#HEAT AU

[melis-writes]

And as I'm a greedy girl, now I want some Vincent Hanna x Reader smut ! 👀👀👀No prompt idea, just write what you want with him :) But maaybe some pregnant sex with that reader from previous prompt, just sayin' 😉 Honestly I'm such a sucker for Vincent that I will read anything with him (As long as he is happy and content ofc) Thank you!

Vincent Hanna, my beloved!! 🥺❤️ Ugh I love writing prompts like this for him where he’s actually appreciated, loved and respected. Continuing off with my previous prompt where he and the reader are expecting and starting a family together, we have some requested, soft pregnancy sex. 🥵🥵

With your arms wrapped around your husband’s back, you dig your nails into his skin as whimpers continue to spill out of your mouth with one deep thrust after another.

Vincent’s gazes down at you underneath him with lust filled eyes, caressing your supple skin and roaming his hands up your thighs around his waist.

“You’re perfect,” Vincent murmurs against your lips, bucking his hips towards yours. “Absolutely perfect, baby…”

“Mmm..!” You arch your back a little, beginning to feel your thighs quiver around Vincent. “More, like that, please. Yes… Yes…”

Vincent’s lips crush over yours in a wet, greedy kiss as his hips continue colliding over yours.

Back and forth Vincent thrusts into you in a slow pace to feel every inch of his cock coming in and out of you.

You moan back in Vincent’s mouth, letting a hand roam up to his messy ruffled hair—tugging and pulling gently.

As Vincent slowly breaks the kiss, he rests his forehead against yours; his cock still buried inside of your pussy.

“Vincent,” you breathe out, running your hands down his firm arm muscles. “I-I’m close.”

Vincent tilts your chin up, leaving a trail of hot kisses around your neck before his hands grip your waist. “I can feel you, baby. Shit,” he hisses under his breath, “you know how wet you are right now?”

Blushing furiously, you let out a breathy giggle and spread your legs open as much as you can around Vincent. “Can you blame me?”

“Not at all,” Vincent chuckles, slowly trailing his hand over to your small baby bump. “All those hormones rushing through you. Our baby...”

“I want you all the time,” you whine back, feeling your clit throb and ache from pulsating arousal going through you. “Every single day—I can’t stop myself.”

“Don’t hold back,” Vincent speaks back to you in a husky tone, kissing over your baby bump. “I’m gonna make you feel so good—as much as you need to, baby. I’m yours.”

“Oh!” You cry out in pleasure, feeling Vincent picking up the pace in his thrusts. “V-Vincent!”

“As much as you want, as much as you need,” Vincent grunts, squeezing his eyes shut momentarily. “Ahhhh, yeah… You feel so fucking good, baby.” Vincent gazes back down at you with half-open eyes. “Comfortable, honey? You like that?”

“Yes, y-yes, yes,” you nod, unable to hold back your filthy moans. “J-just like that! Right there! Uhhhh, please!”

Cupping your face, Vincent seals another kiss over your lips, coaxing his tongue into your mouth for another feverish, hot kiss.

The mattress squeaks out from underneath the two of you and the headboard of the bed begins to bump against the wall behind it from Vincent’s deep thrusting pace.

Tousled blankets, wrinkled satin bedsheets and pillows messily sprawled out over the bed with one underneath you paint a picture of pure erotica in your bedroom with Vincent.

[wanologic]

in no way was civility achieved

[beybuniki]

beach episode

[kaoward]

Messmer the Baller

[pineapple-frenzy]

Book 2 au: and there was only one bed!! :00

Because of course I just had to do this trope

This is the first and last time they decide to sleep in an inn and they have an unspoken agreement to pretend this never happened

[tgcg]

for @413countdown au day ... inspired by archer

tamanegi flava. wish i was a playa. im a tax paya. need a good lawya.

[hedgehog-moss]

My recipe is for blackberry-frangipane tart, though I'm sure it could work with other fruit! (note: I tried with plums and found that the texture wasn't right, so maybe not with very juicy fruit)

For the frangipane filling, whisk in a bowl: white sugar (100g), melted butter (40g), almond powder (125g), and 2 eggs. If it looks a bit grainy rather than smooth that's normal. Spread it over whichever kind of crust you usually use for fruit tart (not sure what the English equivalent of pâte sablée is but that's the one I use)

Add your blackberries over it, enough to more or less cover the tart but only in one layer (you don't want to smother your frangipane). If you use frozen blackberries, do not unfreeze them before! It'll make the tart too watery.

Put in the oven for 20 to 40min at 180°C (depends on how powerful your oven is, but until the frangipane looks golden all over)

Bon appétit :) It's my favourite fruit tart!

[diejager]

Cougar monster reader in heat with the boys

~🧋

Cw: implied smut, heat/mating cycle, musk/scent kink, teasing, tell me if I missed any.

It had snuck up on them, like a feline in prowl, stalking from the shadows and only making itself known when it pounced, striking with ferocity and danger. The signs were subtle, sneaking under their nose when they were around you. They were easily forgotten, something that went past their heads without so much as an ounce of concern because it could easily be mistaken for another thing. 

The slight change of scent on your skin, sweeter than usual, but unsurprising when your arrival was so turbulent, changing scents crashing over them like waves, switching between sweet and sour, bitter or salty. The perspiration that clung to your skin, smelling of sea salt and musk, was easily mistaken for exhaustion, sweat that collected from your hours spent at the gym, lifting, pressing and sparring. And your fidgeting wasn’t as abnormal as it was, you were a solitary animal and being introduced to a crowded Task Force made you anxious.

It went without any trouble - much trouble, since you were often struggling with how touchy and open they were - for another week before those subtle signs grew, blaring a bright red in their faces. It hit them in the face with a hard slap, shocking them like a bucket of freezing water would, and your change had them struggling and worried.

Your scent was cloying, overly sweet in your frustration, hauntingly seductive and taunting, calling to them with every small sniff of your musk. The perspiration they once chalked up to sweat from exercise was now connected to the heat that brewed in your guts, a boiling fire that caused your temper to flare. Then your fidgeting had grown to affection and noise, you yowled lowly, purrs rumbling out of your throat, small feline sounds that confused most that weren’t familiar with one; and you were touchy, running your hands over their arms, clinging to them with flickering ears and a swaying tail, fluttering your lashes with wide and dilated pupil. 

“You’re in heat, Hunter,” Horangi bemoaned, his nose scrunched up under his mask, willing - and failing - his body to stop reacting to you. He had formed a bond with you, and succumbing to your teasing and obvious signs of courtships would probably break away all the effort he put in to know you, find a way into your heart as much as you did with his mind, body and soul. 

“Need you, ” you mewled, nuzzling the crook of his jaw, nose running down his glands and nipping at him, your wet lips trailing kisses up and down his throat, “It’s too hot. Frustrating.”

Your persistence was cracking his wall. Your small, kitten licks, the gentle nicks of your sharp canines and the rumbling of your purrs where weakening his resolve, coupled with wandering hands and the curl of your tail around his, wrapping himself around you like a snake, he was a prisoner of his own body and needs. He was so close to throwing all his self-restrain out the window, to pin you against the floor and growl in your face, forcing you to bend and fold to his whims in the middle of the TF’s rec room. Horangi wanted to fuck you, his mind running circles with crazed thought of breeding you here and then, filling you up until he leaked out of you and was sure he’d knocked you up.

“Horangi,” you pawed at him, your hot breath hitting his bobbing Adam’s apple, feeling his patience thinning and thinning. 

You would be the death of his restraint and patience. 

Taglist: @craxy-person @crowbird @dead-cipher @iwannabealocalcryptid @iizx7y @mxtokko @capricorn-anon @perfectus-in-morte @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @angelcakes-22 @ramadiiiisme @ramblingsofachaoticthinker @im-making-an-effort @love-dove-noora @jinxxangel13 @daisychainsinknots @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @mul-pi @danielle143 @beau-min @makayla-666 @urfavsunkissedleo @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @luvecarson @petwifed @randominstake @heartelysia @jggykhug09090 @hayleybarnesx @shironasumi @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @call-me-nyxx @sans-chara @cod-z @sweetnanah @aldis-nuts @thigh-o-saur @evolutionarry @kaoyamamegami @cassiecasluciluce @sobbingnshtting

[avocadoraisin]

nap time with the coven

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Lan Wangji Goes To Lotus Pier AU: Part 4: Deranged Bedfellows

(Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4.5)

[starry-bi-sky]

fast food is the best course of action after causing a scene. ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴀɴʏᴀʟ ᴀʟ ɢʜᴜʟ ᴀᴜ

(First Post Here and Second Post Here

--------

Danny finds Sam easily.

She's right where she said she was over the phone: standing outside on a balcony, in Gotham, at Father's many charity functions. 

("Would you still be willing to fly over to Gotham, Danny?" She asks, her voice ringing clear through the speakers. Danny is already climbing out his window before she even finishes her sentence. He was just about to settle down for the night, his ghosts would know better by now than to disturb him at this time. The Box Ghost not included.)

("Of course." He says, sounding more confident than he feels. Sam was one of his best— closest friends, he would do anything she or Tucker asked. Even if it means stepping foot into his Father's city. He drops down silently, and walks through the house's ghost shield. "Would you like me to bring you anything?")

(Sam sighs through the phone, relief leaking through. "One of the veggie burgers from Nasty Burgers would be great, with their new ecto-fries. Extra salt. I'm sick of all this rich people food.")

(A small smile pulls across Danny's face, tilting at the corner as his living form falls away to his ghost self. "Alright," he says, and kicks himself off the ground, "I'll be there in a few minutes.")

("Thanks, Danny.")

He had the bag of food with him, stored in a container he had to run back to the house to get that would prevent the food from cooling during his flight over. Clutching it in hand, he floats down behind Sam and sheds his invisibility.

Being visible and being invisible always felt different, but in a way Danny can never describe, no matter how many times he tries to think about it. It's like a gut-feeling, a sixth sense, he always knows when he's visible and when he is not.

His ghost form burns away like steel wool being lit, and Danny drops the last foot to the ground silently. In his other hand lies his thermos, but filled with plain ectoplasm — lazarus water. "I have your food." 

(He brought the thermos for himself — his side was still healing from his last fight with Technus. The ghost impaled him with a broken pipe, and Danny returned the favor by wedging his sword into his chest. Technus had been quite offended by him ruining his favorite coat.)

Sam jumps a foot into the air, and her hand slams across her mouth to muffle the shriek she lets out as she whirls around. "Danny!" She hisses, her voice rising in pitch, and her eyes narrow at him into a glare. "Freaking-- Tucker's right, we seriously need to put a bell on you."

"You have been saying that for years," Danny grins, sharp-toothed and jack-knifed, and passes the container over to her. "And yet I've yet to see any kind of bell." He was going to start getting disappointed at this rate.

As Sam takes the container, Danny hops up onto the railing and looks around. He hadn't seen any of Father's other children lurking around the building before he revealed himself, but that doesn't mean they aren't there. He wasn't going to fool himself into thinking that their stealth skills were poor.

He wasn't that arrogant.

...Anymore.

"Oh you will." Sam threatens, unzipping the container and grabbing the takeout bag. "I'll get you a collar and everything, we can start calling you Catwoman." When she pulls out her fries, Danny snaps forward and steals one from the box, ignoring her indignant yell as he pops it into his mouth.

"I spent my own money on these fries, Sam." He sniffs, leaning away from her with a stifled huff of laughter as she swats at him. "So they are technically my fries. And also, Catwoman would be a poor thief if she wore a bell."

Sam grumbles at him, and takes a bite out of a handful of fries. "I'll venmo you money." She says past a mouthful of food, Danny would have been disgusted in the past, when he was still new. But he's gotten used to this... normality. So he makes no reaction to it. "How does three hundred bucks sound?"

Danny immediately frowns.

"Did you have a fight with your parents?" He asks, eyes glancing to the doors. Doors that are covered heavily by curtains and blurred heavily, decadent music passing through in muffled sounds. He shifts himself away from the light. "You only spend that much money when they've pissed you off."

Sam's chewing stops, and her annoyed expression falters into one Danny knows well -- hurt, furrowed brows, a small frown, disappointment -- and she turns her head away from him. She swallows. "Yeah." she says, quiet.

Oh.

Danny knows that tone too.

Guilt settles like a rock in his chest. He leans forward, "Was it about me again?" He wasn't blind to the disdain Sam's parents had for him, far from it. This wasn't the first time Sam had gotten into a fight with them over her friendship with him and Tucker. But especially him. He unsettled people, even after years of observing his age-mates and trying to mimic their behavior, and anyone who knew him in middle school knew it was an act.  

Sam's silence gives him all the confirmation he needs, and the guilt heavies itself with the weight of the sky. Danny's never much cared about others' opinions of him -- he is (was?) an Al Ghul, they never heed to mind what the weight of a simpleton's thoughts.

But.. he cares a little a lot when it hurts his friends like this. He presses his lips together into a thin line, and forces the words out through his teeth. It sounds robotic. Al Ghul's do not apologize. "I... am sorry." But this one does. It doesn’t come easy. 

Sam sighs through her nose, and turns to roll her eyes at him. "Don't apologize on their behalf when you won't even apologize for your own; their assholes." She says, and goes reaching for more fries.

It's a sign, a signal. A silent word for the conversation to move on, to change. A distraction. Danny grasps it with both hands, and makes an offended noise in the back of his throat. And like he has learned, puts a hand to his chest like a scandalized American southern lady. "I apologize! I apologize plenty."

She snorts. "Only when you think it matters." And pokes him in the ribs sharply with her fry. He withholds a wince and snatches it out of her hands. "You're about as unapologetic as they come, Danny J. Fenton. I've seen you look more sincere when you're trying to drive your sword between Vlad's ribs."

"Stabbing Masters is a very important task for me, Sam." Danny says in only partially faux-seriousness. Masters has yet to realize that Danny had no interest in becoming his son, but he had to (reluctantly) admire his persistence. "Of course I will apply myself to it as best as I can."

He grins triumphantly when Sam laughs, and she reaches over to shove him square in the chest. He barks out a laugh of his own as he grips onto the balcony railing and catches himself at an angle.

"Quit with your method actor talk," Sam retorts, grinning sharply while Danny twists himself back up elegantly. "I know you can talk like a normal person, I've literally seen you do it."

Danny sniffs, and snatches more fries from the carton as revenge. "I'm not entirely sure what you mean, Miss Sam." He says, grin-twisting when Sam rolls her eyes. "My speech has always been this way. This 'normal' you speak of, I do not know it."

She waves her hand dismissively at him. "Yeah, yeah, whatever. But if you keep talking like that, I'm pushing you off the balcony."

"Such violence, Sam."

He gets a laugh again, full of disbelief without any of the annoyance. "I'm gonna be the one that stabs you, oh my god. Pot meet kettle." She looks at him again, smiling.

Danny smiles back, and with a flick of his wrist pulls out a kunai from his sleeve. It was one of the few weapons Mother was able to pass on to him whenever she made her scarce visits. He cherishes it well, along with anything else she was capable of giving him. 

He holds the handle out to her, and watches her face shift from disbelief to shock, then back to disbelief. "Then you're gonna need a weapon to do that." 

"Of course you have a pointy object on you." She mutters, and takes the kunai and puts it in her purse. Danny makes a pleased hum, it resonates low in his core, and drops his hand. "When do you not have a pointy object on you?"

As if to make her point, Danny's hands twist near his side, and he holds his palms up to her, revealing the shobo he had also hidden on him. He gives her a shit-eating grin. "Never." He lowers his hand, and pockets the small weapon once again. 

Sam huffs, "Of course," she repeats, "thanks. I was gonna bring a knife but..."

Danny finishes the sentence for her, kicking his feet idly and knowingly. "The security at the door?" He'd seen them on his flight over the building. It wouldn't do much in the face of the Rogues, but at least they were good at keeping appearances and keeping out the smaller threats.

He rolls his eyes and turns his head away, looking up to the ugly, smog-covered skies. There was no bat signal in the air, and while that was a good thing, Danny almost wished there was. He wanted to see it. "I saw, and I would’ve called Father foolish if he hadn’t hired help. He attracts trouble almost as badly as I do."

"Maybe it's hereditary," Sam jokes, laughing under her breath. With her fries finished, she started on her veggie burger. "At least your dad isn't a vigilante like you are."

Danny smiles wryly. It felt nice to be able to talk more freely about this. That he didn't have to hide the fact that his father was Bruce Wayne, now that Sam knew it from her own accord. Maybe he could have conversations like these more often. Even if it was limited to Bruce Wayne only.

(Even if it felt a little terrifying to know that his father was so close by, close enough that Danny could reach out and touch him. To speak to him. But how would he explain that? And with an audience?)

(He’s wanted to see him since he was a kid, and he still does. It clings onto him like a cough that doesn’t go away after the cold already has, and while it has faded over the years, it clings. His mother’s words still ring in his ears however; it’s not safe. It’s not safe.)

(And isn’t that why he faked his death in the first place? So that his little brother would be safe? Why he gave up the heirship, his home, his Mother, Damian, and his chance to meet his Father? Going to see Father, even now, would be throwing that all away. He has to stay away.)

(Why is Damian with Father if staying with Father was unsafe?) 

He just needed to tell Tucker. Danny wouldn’t keep him out of the loop, he was just as much as his friend as Sam was. His eyes draw towards the door, where the golden glow of lights was still pouring through, where music was playing loudly. "Yeah, fortunately." 

They fall into a comfortable silence after that, and Danny finally cracks open his thermos. The pipe Technus impaled him with was covered in a goo that Danny didn’t recognize, but whatever it was, his injury was taking its time healing. The ectoplasm was speeding it up. 

He isn’t sure what the difference between the ectoplasm that Drs. Fenton collected and Grandfather’s Lazarus pools is, but there’s a difference. He swirls the thermos slowly, watching as the ectoplasm inside twists into a small whirlpool sluggishly. 

When left alone, it thickens into a consistency similar to egg whites, or perhaps a thick smoothie, but reverts back into a water-like substance when moved and swirled. It was strange; unexplainable. He can understand, to an extent, why the Drs. Fenton are so obsessed with studying it and the dimension it comes from. 

Sam watches him idly as he brings the thermos to his lips and drinks from it. The effect is instantaneous, a sense of relief washing over Danny as if someone had put a soothing balm onto an injury. It buzzes down to his fingertips, and when he lowers the thermos, he licks his lips and watches the tips of his fingers burn green like frostbite. 

“Your hair turned white again.” Sam comments, her hand reaching out and touching the hair on the nape of his neck. While it’s not the first time Sam’s touched his hair, it still makes him tense up with her hand so close to his throat. Instinct. dan

He ignores the urge to bat her hand away, humming thoughtfully. “I’ve noticed it does that.” He says, pulling down his bangs to see if they’ve also turned white. No, still black. He lets go. “Let me guess; my eyes are green too?” He lifts the thermos again and peers into the chrome casing. 

Sam nods, “Yep, but it’s only the, uh.” She makes a circle around her eyes with her finger. “The iris part. Everything else is fine.” 

Danny can see that. The faint reflection on the chrome casts back an intense green. He takes another sip. It chills the back of his teeth, and he can feel his canines warp and sharpen. He runs his tongue over them, and swallows. 

Sam is still watching him, her fingers drumming against the balcony railing. “What’s it taste like?” 

“Carbonated.” He says dryly, before taking a large swig. He couldn’t name a specific flavor if he tried, it changed every time he took a sip. The only thing that stayed consistent was that it tasted carbonated. And slightly sweet. When he pulls the thermos away, Danny twists his body towards her and offers it out, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. “Want to try?” 

Her reaction is immediate. Sam’s nose scrunches up and her mouth twists into a smile, and she makes a huffing-laugh sound. “No, thank you.” She pushes it away lightly with her fingers, “I don’t know how to explain to my parents why my hair is white.” 

Right. Danny pulls the thermos away and puts it down beside him, straining his eyes to see if the rest of his hair has changed colors. Even just his first sip would take half an hour to fade back to its normal black, and he was a halfa. He had no idea how long it’d take to fade on Sam, who was human. 

There’s movement from the corner of his eye, and Danny snaps his head towards the source. There’s a figure, small, a boy, trying to hide behind one of the curtains at the door. His form just barely peeking out from the angle Danny was sitting at. He wouldn’t have seen him if the boy hadn’t moved. 

His fingers curl tightly into the railing, and he breathes in sharp. Sam’s smile crumbles away and she turns to see what he’s looking at. “I should go.” He says, and reaches for his thermos. “There’s someone spying on us. Don’t say anything, just look at me.” 

Sam’s expression warps, twists. Her eyes widen, her jaw starts to drop before fixing itself into place, and her shoulders curl up and tense. She forces it all to smooth over, and she leans casually against the railing. There’s a tick in her jaw. “I see.” Her voice comes through teeth. “Do you think they saw you?”

“I am not sure.” Danny says. He keeps an eye on the figure as he twists himself over and grabs the Nasty Burger bag and the container. He tries not to look like he’s rushing. He is. How long has that boy been there? How much did he see? Did he hear anything? 

“Father, fortunately, has privacy films on the glass. Nobody should have seen me unless they’re specifically trying to peep through the door.” He says. The boy seems to realize that Danny was starting to leave. And, his heart beginning to sink, instead of leaving, moves to grab the door handle instead.

No. No, no, no, no, no.

Danny’s breath catches in his throat, he’s hoping that isn’t who he think it is. But how else would he have not noticed an eavesdropper on their conversation unless it was someone who was capable of bypassing those skills? He told himself that he wouldn’t fool himself into thinking that his siblings’ had poor stealth. He got distracted. 

Five years, five years. He refuses to let that go down the drain. He zips up the container and throws his legs over the other side of the railing, his back facing the door. He hears the doorknob click, and without a word to Sam, slips off down the side and down to the ground below.

Just in time. The once muffled music now sounds blaring as the door presumably is thrown open and the pull of invisibility washes over him like a second skin. He doesn't stay to see who it is.

[melis-writes]

hello. I ♥️ your fics and think you’re an extremely talented individual.

since requests for the vincent hanna prompts are open, could you post one where he makes love to his significant other after a rough night?.

Aww, thank you so much kind anon!! 🥺🥰 That means the world to me! ❤ All the Vincent Hanna x reader prompts in the world and open and Vincent definitely deserves some loving after all that he does every single day, unlike everything he got in the film. 😥💓

Vincent takes in a deep breath, pushing away any harbouring thoughts of his night at work and lingering frustration over him as he slowly pushes open the bedroom door.

‘Thank fuck.’ Vincent thinks to himself as he enters the dimly lit bedroom, grateful the door doesn’t squeak for once.

“Hi,” you whisper, laying curled up in bed with the duvet and blankets snuggled up to your chest.

“Hi, baby.” Vincent can’t help but look disappointed as he closes the door behind him. “Sorry sweetheart, I didn’t mean to wake you at this—” Vincent gestures to the alarm clock on the nightstand reading 2:34 AM. “Ungodly late hour.”

“Stop apologizing for that, please.” You let out a soft laugh, beginning to sit up while propping your elbows up on the bed. “I was awake the whole time, couldn’t you guess?”

A smile for the first time in many hours forms over Vincent’s face as he shrugs off his suit jacket, neatly setting it aside. “Think you know my schedule and late hours more than I do now.”

“I’m just patient, what can I say?” You blush, watching as Vincent throws off his tie next, beginning to undress. “How was work?”

“How was work…” Vincent grumbles to himself—his irritation most obvious. “If some people in our department weren’t so incompetent, I wouldn’t have to waste so much of my time fixing their bullshit. There’s peoples lives on the lines, crimes, criminals out there—they don’t make it easy at all for me.”

You pout back at Vincent as the blankets begin to slowly slip off your chest. “That’s a very different response than what I got last night.”

“Last night was my last day of peace this goddamn week.” Vincent turns back to face you, now only in a bare of boxer briefs.

“Hmm?” You smile teasingly at him, purposefully keeping the covers barely over your bare breasts. “About that…”

The sheer frustration and annoyance in Vincent’s eyes recalling how rough his shift went practically fades from his expression instantly, gazing upon you instead.

“Show me what you’re wearing,” Vincent’s tone of voice falls low and husky as he approaches the foot of the bed.

“Come find out yourself.” You smirk back, “you knew I was waiting and that I’ve missed you.”

“Missed me, hmm?” Keeping his voice down to a quiet whisper between the two of you, Vincent doesn’t approach you but rather gets into his side of the bed.

Just as you turn to face Vincent curiously, your cheeks flare up in blush as you feel his large, firm hands clasp over both sides of your hips, pulling you against his body on the bed.

“What are you wearing?” Vincent asks again, this time with a playful grin over his lips as both of your half naked bodies curl up against one another.

“Just about…” you whisper against Vincent’s lips, placing your hands over his to move them down to your pelvis—resting his fingers against your pussy lips. “Nothing.”

Vincent’s muscles tense up with arousal and he can neither ignoring his throbbing erection or the dewiness the tips of his fingers come into contact with over your wet pussy.

The silence between the two of you only interrupted with soft breathing speaks of a mutual passion the two of you share for one another.

Vincent’s lips brush against yours before colliding into a sweet, needy kiss—not one fueled by greed or an insistency through sexual frustration, but gentleness and desire to please and love one another.

Wrinkling the sheets underneath the two of you and snuggled amidst the blankets, Vincent’s chest brushes up against yours—causing your tender nipples to harden with a flare of arousal.

“Ah,” you moan quietly in Vincent’s mouth, letting your hands get lost in his silky dark hair as Vincent deepens the kiss you two share.

Vincent’s hands rub over your supple, soft thighs, roaming upwards before wrapping them around his waist.

As Vincent pulls away to continue letting his hands wander over the side of your thighs and hips, your lips glisten from the wet kiss—feeling Vincent begin to kiss around your breasts.

“Baby,” Vincent  murmurs inbetween your breasts, obsessed with the way you’re eager to give into him as much as Vincent is to please you.

“Please, please…” You groan, unable to ignore the pooling wetness between your legs from Vincent caressing your body.

Vincent steals a full mouthed kiss from your lips, pressing his forehead against yours as he lets his erection spring free from his boxer briefs.

Keeping your legs spread and thighs obediently wrapped around Vincent’s back, you bite down on your lip as the scent of Vincent’s cologne hits you just as he begins to tease by slicking the tip of his cock up and down your wet slit.

“Never got a chance to continue—” Vincent kisses you again, “what we started last night…”

You clutch your hands onto Vincent’s back and gazing at him through dazed, half opened eyes. “That’s right.”

Getting a perfect, upward angle at your pussy, Vincent slowly begins to insert his cock into your tightness while keeping his thumb over your clit to rub in lazy circles.

“O-Oh my God, Vincent…” You whimper, squeezing your eyes shut as you push your hips back against his.

The bedroom feels ten degrees hotter as you and Vincent embrace one another, coaxing in every inch of his thick cock into you gently.

Sparks of pleasure flow through you as your body writhes under Vincent’s, desperate to feel more of him in that heavenly full feeling building up inside of you.

“Yes…” You hear Vincent hiss out, burying every inch of his cock inside of you—careful not to cause you any discomfort or go in too quickly.

You mouth an inaudible “oh my God”, hearing a soft grunt from Vincent who begins to thrust inside of you at a deep pace as slow as he can go.

Sighing in ecstasy, Vincent’s lips continue trailing hot, wet kisses over your neck as your thighs begin to tremble against his waist.

Making love to you, Vincent keeps his kisses soft and touch admiring over every inch of your body rather than any possessiveness—craving you in every way possible.

“Y-yes…” You feel every inch of Vincent’s cock filling you to the brim with each push, adding a erotic pressure to your pelvis as an orgasm begins to steadily build inside of you.

Your pussy throbs against Vincent’s shaft, contracting against his cock which only doubles Vincent’s pleasure as he continues to rock your body against the bed.

“I love you,” Vincent murmurs against your neck, leaving little red love marks as he suckles over your skin but careful not to deepen it or leave a lasting mark.

“O-oh!” Moans spill out of you mouth against your will as you bury your face into Vincent’s shoulder, feeling every tinge of your heavenly orgasm growing.

Your thighs shake like jelly against Vincent’s waist, barely able to keep them wrapped around him as Vincent’s deep thrusting pounds towards your G-spot, beckoning for an orgasm.

Unable to keep quiet from the pleasure racking over him, Vincent lets out groans and moans against your skin, refusing to stop kissing every inch of your body.

“O-ooh, right there baby—yes, yes, right there.” Your breath shakes as you can hear the sounds of Vincent making love to you; skin slapping against skin and your pussy sloshing against his cock.

Vincent’s lips kiss upward to your jawline before finding your mouth again, now purposefully angling his thrusts to only hit at your sweet spot over and over again.

You roll your eyes in pleasure, hungrily kissing Vincent back as you dig your nails into his back.

Vincent lets a free hand trail back down to your thigh, giving it a gentle smack before raising it up to his shoulder blade—providing you the perfect view over his shoulder to see how his cock soaked in your pussy juices slicks in and out of you again and again.

Vincent and you make split eye contact, breathing in-between the kiss as you let an out of breath giggle—purely intoxicated by the way this man makes love to you and knowing you’re in for a long, erotic night.

[mrghostrat]

it's chemical warfare, red lips and television eye wear raspberry soda hair, in the pool in a blow up gummy bear

it's only november and it feels like summer already. paintin crowleys to cope 💧 (speedpaint on patreon tomorrow!)

[aprito]

the trials and tribulations of dating cross country and season

[extrashortshorts]

Buggy💫....

🐀🎁...

[spirit-lanterns]

Speaking of heats, Catgirl Reader gets pretty loud during hers, and she won’t stop until she gets the attention she needs. Unlike Bunny Reader who is usually more quiet and only thumps her foot when she needs help, Catgirl Reader is sliding up against her owners, meowing very loudly in human form and demanding she have sex now.

During her heat, you would most likely find her cockwarming someone’s strap while they’re busy, or whining to Ruan Mei for some heat suppressant pills until the week is over 😅