsukiii," you whine, throwing yourself on your best friend, who was previously chilling on his couch. He grunts, merely acknowledging you, before pushing your head away from his chest and keeping on scrolling through his phone. You've been best friends since kindergarten, and even if you're both adults now, when you're bored you just go to each other's house to do nothing together. You find comfort in knowing you can keep on being silent together, with no type of pressure whatsoever, and no need to find topics to dwell on either. Just pure, unfiltered and plain tranquility... well, kinda. After a few moments of silence, you start poking his cheek to gain his attention.

"Keep doing that and you'll find yourself missing a finger, fucker," he tells you, side-eyeing you. You immediately see his eyes glimmering. "Look," he says, turning his phone to make you watch a tiktok about a monkey slapping a baby. He chuckles, but when he sees you're confused he mumbles something along the lines of "you're always so fucking boring," then smacks your hand away from his cheek and keeps on scrolling while frowning.

"Find me a boyfriend," you suddenly tell him.

He snaps his head toward you. He must have heard you wrong. "The fuck you said?"

You huff, getting up and pacing around the room. "I mean, you know me, right?" you ask him, looking at him expectantly.

"Damn right I do, you've been pestering me for more than two decades," he answers, rolling his eyes. He gets up too, going toward his fridge to take out a water bottle.

"Then find me a man, since you know what I like," you say, following him.

He chokes on the water he is gulping down and you have to pat his back to make him stop coughing. "Why the fuck are you searching for a man?" he raspily says, glaring at you, hands on his knees and trying to catch his breath.

"Why wouldn't I search for a man?" you ask, tilting your head a little, still massaging his back. He just stares at you for a moment, but when your expression doesn't change he just lifts a finger and points at you from head to toe.

"Are you saying I'm ugly?!" you exclaim, giving him a hard slap on the back. He coughs again, caught off guard, shaking his head.

"I need love too, you know? The few men I've been seeing in the last, I don't know, three years, were all boring as heck," you complain, going back to the couch and sprawling yourself on it. "I just wish I had a big, strong man by my side, you know? Matter of fact, keep that in mind when you search for it, okay?" you continue, face smushed on the couch pillow, looking at his still crouching figure. Then you turn your body around and stare at the ceiling. "I want someone serious who I can build my future with. I'm tired of people who only want to fuck."

"Okay dumbass, but why are you fucking searching for a man?" he asks you, ignoring the sad tilt to your voice, getting closer. He crosses his arms and looks at your face, still standing up near the couch. From this view, he looks gigantic; his bulging biceps are almost bursting out his sweater, and you feel hotter the more you look up.

"Katsuki, do you want me to punch you in the face? I'm not that ugly," you say rudely, recalling what he just said and trying to focus on the words escaping your mouth.

"I did not fucking say that, yn" the blonde barks back, the vein in his temple pulsing. You just huff, annoyed, and close your eyes.

Everything is still for a while; then you feel movement beside you before feeling one of his calloused hands on your forehead. He barely touches you, but you feel his presence. You feel he's here, next to you, warm hand on your face, thumb barely tracing little circles on it, and it calms you down. He's always had this effect on you: you remember him driving all the way to your campus while you were still in college just to curse you out for stressing too much on exams, and it always worked back then too. You lean into his touch, sighing.

"I meant to say you don't have to search for a man, men should be searching for you. And generally speaking, you wouldn't have to search for a man if you just opened your eyes a little, dumbass," he says, softer than you ever heard him being. You turn your face a bit and do as he just said, finding yourself a palm of distance from his own face.

You keep on staring at each other for what feels like hours, his hand still tracing your features and gently massaging your scalp. You don't think you've ever seen him so relaxed. You both get closer to each other, losing yourself in the moment, when-

"You mean to tell me I have a stalker?"

He pushes your face on the couch, hard, before screaming at you to get immediately out of his house. You are thrown into a fit of giggles, and before he can get up you bring him down on you.

"I guess you’re big and strong enough for me," you say, smiling.

[satoruluvies]

saying somethin' stupid like 'i love you'

fwb!gojo saying the forbidden L word during the deed ????

slightly nsfw, minors please don't interact. also fluff bc i miss gojo :(

not proof read !

thankyou so much for all the support on my recent ♡

satoru thinks you're so cruel. one minute you're holding onto him, nails digging into his back as if you needed him to live.

chanting his name so so beautifully as he trapped you between his bare body and the bed, relentlessly thrusting into you.

and then the next you were back to acting like even his mere existence irritated you. in a way it does but not in the way he thinks.

not once had you been there the morning after. only the crumpled sheets and your nail marks served as reminders that you were here, with him.

“gojo can you not-”

“that wasn't what you called me last night. what happened to toru?”

you glare daggers at him as one of his hand held your notebook high up. he was ridiculously tall and he liked abusing that privilege. especially against you.

“shut up” you walk past him without bothering to take your book.

“hey you mad baby?” he chuckled, getting in front of you, stopping you again.

“come on, answer me. why'd you leave? i thought we agreed to go to class together hmm?”

you roll your eyes at him and crossed your arms.

“that's what you said. i didn't agree.”

“aw you're too mean” he pouted as you scowl and try passing him again only to be stopped by his hand on your arm.

“i wanted you to stay.” his words were heavy, his face not showing even the slightest bit of his shit eating grin he always has on.

he turns to you, his round sunglasses were low on his nose and you could see his oh so beautiful eyes.

you look away because if you don't, you were pretty sure you'd be hypnotised and you'd do whatever he wanted.

“if you keep doing this i won't stay over anymore.” your words shot a painful jab at your own abdomen. his grip around you loosened slowly until he lets go completely.

“alright then.” he hands you your notebook, more like placed them into your arms as he walked away, eyes never meeting yours.

the next ‘sleepover’ took place three days after the banter with satoru. he hadn't called or texted the whole time but when you asked if he was up for it, he replied almost immediately.

so here you were again, him ramming into you as you cling onto his bare body for dear life. you could feel your climax coming as your grip grew tighter and tighter.

satoru was the same, chasing his high. he had missed you a lot the past three days but tried distancing himself just so his feelings for you would simmer down.

it only resulted him thinking about you all day and even more during the night. he finds himself wishing you were here with him, either giving you the pleasure you both agreed upon or just you laying down next to him. he didn't care.

he just wanted you to be there. with him.

and now that you are, his heart clenches the way you clench around him as the both of you cummed simultaneously.

he holds your body tight as you both work your way through the orgasm, euphoria rushing through both your veins.

“fuck y/n…” he groaned as he felt your grip loosen. he can't let you go just yet.

“i love you”

he hadn't meant to say it really. not like this at least.

“satoru we've been through this-” you push him weakly but he stays grounded, eyes boring into yours.

“i mean it.” he says, one of his hands found themselves caressing your cheeks as the other supported him while he hovered above you.

“you don't have to say it back or… feel it back…” satoru's voice was full of emotion.

“but just give me a chance to show you how much i love you. then we can work things out from there.”

you find yourself falling into the charms of gojo satoru. it's not everyday he offers his heart to someone. he doesn't offer it at all but now here he is, handing it to you on a silver platter.

“alright”

you could see satoru's face visibly light up and his blue eyes gleammed. he leaned down to place a soft kiss on your lips.

“thankyou” he traced his fingers on your jaw, his touch so soft, so addicting.

“you better treat me like a princess” you chuckle as he physically melted at the sound.

“oh i plan to do exactly that, and more, lovely.” he leaned down to place another kiss on your lips.

[kihyunsflavor]

Cold shoulder

Pairing: Feyd-Rautha x f!reader

Summary: You are married to Feyd-Rautha, but on his birthday Margot Fenring follows him in the hallways to lure him into her chambers.

Warnings: smut, heartbreak, angst, pet names, breeding kink, manipulation (not reader)

word count: 4.6k

Author's note: English is not my first language. Feedback is very much appreciated <3

A cold breeze grazes your skin as the door to your shared chambers opens, sending a shiver down your spine. He enters with heavy steps and your breath stops for a moment when you catch a foreign feminine scent in the air. You immediately know.

"I'm back, wife," Feyd Rautha says, slowly approaching where you stand. You don't respond. A painful lump forms in your throat as your emotions are all over the place. Big hands gently grab your waist from behind. The scent of the woman still lingers on his skin. It tightens your chest and turns your stomach. You have never felt so sick before. She had her hands on him and he allowed it.

You don't want to believe your own thoughts, wishing this reality wasn't true. She had taken him from you. Your beloved husband, the person you love more than anyone else, with whom you share everything. He is the center of your world.

You turn to face him. "You're back late..." you say, your voice steady but your lower lip quivering.

For a split second, his expression wavers, confirming your suspicions. Feyd starts to speak, but you cut him off. "Don't bother lying. I can smell her on you."

His eyes widen, a hint of guilt flickering across his face, an emotion you've never seen from him before.

"I didn't want to. The witch invaded my mind," he attempts to explain. But you can't believe him. Not after this. He humiliated you, made you feel worthless.

His hand reaches for your cheek but you push it way. „Don‘t touch me.“

Oh how could he betray you like this? How could he share such an intimate moment with another woman?

„I can't believe you did this," you sway, your voice trembling with dissapointment. Tears well up in your eyes, but you refuse to let them fall. He's not worth your tears. Not a single one.

"I'm sorry," he murmurs. His words pierce your heart, shattering it into pieces.

It kills you.

The room falls into a heavy silence. His eyes plead with you, his hands twitching as if wanting to pull you close. The very thought makes you cringe.

"I never want to see you again," you say as you move past him. He reaches out for you, but you're too quick. Just before disappearing into the dark corridor, you look back at him. "It hurts - so much."

With that, you're gone.

Feyd doesn't follow. He knows he destroyed everything.

You move into a new section of the Harkonnen residence, consisting of a bedroom and a study, far away from your husband. All your belongings and clothes are brought in by your servants to help you settle into your new quarters. You hear whispers among the servants about Feyd's initial anger, refusing to let them move your belongings. Eventually, he seemed to give in and just let them continue, which was unusual for someone like him who rarely yielded so easily. But you pay it no mind, trying to forget about him. He did this to himself.

The first few nights are horrible. You struggle to sleep, feeling alone and haunted by nightmares of him. Each time you see a black veiled woman, luring him into her chambers. When you wake up, your clothes cling to your sweaty skin. You brush your hair back from your face and scan the dimly lit room. It is pretty similar to your old chambers but you've tried to make it feel different with some interior changes.

You hadn't yet discovered who the Bene Gesserit was that had been with your husband, but you were determined to find out.

With your family's influential name, you planned to write to your sister, hoping she could uncover the truth for you.

The days go by slowly, and to your relief you don't see Feyd at all. The pain of looking into his eyes would be too much to bear. Your heart was broken and would take a long time to heal.

You'd never known love before, never had any real crushes growing up. But then, you were sent to marry the na-Baron of Giedi Prime. You hadn't objected, obediently following your father's wishes. Meeting Feyd changed everything. He ignited a passion within you, made you feel enchanted and yearning for him.

Even if he was cold at first, Feyd proved to be a devoted husband. Drawn to your beautiful appearance and your kind but brave soul, it didn't take him long to warm up to you. You could tell he had fallen for you too.

The wedding night marked the peak of your feelings for him, deepening your love. You were nervous he might handle you roughly, especially since it was your first time, so you had asked him not to hurt you. „That‘s what concubines are for. I'd never hurt my wife,“ Feyd had assured you then, having already dismissed his concubines prior to the wedding.

But in the end, his words proved to be a lie. He had kept his promise until now, when he let the Bene Gesserit woman touch him.

It was hard to believe Feyd had done something like this. Loyalty and trust were values he held in high regard. He always looked down on those who lacked loyalty; it was a matter of honor to him.

And now here you are, sitting alone at the table to eat your dinner. You had instructed your servants to bring your meals to your chambers from now on, because there was no chance you'd dine with your husband. Even if he came to fetch you himself, you wouldn't budge an inch. But Feyd hasn't come. Days have passed since you left him, and he still hasn't shown his face, which you're really relieved about.

He knew you well, knew that you needed space, but this time it was different. He couldn't just apologize and gift you something to make amends. This time, there was nothing for you to forgive him for. And if the Bene Gesserit were to get pregnant before you, his actual wife, it would be unbearable.

The thought fills you with anger and jealousy. You wouldn't allow this to happen. You should be the only one to give him an heir.

As you return to your room after a brief stroll through your section, you're surprised to find several packages awaiting you. Despite your reservations, Feyd has still chosen to send gifts. Walking over to inspect them, a servant appears at your side, bowing slightly.

"Na-Baroness, the na-Baron has sent some gifts for you. He hopes you will accept them," the servant explains. Your gaze drifts over the variously sized boxes, and a sigh escapes your lips. "We will send them back. All of them," you declare after a moment. "But let me have a look first." Kneeling down, you carefully open each package, mindful not to damage anything.

Among them are dresses, exquisitely crafted and likely from your home planet. Another holds a perfume you adore, also from your planet. Then there are the traditional Harkonnen jewelry, reserved only for the Baron and his family. You can't help but chuckle at Feyd's selection.

Once you've examined everything, the servants gather the gifts along with your message: Don't ever insult me like this again

Even if this was just the beginning of his attempts to seek forgiveness, Feyd's gesture of sending mere gifts felt somewhat childish.

Days later, you decide to attend the fight held in the Harkonnen arena, knowing full well that Feyd would be present. However, you choose to sit in a secluded area, far removed from his presence.

Your attire consists of a dark red silk dress, a change from your usual colors as the na-Baroness, which typically align with the Harkonnen house's black with silver or red accents. Your jewelry, crafted from rare opal from your home planet, catches the light, accentuating your eyes and lending a radiant glow to your appearance.

Accompanied by two of your favorite servants, you make your way to a seating area. As you settle in, a pair of glasses are provided, allowing you a clearer view of the participants in the fighting circle below.

Slowly, you navigate through the crowd, observing the excitement of the people of Giedi Prime for the fight. Your gaze shifts upward, focusing on the Baron seated high above the arena, his imposing presence making you feel unease. He emanates a terrifying and volatile energy that unsettles you every time.

Continuing on, you reach the spot where the na-Baron and you usually sit. Feyd stands alone in his black suit, his gaze fixed on you. He had waited until you noticed him.

Feeling a twinge in your stomach, you deliberately drop your glasses with controlled movements, concealing the effect his presence has on you. Redirecting your attention to the fighters entering the arena, you're grateful for something to distract you.

Yet, his image replays in your mind. His eyes betray a hint of sadness, dark circles evident beneath his pale complexion. But he had brought this upon himself.

If he hadn't allowed the Bene Gesserit to touch him, you would have been there beside him as always, watching the fight unfold, with his hand possessively resting on your thigh.

Even after a week apart, the pain remains just the same.

The fight was not big spectacle, but it was enough for the crowd. You swiftly retreat to your chambers, after receiving the sign from a servant that the Baron had left. Casting one last glance at Feyd's area, you see his back turned to you. He's likely leaving as well, and you really have no desire to encounter him in the hallways

When you wake up two days later, you notice a basket of fresh fruits sitting on your table. Approaching the gift, you find a small card attached to the handle. Opening it slowly, you read Feyd's handwriting: Please accept these valuable fruits. Feyd.

You stare at the words for a moment, then shift your gaze to the basket. Inside, you see a variety of fruits, many of which are from your own planet and are your favorites —a fact Feyd surely knew. Yet, despite the apparent gesture, you still feel slighted by the simplicity of the gift.

With a dismissive gesture, you instruct the servants to take the basket away. "Share it among the others and send the same message to the na-Baron as before," you command, retreating to your bedroom.

An upcoming event required your presence as husband and wife, na-Baron and na-Baroness. Three days beforehand, you already felt nauseous and contemplated skipping it altogether. However, the Baron's potential anger left you with no choice but to attend.

As the special day approaches, you pace nervously around the room. The prospect of having to play the role of Feyd's wife again fills you with dread. Despite the difficulty, you resign yourself to the task, knowing you must suppress your true emotions and maintain a facade of affection, hiding behind a gentle smile.

In the morning, you receive a package from Feyd, containing a dress intended for the upcoming gathering. The garment, adorned in Harkonnen colors, is tailored to complement his own attire, ensuring a flawless appearance as a couple.

As the servants begin to prepare you for the event, they dress you, adorn you with jewelry, and style your hair elegantly. Avoiding the mirror as much as possible, you can't help but feel a bit of discomfort at the sight of the dress, which reminds you too much of him. The idea that it signifies your connection to him is unsettling, especially since his betrayal with another woman. Prior to that, you had cherished moments when he selected dresses for you or had jewelry crafted from your birthstone.

Once you're ready, you steal a quick glance at your reflection, observing how the dress accentuates your figure. Despite looking beautiful, the nausea persists. You so badly wish to just remain secluded in your chambers, away from him.

Two servants accompany you as you make your way to the grand halls where your husband awaits in front of the towering doors. You catch a glimpse of him, dressed in all black and feel the familiar pain in your chest. It's as if your lungs are pulling themselves together, stealing the air from you.

His gaze is sweeping over you and a faint grin tugs at his lips, but he stops himself quickly. "Good morning, wife," Feyd says, with his deep raspy voice and offers his arm to you. He seems content to see your face up close after two weeks. You halt before him, meeting his towering figure with a glare that could pierce steel. He recognizes the expression, but doesn't show any reaction. You hook your arm into his, taking a deep breath before walking into the grand hall together.

As the event unfolds, nobels from across the galaxy mingle, their voices a symphony of polite conversation. Among them stands the imposing figure of the Baron, his presence commanding attention.

You stand next to Feyd, occasionally engaging in some small talk with others. Despite the pain and betrayal that lingers in between you, you play the roles with practiced ease, upholding the appearance of a happy couple. Yet inside, you feel dull.

In a moment alone, Feyd wraps his arm around your waist. "Let's talk later, wife." He says and gazes into your eyes. You lower your head, staring at his chest and offering no response until he pulls you closer to his body. Slowly, you raise your head and to meet his gaze.

"No, I don't think so," You reply, placing a hand on his chest in an attempt to push him away. But he holds firm, studying your eyes in an attempt to understand your emotions.

"There's nothing to explain, na-Baron," you hiss, putting some distance between the two of you. "I don't want to hear anything. And stop sending me gifts!"

Feyd blinks at your response and takes a step forward. "Just let me finish my sentence. Things have happened that I regret deeply, but I need you to understand why," he begins to explain, but you shake your head. Tears well up in your eyes, and you bite the inside of your cheek to suppress a whimper. "No, no…" Your lips quiver as you respond with a weak voice. "Even just thinking about it hurts me too much." With those final words, you turn on your heel and walk away. Glancing briefly at the Baron to ensure he's occupied, you slip out of the grand hall and return to your chambers.

Your heart races, nearly pounding out of your chest. Feyd's scent made you dizzy, made you longing for him, but you refuse to succumb. You were not one to give in quickly, not even to his beautiful blue eyes. His lips had twitched, after you had raised your head to look at him - his love always displayed so openly for you, unlike his usual expressionless demeanor. And despite everything, you still love him too, but the thought of going back to him, fills you with disgust and pain. He's the one who made you feel this way.

It was not a good night, and the days that followed were just as bleak. The dull ache persisted, and you drift through each day like a ghost. Emptiness pervades every moment, blurring the world around you into a haze. And despite showing not a single emotion to the world, you feel the pain, longing for the warmth of connection that is lost.

After a week had passed since the event, the reply from your older sister finally arrived. You hastily open it, eager to learn whether the Bene Gesserit woman was pregnant. You understood the ways of the Bene Gesserit and didn't object to them, except in this case, where one woman dared to interfere in your marriage. It was all about control.

Since you weren't part of the sisterhood, they needed to ensure a child was born from Feyd that they could raise according to their teachings. However, if they had approached you with a deal for your own child to become a Bene Gesserit, you might not have disagreed.

But this time, you were determined to stand in their way. She wasn't worthy enough to bear your husband's child, especially considering you weren't even pregnant yourself yet.

With trembling hands, you open the scroll and begin to read the message.

Dear sister,

I am deeply troubled by the news you've shared with me. I did not expect this from the na-Baron. But don't worry too much, as I have located the Bene Gesserit. Her name is Margot Fenring, the wife of Count Fenring, the Emperor's advisor. Unfortunately, I couldn't find out why the sisterhood chose her, and I haven't received any updates on a possible pregnancy. Rest assured, I will inform you immediately once I learn more.

With all my love,

Your sister

You stare at the message, sighing heavily. Margot Fenring was a well-known figure in the galaxy, particularly admired for her beauty. Her hair was of a golden blonde with grey-green eyes and attractive figure. However, you weren't concerned about feeling inferior to her; you knew your own beauty had captivated Feyd from the moment he had laid his eyes on you.

The burning question on your mind wasn't why the revered mother had chosen her to seduce Feyd, but rather why she had to intervene at all, and whether she was now carrying his child.

The waiting was unbearable in a situation like this.

A knock sounds on your door, as you put the roll in the drawer of your desk. Curious, you turn around, wondering who could be seeking your attention. Apart from your husband and his two family members, you didn't know anyone else.

With caution, you open the door, only to be met with the sight of Feyd-Rautha. Disappointment flashes across your face, and you sigh, almost closing the door on him again. But Feyd has other plans, his hand holding the door open and making his way into your chambers. Surprised, you walk back a few steps and stare at him. "What are you doing?" you ask, confusion evident in your tone. He doesn't respond, maintaining a cold stare that sends a shiver down your spine. He appears angry or, at the very least, annoyed by your behavior.

As the back of your knees touch your bed, he stops in front of you. "This time, you will listen, wife, or I will tie you to the bed. You can't run away from me every time," Feyd says with a deep, raspy voice. You blink up at him, uncertain of what to do. Part of you wants to escape the uncomfortable situation and to avoid listening to him. But in this moment, he holds full control over you.

A cold finger grazes your jawline softly, lifting your head up. He comes closer, his breath tingling on your skin. "You better listen carefully now. I will explain everything that has happened. Alright?" he tells you, and all you can do is nod your head obediently.

"On this day while I was on my way back to you, I noticed a woman following me. I questioned her about her presence in the area, and she began to manipulate my mind. With a mere blink, I found myself in the witch's room, unable to recall anything except for her whispers in my head," Feyd explains seriously, maintaining eye contact with you.

"She then used the voice on me and forced me to place my hand in a box while holding a sharp object coated with poison to my neck. After passing her test, she continued to use the voice on me throughout the whole time. I couldn't do anything else than listen to her. I tried to break free many times and every time a picture of you flashed in my mind, she redirected my attention back to her," he continues, his eyes darkening as he recounts the experience. You can see the distress he's in as he speaks.

Slowly, your hand raises to cup his cheek, offering comfort. He leans into your touch, visibly relaxing. "Do you know why she came to you?" you inquire, once his nerves are calmed. He nods vaguely. "I am the one who will inherit the title as Baron next, and since you are not a Bene Gesserit, they sent one of them to find out my weakness."

His answer sinks in, and you agree. "That's what I was thinking as well."

Feyd's hands gently cup your face as he leans closer. "I missed you so much, little mouse," he murmurs, leaning down to kiss your forehead. You close your eyes, relishing the sensation of his touch, which you've missed dearly.

"What if she is pregnant?" concern creeps into your voice. Feyd meets your gaze, his eyes filled with determination. "Don't worry, my dear. She won't live to give birth to it, if we receive word that she's carrying a baby," he assures you. "You are the only woman who will give me an heir," he adds with a smirk.

You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. "I should have listened earlier. I just couldn't bear it. Nothing made sense anymore," you whisper, your lips brushing against his cheek. He hums in reply, pressing his lips to yours in a long-awaited kiss.

It turns into a heavy makeout session. With tender care, he guides you onto the bed, slowly undressing you as if savoring every moment of intimacy. As he moistens his fingers with his tongue and begins to pump them inside of you, a soft moan escapes your lips, reveling in the sensation of his touch.

Your body arches with pleasure as he prepares you for him, each movement sending waves of ecstasy coursing through you. "Feels so good," you murmur, lost in the sensation. Feyd's grin widens as he leans over you, his touch both tender and tantalizing.

When he decides you're ready, he withdraws his fingers, eliciting a soft whine of longing from you. "It's alright, my little mouse. I will give you what you want," he shushes. As he frees himself from his pants, your hand instinctively reaches for him, eager to feel his hardness in your grasp.

A low groan escapes him at your touch, but he gently removes your hand, his own need evident in his impatient tone. "Not now," He says, his voice thick with lust. "I can't wait any longer to be inside you." With a sense of urgency, he positions himself between your legs, ready to claim you completely.

He gazes down at you with love and care. "You won’t be able to walk tomorrow," he warns with a sly grin, teasing as he lets the tip of his arousal slide between your heated folds before thrusting inside you.

Once fully sheathed within your tight walls, he leans over you, his arms caging your head to support his weight. In this position, he is able to see your face much better. "I will make you forget everything that pained you these past weeks. You are mine," he growls possessively with his lips attached to the sensitive skin of your neck as his hips begin to move in a rhythmic thrust.

At first, his movements are slow and deliberate, punctuated by tender kisses, until you relax completely under his touch and he increases the pace. Your legs are lifted up over his shoulders, allowing him to penetrate even deeper, luring whimpers of pleasure from you as your nails dig into the porcelain skin of his back.

"So tight. Taking me so well, little mouse," he praises softly near your ear, sending shivers down your spine. Your walls contract around him, gripping him tighter, causing him to groan in pleasure. "Stop it, I'm not going to last if you keep tightening up like this," he warns you, his head falling back in pleasure.

But the sensation feels too good to stop, and you beg him to just come inside you with your voice hazy with desire. Feyd's eyes sparkle at your pleads. "Touch yourself," He orders, encouraging you.

It doens't take long for you to reach your climax, gripping his shoulders for support and screaming his name. He watches your face intently, praising you. "Yes that's it, good girl. Come on my cock."

Without letting you fully come down from your high, he starts to thrust deeper. “Going to fill you up now, you want that?” You whine at his words, nodding impatiently. “You'll look beautiful with my baby inside of you, all big and swollen.” His words drive you insane and with each thrust, he pushes you both closer.

With a final thrust, he releases himself inside you, bringing you to another climax as the room fills with both of your cries of pleasure.

"Afterwards, he takes good care of you, cleaning your sensitive skin with a wet cloth and ensuring you're comfortable in bed. His arms find their way around your body, pulling you closer.

"I haven't slept well since you left," he admits, nuzzling his face into your neck. You chuckle at the sensation because it tickles.

"I also slept horribly," you respond, your hand caressing the back of his neck. But tonight, you sleep better than you have in weeks, knowing your husband is right there beside you, and you never want to let go again.

Fortunately, it's only a week later when another message from your sister reaches you. As you read through it with full concentration, a lump forms in your throat due to the wave of emotions that washes over you.

"She's not pregnant," you inform Feyd, who stands before you. His eyes visibly brighten with relief and he moves closer to embrace you tightly. No words are needed, you can feel each other's emotions clearly.

"Don't worry, my dear. I'll deal with the punishment for the Bene Gesserit," Feyd assures you after a while of holding each other. His anger still simmers, just as intense as the night Margot Fenring used the voice on him. He won't let it slide easily.

You find comfort in knowing that Feyd will handle the situation, likely with the help of his uncle, the Baron. But for now, you push aside all thoughts of pain, focusing on the relief of the moment.

On the same day, after rearranging the last few items in your shared chamber, which you hastily moved back into, a gleaming blade catches your eye. Your husband possesses a collection of blades in various sizes and styles, but you recognize this one as his favorite - the one he always carries with him. You approach the desk and study the blade intently.

Suddenly, strong arms wrap around your body, and you gasp quietly in surprise. "This one is for you," Feyd whispers behind you. Your eyes remain fixed on the knife, his words sinking in.

This blade holds significant importance to him, having accompanied your husband since his childhood when he first learned to fight. It's a profound gesture of trust and affection that he would gift it to you now. Despite the Harkonnen's reputation for brutality and coldness, they occasionally reveal their emotions to those they love. This blade serves as a metaphor, symbolizing Feyd's gift of his heart to you forever.

[rafeandonlyrafe]

distant calls

words: 700

warnings: 18+ only!, smut, male masturbation, mentions of p in v sex, like one use of kid, protective!rafe, one mention of violence, kinda creeper!rafe i guess??, dubcon possibly?? not really but just in case!

“hey princess.” rafe smiles when he hears immediately how excited you are.

“hi rafey!” you squeal into the phone, wishing you weren't separated by the distance, forced to talk on the phone instead of in person.

“how was your day pretty girl? what did you do?” rafe asks.

your cheeks blush red at the nickname, never getting used to it no matter how many times he uses it on you. 

“well, it was a port day!” you start to describe your cruise. you really did try to have fun with your parents, but part of you longed to have rafe around, to be back in the obx where he could look after you.

you tell rafe all about the city you stopped in, where you went to shop and a cave exploring excursion that you ended up sitting out to wait on the beach until your parents got back.

you kick your feet up and down, back and forth as you recount everything to rafe. he stays mostly quiet, only letting out a few grunts and light sighs that you suppose is his affirmation that he's listening.

you feel so lucky to have captured rafes interest. you're not dating, haven't done anything at all yet beyond rafe holding your hand when you cross the street, but you're enamored with him. rafe is just as infatuated with you, but he would be damned if he told you, preferring to just keep you smiling and beat up any guys who look at you even a second too long at parties.

“and then we got back on the ship.” you twirl a finger absentmindedly over the blanket as you lay on your stomach on the bed. 

“did you eat baby?” rafe asks, his voice sounding strained.

“yes, of course.” you nod quickly despite rafe not being able to see you. “we went to the buffet and i got a chicken salad and then i even got dessert!” your exclaim, proud of yourself. “i got vanilla ice cream with sprinkles.”

“that's good, kid.” rafe let's out another sigh that has you pressing your ear into the phone, listening intensely to hear a weird somewhat wet sound that you can't place.

“keep-” rafe gasps out. “keep talking baby. tell me about-” he has to pause again as he grunts. “tell me about tomorrow.”

you instantly lose your suspicion as you let out another squeal. “rafey, you will never believe it!” you explain how you're going snorkeling in an area where people commonly see dolphins and you're really hoping you see them on the boat ride out to the reef.

you giggle with excitement, not realizing what your sounds are doing to rafe.

many hours away, back in the outer banks, rafe is laying on his bed, back propped up against the pillows, one hand holding his phone close to his ear while his other furiously strokes his cock.

it wasn't his intention when you first got on the phone, but hearing your sweet little voice had him pulling his cock out of his shorts.

“oh wow.” rafe says, tacking on a moan at the end that he hopes is disguised by his words.

rafe knows he's going to break the second you get back from your cruise. he's going to pick you up himself and bring you to the closest bed, even if it's a shitty motel. he's not even confident he'll make it that far without needing to take you. maybe the side of the highway will do.

you continue talking away about the itinerary, not a clue in the world that rafe is so close to ending the game you've been playing, the teasing about to come to a wicked end.

“are you in your pajamas?” rafe asks, interrupting you. but he doesn't care. he needs to know more.

“yup.” you say, popping your p’s. “been in my room for like half an hour now. it's so warm even with the ac blasting i'm wearing just a t-shirt.”

it's all rafe needs, the image of you splayed out on the bed with just a t-shirt on, pushed up to reveal your bare cunt and perfect tits. rafe doesn't hold back his sounds as much as he knows he should, grunting as he cums with a final stroke, releasing all over his abs.

“you okay rafey?” you question.

“im perfect, dollface.” rafe says, sighing as he lets go off his softening cock. 

“wanna switch to facetime?” you pout. “i miss looking at you.”

rafe switches without second thought, loving to see the way your eyes widen when you realize he's in bed shirtless, eyes squinting at the sticky white substance dotting his lower half.

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[emchant3d]

It’s the fourth time this week Eddie’s been late without a phone call.

Sure, his job has him working weird hours - Steve gets it. But he also knows his schedule and he knows the days Eddie works at the bar til close and he knows the days he’s supposed to be home before dark, and he hasn’t had a closing shift once this week. 

Yet he came home near ten tonight, and Steve had been worried and nervous and yes, sure, a little - a lot - insecure about it, and maybe he’d lashed out first, or maybe Eddie had, Steve doesn’t know, but he knows they’re standing in the living room shouting at one another and it’s all coming to a head and he can’t stop himself, can’t keep from getting loud and angry and–

"Do you even want to fucking be here?" he yells.

"Not when you're acting like this!" Eddie says, and Steve's throat goes tight like there's a fist wrapped around it. 

Not when he's acting like this, he thinks. Not when he's being too needy. Too pushy. Too demanding.

Something in his brain feels like it rewires. Their relationship flips on its head, and suddenly fear is coiling in Steve's stomach, not anger. 

He'll lose Eddie if he keeps pushing like this. If he demands too much of his time, pulls him away from what he'd rather be doing, makes himself too much work, he'll lose him. Eddie always said he wasn't going anywhere. That he loves Steve, wants to be with him, will never get tired of him. Steve was a fucking idiot to take that at face value.

He feels sick to his stomach. He wants to apologize, wants to tell Eddie to forget all about what he said, wants to show how sorry he is, but between one moment and the next he's feeling like a guest in his own home, and he's very familiar with how it feels to be unwelcome.

So instead he shakes his head. Eddie wants to be left alone, probably. Doesn't want to see Steve when he's mad at him. Doesn't want to deal with him. He'll make himself scarce.

"I'm staying in the guest room tonight," he says stiffly, and turns away, only faltering a little when Eddie mumbles 'what the fuck ever' behind him. He flinches when Eddie slams the front door and closes the spare room so quietly it barely even clicks.

– Eddie gets home late.

Like, late-late. Steve hears the front door open as he's staring at the clock on the bedside table, the bright red numbers burning into his vision. Why did they even put a fucking clock in here, he thinks. It's the guest room. Why did he insist on furnishing this room like someone might live in it? Like this was a home people would be in and out of, like their family would come and stay with them long enough to need an alarm clock on the bedside table?

Desperate, a voice in his head hisses at him, desperate and needy and full of wishful thinking that someone would want to stay around sad little Steve Harrington long enough to need anything--

Eddie's coming down the hallway. He's trying to be quiet, but he forgot to take his shoes off at the door and his Reeboks squeak a little against the hardwood. It's a familiar sound. Comforting, usually. It's how he knows his honey's made it home safe when he's out late, that tell-tale squeak and the little stumbles when he's tipsy and making his way through their home after a long gig.

There was no gig tonight, though, and Eddie's footsteps are steady and even despite the soft sound of rubber on wood. He isn't drunk, Steve doesn't think - and is that better or worse? That he left after a fight and didn't even go somewhere to drink it off. Where has he been, if not their usual bar to think about what they'd spat at one another, trying to think of solutions, of apologies?

And is Steve really owed an apology? He was overbearing. He was pushy. He was demanding and authoritative and too fucking much all over again, and Eddie lashed out in response, and does Steve deserve an apology after all that? He's been going around in circles with himself all evening about it, arguing in his own head, saying yes I deserve one because my feelings were hurt and no I don't deserve one because I lashed out first and how does he answer this for himself? He doesn't know.

He knows he'd do just about anything to make the empty feeling in his chest go away, though. Knows that he'd shove his hurt away and eat his words and apologize to Eddie and never, ever push again if it meant he knew where they stood. If it meant Eddie would forgive him and never storm out like that again, if it meant Steve knew he wouldn't be left alone like this to wonder if Eddie was coming back.

And he feels so dramatic - he can hear Robin's voice already, telling him it was just a fight, that there's no reason to get this worked up about it, but Steve can't help it. Slammed doors and loneliness are the soundtrack to his childhood and he can't help the panic he feels when someone he loves leaves.

"Do you want to be here?" he'd asked, like a fucking idiot, and Eddie hadn't said yes. Steve swallows around the lump that's taken up permanent residence in his throat. Reaches to swipe a hand over his face, rubbed raw, eyes burning with tears he won't let fall because what right does he have to cry? He brought this on himself. He always brings it on himself.

Eddie's feet are still squeaking their way slowly down the hallway, he's trying not to wake Steve - or is he just trying not to be noticed? Impossible, if Eddie Munson is in a room Steve is going to notice, how can he not? He's been yanked into that gravitational pull and there's no escape for him, not anymore, he's a moon circling around the solar system and Eddie is the sun, burning bright and pulling focus and what is Steve to do in the face of that?

He keeps his eyes fixed on the clock. Watches the display change when a minute's passed. Feels his heartbeat stutter when Eddie's shuffling, squeaking steps pause outside the guest room.

They keep a hall light on at night. It's on a dimmer, turned down way low, but neither of them do well with complete darkness. Too many nightmares, too many shadows haunting and hunting the both of them. Steve can see the muted glow of it from beneath the door.

He can also see when Eddie comes to a stop because his feet block that light. Two shadows in the doorframe, obscuring the soft haze of warm orange that creeps in a half-moon over the carpet, and Steve stops breathing. There's a soft shifting noise, fabric over wood, a gentle thunk when Eddie leans against the guest room door, and Steve almost calls out to him. Almost says I'm sorry, I didn't mean it, please don't leave again, please don't leave me, but the words stick in his throat. Ball's in Eddie's court, as it should be when Steve fucked up so bad, when he tried to ruin it all, when he made Eddie so mad that he left when he promised Steve he would never do that. Eddie's a good man. Keeps his word. Steve's the problem, Steve is always the goddamn problem, always will be, ruins and stains everything he fucking touches–

The shadow disappears. Steve squeezes his eyes shut so tight he sees lights popping behind his lids. Those shuffling squeaking steps continue their way down the hall. Steve feels like he's going to throw up but he didn't have dinner so there's nothing in his belly but bile and nothing comes up even though his throat is tight and his stomach is fucking rolling.

The bedroom door - their bedroom door - creaks on its hinges. Steve keeps meaning to put some WD-40 on it but he kind of likes that it makes a noise, that when he's asleep it's just loud enough to wake him halfway and tell him to anticipate the warm wash of tobacco and sandalwood that will cloud him when Eddie slips beneath the covers. Lets him know he's about to be grabbed and groped a little bit, sweet little kisses pressed to his shoulder and neck and jawline until he's got a face tucked into the curve of his throat, until he's giving a sleepy smile and winding his arms around a trim waist and dragging Eddie in close, sputtering and laughing tiredly as wild hair gets in his face and mouth before he falls asleep again, wrapped tight around the love of his life.

None of that tonight, apparently - and he doesn't blame him. No, he hears the bedroom door creak and it feels like a punishment that he deserves and his eyes burn and burn and burn and his face is wet now, he can't help it, and he wipes at it again angrily, takes the soft blanket to his face and why is it so soft why does Steve try so hard when he knows he won't get anything back why does he try to build a home when he's never had one and never will and is going to lose the one he's clawed onto so desperately and tried so hard to keep–

The door creaks again. Steve takes a stuttering breath. Eddie's steps are soft now as they come down the hallway, bare feet on the floor, almost silent as he creeps his way closer. Steve clenches his teeth so hard his jaw aches, anything to hold back the sounds he wants to make - he can't let Eddie hear him. He can't let Eddie know he's crying. That's manipulative, isn't it? Crying in front of the person he hurt? He won't do it, won't be that selfish, but that shadow appears at the base of the door again. Steve can't help the shaky inhale he takes, and it sounds so fucking loud in the quiet of the guest room, choked and echoing. 

"Baby?" Eddie says, voice low and quiet, rapping so gently against the door with one knuckle. "You in there, Stevie?" 

Just the sound of him is enough to send his heart crashing around in his ribcage, fluttering and jumping and making Steve tense. He wants to answer but he can’t get the words to form, his throat feels sealed shut, and he wonders if he should answer even if he were able because what could Eddie possibly have to say right now? It can’t be anything good and Steve doesn’t know if he can take it right now, in this room that makes him feel like a guest in his own home - but isn’t he always a guest? Isn’t that what he’s made to be, a temporary stop in everyone else’s story?

But he’s not ready for Eddie to move past him yet. Not tonight. Let it happen in the morning if it has to happen, let him put this off just a little longer. Just please, not tonight. Not yet.

But Eddie’s never been known for his patience, and the click of the latch has Steve slamming his eyes closed. Too late to roll over and hide his face, but he’s got enough time to duck down and tuck most of his features into a pillow. He tries to let his body relax, to let the tense lines of his muscles uncoil and his shoulders drop and his fists unclench, but he can’t tell if he’s managed it and the ache in his palms from his blunt nails tells him maybe he did, but it won’t help much.

Eddie makes his way across the carpet in silent steps, and the mattress dips with his weight as he sits on the edge of it. Steve’s fingers twitch to reach for him, but he just curls them into the sheets instead and hopes the motion looks absent enough to have happened in his sleep. 

He smells sandalwood and tobacco and feels the warmth from Eddie being so near but it feels like there’s a wall between them, one he can’t cross even if he tries, one he’s barred from so much as touching. 

He works hard to keep his breathing even but it’s hitching now and then despite his best efforts, shaky and too loud in the silent room, but he keeps up the charade even though the end of it all is perched right in front of him. And it’s Eddie who puts an end to it. It was always Eddie who was going to put an end to it.

“I know you’re awake,” he says, and Steve squeezes his eyes tighter like that’ll make it untrue, like he can just drift off in a second if he wills it hard enough. Eddie shifts on the mattress, and Steve curls tighter into himself. “Let’s just hash this out, huh? Get it over with.” Steve bites his tongue so hard he thinks he might taste blood. It’s that simple for Eddie - but it’s always simple, isn’t it? Cut and dry, plain as day, Steve is the only one who can never see it coming, it’s written on the goddamn walls for everyone else.

He risks peeking through his lashes but Eddie’s got his back to him so it doesn’t even matter, not really. Eddie isn’t looking at him and so Steve allows himself to look, takes in the hunch of Eddie’s shoulders, the curve of his spine beneath his thin pajama shirt - he’d changed, when he’d made his way through their creaky bedroom door, took off his clothes and put his pajamas on and kicked off those tennis shoes, they’re probably in a pile at the foot of the bed for Steve to trip over and he will miss tripping over them, he’ll miss it terribly.

He wonders if he’ll need to move. If he’ll have to find a new place and separate out all of their things into his things, if SteveAndEddie’sStuff will become Steve’s stuff and Eddie’s stuff. Or maybe he’ll just start staying in this guest room, maybe that’s why he furnished this room so completely, because somehow he knew he’d end up alone in it.

“I’m sorry,” Eddie says, and Steve inhales sharply.

“Don’t,” he says, and somehow he keeps his voice steady.

“So you are awake,” Eddie says, and he tries to sound teasing, sound playful, but it drops like a stone in this space between them. No room for levity in the dark cloud Steve’s filled this room with. He wishes he could be easygoing and let go gently, but it’s Eddie - in what world could he take losing him graciously?

“Yeah,” he says, and he stares at Eddie’s back as the other raises his head, but he still doesn’t turn to look at Steve, and he wishes he could at least look him in the face when he rips his heart out of his chest.

part 2

[senseichaos]

Hey, can you have a Lucifer going down on a female reader until she’s completely over stimulated? Trying to push him away, him using his magic to keep her still that sorta think? TIA🤤

Your wish is my commannndddd!

IMAGINE

"Amh.. Luci s'.." Your words get swallowed up by another moan that goes through your body, legs trembling as Lucifer's hand keeps them open with a strong grip. A blush goes over your face when his eyes peek up at you as he works his tongue against your clit, circling the sensitive bud at a tantalizing pace that makes you go dizzy.

You pull your blanket to your face, lower lip trembling as the pleasure from Lucifer's tongue continues to go through you. Gasping, you feel Lucifer's tongue dip into your hole, the pleasure from the action causing you to squirm and whimper loudly in an embarrassed pleasure.

"Duckling.." you hear him mumble into you, the vibrations causing you to continue trembling. "It's not nice having you squirm when I'm treating you, hm? Remember this is a punishment," oh you remember all right. You'd accidentally ripped a hole in one of Lucifer's expensive shirts, he wasn't mad (he's never mad) but he was definitely looking for that opportunity to punish you all the same; his punishment was simple, he was going to eat you out as many times and make you cum as many times as he pleases.

So far, he is doing a fucking good job at doing just that.

"Sorry! It's just so dirty.."

He chuckles, the vibrations making your cunt clench around nothing.

"That's just how I like it, silly duck. Now stay still for me, hm?" He asks, and under his soft yet authoritative gaze nodding without any thought but his beautiful lips as they kiss against your clit.

as Lucifer laps his tongue against your clit whilst his fingers massage into your thighs, you feel your first high begin to tighten inside of you. Once again feeling your body tremble as you bite your lower lip, closing your eyes shut tightly whilst Lucifer puts his oral skills to good use. You press the sheets to your mouth, letting out a high pitched whimper when your thighs threaten to close around Lucifer's head. He doesn't allow it, though; he makes sure to keep your thighs open nice and wide for him even if that means using a large amount of force.

"Lucifer! Careful or m'!" You moan, the knot in your stomach itching to unravel your orgasm.

"Mhm?"

"M' gonna cum!" You cry, and Lucifer chuckles, nibbling his sharp teeth against your clit as his tongue draws circles against it. With that movement you are inched to your high, the knot inside of you unraveling so hard you squirt a little. But Lucifer doesn't stop, he continues to eat you up, taking what he wants from your choicest of fruits. He doesn't care that you squirted on his chin, he doesn't care that tears are beginning to fall down your cheeks, he continues to lap up all of you. He's determined to do as he chooses.

"Daddy! S'too much..!"

Lucifer laughs, sucking against your swollen clit for a moment before withdrawing, mouth pressed to your mount. "Well, you should have considered that before ripping Daddy's shirt, hm? Be a good duckling or I'll make you cum even more than I plan," He says, a sadistic glint in his eyes as he kicks a long strip against your entire pussy.

"But I'm gonna fall asleep.." you whine, holding the sheets of the bed to yourself tightly. You try to push him away, you really do! Even going as far as to shock him on the arm with your (weak) powers. Though, this all doesn't appease Lucifer. If anything it makes him more ravenous to eat all of what he can from your pussy. This all amounts to his own powers keeping you still, a throb of a sort of ache-y pain entering you.

"Well if you do, I guess I'll just keep going. I didn't teach you to resist punishments like this, little ducky.."

Once again, he dips his tongue into your hole, fucking his tongue into you for a moment before going back to teasing your clit. It just goes like that, he'll suck, bite, lick your clit and then fuck you open with your tongue.

You can't even begin to recall how many times you came. 5? 8? 10!!?? By the time you awoke your pussy felt moderately used. And yet it was all worth it when you awoke nestled against Lucifers chest, his light snores filling your ears.

(not proof read!)

[cntloup]

18+ MDNI Simon preventing you, his lovely wife from going to work

look at him what a cutie patootie :3

He grabs you by the waist and pulls you onto his lap as he sits on the edge of the bed, peppering kisses on your face and making you giggle.

"Siii!! I have to go to work!" you whine in between giggles.

"No, lovie. My wife doesn't have to work." he retorts, voice low and gruff, it makes your pussy throb.

He lays you down on the bed, "Just lie back and look pretty f'me! Yeah?" he murmurs into your neck, brushing his lips against your sensitive skin.

All the while kneading the plush of your breasts under your (his) shirt with his rough hands and twiddling your nipples with his calloused fingers, making you moan softly in his ear. Even the slightest of his touch makes you feel floaty.

"I'll call your boss, lovie. Don't worry." he says with a glint in his eyes.

"Hmm...Ok, Mr. Riley!" you hum, grinning widely. That sure sounds tempting.

He pulls at the hem of your panties, awaiting your approval and you nod eagerly.

He removes them and spreads your legs, shiny pussy on display for him.

"So pretty, baby!" he coos and kisses your clit, making you shiver.

He takes his weeping cock out of his sweatpants and settles between your legs, his hands running up and down the soft skin of your thighs.

He kisses your lips as he lines himself up at your entrance and gently pushes the tip inside.

He pulls back to watch your reaction and goes on when he sees nothing but pleasure sparkling in your eyes, your lips falling open and a soft whimper slipping through.

He locks your lips together again as he readily slides inside your slick warmth further and further.

He swallows your gasped-out moan, his chest rumbling with a deep groan as he's deep inside you.

He pulls away ever so slightly, "You ok, love?" he asks with concern.

"Yess, baby! Please move!" you plead desperately, swaddling his waist tighter with your legs.

"Patience, baby! There's no rush. You're all mine today." he purrs, leaning in to kiss you again, moaning at your sweet taste on his tongue and the divine sensation of your warm walls enfolding his pulsating cock.

"Wish we could stay like this forever." he croons, softly kissing the skin below your ear and you hum contently with a smile.

You whimper and mewl, clutching his shoulders and squeezing your eyes shut as he gently thrusts into you.

You feel a tingle behind your eyes and soon, droplets of tears quietly flow down the sides of your face.

He kisses your tears away, knowing fully well how you feel, his own heart fluttering with all the love and devotion he holds for you.

"I love you." he whispers so as not to disrupt the tender moment.

"I love you too, Si." you murmur, looking at him through lidded glossy eyes, fully absorbed in his warmth, saturated with his love.

You cup his face in your hands and pull him in for yet another loving kiss.

Your lips move rhythmically against each other, moaning and whimpering into the kiss as he tenderly makes love to you.

You feel the familiar warm sensation pooling up in your belly.

And within moments, your back arches off the sheets, your thighs tremble and squeeze tighter around him as you cry out his name.

His chest reverberates against yours with a low growl as you sense the warmth filling up your womb.

He kisses your lips, tightening his hold on you and staying inside you while resting his head on your shoulder.

And your hearts swell with love and happiness in each other's arms.

comments/reblogs are greatly appreciated ♥ 

[fangswbenefits]

Double-edged Sword

Summary: Miguel knows he has to let you go before you can be his. But it’s not that simple. Especially when you keep on testing his limits…

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x spider-woman!reader

Word count: 2.2k

18+. Miguel POV. Obsessed and jealous Miguel. Soft/inexperienced reader. F*ngering.

Part 1 (if you're just starting out) - Previous part

By the time Miguel rose from his slumber, he was met with a pair of curious eyes glaring at him.

"You snore."

A sleepy yawn worked its way out of his throat as he lifted his wrist to assess the time. It was still fairly early in the morning, and he allowed himself to relax against your soft pillows.

You were on your side, both hands tucked under your head, and your trademark sweet smile curling your lips.

"Did you sleep well?"

Miguel nodded, mustering the will to sit up against the bed rest. He soon realised he had fallen asleep on top of the comforter with just a blanket covering him, whereas you were nicely tucked inside your bedsheets.

A distinct barrier between you two.

He looked down at you through sleepy eyes, wishing he could plant a soft kiss to your temple.

You looked so peaceful and it brought a sense of calmness to him as well.

"I was thinking of meeting Tom today.." you began, as you flopped onto your back. "Think you can get someone to cover for me? Just for a while?"

And just like that, Miguel's stomach turned uncomfortably. "Today? Already?"

Your head turned to him. "Why? Do you think I should wait? Do we have something important today?"

"Maybe you should wait a little longer," he said with a sigh. "Take some time to figure out the best approach."

"I've been waiting for months... I just... I really need this," you whispered, now facing away from him.

In reality, Miguel knew there wasn't much he could say to deter you from this. He couldn't really blame you from wanting to set things right with someone who meant so much to you.

He would have given everything to be able to get that opportunity with Gabriella.

However, the less rational side of him was seething with jealousy. After all, you had revealed you had feelings for him.

But what truly fueled his escalating jealousy was what had happened last night. The kiss, him touching himself in front of you, and you touching yourself in front of him. Intimacy had engulfed you both so unexpectedly, that he wondered if it had been a mistake.

He dreaded that thought, so he promptly pushed it away.

"Sure. Take your time."

You then shifted to sit next to him, your shirt briefly clinging to your breasts, letting him know you were braless.

Of course.

He groaned inwardly at the sight of the small protuberances on each nipple.

And you caught him staring, arching a brow in amusement. "Want to see them again?"

He cleared his throat and shook his head. The last thing he needed now was a raging boner.

But it seemed that you were hellbent on torturing him, so when you got on your knees, briefly crawling to him, and finally settling on his lap, he knew he was fucked.

You were wearing nothing but a shirt and sleeping shorts, and when you looped your arms around his neck, he instinctively closed his eyes, bracing himself for yet another erection.

He had expected you to lean in for a kiss, but you remained still, eyeing him with utmost interest.

"This place can be so isolating," you sighed.

Miguel gripped your hips, adjusting you back to prevent having you seating on his crotch.

"Nueva York is overflowing with spiders, yet you still feel so lonely, you know?"

He did know.

It was lonely at the top.

While many spiders had relationships of their own and managed to build their lives around them, Miguel had nearly forgotten how used to being alone he had gotten.

"So you feel lonely here?"

You seemed unsure. "I have you to keep me company, though I figure that doesn't really count. you were forced to babysit me when I forgot got here."

"I wasn't forced to do anything," he corrected, slightly frowning. "I saw the potential in you and wanted to harness that."

Your fingers were absentmindedly caressing the nape of his neck. "I feel really comfortable around you."

That caught him slightly off guard.

"I never thought I'd be able to reveal that secret to anyone... you whispered, shifting to sit on his growing erection. "And last night.."

The not knowing was killing him. On one hand, he was scared to find out that it had been nothing but a hear of the moment thing, but he yearned for more than that... and that part of him needed to kn more.

"Was is because of loneliness, then?"

You pressed your lips tightly together.

"Well, I suppose loneliness gets the best of us, eventually," he sighed, trying his best to seem as casual as possible. "Sometimes, using your hand just doesn't quite do it."

At this, you widened your eyes, before averting your gaze. "It wasn't because I felt lonely... I... I just... you're really attractive and.."

Miguel decided that was enough.

He brought his hand to the back of hour neck and pulled you closer until your lips grazed along his.

"Can I kiss you?"

You swallowed, pressing yourself down on him. "Do you always get this.. excited so easily?"

He gripped your chin between his fingers, tilting your head to have your eyes meet his. "Only for you."

It was a simple confession mixed with desire, but it was enough to startle you.

Fuck.

You leaned back as if snapped from a daydream. "Do you mean that? Or are you just saying that to make me feel better?"

Miguel took a deep breath. "I mean that, and you can feel it," he proved his point with a roll of his hips.

You moaned softly, eyes fluttering shut and mouth dropping open.

His sweet girl was so, so responsive...

Instinctively, you tried to match the sway of his hips, but it felt clumsy and Miguel brought both hands to your hips, gripping them tightly.

Your breaths were coming out shaky as he guided you on his clothed cock, guiding you on how to move your body alongside his.

"Does that feel good?" he asked seductively.

"Yes..." you gasped. "I... I'm.."

Miguel felt the first beads of precum drip from his tip. "You're what?"

Your hands came to grip his shoulders, and you took a deep breath before one of them slid down to your

body.

Miguel immediately knew what you meant, but he intended on having things go differently this time.

" can do that for you... he offered, gripping your wrist gently, as your fingers prepared to slide inside your shorts.

You bit your lip, eyes still squeezed shut. "You have to...”

"I want to," he said firmly.

Nodding, you brought your hand up to his shoulder again, and he took the chance to gently slip his fingers past the waistband.

You immediately shuddered and leaned to rest your face against his neck.

He trailed down carefully and his cock twitched once he reached your clit.

"Is this okay?"

You moaned in response, wrapping your arms around him.

Your clit was already swollen and Miguel felt his fangs threatening to drop once he began to slowly roll the pad of his finger around it.

It didn't take long until he felt your wetness seeping through the layers of fabric and staining his suit.

"Please... Miguel..." you groaned, now jerking your hips against his touch.

He began to drag your wetness along your folds to coat your clit with it. You were soaked for him, your body already working on preparing you to take his COCk.

But he would have to be gentle.

He would have you riding his fingers first.

"Please what, sweet girl?" he cooed, planting a kiss to your temple."

You answered by trying to have his finger slide down to your entrance.

So eager...

"Can you take one finger?"

You halted your hips and took a few seconds to nod.

"I can take it..."

He could cum just from your shaky voice and how much you craved him.

As one finger reached your opening, he felt you tense up lightly.

"I'll be gentle," he promised, tracing the sensitive spot. "Tell me to stop, and I will."

"Don't stop..."

He pressed yet another kiss on your flushed skin, and slipped the tip of one finger inside, feeling you immediately squeeze around him.

Miguel realised that if he were to be your first, he would be utterly fucked. The way you gripped his fingers with your walls nearly tipped him over the edge. He couldn't imagine how ridiculously good it'd feel to have his cock inside you instead.

"Try to relax.."

And you did try.

Until his thumb pressed down on your clit.

Your hips immediately bucked into him, encasing his finger inside you until he was buried knuckle-deep.

"Easy..." he growled, his fangs emerging right away from the overload of sensation.

He doubted you'd be able to take another thick finger of his, so he settled for having just one sliding in and out, drawing the sweetest gasps from you.

"You're doing so well.." he praised.

You rolled your hips instinctively, fucking yourself on his finger as best as inexperience allowed you.

"Take... take your... suit..." you pleaded, clawing at his chest with one hand.

The digital layer vanished down to his waist. He didn't want set his cock free or he would cum in an instant.

Then, he saw you roll up your shirt with trembling fingers, exposing your breasts.

He nearly came rigth there and then.

But nothing could have prepared him for what you were about to do.

You desperately brought your pierced nipples to graze against his bare chest, slowly raising your before sinking down around his finger.

Miguel was now certain that you would be the death of him.

He felt your wetness dribbling down his hand, but kept a steady pressure on your pulsing clit. With each undulation of your body, he was able to feel the cool metal of your piercings digging into his skin, and couldn't fight back the growl that emerged from deep within him.

As expected, he was embarrassingly close, and needed to do something about it.

"Lift your hips."

You groaned in response, stilling for a moment.

"Wait….. why?"

"I'm close.."

You slowly clenched around his finger, and his hand came to grip your hip tight.

"Too close..

The beginning of a pout settled on your face, but you did as requested, finally putting a stop to the near excruciating pleasure he was feeling.

Now he could focus on you.

You buried your face in the crook of his neck to anchor your with each flick of his finger and with each sway of your hips.

"Are you okay?"

You didn't answer, but he could tell from your erratic breathing that you were nearing your peak. Your whimpers increased in intensity, as you clumsily rode his finger, chasing after your bliss.

The sound of his watch beeping broke the rhythm for a second, but Miguel ignored it.

As long as no canon event was involve, he wouldn't shift his attention from you.

It beeped again.

But you were so close.

"I... I think I'm.."

He didn't need your words, your body language spoke to him in ways he didn't know he craved.

The movement you started convulsing against him and tightening your grip around his neck, he knew you were coming undone. Your walls clenched around his finger as the orgasm tore through your body.

Another beep, which Miguel ignored again.

Miguel allowed himself to enjoy your tightness, realising you would need far more preparation than this if you were to take his cock.

Your legs were shaking slightly, as he kept pressing the pad of his thumb against your pulsing clit.

But what really made his cock twitch was the way you kept mumbling his name in between sobs, eventually slumping against his chest.

He slowly withdrew his finger, earning a deep sigh from you.

<CANON EVENT IMMINENT: ANOMALY DETECTED>

Miguel's heart nearly burst out of his chest from the unexpected announcement, and you jolted into him, still descending from your peak.

Instant bones killer.

Much against his will, he brought himself to suit up and carefully set you aside on your bed with a kiss pressed to your forehead, before jumping to his feet, quickly clicking through his watch.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled hurriedly, glazing at you as he neared the bedroom window.

You were a panting mess, but quickly tried to gather yourself. "Don't apologise. Just go."

He hopped onto the window sill and took a deep breath, throwing you a final glance. "TIl find you once I'm done."

"You don't have to... I have to do this on my own."

He nodded. "Don't deactivate your mic."

Your straightened your shirt before sitting on mattress. "Miguel... it'll be fine."

"Do as I say."

You eventually nodded.

He hated having to part from you, but his duty came first, and he couldn't step away from it.

Not even for his sweet girl.

"Lyla, summon squad 12, and give me the readings on the anomaly."

Before swinging into the cool morning air of Nueva York, Miguel saw you crossing your legs and stare at him with those sweet eyes that he was so addicted to.

But he would be there for you again.

He would find you.

And he would make sure your devotion would he his.

Not Tom's.

Once Miguel was done with the canon disruption, he threw himself into a portal to get to you.

Your mic wasn't working, and your bio readings weren't available, and he could only assume you had switched off your watch.

Luckily, he had checked Tom's file before deleting it as you had requested.

He knew exactly where to go.

The sun had began to set on the horizon, engulfing the city in shades of orange that helped mask his movements across the innumerous rooftops. He refrained from using his web often, as the laser-like flashes would draw too much attention.

So he took it to jumping and clawing his way up the steep walls of the building opposite to where he lived on all fours, already being able to pick up some interference coming from your mic.

You were close.

"... you want me to leave."

Miguel reached the metal railing of an emergency exit, and balanced himself on it, feeling his heart stammering against his chest.

"You're so good at that, so go ahead."

From there, he was able to spot you in his apartments, near a window. He caugjt a glimpse of Tom and immediately decided he hated him.

He was scowling deeply at you, arms crossed, and words sharp as knives.

How dare he?

His claws were digging into the railing, and Miguel felt droplets of venom spill from his fangs.

This Tom individual wasn't even attractive to begin with, so he figured your previous attraction to him had to based on something else.

"You hurt me! You cannot do this and expect me to pretend nothing happened."

Clearly not based on personality.

Your voice was so low, Miguel was barely able to make it through the mic. "Tom... it was also hard for me..."

Miguel was visibly seething at this pint, wishing he could just drag you out of there. You deserved better than someome who didn't bother listening to you.

"Please leave."

There was a long pause and Miguel held his breath, not wanting to miss out on your reply.

"Don't do this..." you whispered, and he could hear the sadness in your words.

It was itching him to put an end to it.

But...

Deep down, Miguel knew you needed this. Closure. Even if things didn't go as you had hoped, you had tried your best to remedy this situation.

His heart hadn't wanted you to go visit Tom, but his mind spoke differently. He had to let you go to him, to have you as his.

A double-edged sword.

"You left me for months. Ignored me for months. You don't get to do this without a decent explanation," the idiot went on, further angering Miguel. "And since you don't want to tell me the truth, I want you gone."

This time, you cleared your throat and stormed out of the room, not exchanging another word.

Miguel considered dealing with Tom in his own way, but you came first.

He plunged from the rooftop and into a deserted alley, pacing quickly to meet you as you exited through the door, zipping up the hoodie that hid your suit underneath.

Miguel called after you, but you didn't turn to face him.

"I don't want to talk, Miguel."

Not wanting to be spotted by some passer-by, he urged you to walk into another alley.

"I heard some of it," he said softly once you were both out of sight.

You pressed your back against the wall, looking absolutely defeated. It was almost criminal that someone like you had to ever feel this way.

"You did what you could," he went on, placing one hand on your shoulder. "Maybe one day he'll understand."

Miguel didn't want him to be near you ever again, but he had to comfort you somehow.

You lowered your gaze and fixed it on a small puddle of water at your feet. "I deserve this."

"You do not."

"I don't want your pity."

He shook his head. "You won't have it."

In fact, he was willing to give you his heart if you'd take it. But he wouldn't dare say that out loud. Not in this moment.

He waited for your to make a move, but you remained quiet.

"Let's go back to Nueva York," he suggested, placing one hand on your shoulder.

You sobbed softly, and he saw a couple of teardrops drip from your face.

He just couldn't bear seeing you like this, so he took a step closer and you quickly wrapped your arms around him.

"Thank you... thank you, thank you..." you kept on repeating in between sniffles.

He held you tightly in absolute adoration and devotion. "I'm here for you."

"You're a great friend, Miguel..."

Friend.

That word made his heart sink violently.

"Just as a friend?"

There it was... his obsession for you creeping in.

You pulled away from his grip, teary eyes narrowing at him. "Oh... with benefits?"

That was somehow even worse.

Your face twisted into something else as you patted your face dry. "What do you want from me, Miguel?"

Anything.

Everything.

"Anything you're willing to give me," he said truthfully.

Maybe he shouldn't have been so straightforward, but he was merely answering your question. He didn't want to lie, and didn't want to go back to having to hide how he truly felt.

"I don't know if I can give you much more than this."

Your words lingered in the air after hitting him hard and he felt as though his body had been plunged into freezing water.

"Why?"

Your gaze wavered and you began chewing your lip. "Because I don't know if I'm ready for anything serious..."

Miguel straightened to his full height. "Anything you can give me... I'll take it."

He sounded desperate, and deep down he knew that it was probably working against him. Being intimate with you only could only satisfy him for so long if nothing was to come of it.

As much as his body yearned for you touch, his heart was seeking something that wasn’t skin-deep.

"Can I ask for something?"

Anything.

Everything.

He would give it all to you.

You cleared your throat. "I need time."

He could definitely work with that.

However...

"Do you... like being with me?" Miguel carefully asked. "And I'm not talking about being with me like earlier today." Your fluttering orgasm was proof enough.

Your eyes widened and he could tell you had not expected his bluntness. "Of course I do... I... just need time."

He pressed his lips together into a fine line. In truth, he didn't want to be just friends with you. He didn't crave that level of human connection. He needed much more than that from you.

"You only want me as a friend."

It wasn’t a question, and it sounded more like an accusation.

Was he being fair with you? Was he being fair with himself? These questions kept on looping inside his head, but his emotions had a stronger hold on him.

"I trust you," you said in a whisper. "I don't trust people easily."

That did ease some of the uneasiness within him, but he still wanted more. The grip of his obsession for you was tightening around him viciously, and it was getting harder for him to keep it at bay.

"Maybe I want more than that."

"Miguel..."

He leaned in, bending his head just enough for his lips to almost meet yours, searching for the comfort of your warmth.

He could feel you slipping through his fingers again.

You turned your head lightly and pressed a lingering kiss on his cheek instead.

His eyes fluttered shut, and the dreadful feeling that you were parting from him suddenly overcame him.

"Maybe you should go back..." you said after parting from him. "I'll stay here for a little while..."

"Because of Tom?" he could feel the poison dripping from his words.

You shook your head vehemently. "Because of me."

Part 7

Masterlist

[alastorss]

a/n: hihi @bri22222 !! tumblr for some reason ate your ask in my inbox but here is the cat demon!reader taking care of sick alastor request you sent <3 i hope you like it!

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

You had taken it upon yourself to become Alastor's own personal nurse when he got sick, despite his outspoken displeasure in being babied.

He was an Overlord, for god's sake, and one of the most feared at that. There was a certain irritation in him when you would show up to his room (which didn't even have a bed in it until he fell ill and you decided to push one in yourself, much to his dismay).

You'd sport all kinds of goods; warm jambalaya, his own mother's recipe, that he would deny even though he was itching to eat it. Some cough drops that tasted horribly of sickly sweet honey and lemon. Fresh boxes of tissues since he was going through them faster than you could imagine.

The worst of them all was when you would show up at the foot of his bed with little rodents, eyes wide and expectant for praise that would never come. Then you'd settle in his bed, curled up in his lap like you owned the place, and fall asleep.

While the warmth was nice, which he would never admit, and he liked the feeling of his hand smoothing down the hair between your set of drooping feline ears, he's not sure how much more of this he can take.

"You know," he starts one day when you sit at the edge of his bed, straightening out the duvet as you do. "I do wish you would stop fretting over me."

"You're sick," you deadpan. "And you took care of me when I was sick. At least let me return the favour."

He grimaces, remembering how miserable you looked when you caught a nasty flu a few months ago. Who knew cats were so pitiful when sick?

"Really, dear, it's fine! I was just helping a friend."

You frown, unconvinced. "And I'm just helping you back! Come on, you can barely go downstairs to get food by yourself."

"I'm perfectly fine!" He mutters between his grit teeth, smiling bordering on baring his fangs at you. Unfortunately, he doesn't do a very good job at intimidating you. Not after you've already seen his soft side of clinging to you like you're his personal heater.

Of course, his cursed demon body decides to betray him at that exact moment and he falls into a coughing fit, sputtering as he rakes in sharp breaths of air.

You're quick to climb over the bed to him, straddling his lap and forcing him to drink from his glass of water. He glares at you but drinks without refusal.

Alastor is the Radio Demon. Owner of souls. Entertainer extraordinaire. Yet here he is, taken down by a pathetic fever and being coddled by his favourite feline.

He carefully pinches your tail to get you to pull away from him, yelping in the process. "I'm fine," he hisses. "I don't need your help. I don't need to be taken care of!"

Your ears flatten against your head at his tone and you scramble off of his lap, cowering like a wounded animal.

For a moment he feels a flash of remorse, or whatever feeling has replaced what would be guilt in that black heart of his. He even considers opening his mouth to say something more reassuring. But then you scurry out of the room and slam the door behind you. His ears ring from the echo of it, then deathly silence follows.

Alastor reaches over to drink from his water glass on his own, only to realize it was knocked over in the commotion.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

He counts the days that pass, subconsciously or not, and feels his smile shrinking by each daylight.

Sure, he was quick to temper, but he had never lashed out at you before. It's an awful feeling that sinks into his stomach, making him dread what's to come when he fully recovers.

Worst of all, he was wrong. He does need your help.

It was peaceful at first and he enjoyed the silence that came without your company. However, he hadn't realized how accustomed he had grown to your ambient presence.

How had he never realized you were so loud when you made your entrances, or that you purred ever so slightly when he scratched just behind your ears? And was he really so weak that he was thinking of apologizing? He can't stand the idea that he may have frightened or hurt you.

It used to be so easy for him to sit with his own thoughts. Nowadays it's hard without getting to hear about your day or getting to fluster you with his incessant teasing.

He's cold, too. He would gladly let you fetch him a hundred rodents if it meant getting to hold onto you in his sick state.

On the fifth day, he decides he's had enough. The demon doesn't even bother knocking, instead opting to materialize from the shadows and jumpscare you from behind.

"I'm..." he seethes through his teeth, eyes thin and twitching.

You tilt your head at him curiously, prickled hairs flattening back down as confusion replaces your adrenaline. "You... what?"

"I'm sorry," he finally manages to get out, though it comes strained and awkward. Still, he swallows his pride and avoids your eyes while he continues. "I was wrong."

You stare at him blankly for a few seconds, intrigued by the sight of such a powerful Overlord trying to do something as uncharacteristic as apologize. In the end, you can't contain your laughter.

He glowers at you as you topple over in your bed in a fit of giggles, wiping away the tears in your eyes.

"Oh, you sap. Come here!" You sit up and open your arms wide, a big, cheeky (and smug) grin spreading across your face.

Grumbling, Alastor shuffles into your bed and collapses into you, effectively crushing you under him. You don't seem to care, arms tugging him closer and tail brushing over his body.

"You missed me that much?"

"One more word out of you and I am leaving."

"Aww, so that's a yes?"

The Radio Demon only sighs, heavy eyes drifting shut in your warmth.

"Don't get it twisted, dearest. I will not be thanking you for putting rats in my sheets every morning."

~

taglist: @the-lake-is-calling @dragons-and-dwarves-are-nice @averylonelysea @bri22222 @cxrsedwxrlds @amarokofficial @anae-naea-zacheria (send an ask to be added!)

[luveline]

Hi there! I hope your day’s been going well :)

Could you maybe write something with Spencer where Reader faints? Feel free to ignore this if you’re not up for it!!

thank u for ur request! fem!reader, 1.6k

"It's so hot," you say, startled. The lobby of the hotel had been blissfully air-conditioned. The difference hits you immediately. 

"Don't worry about blazers or professional attire," Hotch says, though he quickly amends, "within reason."

You take off your jacket and follow the herd of the BAU into the black SUVs. The SUVs are even hotter than the outdoors, blistering ovens of heat that have you feeling nauseous instantaneously. Spencer rubs your arm with the back of his hand swiftly —it's a friendly touch to say he's here, but it's quick to prevent any unnecessary added heat. 

It's August in Texas, 107 degrees Fahrenheit. Emily smells distinctly of sunscreen from the front passenger seat. Derek, behind the wheel, looks hot around the collar. Spencer looks as though he wishes he'd had a haircut before he came, chin length curls tucked tight behind his ears. 

Despite this, none of them complain beyond the general whine every now and then. You try very hard to shut up and focus on the case with them, but as the day goes on, bumping you from hot car to hot crime scene (with all inclusive smells of gore!), you feel wobbly on your feet. 

"Spence?" you ask, sitting in a hard-backed chair in the police precinct. 

"Yeah?" He doesn't look away from the geographical profile he's building. You're supposed to be helping, but your notes are half-hearted, likely useless. "What?" 

"Do you have any water?" 

He pushes a pin into the left of the map and grabs a ruler. "No, sorry. There's a staff room by the bullpen, the secretary said to help ourselves. Actually, she said to 'go ham.'"

"Okay. I'll be right back. And I'll be more helpful." 

"You're plenty helpful," he murmurs, leaning down to follow the line of his rules with a pencil. 

You don't feel helpful, you feel awful. Head heavy, eyes aching, every step sends a jolt through your teeth and jaw, your skull like a mashed potato. You know you're a poor sight with sweat wetting your hair and a crawling sensation between your legs and the fabric of your pants. 

Letting yourself into the staff room, you're unsurprised to find a bone dry water cooler and a crate of water bottles with only one remaining. Spencer needs a drink too, and he has a thing about germs. You frown at the water bottle as though that might duplicate it, but when it doesn't, you're forced to take it and put it under your arm. You look around for a mug to at least have some tap water no matter how ill-advised that may be. They're all dirtied in the sink and on tables. Fuck. 

Spencer is super, super lovely to you. You wonder sometimes if he might ask you out, or at least want to, but most of the time you're sure it's just a little extra friendliness because he knows how it feels to be the youngest on the team, how patronised or lonely it gets. And the weight of trying to prove yourself every mission, it's almost as heavy as your head. 

"Hey," Spencer says as you open the conference room door. "I think I've worked something out. Could you call Garcia for me? I've got dry-erase marker on my hands." 

"Got this for you," you say, offering him the bottle. He takes it without looking. 

"Thanks. Are you feeling any better? I know you can be sensitive to the heat." 

"Maybe we can get portable fans on the FBI budget next year," you say wistfully, pushing a chair in at the table. You lean on it to grab the phone in the middle of a sea of papers and cases and jackets, black spots popping up in your vision. "My head's rushing." 

"Hey, guys," Emily says, sounding strangely chipper as she and Hotch trudge in. Her hair is in a tight ponytail away from her face. 

You try to greet them and end up hanging your head. 

"Y/N," Spencer chokes, alarmed.

You slump forward over the chair, desperate to keep your footing and failing. Your shin knocks into the chair and your hands grasp at the top of it, but you can't hold yourself up any longer, knocking your face into the chair as you collapse. A cheap tent in a strong breeze, you fall with little more than a weak sigh. 

You're hurting a lot when you come to, blinking like your lashes have been brushed with glue. The lights have been turned off, and a blissful chill soaks your hairline. Someone presses a water bottle to your lips and lifts your head. You drink half the contents in three gulps and get laid down again with the utmost care. 

"She's coming around," Hotch says. 

Your neck aches propped over a leg. Two deft hands hold your head still. 

"Don't move too much," Spencer says, his voice odd. You blink as his face moves into view upside down. "An EMT is on the way, okay? You passed out." 

You can't find your voice. Spencer strokes your cheek with his thumb, says, "Hey, can you hear me? Let's hear your voice. Talk to me." 

"You don't sound like yourself," you say hoarsely, each word tenuous. You wince at the bruising heat that radiates from your nose with each word. 

"I'm worried about you," Spencer admits. "It makes it hard to stay objective." 

"No, you sound funny." 

"I'm worried," he repeats. His smile is strained. 

"She's okay," Hotch says. 

You realise Emily's got your hand in hers when she squeezes it. "Have you had anything to drink today?" she asks you, fondly incredulous. 

"No, she hasn't, and I didn't say anything about it. I'm an idiot. I'm so sorry, Y/N," Spencer says. 

"Y/N's responsible for her own preservation, Reid. And it's been a tough case, with the heat. Let's not blame anyone for anything." You press your chin to your chest to see Hotch's anxious frown. "We will be having a discussion about this later." 

You turn your face into Spencer's thigh. "Oh." 

"Don't close your eyes," Hotch says. He employs a firm, boss-like tone that has you rushing to follow orders. "You hit your head." 

"I don't feel well," you complain, wanting to close your eyes.

"Considering your behaviour," Spencer says, one of his hands trailing down your face, neck, and collar, where he rests it genially, "you likely have a mild to moderate concussion. And you're dehydrated, so you'll be feeling the effects more severely."

"Why haven't you been drinking?" Emily asks. 

"I just…" You blink sluggishly. "I don't know… We don't take anything that isn't coffee with us places and…" You lean your cheek into Spencer's hand, not quite connecting that it's his hand, or that you're laying on the precinct floor. "They only had one bottle in the staff room." 

"Why didn't you drink it?" Spencer asks softly. 

"I knew you hadn't had anything to drink, either." 

"We could've shared," he says, sounding genuinely confused. 

"You don't like sharing stuff like that. Germs." 

Spencer's voice is barely above a whisper, "I wouldn't care about your germs, Y/N. They're your germs." 

You don't have time to ask him what he means, but you've ample time to think about it on loop when the EMT arrives. He props you up, checking you over thoroughly, shining a light in your eyes and deeming you concussed.

"You don't have to see a doctor," the EMT advises. "But we're happy to take you to the hospital if that's what you want." 

"Yes," Spencer says, as you say, "No." 

Spencer puts a hand on your shoulder blade. It is an extremely forward move on his part, so unlike him that you recognise how odd it is despite your foggy mind. "She should go." 

"She fainted, Spencer," Emily says. 

"Exactly! So she should go to the hospital and–"

"I didn't break anything," you say, waving a shaky hand at the small but concerned crowd of people you've attracted. 

"Luckily," the EMT says. "Drink plenty of water and take it easy. Don't be afraid to call again if you feel worse." 

Hotch walks the EMT out, needing to take a phone call. Emily goes with him, promising to return with a dry shirt for you to wear now that yours has been soaked at the collar by the water they'd been cooling you down with while you were unconscious. 

Spencer settles practically knee to knee with you in two of the uncomfortable chairs, his assessing gaze frankly perturbing. 

"You'd share germs with me?" you ask. 

Spencer's hand leaps across the gap to yours where it rests on your knee. His eyes, brown and sweet, have all the light of a blinding smile as his lips quirk into something more sheepish. "If it stopped you from fainting, yeah. And even if it didn't, I'd be stupid to care about germs when I…" 

You breathe out slowly. "When you what?" 

"Well," he says, looking down at your hands. "I guess I just wouldn't mind your germs, that's all." 

If he's saying what you think he's saying, he's doing it in the most Spencer Reid way possible. Concussed, your charisma fails you. You've no wit to tease him with. 

You fold your hand around his. "Thanks for catching me," you say gently. 

He squeezes your fingers clumsily. "You're welcome. But it was actually mostly Emily." 

[httpiastri]

18+ content, minors dni

‎‎ ‎ ‎

it's as if out of habit that one of your hands reaches down between your legs, pointer finger meeting your clit drawing out a low sigh from you. lando's too slow, you think – he's been working on undoing his belt and jeans for far too long now, so it's his own fault anyway. plus, he's been edging you on for what feels like years, fingering you and lapping you up but pulling away just before can come undone. you deserve some kind of release.

you knew you shouldn't have teased him tonight. you know how insecure he is when it comes to you flirting with his friends, especially oscar, and you know how jealous it makes him. and still, you just couldn't help it. the look on lando's face when oscar's hand grazed your thigh was almost too good to be true. but when you do something like this, you also have to take your punishment like a big girl.

do you understand it? yes. will you do it willingly without any complaints? most certainly not.

your boyfriend's eyes land on you when he has discarded his pants, and his hand immediately swoops down to grab your wrist, pulling it away from you. a dismissive 'nuh-uh' sound vibrates from the back of his throat, and he cocks an eyebrow at you. "patience, love."

you whine, the desperate look on your face making lando grin. "you're so mean to me," you mutter, shutting your eyes as if not seeing him will make time pass quicker and help you feel less needy.

but his trademark laughter meets your ears, and it doesn't make things any easier for you. it's a reminder of him, of everything you love about him, and of how much you want him – how much you need him. "oh, you think this is being mean?" he scoffs, a hand reaching for your bare side. "sweetheart, you haven't seen anything yet."

your breath hitches in your throat when his bulge presses against you, boxers already wet with his precum leaking onto them. he grinds up and down your cunt, your slick staining the fabric even further. it's too much already; you're far too sensitive to deal with this. "p-please-" you whine, buckling your hips to get more friction.

"what do you want, love?" a new, incoherent whine slips past your lips, and lando answers with a chuckle. "use your words."

"take... take them off..."

he leans back, and you instantly miss the contact. but then you hear him shuffle around a little and feel the mattress dipping. "as you wish."

you suck in a breath when you feel his touch again, the anticipation in your stomach growing as his tip drags along your folds. and when he pushes the tip right past your entrance, relief washes over you – finally, after so much teasing, you'll get what you wanted.

or, that's what you thought.

lando doesn't go any further. he pushes just a few centimeters into you before sliding right out again. then he repeats his actions yet again.

he's not being fair.

"lando," you cry out, throwing your head back and arching your chest off the mattress. he doesn't answer, too absorbed in the view before him. and to think that he's the only one who gets to see you like this: whiny, needy, helpless. he thinks he's the luckiest man in the world.

he takes the opportunity right as he's presented with it; with the way your neck is exposed like that, how could he not lean down and press his lips to it?

his kisses are sloppy and slow, traveling down your throat and along your collarbones, leaving little lovebites in their wake. you hook an arm around his neck to keep him close and you begin to grind down on him, hoping he'll give in. but he just pulls his own hips back, pulling away from you instead of meeting your thrusts.

"i know i was wrong," you finally get out. "i shouldn't have flirted with him. but don't you think i've been punished enough already?"

he laughs yet again, and the sweet sound irritates you just as much as it turns you on. "hey," he says, pressing one last kiss to the side of your neck. "i want you to look into my eyes as i thrust into you, okay?" he pauses for a second, his breath warm against your throat. "can you be a good girl and do that for me?"

it takes all of the energy in your body for you to nod, before letting your eyes flutter open slowly. your gaze meets his instantly, and it satisfies him completely. you batting your innocent eyes up at him has always worked; you always get what you want.