#SO HE SPREADS THOSE AROUND FOR GOOD MEASURE

[ozzgin]

Hi!! Your writing it truly lovely 😭<33 If i could request anything with Zzy? Thank youuu

Yandere! Demon x Gloomy! Reader (II)

Featuring the goat-legged boy Zzy and a gloomy, newly employed detective Reader! By the way, his name is a little tribute to a series I like. Can you guess who inspired it? Hint: it's Jhonen Vasquez's first comic :D

Content: female reader, perverted goat demon yandere, dark/crass humor!, monster romance, mildly NSFW

[Part 1] [Monster masterlist]

The detective man, at the very least, kept his word. The pay is good, and you barely have any work to do. The jobs themselves are similarly not too challenging: so far you haven’t had to deal with any murder mystery out of an Agatha Christie novel. Rather, most of the time, it’s someone asking you to investigate their cheating partner, or sending you to do a background check for an employee. Every now and then you’ll get the odd client, but that’s something for another day.

Your boss isn’t all that bad either. You were initially quite hesitant to be alone in the room with him. He always seems to be surrounded by an eerie, dark aura, and you’ve only seen him smile in a menacing, villainous way. Now you’ve gotten used to his strangeness. In fact, it’s almost comforting. There’s something refreshing about another human being honest about their misery. He seems to be just as uninterested in this job as you are, spending most of his time reading at his desk. Despite his unkempt, scary appearance, he's pleasant enough and looks after you. Which, now that you think about it, is a little suspicious. You've seen him act around other people: curt and to the point, disinterested, even potentially rude. With demons, he's ruthless.

"Have you had lunch yet?" the man asks, standing up and dusting his knees. "I can get us something."

You nod and flash him a flaccid smile, although you can't help but ask:

"Listen, aren't you being a little too nice? I mean, I'm not complaining...but I've seen how you behave in general, and I have a hard time coming up with a reason for my special treatment."

He ponders your question for a moment, before his sunken eyes look ahead, somewhere behind you.

"Well…If I’m being honest, you’re kind of pathetic, aren't you? I’m just a little worried that if I’m too harsh, I’ll find out you hanged yourself in your apartment or something. Not that I’d care, but if you’re gone, I’m the one stuck with…that thing.”

Ah. That’s what it was. Almost immediately, a shiver runs across your spine.

“(Y/N)! Are you done yet? I’m booooooored”, a prolonged whine erupts from the neighboring chamber.

“I’m about to have lunch, actually. Do you want any-”

“You know I do! Spread those legs and I can start”, the goat demon declares with a grin, clacking his hooves in your direction.

You sigh.

Of course. Months ago, you were tricked into signing a lifelong contract with Zzy. It was the detective’s way of washing his hands off the matter and warmly welcoming you into the agency. It makes sense that he'd treat you with utmost care, otherwise he'd have to deal with this pest from Hell once again.

How's your life with Zzy going?

You've since found a way to seal your bedroom, in order to avoid waking up with his groping hands under your sheets. Sadly, the stubborn creature keeps finding ways to bypass your safety measurements. Who would’ve thought that lust is such a powerful driving force?

On top of the nightly shenanigans, you obviously have to deal with him during the day, at the agency. “Listen, it’s like…one of those fidget toys. It helps with stress”, he explains fervently while pointing at your chest. “You want me to do my work properly, don’t you?” He concludes theatrically. “You’re not holding my boobs. This is the end of the conversation.”

If you’re having a bad day, it won’t go unnoticed. “Boy, what a smell, what a delicacy. You’re even more miserable than usual”, Zzy will exclaim, throwing his hands together in a graceful prayer. “You know what the best medicine is? A quick fuck. Let me pound that sadness out of you, eh?”

Despite his constant clowning, the demon does have moments of clarity. He becomes particularly serious when jealous. “What have you done?” You shout in despair, gawking at the client - now morphed into a pig - foaming at the mouth and running around the room. “He was staring at your ass. Only I can do that.” The horned man stands proud, arms crossed, nodding at his own courageous act. His most treasured belonging has been defended once more.

As expected, the jealous curse has gotten both of you into time-out. Zzy because he cursed the client in the first place, and you - despite your protests - because you didn't stop him in time. "Can't you wear something easier to take off? It takes two business days to unbutton this crap", the demon complains as he fiddles with your shirt. You're laying on the sofa, hands behind your head, gazing at the clock on the wall and counting the minutes passing. Unbothered, compliant. The peacefulness of someone who's given up. "Zipper is to the left", you add, aiding the process.

Another irritating detail is that the damned beast can detect the slightest arousal coming from you, and will make sure to announce it loudly, regardless of who is around. "Someone's horny! Whew, getting me all worked up, too." You slap a hand over his mouth, a deep red blush rapidly spreading across your cheeks. You turn to the detective and apologize profusely, but he remains unconcerned, flipping another page. "Let me take care of her first, Mr. Detective", Zzy manages to mumble through your pressed fingers. "As long as you get the task done", your boss responds plainly, never bothering to look up from his book.

"You should visit me down there sometimes", the horned creature suddenly mentions, his head resting in your lap as you idly browse your phone. You stop to glance down at him. "In Hell, you mean?" He snickers at the thought. "No one believes me when I tell them I have a human girlfriend. I need concrete proof, ya feel me?" You raise an eyebrow. "Girlfriend?" He disregards your inquiry and continues: "At least give me a pair of your panties to take back home." Absolutely not.

"Were you this much of a menace before I showed up?"

"What's that supposed to mean?! You can't blame a demon for being in love."

You sigh once more and roll over.

"Does that mean we can go for round two~?" Zzy is grinning at his own suggestion.

"Just go to sleep. Or something."

[prettyboykatsuki]

✮ tags ; fingering, gn + afab!reader, pro-hero katsuki, dirty talk from both parties, semi-public sex (they're in a dressing room), finger-sucking, 18+

✮ wc ; 1.5k

✮ a/n ; it feels like i just got hit over the head with a fucking mallet. i swear im still on hiatus. its seven in the morning. im going to go crazy. the literal spike of adrenaline i got looking at him.

"No way," He snorts, his voice clipped—cocky against the shell of your ear as his hands sneaks against your waist. "This is what gets you?"

A reflexive part of you doesn't want to give Katsuki the satisfaction of a yes. You know how he is. You'd go as far as saying you like it - almost as much as you like him when he's not acting like the center of the universe. But it's undeniable that part of what draws you to Katsuki is the very thing that causing you strife now.

He's complicated. Underlined all that dripping egoism is a real sense of uncertainty - and that part of him is sexy too. The awkward, lovesick gentle man he can be when he wants.

But. But.

Other times, it's his magnetism. Such raw, enigmatic confidence built on experience. Prowess. No amount of complicated can erase or overshadow just how much Katsuki is a pure fire. You normally get boyfriend Katsuki, and he's catty and affectionate with nothing to prove. Soggy and loveable and approachable.

You forget, often, what he can be like when the cameras flash. What the public likes of him. Which is raw sex appeal and sultry eyes and a wicked little grin, wolfish and wanting.

You're not ashamed to admit seeing that turns you on. And it's only worsened to see him bask in it - getting off on the sudden attention

(Your attention, specifically - considering he had been all but indifferent to the awing of studio, only minutes prior.)

"Yeah, it is," You groan, pressing your forehead against his shoulder. Your body shudders responsively to his touch.

There's something rushed about the whole ordeal. Your back is pressed up against the mirror in his dressing room - legs spread with your pants barely unbuttoned. Katsuki is no better, borrowed pants snug on thick, muscular thighs. He laughs a little breathlessly. No less affected than you if the tent in his pants is any measure.

"Aw, what?" He presses, his lips pulled. All canines as he rests his palm over your waistband and doesn't move an inch. "Seeing me in front of all those cameras turn you on?"

You pull away to stare at him and he's grinning. Unusual playfulness steeped and soaked between layers of lust. Your hand reaches for his length, hand cupped around as you grip. He closes his eyes, swears under his breath.

"You look good," You tell him, and you mean it - much more than you've meant anything in the last twenty minutes. He's taken aback by the candor despite asking for it. "You looked so fucking good."

His eyes go lidded as he presses his mouth to yours. He stops teasing, breaching past your pants into your underwear. Your spine curls at the sudden sensation. Brief and unmoving. You can feel how wet you are, feel the way your arousal burns in your core and makes your whole body tight with want.

"You mean that," He says more than asks. His breathing goes shaky and you can feel him pulse in your hands. "Say it. Tell me you want it."

You laugh a little "Want you, Katsuki. Make me feel good, baby."

He groans, once again loosing all composure. You hold onto Katsuki's shoulder as he takes your words like a challenge—the way he takes most things. Everything about the experience is both too much and not enough. You both know it. The energy in the room electric, it's almost harder not to take it all off and fuck him in the middle of his work-day. He has to be back out there in god knows how soon but you can barely keep your legs together without the friction driving you crazy.

He breathes slow trying to maintain his composure- huffs as his fingers press along the folds of your cunt. "You're so wet, fuck," He drops his chin against your shoulder "Never seen you like this"

"You look good when you're all in front of the camera, my love," You huff, an arm around his middle as you draw him close. Your voice is close next to his ear, speaking soft. "A waste you can't fuck me right now,"

There's something like a low growl in his throat when he finally gives you what you. Katsuki knows your body like the back of his hand - every inch of you memorized. Precise, angular movements. He circles your clit a few times before moving down further. You can feel the tight space get tighter, the heel of his hands pressing against your clit as his fingers push past your entrance.

You bite back a moan so broken it's pitiful and he groans with you. He goes slowly at first, tries to ease you into the sensation of his fingers. His are so much thicker and so much longer, noticeable as you feel him stretch your pussy out. He presses the heel of his hand up a little more to give you everything.

"How the hell am I supposed to go out there?" He grits. "Talking to me like that like I'm not about to go back out there."

"I'll let you fuck me as much as you want as a sorry, I promise."

He scoffs at you, makes a point of it as both of his fingers slide into you. He always starts with his middle - feels around for the sweet spot until you're gripping at him harder. After he finds it, he adds his ring finger. He stiffens when you moan, his own arousal starting to show in his face. Red eyes all clouded with desire so deep it could drown.

A honeyed feeling blooms in your core. Burns hot like sugar as you spread your legs to give him more room to you. Your body is so hot, so molten - you give up on everything else. On thinking, on breathing, on keeping quiet. You slump into the mirror behind you as he sets a motion. His fingers curl towards him over and over, rubbing and pushing and grinding against your pulsing core. Against your g-spot, throbbing insides trembling with each gesture.

Your voice breaks out. A deep, needy moan punched from your lungs. He stares at you before ducking into your space. His teeth scrape against the skin near your jaw, kissing and biting and licking. He pays attention to the sweet spot underneath your ear.

"Look at you," He says, like he's gloating. You think he is. If you weren't so aroused you might be able to pay it some mind. "Gonna cum on my fucking fingers, huh?"

"Fuck, Katsuki. Fuck me, fuck."

"I'll make good on that promise, damn tease." He says with a laugh. Biting and cocky and egotistical. Unbearably sexy at the worst of times. It's effecting you more than you care to admit, but you don't have the capacity to pull away from him. "Makin' me do this to you in the middle of my work day like some kinda freak."

"Like it doesn't turn you on,"

He laughs, deep and low. "That's the problem, dumbass."

"Kat," You shudder, your back arching - eyes fluttering closed as you grip his arm. You can feel the way his muscle flexes under your nail, digging into your arm. You groan and whine, cunt clenching around his fingers. It's dripping, noisy as he draws the mess out of you. "Gonna cum."

"Make a mess. Show it to me."

The sound of his voice, gravel coarse and low - is what ends up pushing you over the edge you're sure. Your orgasm crashes into so quickly and with so much force. You barely keep yourself from screaming. Your boyfriend kisses you to swallow whatever other noises you make - seemingly eager to do it. He puts his tongue into your mouth, stifling any other remaining noise.

Your body is pulses, pussy fluttering as shocks of euphoric flit through your whole body and leave you in complete and utter wreckage. Katsuki fucks you through it like the overachiever he tends to be, his fingers highlighting the soft sticky noises of your orgasm as you finish.

Your whole body shakes as a result of your lust. Not entirely gone but at least somewhat tamped down. You let your eyes flutter open as Katsuki pulls his hand away.

Before he can wipe his fingers down, you grab his wrist and pull them up to your mouth. He looks at you startled at first before he realizes, a look of pure lust settling on his features. Carmine red eyes stare down at you hard as you lick your cum off of his hand with a tired smile.

"Take more pictures for me to get off on and come fuck me before we go, okay?"

"Fucking evil little brat." He hisses, kissing you. He moans when he tastes you on him. "Don't think about anything but me while I'm gone."

You shake your head, trying to make sense of anything. "Don't think I could."

He laughs good-naturedly, kissing you again. "Damn right,"

[the-atlas-sister]

MORE RANDOM TOKYO REVENGERS RELATIONSHIP HEADCANNONS BECAUSE IM BORED

But make it ✨spicy✨

Hanma gives you praises while he fucks you like a slut. When you give him head he’ll hold you by the hair, dick thrusting into your mouth while he grins down at you.

“Look at my pretty girl,” Hanma grunts softly, his hand holding your hair into a ponytail as he pushed his dick even farther down your throat. Tears stained your cheeks as you gagged against his cock. “C’mon princess,” he hummed, the pace of his hips increasing at the sound of your gag.

Your hands remained at your back, restrained by Hanma’s belt. He left you as nothing more than a fucktoy for his own pleasure, and yet- he spoke as if you were the most precious thing he'd ever laid his eyes on.

“M’close, princess,” he grunted, his grip on your hair tightening. A whimper vibrated in your throat at the action, finally forcing Hanma over the edge. He let out a mix between a sadistic laugh and a moan as he let his cum shoot down your throat. He huffed softly, pulling your lips away from his dick with a mad grin on his face as he gazed at the ceiling. “That’s my girl.

Izana has a mommy kink. He only discovers it if he has an inherently caring partner. Every time you patch up his wounds or treat him with a certain degree of care he didn’t think he’d ever receive, he finds himself just wanting to drop to his knees and make you shake with pleasure.

“Wanna make you feel so good,” the white haired boy whined against your pussy as he sloppily licked and kissed at the wet folds. He gazed up at you from his place between your thighs. Your cheeks were flushed and hair was messy. You gripped the headboard behind you tightly, low moans and whimpers leaving your lips. “You deserve to feel good. Wanna show you how much I love mommy’s pussy,” he rambled against you, his tongue pushing into your tight hole, making you gasp out softly. He’d been at this for at least half an hour now, holding your squirming hips down on the bed as he ate you to his heart’s content.

“Z-Zana,” you whined, pressing your head back against the headboard as he nuzzled his nose against your clit, making your toes curl. “Feels good baby.”

Your praise only encouraged Izana to press his face deeper into your pussy, lapping madly at your entrance. He gripped your hips, guiding you to grind on his face. His pace had no rhythm or pattern, causing your stomach to grow hot. “Cum for me mommy, please, please,” he begged against you, his saliva mixing with the slick already dripping from your cunt.

You reached down and gripped his hair, letting out whiney moans as you felt yourself reaching your climax. God how Izana loved those moans of you. It was as if every sound you made encouraged him to push you over the edge.

Your back arched and a moan fell from your lips as your climax overcame you. Izana held your hips down, continuing to lick at your pussy as you came on his face.

Your chest heaved as he looked up at you, a shit eating grin on his face as he crawled on top of you. “Can I put it in now Mommy? Please?”

Mitsuya uses measuring you as an excuse to feel you up. After establishing a relationship with you he wished for nothing more than to create clothes he made perfectly for you. You don’t have to know that he doesn’t need to see you completely naked to take your measurements though.

“You know I don’t know if I have anymore room in my closet for more of your clothes,” you giggle as you stand between your boyfriend’s spread legs. His eyes are focused on your body, examining every curve, shape and dip. His large hands held your waist firmly in place, sliding the slowly over the curve of your hips.

“I’ll buy you a bigger closet,” the designer mumbled, reaching around you to cup the fat of your ass. He gave it a firm squeeze, chuckling as you let out a surprised yelp. You held his shoulders gently, sending him a playful scowl. “I’m taking measurements!” he quickly defended with a sly smirk on his lips.

You let out a light scoff at his words. You had caught onto his game long ago- you weren’t that oblivious after all. Despite this, you allowed Mitsuya to continue his “measuring”.

You watched him with flushed cheeks as he trained his hands over your waist and up to your breasts. Your breath hitched in your throat as he cupped the two mounds of flesh, his thumbs swiping across your already hard nipples. “Takashi…” you whispered, goosebumps spreading across your skin as he pinched the sensitive buds on your breasts.

His lavender eyes trail back up to your face, reviling in its flushed appearance. He keeps his eyes on your face as he gently grabs your thigh, guiding it so that your foot was placed just beside his hip. You looked away from him shyly as he delicately stroked the length of your leg. Once his hand reached your thigh once more, he leaned down slightly, placing a tender kiss to the inner thigh. “So wet baby?” he said, his voice deep and low as he stared at your already wet pussy on full display at the position he put you in. “Already? I’m just taking your measurements.”

Seishu needs you to use his first name when he’s fucking you. Sure he likes nicknames. (Please call him honey. He doesn’t know why but it just feels so domestic and makes him really happy in bed) But calling him “Seishu” really gets him going more than anything. He was so used to feeling like his best friend loved him because of his sister (Koko always just called him Inui) so calling him by his first name to name makes him feel seen and knows you love him for him.

“Hi Seishu,” you chuckle as soon as you feel your boyfriend wrap his arms around your waist from behind. He smelled like motor oil and gas and you could still feel the rough material of his uniform on your skin. “Long day?” you commented as you continued to chop the vegetables necessary for dinner. Seishu only responded by placing a kiss on the back of your neck. His arms tightened around you and his face nuzzled between your shoulder and neck. “Seishu?”

“Say it again?” he said softly, his voice slightly muffled by your skin.

“Hm?” You smiled softly as Seishu gently turned you to face him.

“Say it again,” he said, placing his hands on the counter behind you, trapping you between himself and the counter. His eyes were dark and he was inching ever closer.

“Seishu?” you repeated, pressing your forehead against his own. There was a teasing smile on your lips. “Long day honey?” you whispered, wrapping your arms around his shoulders as he pushed all of your freshly chopped vegetables to the side. He picked you up easily and placed you on top of the counter.

“I just missed you,” he said gently, holding your thighs. He leaned forward, pressing his lips along the skin of your jaw. “Missed your voice.”

Naoto does not have it in him to look at you when you suck his cock. It doesn’t matter if you’re offering to do it or he suggests it, he just can’t make himself look at you. Don’t get me wrong, his little breathy moans and grunts are enough praise for you and he knows that, but he just feels too embarrassed to look at you in such a lewd position.

Naoto held a firm hand over his mouth as he sat reclined in his chair within his office. His cheeks were flushed red and his eyes focused on the small window in the corner. Anything but you, kneeling under his desk, sucking his cock shamelessly.

"You really don't need to," he'd insisted, blushing when you suggest the act.

"But I know you've been busy and work has been stressful," you'd say with that sweet smile of yours he'd fallen in love with. Your soft hands ran over his clothed chest gently, almost encouraging him to say yes to your little offer. "And I know it helps you relax," you cooed in his ear softly. "Just for a few minutes, yeah?"

That's how you ended up here, on your knees, hands keeping Naoto's shaking legs open as you hollow your cheeks against his cock. You pressed the flat of your tongue against the underside of his length, feeling a wet patch developing in your panties as he let out a broken and muffled moan from behind his hands. You gazed up at him with half-lidded eyes as you massaged his balls with your right hand.

He never looked at you when you were on your knees for him. Not that you minded, it just gave you a better view of his heaving chest and bobbing adam's apple.

Naoto's free hand gripped the arm of his chair tightly, knuckles turning white as he bit down on the hand over his mouth. You always knew just what to do to make him lose that last bit reselence. You knew that he had missed you just as much as you missed him.

Most importantly you knew just how much he loved having you on his knees, even if he couldn't bare to look at you.

Ran likes to have you ride him after he's done with long meetings. It's become almost routine for the both of you. He's started to even text you before he comes home, letting you know how it went, but so you can prep yourself.

"L-long meeting, huh?" you say, eyes screwed shut as you sat on Ran's lap, his cock already buried deep inside you. He had his larger hands on the fat of your hips in a lazy grip.

"Just borin'," Ran stated simply, experimentally guiding you to grind against him. "Ready to move yet, doll?" You grunted softly, nodding your head in response before rolling your hips against his. You plant your hands on his chest firmly and start to slowly bounce on his cock.

"Wha-what happened?" you tried to push out, forcing your eyes open to look at him. He smirked at you knowingly, bouncing you on his length. He thought it was cute how invested in his business you were, even as you tried your rode his cock.

"Nothing you need to worry yourself about," he smirked, watching with pleasure as you tried to get yourself off, all while trying to hear about his day at the same time.

You frown at how easily he brushed off your question. You stopped your movement, keeping yourself planted on his lap. "Ran, I wanna hear about it, please?" You rocked your hips against him, forcing his cock deeper into you.

Ran chuckled softly, his smug smirk still gracing his lips. "I'll tell you about it later, yeah doll?" he said, gripping your hips and thrusting up into you, causing you to let out a surprised gasp. "Right now just focus on riding my cock."

Shinichiro has a fantasy of having you suck him off behind the counter of his shop. It's a fantasy he's far to embarrassed to ever bring up to you, but whenever he seems you waltz into the shop, wearing that pretty little sundress of yours, he can't help but let his mind wander...

Shinichiro's day always got a little better when he saw you walking through the door. That bright smile on your face never failed to make his heart jump out of his chest, no matter how many times he saw it illuminate his little shop. He grinned at you, wiping some oil from his face. His eyes scanned your figure, smile growing wider as he saw the little sundress you wore. It had a short flowing skirt that stopped around your knees and soft off the shoulder sleeves.

"Hey baby," he said, wiping his hands on a spare rag. You gleefully walked up to his front counter, leaning forward on it.

"Hi," you said happily, giving him a gentle peck on the lips. Shinichiro smiled like an idiot as you kissed him. You hopped onto the counter and swung your legs over to the other side, now sitting on top of it in front of him. "I thought we could go on a date during your lunch," you hummed, watching him with a smile as he cleaned up his latest project.

"Damn," Shinichiro swore, frowning to himself at your suggestion. He smiled quickly as he noticed a look of confusion crossing your features. "Sorry hun, I just had lunch," he said, smiling apologetically. He stood up and stood in front of you, placing his hands on your thighs softly.

"Oh," you said, a small frown crossing your features. Your frown made Shinichiro frown as well.

"You wanna just stick around though?" he suggested, playing with a loose string on the end of the skirt. "I could use a distraction. It's been a slow day anyway." You smiled softly at his words, nodding slightly.

You sat on the counter, watching as Shinichiro contiued to work on his bike. A bike for his little brother, you recalled him telling you a few weeks back. Every so often you noticed his eyes wandering to your seated figure, making you smile at him.

As you sat so pretty on his counter, Shinchiro couldn't help but let his mind wander to one of his favorite little fantasies. The image of you kneeling in front of him, just below his counter, hidden from the view of anyone except him appeared vividly in his mind. He could imagine the way your watery eyes would look at they looked up at him, mouth full of his cock. He'd talk with every customer, helping them in any way he could while still staying in place, letting you continue your work. He'd hope his customers wouldn't notice the way he gripped the counter in an iron grip, one hand sneakily below it, gripping your hair to keep you against him.

He kept his eyes focused on the bike in front of him, hoping it'd hide his obvious blush. But of course, he wasn't so lucky.

"What're you thinking about bubba's?" you said gently, tilting your head at your boyfriend as his cheeks flushed a deep red color.

"H-huh?" he said suddenly, seemingly snapped out of whatever trance he had been in. He looked up at you, slightly embarrassed at being caught in such a headspace. "Oh, just thinking..." he mumbled, going back to work on his bike.

"What about?" you asked, hopping off the counter and approaching the young man. You squatted behind him, pressing your cheek into his back. You wrapped your arms around his waist, nuzzling into his back. "Me?" you asked teasingly, noticing the ever growing tent in his pants.

"How'd you know?" he chuckled sheepishly, leaning his head back against your own. You giggled at his words and slight show of affection.

"Do I get to know what about?" you asked softly, placing your hands on his arms and rubbing up and down gently.

"Not yet baby," he hummed, reaching around to take your hand. He brought it to his lips and kissed your knuckles softly. "Not yet."

Chifuyu likes to kiss your neck. As simple as it may seem, he likes it. You've discovered it's his own little way of telling you he loves you and wants to be more intimate with you. You are also always able to tell what mood he's in, depending on how he kisses your neck and who he's willing to do it in front of.

"Hi 'Fuyu," you hum with a bright smile as Chifuyu entered your shared bedroom. His hair was a mess and there were bits of white fur still attached to his black t-shirt. He gave you a tired smile, lazily pulling off his messy shirt and tossing it in the hamper in the corner of the room. "Long day?" you guessed with a giggle as he plopped onto the foot of the small bed. Your hair was messy and makeup gone, wearing one of Chifuyu's cardigans over a bra and pair of his boxers. You always argued his clothes were far more comfortable than your own.

"Mhm," he sighed, crawling up the bed to finally land at your side. "A few teenagers brought in a whole box of kittens," he groaned, laying down on the bed next to you. "They were cute as hell- THE KITTENS NOT THE GIRLS!" You giggled as he shot up to look at you seriously. You nodded at him, showing you understood what he meant, watching as he collapsed next to you once more. "But they didn't want to be cared for by anyone. Damn things were shaking and cold but too scared to let any of us come near them, so that was a whole thing." You hummed in response to his words, shuffling so you could look at him as he spoke. "Then, like three of the dogs got loose because our newest employee forgot to lock the door to the playpen."

"Oh my god," you said, jaw dropping slightly as he recounted his stressful day. "I'm sorry baby, that sounds like a fucking rough day." You gently brushed some of his hair to the side.

"You have no idea," Chifuyu sighed, gently taking your hand in his own. He gently kissed the tips of your fingers, letting his eyes fluttered closed. "But now I'm home with you, so everything's better." You chuckled at his kind words, melting at how delicately he kissed your hand.

"Can I do anything to help you destress?" you asked softly, running your free hand over the skin of his chest and stomach. "I could make you a bath or we could read your favorite mangas?"

"I have something else in mind," Chifuyu said softly, leaning over and pressing a soft kiss to the space between your shoulder and neck. He gently brushed any loose strands of hair away from your neck before continuing to kiss the sensitive skin there. Your cheeks flushed at the action. "What do you say, Y/n? Lemme use you for a bit, yeah?"

You inhaled shakily as he began to place open mouth kisses along your neck, shuffling so his free hand landed on the other side of your body. "Y-yeah, use me "Fuyu."

I have more ideas buuuuuuuut I felt like this was a good length for this.

[yzashaven]

2023 KINKTOBER︰10﹒01 / 10﹒02

꒰ —♡ B R E E D I N G ﹒ PART 1 ꒱

EVENT MASTERLIST !

FEATURING ! ayato, xiao, diluc, kuronushi x fem!reader

WARNINGS ! breeding obviously, shibari, some anal, cum overflow :0, overstimulation, praising, think that's all + VERY SHORT HELP

NOTE ! like only one of these were proofread LMAO anyway~ splitting this into 2 because i couldn't make the time to finish all 8 of the characters 😭 + THANK YOU FOR 700?!?!?! + sorry to those i couldn't tag :( and for posting this late omg

event taglist— @yukiitaooo @scara6 @peakalatus @kanaedd @returningluv @im-the-ruler-here @scarafixation @kateybuggi @hanni7 @asimpforpeople @ju1yyyzzz @saturnsapothecary @alexiassleeping @cheeze-noo @supercoolusernameomg @shining_dhei @uchihaeirin @black-rxse @3herri-berri @anon-eu @gojoswife201 @abeitriz @chlebek1 @mechanical-lily @breadybuu @dawning-bliss @poisonedmoonl1ght @scaraismybbgreal @nothingfuninthislife @hellithides @eunchaeluvr @doumastip @pandash @cuntz0ne @zomzomb1e @bitchylillyrose @apocalypticchimera @wolfiafan10 @zxdksimpo

—KAMISATO AYATO

he's a very family oriented man, you're well aware of that, so of course it's no surprise that breeding is one of the commissioner's top kinks. even just the mere thought of filling up your cute little cunt with his seed is enough to drive him insane.

"you're gonna give me an heir, yeah? right, my love?" ayato seductively whispered into your ear as you tiredly nod your head in approval. he has been pounding into you nonstop for the past 2 hours or so, filling you up with his cum over and over again, making sure that it'll reach your womb. "you feel so good~ this is your reward for being such a good girl for me, so take it. take it all~" his thrusts begin to quicken, urging yet another orgasm for him and yourself before grabbing your ankles to bring your legs over onto his shoulders; allowing him to push his dick even deeper than it was already reaching previously.

"fuck—i'm sorry for pushing your limits, sweetheart, but i won't waste my chance in finally getting to breed you real nice~"

—XIAO

him being a yaksha and practically spending his whole life fighting; xiao never really got to know or experience much when it comes to intimacy. but god, the moment you stepped into his life, it became the thing he couldn't live without.

"o-one more, please..." he groans out, thrusting deep into you at a slow pace, his tip kissing at your cervix ever so slightly. your whimpers and pleas falling onto deaf ears as his gaze was fixated on the way your thighs trembled under his touch as his hands kept your legs spread wide just for him, drunk on the sight of his cock disappearing within your warmth with each buck of his hips. an obvious squelching sound could be heard along with the mix of your fluids overflowing from the sides, "if i pull out, it'll all go to waste, won't it?" xiao mutters out, pulling back until only the head of his cum coated cock remained, just to slam back inside and have you scream his name for the nth time that evening.

"this won't be enough, baby... need to fill you up some more~"

—DILUC RAGNVINDR

trust me when i say that breeding is one of his top kinks, probably around the top 3, i'm sure of it :3 he just adores how pretty you look taking every single drop of his seed; the way you look so perfectly fucked out is enough to bring another feeling of euphoria to him.

"m-my love, so pretty~" diluc's eyes were focused on your trembling figure beneath him, cunt already completely full of his cum yet he's still pumping more and more inside for 'good measure' as per his words. "i know you're tired, i'm sorry—you feel too good for me to... pull out-ah~" the sensitive head of his cock kissed all the deepest parts of you with ease; giving you so much more pleasure, along with the way he was constantly pushing his cum back inside further.

"...so perfect for me, my good girl~"

—KURONUSHI

shibari. his specialty, his favorite. he decided to try a new position instead of the usual mating press you two did; having you situated on the bed with your ass up and face buried in the pillows while your wrists were bound by a red ribbon behind your back.

"that's it, keep moaning for me like that~" kuronushi coos, hips slamming against your body as his cock thrusted in and out of your ass at a steady rhythm, fingers rubbing roughly at your swollen clit, continuing to drive you over the edge. "fuck—your voice truly is the best instrument~ and your moans... the most majestic melody i've ever heard~" he says in between uneven breaths before finally cumming inside you, abruptly pulling out and pushing into your already filled to the brim cunt, a dark chuckle escaping his lips upon hearing you moan at the sudden entrance.

"just made sure to fill up both of your holes, love~"

[moonstruckme]

Hi! I was wondering if you could do poly!marauders with a clumsy s/o? Thank you!

Thanks for requesting love!

cw: blood

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.4k words

“I’m going to purchase one of those leashes for unruly toddlers,” James says, thick lashes nearly touching as he squints down at your hand. “And I’m going to keep it around my wrist at all times.” 

“It won’t be as good at catching me as you are,” you point out. You do your best not to wince as he picks a piece of gravel out of your palm, but his eyes flick up to you anyway, an apology in them. 

“No, but at least I’ll be able to keep you close.” 

You laugh a little. “I trip whether you’re nearby or not.” 

“Beg to differ.” He sounds bitter, but James has always had a terrible poker face and the uptilt of his lips betrays him. He spreads ointment over the cuts on your hand before bandaging it. “If I was with you, this would’ve never happened. Guaranteed.” 

“Yes, it’s all your fault.” Remus comes in from the kitchen, maneuvering carefully so as not to get the hot mug he’s carrying anywhere near James. He sets it next to your thigh on the bathroom counter. “Jamie,” his tone is chiding, a bit tired, “why have you started with her hands? She’s bleeding down to her ankles.” 

“It’s nearly dried anyway,” you say, looking down at your shredded knees. Remus feels too bad for you to give you one of his worse reprimanding looks, but his eyes convey tremendous exasperation nonetheless. 

“Because I knew she’d need her hands to hold her tea,” James replies, bumping Remus’ hip lightly with his. “Ease up, I’ve got it. Did you make yourself some tea too?” 

Remus glances towards the kitchen the way an old captain might gaze at the sea. “I thought about it…” 

“Do that,” James says. He finishes up with your other hand, bandaging it carefully. “Actually, would you mind just putting a kettle on? I’ll have a cup, and Sirius might want one too.” 

You frown at that, but neither of your boyfriends see, Remus going into the kitchen with renewed purpose and James smiling slightly to himself as he finishes wrapping your hand. 

“One of these days,” he whispers, backing up a bit so he can work on your knees, “you’re going to have to sit on the couch and feed Remus chocolates for all you put his heart through. We’ll be lucky if the next time you fall he doesn’t have an attack.” 

“What’s Sirius coming here for?” you ask. 

“Well, he does live here.” 

You give him a look, but he doesn’t glance up from cleaning the blood off your shin. “He’s supposed to be shopping with Marlene.” Accusation and betrayal lines your words. “You texted him?” 

James looks up at you now, sympathetic if not quite sorry. “You know I had to. He would’ve murdered me if he’d come home and seen you all bandaged up and nobody had told him.” 

“You could take him,” you grumble. 

He laughs. “I don’t know, sweetheart. He fights dirty.” 

You laugh too, though it’s more a humorous huff. “He can’t come home every time I trip,” you say, twisting the string of your tea bag around your index finger. “It’s not like I need to go to the hospital.” 

James works a larger piece of gravel out of your knee, eyebrows knit together by compassion. “He worries,” he says simply. “He wants to come home every time you hurt yourself, though if you recall, I didn’t tell anyone about you banging your head on the microwave door yesterday, or about when you fell on the stairs last week.” He looks up, grinning when you shrink, abashed. “But when you fall this bad, it’s a bit harder to hide. Sorry, lovie.” 

It’s a double apology, for ratting you out and for the sting of the ointment he smears over your knee. You hiss through your teeth. “Fair enough,” you say. James smooths a large band-aid over the series of shallow cuts, kissing the skin just above it for good measure. “I just don’t like to worry him. Any of you, if I can help it.” 

He shrugs. “I don’t think you can,” he says. You get what he means. Remus is a worrier, Sirius even more so, protective by nature and nurture. And each of your boyfriends cares about you too much to ignore how often you hurt yourself, even if you really think they should be desensitized to it and annoyed with you by now. “But I’m trying to get you cleaned up before he sees you, so hopefully that’ll help.” 

Like James has just issued a summons, the rumble of Sirius’ bike comes from outside. James grimaces as it slows to a stop. 

“I hate that fucking thing,” Remus growls from the kitchen. 

James shoots a sad smile in that direction. You think that you might not single-handedly cause Remus’ heart attack if Sirius gets there first. 

“Where is she?” Sirius calls as soon as he comes in the door. “I assume there’s a blood trail for me to follow?” 

James chuckles. “I told you it wasn’t that grim,” he shouts down the hall, and a second later there are heavy footsteps coming toward you. You brace yourself. 

“Fucking hell.” He halts just in the threshold of the bathroom, then seems to change his mind, striding over to you. His eyes are glued to the bloody mess of your uncovered knee. “Darling, what did you do?” 

You knew what to expect from him, and still your voice comes out smaller than you mean it to. “I missed the curb going out to get the mail,” you say. 

Sirius’ eyes lift to yours, widening. “You fell into the road?” You nod. “You could’ve been hit by a car!”

“There weren’t any cars.” There are almost never any cars on your street, and he knows that. 

“You’re lucky there weren’t,” he says anyway, holding his hand out. You place one of yours in it obediently, palm up. There’s a bit of blood marring the beige bandage, and Sirius makes a terribly soft pitying sound. “Your poor, lovely hands.” He runs a careful finger over the covering. “How bad was it?” he asks James.

“I told you, not horrific,” James says, finishing with getting the debris out of your knee and twisting the cap off the ointment. He looks up to be sure you’re ready before he starts smoothing it on.

“Stitches?” 

“Oh, tons. She’s held together more by thread than skin at this point.” 

You roll your eyes, but Sirius coos, “My poor sweetheart,” and grabs hold of your face to plant a kiss on your lips. You must look as pleasantly surprised as you feel, because he does it again, bending forward to avoid bumping his hip into your knee. 

His thumb sweeps across your cheek as he pulls away, brows furrowed. “Does it hurt?” he asks, and now the mirth has disappeared from his tone. You don’t know how Sirius does that, going from teasing to not in a blink. 

“Not so badly,” you tell him. 

He hums, stroking your face again. “Would you tell me if it did?” 

You feel your lips twitch, and Sirius’ eyes narrow like he knows your answer before you’ve spoken. “Probably not,” you admit, “but it really doesn’t.” 

He stares you down for a minute, murky eyes scanning yours for traces of untruth, his dark brows lowered. You reach up to slot a piece of hair behind his ear, and he cracks, mouth kicking up at the corner. 

“Alright, drink your tea before it gets cold.” 

“I’ve actually made tea for everyone,” Remus calls, not from the kitchen this time but from the living room. “And snacks, so please come eat them.” 

James grins, touch moving up the back of your knee to your thigh as he stands. “Excellent,” he says eagerly. “You’re all fixed up, m’love. Let’s go take care of Rem now.” 

You start to hop down from the counter, but Sirius says, “Wait, wait!” and grabs you by the hips, keeping you in place. “Can you walk?” 

You nod, because duh, your legs are scraped, not broken, but Sirius looks to James, the both of them frowning thoughtfully. 

“Best not to risk reopening them,” James decides, scooping you up off the counter. 

You huff a laugh, rolling your eyes. “Thank you,” you say, rather than this is deeply unnecessary and you’re being ridiculous. James seems to hear both anyway, planting a sloppy, smiley kiss on your cheek. Sirius, satisfied, follows you down the hall. “I didn’t mean to make you my manservant, I swear.” 

“Happy to do it,” he says. “Now drink your tea, it’ll make Rem feel better.”

[chrollohearttags]

pornstar!reiner is nervous about the first time he actually films with you!..

it’s not for a lack of skill or that he thinks he’ll squander the opportunity. No, he’s certain that he’ll know what to do with it once he’s given the chance..or so he thinks. Up until this point, his only costar was his right hand and the occasional silicone assistant, who he didn’t have to worry about or check in on. He could focus solely on pleasuring himself for the viewers. But with you in the picture? He had to be a little more cautious. A little more aware of his actions..he couldn’t just thrash his cock around inside of you with no rhythm or pace like his toys. He had to make sure you were alright or otherwise, his subscribers would have his comment section littered with complaints. Naturally, he just wanted to take care of his lady as well! He couldn’t have you believing you were merely a job that needed to be finished. He wanted everyone to get a glimpse of your lovemaking firsthand. The raw, unadulterated, footage that made up your amazing sex life.

The long nights where the two of you tousled around in the sheets, laughing and exchanging sloppy pecks whilst he fed you deep strokes. Staring into each other’s eyes with sheets draped across your lower halves. Nails clawing up his back and cries calling out his name. Or when you can’t even be vexed to make it to the bed..so desperate and horny for each other that you find yourselves teasing one another on the couch. Lips smashed together in a haze of passionate kisses; your hand wrapped around his shaft..slowly stroking. While his own fondle your breasts and plunge his fingers into your sopping cunt. Listening to you moan for him..all but squirting on his digits when rapidly plunges them into you. Getting so worked up that when the moment finally does come for him to fuck you..neither of you can contain yourselves! On one hand, he wants to be entertaining and wild. The other? He can’t bring himself to defile and degrade you on camera..but he’s nervous…God, he can’t stop shaking, fidgeting and twiddling his thumbs. He wants you so badly, he can’t take it. But those annoying thoughts of being an inadequate lover or not measuring up to what you needed in the bedroom. That perhaps his online hype outweighed his actual ability but he was wrong, so very wrong..

“Don’t be scared…”

Your pretty face and mellifluous voice call out to him. Reiner’s never felt this before..this sensation of not only physical but emotional attraction as well. He’s never been captivated by someone the way he has his precious poundcake. He wants to give you the world and the best sex you’ve ever had. “You have nothing to worry about, papa..just do what feels natural. It’s just us here. They’re only getting the privilege to watch..” those words struck somewhat of a proverbial chord with him! You were right..this was your domain, you guys’ safe haven and everyone else were only guests, getting a glimpse of your world. So as he knelt into the mattress, squatting between your spread legs..you’d caress his cheek with that pretty little hand, moving down to that warm center and give him the ultimate affirmation:

“You see this? How wet I am right now..you’re the only one who can make me feel this good..so do it.”

it was just the confidence boost he needed. So naturally, he didn’t feel the need to put on a facade or hold back..once that camera started rolling, he was going to prove himself worthy of having you..

and the whole world was going to know it!

[tinyluvs]

i literally just found your account today and your spencer writings have me kicking my feet and twirling my hair-but not the point

all i’m going to say is: baking with spencer and you trying to add things in without measuring and he’s shook to his core

thank you so much n absolutely, he would lose his mind

"i think we have everything we need now," your boyfriend says, looking over the ingredients spread out over the counter. you hum, which makes him look up, "stop eating those, we need them," he snatches a packet of chocolate chips out of your hands

you scoff, "actually, those are the ones we need," you wave an unopened bag at him, "these are extras" you attempt to snatch the bag out of his hands but he moves, forcing you to fall forwards and off of the counter, where you were sat

spencer chuckles at you but steadies you with an arm around your waist. you shove at him lightly when he moves away, putting the chocolate chips on top of the fridge freezer, where he knows you can't reach

"that's so rude," you comment, squinting at him. he dips to kiss at your forehead, whilst rolling his eyes before reaching over to turn the oven on to preheat

he claps his hands together before looking around his kitchen, "where is the recipe?" he asks, eyebrows furrowing across his forehead

you shrug, "i don't have one," spencer gawps at you, like you're crazy. he shakes his head and takes off out of the room, "where are you going," you huff but don't move to find out

"i'm finding one," he shouts back from the other end of the apartment. his long legs getting him there much faster than you ever could

he eventually comes back, book in hand, "you have a recipe book?" you hum, amused. his apartment is filled with books but you've never seen a cook book

"yeah, it used to be my mom's" he says, flicking through the pages, "here we go," he scans over the page and then starts rummaging through his cupboards

you roll your eyes at him and then grab a bowl and the bag of flour. gently, you start pouring the powder, eyeballing it as you go. you've made chocolate chip cookies hundreds of times, winging it every single time

"so the recipe says-" spencer turns around with scales in his hands, stopping in his tracks when he see's you, "hey, stop, what are you doing?" he shrieks, grabbing at your hands, stopping you from pouring

you frown at him, "making cookies? what does it look like i'm doing?" huffing at him you manage to shake his hands off of you and in the process, sprinkle flour over both of your hands

"we need to measure it," he scoops the bowl off of the counter, once again holding it out of your reach

"no we don't," you groan and his jaw drops, "what? i've made these so many times spence, i could do it with my eyes closed!" you press your hands onto his shirt, smirking when he ends up with two perfect prints of flour on him

spencer stares at you and you stare back, arms crossing over your chest, "we have to do it properly," he says with a slight huff

bumping him out of the way you reach into one of his cupboards, getting out another mixing bowl, "fine, you make it with the recipe," you put the bowl on the counter, "i'll do it without"

your boyfriend shakes his head, "no, that's stupid"

loudly you groan, throwing your head back slightly, "we have enough ingredients, i promise you mine will turn out the same as yours, if not better" you say smugly, snatching the flour back from him

he watches you for a minute before giving in, not wanting to back down from the challenge. silently he moves around the kitchen, weighing out sugar, flour, butter and grabbing the right amount of eggs, side eyeing you occasionally to see what you're doing

"see, they look the exact same!" you point at the two identical trays of cookie dough, all rolled into small balls, ready to go into the oven

spencer slides the trays into the oven, humming like he's not fully convinced yours are going to be any good. "we'll see," he says, winding up a timer

you hop back up onto the counter, watching him collect the bowls and utensils before dumping them into the sink, "can i have the chocolate chips back now please?"

he grabs them off of the fridge freezer and then moves to stand between your legs, "kiss first please, honey" he hums, dipping forwards to kiss you three times

"thanks" you giggle afterwards, already tipping the chocolate pieces into your hand. you push a couple into spencer's open mouth, he nods appreciatively while rolling his sleeves up, ready to wash up

when the timer goes off you startle slightly, which makes spencer laugh as he gets the trays out, pushing them onto the counter. you reach for a spatula, taking one from each tray to cool down faster

"ready?" you ask once they have, holding your cookie up to your mouth, he mimics your actions. he nods once before you tuck into your treats, "don't know what you were so worked up about, tastes great"

"let me try," he says, opening his mouth so that you can slot the rest of it into his mouth, "what?" he screeches, still chewing, "yours taste better than mine, how?"

"magic, angel, it's real you know" you giggle, bouncing up to kiss melted chocolate away from his bottom lip

thanks for reading! remember to like! reblog! and comment! i’ll give you a smooch if you do, ily!! send prompts to my ask box!

❥ spencer reid masterlist !!

[ilykaveh]

yuuji itadori is a man full of love and adoration, and what better way is there to show it?

❀ — content: fem reader, aged up ! characters, dirty talk, praise, overstim, creampie, squirting.

"yuuji!" you squealed your boyfriend's name as he continued to pound into your warm cunt with unwavering vigour.

he'd been fucking you for what felt like forever. the sun was low on the horizon when the two of you had begun, and now the moon hung amongst a choir of stars. you would try to count the number of hours that it had been, though you were struggling to keep a count of how many times the pink-haired sorcerer had made you cum.

"so fucking good for me, baby," yuuji cooed, "you take me so well; 's like this cunt was made for me," one of his hands groped your breast, toying with your stiff nipple. he was enamoured with how your pussy fluttered around him in response.

"please, yu-" you begged, though were cut off by another moan ripping through your throat.

"please what, princess?" he teased, amused by how sensitive you were for him — something that only made him even more intoxicated by you.

"c-can't, 's too much!" you hoped he understood what you were trying to communicate, and being the sweetest man you'd ever met, he did.

"come on, baby. just one more, one more for me, yeah? you can do it, i know you can." his lustful ramblings only made the knot in your stomach grow painfully tighter, to which you whined in response. "i've got you, 'll even play with your pretty little clit 'nd make it faster, yeah?"

yuuji's filthy words made you feel like you were riding high on cloud nine. a warm, fuzzy feeling spread through your body and sent your neurons into a peaceful, blissed-out state. you babbles an affirmative for your boyfriend to resume fucking you at his desired speed, and simply laid back and enjoyed the final stretch of the ride.

"my pretty girl," he continued, "so fuckin' sweet, so perfect," yuuji wasn't thinking, he was just speaking from the heart. he could sense his orgasm nearing, and due to the way that your drooling cunt clenched around his cock, he assumed yours was too.

"doin' such a good job f'me, princes; 'm gonna cum all over y'r pretty tits, yeah? would you like that? g'na mark you as mine; only i get to see you spread out like this."

"no," you mumbled, reaching out to grip yuuji's arm.

"everything okay, angel?" he paused his movements, wide eyes filling with concern.

"wan' you to cum in me, please, yuu," you begged. "please, please, please," slowly, you trailed off.

it was a plea that he couldn't refuse. after all, he knew you'd taken measures to prevent anything unexpected happening. yuuji's pace became increasingly sporadic as he snapped his hips once again, bringing his hand down to massage taut circles around your clit like he promised.

your fists tangled in the sheets, tears threatening to spill past your lashline at the sheer volumes of pleasure. it felt as though your orgasm was a ticking time bomb, dangerously close to exploding.

more incoherent babbling from the two of you led to yuuji's final few pounds, weaker than those prior. with a particular sharp thrust that you swear you felt in your lower stomach, he spilled an unbelievable amount of warm cum into you.

the sensation caused your synchronous climax. white lights blurred your vision as you came harder than you ever had, dizziness taking over. without you having realized, a few jets of squirt hit yuuji's lower stomach. if he had anything left in him, the sight of you right now would be enough to make the man hard as a rock all over again.

without a second thought, he leaned down to entrap your lips against his own. the display of affection anchored you back to reality a little.

"you're perfect, baby." yuuji repeated. his smile as he pulled away made you feel so overwhelmed with love that it was indescribable, a purity that made you forget that you hadn't just spent the past few hours engaged in messy, messy sex.

he waited a moment before pulling out his softened cock from you, eyes transfixed on your cunt as his cum leaked out of you in small globs.

"let me go grab a rag, angel. do you need anything else? food? water? i can run us a bath if you'd like?"

you smiled back at him, giggling to yourself at the soft reminder of why you fell in love with him.

"'s okay, yuu. i just wanna be near you."

[goldfish-afterhours]

How the Genshin Characters Find Your Ring Size

Characters: Diluc, Kaeya, Childe, Zhongli, Xiao, Thoma, Scaramouche x Gn!reader

Type/genre: Bulleted headcanons, fluff, comedy

Warnings: None

Diluc

Asks for the measurements of your hand and pretends it’s for another reason

The trees are now bare and it is getting chilly outside, so Diluc takes the opportunity to ask for your hand measurements for custom-made gloves

You raise an eyebrow when he asks for measurements instead of a size, but you get out a string measurer and measure anyways

Sneakiness: 7/10. Accuracy: 10/10.

“The glove maker prefers the most accurate of measurements for his craft. And it’ll be warmer if it’s fits better.”

Kaeya

Brings you home one of those plastic rings as a joke

You accept it graciously, playing into his bit and slipping it onto your thumb since it was so big. Kaeya shakes his head, saying it has to go on your ring finger

You roll your eyes but put it on your ring finger anyways

It’s one of those flexible rings so you can push the bands together so they touch, fitting perfectly on your finger

All he has to do is steal it back from you when you take it off to shower, and now he has the perfect reference to take to the jeweler

Sneakiness: 6/10. Accuracy: 7/10

“For Your Royal Highness, monarch of the entire universe, I present to you, the ring of destiny!”

Childe

I can’t imagine that this is the first time Childe’s bought any sort of jewelry for you

This man would love to spoil you, and I can see him buying you necklaces and rings even before he gets any ideas of proposing

You wear a ring on your index finger that he brought back from Inazuma a while back. The size is a a little odd, and the two of you have been talking about getting it resized to fit better

He’ll take you to the jeweller, who will insist on getting the measurements of all your fingers “as we do for all new customers to keep on file!”

They do not, in fact, do this for all new customers. Childe specifically asked them to, and now he has your exact ring size.

Sneakiness: 10/10. Accuracy: 10/10

“Wow, the customer service is pretty good here, right?”

Zhongli

Doesn’t know which size to get? That’s fine, he’ll buy all the rings that seem around your size

That is, if he had the mora. Since in terms of mora, he has no mora, Zhongli had to find another way to figure out your ring size without you knowing

Traces the outline of both yours and his hand on a piece of parchment, pretending it’s for an old ancient Liyue tradition that couples do that you’ve never heard of and neither has Zhongli until an hour ago

You don’t question it because Zhongli is always bringing up stories and traditions you’ve never heard of, so you just assumed this would be one of them

Sneakiness: 10/10. Accuracy: 7/10

“My love, with the silhouette of our hands etched together on this paper, we will be blessed by the spirits for eternity.”

Xiao

Poor boy doesnt know what to do and too prideful to ask someone else’s help in finding out your ring size

He’ll judge it on his own

Fine I’ll do it myself

The next time the two of you are holding hands, Xiao will spread his straight out against your palm

You’ll follow suit, and as much as Xiao is enjoying the romantic moment, he’s busy trying to memorize how your hand looked in proportion to his

Since he’s eyeballing it, the measurements are a little off and ends up buying a size too small

Sneakiness: 7/10. Accuracy: 2/10

“It’s nothing. I just…like holding your hand.”

Thoma

Has one of his many friends help

One of his friends is a peddler, and they parked their travelling stall on your route home from work

They call you over, praising your beauty and insisting you take a look at their wares, that someone who shines as brightly as you deserves the finest jewellery to match

Though the flattery was too much, you felt bad about just leaving so you try on one of the rings the peddler recommended

Seeing it didn’t fit, the peddler insists you try on a different size, until you found a perfect fit

Thoma’s friend then changes attitude, suddenly saying none of the wares were for sale anymore and shooing you away

You go home and tell the strange thing that happened to you today to Thoma, who just nods innocently and pretends he had nothing to do with it

Sneakiness: 8/10. Accuracy: 10/10

“Huh, that is weird! The world is becoming a stranger place, it seems.”

Scaramouche

Flat out asks you for your ring size

When you tease him, asking what it was for, he’ll mock you, saying you’re really flattering yourself thinking he was going to propose

But when you ask him for the real reason, he’ll open his mouth to respond but no sound will come out

His head goes blank and he can’t think of a reason, and his face just turns redder by the second

You tell him your ring size, and teasingly remind him not to get you a halo ring <3

Sneakiness: 0/10. Accuracy: 10/10

“D-Don’t look so smug! If you don’t want it, then forget it.”

[mochimooon]

Break Me Off - gojo satoru x reader 18+

pairing: Gojo Satoru x afab! Reader summary: While staying over Suguru's, you're fine sleeping on the couch for the night. But Satoru swears that the couch is too uncomfortable, resolving (insisting) to the only solution: sharing an air mattress with him. word count: 4k+ notes: First time writing the one bed trope and writing Gojo 😳 warnings: smut, explicit content, explicit language, vaginal fingering, oral sex (f! receiving), teasing, edging, face sitting, doggy-style, missionary, some fluff, no real plot, abuse of air mattress MINORS DO NOT INTERACT 18+ !!

The air mattress swallows the large rug beneath it, rising a few centimeters shy of the sectional couch. 

Padding across the floor, you pause to survey the size of the mattress. 

“I didn’t know those could get that big.” You scratch at the back of your neck. You were fine settling on the couch or piling pillows on the rug for the night, until Suguru suggested to Satoru that he should set up an air mattress. 

Satoru seals the hole at the corner, giving it a trial push with the tip of his finger. “All inflated.” He sounds pleased with himself. 

You watch him rise to his feet, skirting around it to grab the duvet Suguru had left on the table, while you avoid it like a puddle of water. 

The duvet falls onto the mattress with a silent thud, followed by a few pillows that Satoru snatches from the couch. He gets to work arranging them on one side of the mattress, crawling onto it with his knees. Satisfied, he sprawls onto his back about to slip under the blanket when he notices you standing nearby. 

He raises a brow, eyes shifting between you and the empty space on the mattress. “Do you want that side or…?”

A frown forms on your face. “I was going to take the couch.” 

Satoru blinks, shooting a look at the sectional. “The mattress is big enough for the both of us. That’s why I inflated it.” He gestures to the extra space. “Plenty of room to stretch out.”

Sure, he’s not wrong. The mattress is easily a king size, fitting within the space in front of the couch. You didn’t understand why Suguru had one so big, but you thought it was for Satoru not for the both of you. 

Taking a step on the mattress, you wince as the weight of your foot wobbles against the unsteady surface. For better measure, you drop to your knees to crawl towards the couch.

“I’m good, I’ll stick with the couch.” You throw over your shoulder.

Satoru snorts his disbelief, and you pause to turn, affronted. He must think you’re joking. 

“That couch will kill your back,” he says. “Been there, done that, and you’d regret it.” He taps the space next to him. “Take that side of the mattress. A bed is more comfortable than the couch.”

Again, he’s right. However, you hesitate to believe that a blow-up bed is the same as one with coils or foam. But that’s not the cause of your hesitation. 

Satoru’s back to arranging the blanket, patting his pillow for more volume, giving you a chance to glimpse at his bare arms and strong hands. Each sharp smack of the pillow makes you weak; you restrain the urge to flinch each time. 

You bite your lip. This is going to be a long night for you. 

Without arguing further, you reach for the extra pillow on the couch. Not wanting to jostle the mattress, you stretch your arm, fingers ghosting the sides of the pillow, unaware that your shirt has ridden up your stomach. 

Meanwhile, as Satoru angles his body to lay down, his blue eyes get distracted with the length of your sweat shorts. Already short to begin with, a dusting of pink spreads across his cheeks, zeroing in on the curve of your ass that is scantily covered.

It takes him a moment before he realizes your struggle to get the pillow. 

You catch yourself on the mattress when the pillow is snatched from reach. You blink, face to face with Satoru, extending a hand for the pillow. “Um…thanks.”

Satoru pulls it away, holding it in his grasp like bait as his eyes darken, setting your ears aflame. 

The pillow plops back onto the couch while the mattress dips at the center as Satoru lunges at you. 

You’re pinned to the surface, pulse going mad, watching Satoru loom over your body. He eclipses the light overhead, casting the back of his head in a faint halo, a stark contrast to his devilish smirk

The stare-down ticks away at an agonizing pace, you don’t realize you’re holding your breath until Satoru leans closer, blue gaze dripping down to your lips.

There’s no telling who breaks the tension first, together bridging the gap, lips connect in a fiery kiss. 

You prop yourself up on your elbows for leverage, desperate to deepen the kiss. Though there’s no need. Satoru takes the back of your head to keep you in place while his other arm wobbles along the mattress to anchor your combined weights. 

The contact is nowhere near enough. You gasp, allowing Satoru’s tongue to slide along yours, robbing each other’s breaths, making your head spin, and yearning for more. 

Your arm wraps around the back of his neck to reel him closer as though it’s possible. The sudden excursion sends him off balance. His eyes flutter open as he falls to his side.

There’s little respite. Your lips chase after him anyways, cupping his jawline while the other arm rakes along shoulder blades. 

A groan erupts from Satoru’s throat, a small release of pleasure as every drop of his blood travels south, encouraging his hips forward. 

You whimper at the bulge prodding into your center, though you don’t shy away from it, pulling him closer with immense strength that leaves Satoru both stunned and needy. 

Light footsteps putter down the stairs. 

You and Satoru separate as though caught on fire. You climb to the couch, yanking the blanket from Satoru’s feet to cover you up. 

Satoru whirls his sights in your direction with a desperate look. But he rolls to the edge of the mattress upon hearing Suguru’s voice. 

“Found two more blankets.” Suguru plops them on the arm of the sectional. Brown eyes shift between you laying on the couch nonchalantly and Satoru frazzled, red-faced, and hair tousled. “The mattress is more comfortable,” he tells you. 

You shrug, stacking a pillow against the armrest. 

Suguru sighs, shaking his head. “You’ll hurt your back that way.” He narrows his eyes at Satoru. “Were you asleep?”

Satoru swallows, pressing a pillow on his lap to shield his boner. “Uh—what?”

“You look like you were already rolling around in bed.” Suguru points at Satoru’s hair. He turns to you again, raising a brow. “On second thought, stay on the couch. From what Nanami’s told me, Satoru’s a fussy sleeper.”

Satoru huffs, smoothing out his hair. “It’s because he keeps the heat on all night.”

Suguru nods, lips pressed into a tight line, unconvinced. “Right,” he drawls, addressing you. “Pick your poison. A bad back there, or a black eye in the morning. There’s also room in my bed—”

Satoru’s quick to interject. “She’ll stick to the couch.” He clears his throat, an attempt to disguise his frustration in all arenas. “I already offered her a spot. She wants the couch.” He feigns an exaggerated shrug. “Her loss.”

Suguru tilts his head at you. “If…you’re sure?”

You yawn, nodding. “Yep. I prefer to sleep on something hard anyways. The firmer the better.” From the corners of your vision, Satoru’s jaw clenches, and you bite back a grin. 

Suguru raises his arms in surrender. “Alright. If you change your mind, don’t hesitate to come up.” He breathes a laugh at your eye roll. “Extra blankets here. It gets chilly at night. I’m off to bed. Night.”

He gets the lights as he heads upstairs with an echoing click of his door. 

You blow out a long-winded sigh, tucking under the blanket unable to stop another yawn from spilling out. “Night, Gojo.”

He snaps to attention with feral haste. A yelp locks in your throat at the hand on your ankle, dragging you off the couch and back on the air mattress.

“Satoru—” you say with a shaky breath. Your shirt has ridden up so high, stopping just below your breasts. 

Cool air kisses the exposed skin, goosebumps blooming with a shiver to be under Satoru. Even in the darkness, his wolfish smirk is a beacon that cannot be ignored. 

He tuts, hand grazing your side. “We’re not finished. We’ve barely started.”

Your lip catches between your teeth. “Well, Suguru said it gets chilly. We better start warming up.”

Satoru’s smirk widens, contradicting your statement with the toss of his shirt. 

The rustle of fabric lands somewhere in the dark. Not that you care, because the second you get a glimpse of Satoru shirtless, you’re in silent awe. 

And of course, Satoru notices, a grin spreading across his face. “Like what you see, huh?”

You feign confusion, channeling your voice into a tease. “See what? It’s dark in here.”

It’s a lie, because even with the lights off, enough moonlight pours in through the windows that you’re able to admire every detail of Satoru’s body. His toned arms and chest, long torso, and ripples of muscle that plunge into a deep V past the waistband of his sweatpants. 

Satoru clicks this tongue, calling your bluff. “Liar.”

You say nothing, only holding his stare, tension passing between your eyes and his.   

In a blink, he falls forward the same time your arms enfold his neck. Like the strike of a match—heat crackles between starved kisses.  

He nips at your bottom lip a few times that your mouth falls open to accept his tongue again, exchanging moans, tickling the sensation building in your stomach. 

“Well, if you can’t see me,” Satoru breathes. “Lucky for you, I can make this a more sensory experience.” He seizes your lips again, deeper and longer this time. 

You moan into his mouth, feeling the curve of his lips against yours. Satoru’s ego may be bloated and ruffle some feathers, but to you it’s something you’ve never been able to resist. A man who’s self-assured, far past the point of arrogance—it’s your biggest weakness. You enjoy yourself a cocky S.O.B. 

Unable to get enough, your fingers comb into Satoru’s hair, nails digging into the scalp, swallowing his pleased hum. 

However, as much as you want to get busy, a concern worms its way to the front of your mind. You push Satoru’s chest gently. With some urging, you’re able to break free.

“Wait—” You turn away, dodging his lips again, pushing against his chest. “Satoru, wait.”

“Huh?” He doesn’t pull away, content with spoiling your jaw with kisses. “What’s the matter, baby?” A kiss to your jawline. “You don’t like this?” Another kiss marks your cheek. “Too gentle?” Fingers wrap around your jaw, this time to kiss your lips. “I can be rough too. Just say the word and—”

“Satoru, time out,” you say in a hushed tone.

Finally (begrudgingly), he relents, peeling away, aghast that you’d have the audacity to stop him.

“Let’s move to the couch,” you whisper. 

“The couch?” Satoru clicks his tongue. “What is it with you and that couch?”

“It’s stable, that’s what,” you say. 

“C’mon, you’re more fun than that. We can’t roll around on a couch. I inflated this thing for us.”

“To sleep on…” 

“Isn’t that what we’re about to do?” he purrs, back to peppering your face with kisses that trail to your neck, leaving shadows of heat to blaze beneath your skin. You release a breathy moan.

“Does my girl like that?” he whispers. “Hm? Does my girl like it when I kiss her here?” He sucks at your pulse, and you supply your answer by driving your nails deeper into his hair, keeping him close. 

He chuckles, moving to your throat, kissing it tenderly. “You still want to sleep on the couch?”

Words tangle together on your tongue, too jumbled to verbalize an answer. 

At your silence, Satoru’s teeth graze the side of your neck, voice dropping to a low rumble. “Yes?” He bites down with enough force that promises to leave a mark, and another whimper leaks from your mouth. “Or no?”

Only a few inches away, the couch is the furthest thing from your mind. You swallow, shaking your head.

That’s not an adequate answer for Satoru. He smirks into your neck, content to tease you more. “No…? No what, baby?”

Satoru’s hand runs up the side of your body, sliding beneath your shirt to cup your breast. 

“Satoru…” you stammer out.  

“Yes…?” he hums, intent on teasing you, lightly pinching your nipple. 

The sensation ripples through you, an electric shock radiating down to your pussy. Not a moment of reprieve is spared as Satoru thumbs your pert nipple with gentle attention, contrasting the sting of teeth on your neck.

It’s all so tantalizing to experience, the gentle ministrations of his hand and the greedy bite of Satoru’s mouth. Your head swims, slowly submerging into a pool of desire, awaiting for the tide to sweep you away.  

Just then, Satoru’s weight is lifted, giving you no room to protest. He tugs the end of your shirt, slipping it off in a whirl of fabric. You fall back on the mattress, bouncing lightly as it moves like the sway of water. 

While you don’t snark at him, you do click your tongue at his brusque nature, which is met with Satoru’s wide grin. 

“I can’t be the only one topless,” he says, dropping unceremoniously to kiss your breast. The force dips the mattress a little before it rises again. “It wouldn’t be fair.”

You snort but welcome the return of his attention, grateful for it as his mouth slots over your nipple, sucking deeply. 

He takes your other breast in his hand, kneading the flesh with more pressure, you toss your head back. Your chest balloons, bending your back in a low arch, small bursts of breath pushing past your lips. 

“You see?” Satoru purrs, sucking harshly. He moans into your breast and lets go. “It wouldn’t be fair to you if you still had your shirt on.” His tongue drags along your nipple. “How can I spoil my girl if she’s not fully naked beneath me?”

You bristle at the pet-name; every time you hear it, pride sprouts in your chest. 

Needy and riled up, you raise a leg to swathe it across Satoru’s lower back. 

He obliges you with a press of his boner against your crotch. Arousal rushes from the friction as Satoru’s hips grind against yours, the mattress sliding back and forth with the momentum. 

Your hips buck up, sighing his name. “Satoru.” 

He hisses, dick twitching. “You’re going to fucking kill me.” Always with the theatrics.

You breathe a laugh. “I might, if you keep me waiting.”

You realize a second later that that was a mistake to say. A wry look unfolds along Satoru’s features, his blue eyes shining with a fiendish glimmer. 

He better not. No—not when you’re already so desperate to be touched. 

But Satoru enjoys a challenge, a game any time it presents itself. A man with his ego never turns down the opportunity to please and tease. 

“Satoru…” Your voice raises a little in warning. “I’ll climb back on that couch—”

“Shhh…” he purrs against your lips. “Suguru’s asleep, remember? Can’t wake him up. You’re a guest in his house, don’t be rude.” He tuts. 

You make a noise of discontent that’s quickly buried under a moan of renewed pleasure. You note that he doesn’t try to silence that. Satoru’s tongue explores your mouth again, slower this time, excruciatingly so. Asshole. 

He presses his bulge against you once more, relishing in your helpless whimper. His pride must be swelling right now. For a man that can be hasty at times, you’re surprised with his patience. 

It’s maddening to think of how he maintains his serenity when he’s rock hard in his sweatpants, dick twitching every so often when he grinds against you.  

You don’t have that sort of restraint, but you also don’t have that sort of ego either. 

Privy to your frustration, Satoru takes the moment to tease with his silver-tongue. “Did you think I’d go fast? Why would I? Now that no one will interrupt us, we’re going to play all night long, baby.”

You pull away, pouting. 

Satoru takes your jaw in his hand to prevent your escape. He lips press into the frown on your forehead and you’re weak to the affection that you can’t stay annoyed. 

As your reward, Satoru’s other hand hooks into the waistband of your sweat shorts. With his eyes on you, he slides them away, along with your panties, jostling the air mattress slightly. Along with your shirt and his, they’re now lost in the dark.  

Goosebumps rise along your skin with renewed anticipation. Not wanting to prolong his teasing, you’re patient (or you try to be).  

“Lay back,” he murmurs, kissing your jaw. He slinks lower, scattering kisses and bites all over your exposed skin. From your neck to your breasts, your ribcage, and your stomach, Satoru’s steadfast in leaving no inch of skin neglected. 

Time flows in slow motion by the time he reaches your hips, your pussy throbs to have him this close. No surprise, Satoru takes some time to give your hips the same attention, and finally he stops, face to pussy. 

A shudder curls down your spine. 

“We finally meet,” he laughs at his own humor.

You bite your tongue, the sexual frustration reaching a fever pitch. 

Satoru leans back on his haunches, wobbling the mattress in the process. 

He pries your legs apart so wide, your inner thighs twitch from the strain. You pay it no mind, rather watching Satoru with a curious look that makes you gush. 

He stares, no—gawks, openly at your pussy, wearing an expression of awe and mischief. Time crawls and the chill of the night settles in the room, but the longer Satoru stares, the warmer you become, hot with frustration. 

You break the silence. “Satoru…” 

Thankfully, your voice pulls him back, just a little. He continues to stare at your wet pussy, dripping and swelling under his scrutiny. You throb to be touched, your own fingers reaching lower to help yourself. 

“Ah-ah,” Satoru finally utters and your hand rests on your stomach. 

You huff. “What are you doing?”

“Looking at your pussy.” He grins, the vulgarity tasting like honey to your ears. He releases your knees, a hand wisping closer. “It’s so pretty.”

A gasp hitches deep into your chest, a storm of ecstasy brewing fast when Satoru’s fingers brush against your pussy lips. 

Slick coats his fingertips. He drags them along your pussy again, swiping at your aching clit and lightly smacks it, making you flinch. “A well-behaved pussy, all wet and ready for me to stretch out.”

Without further preamble, Satoru is merciful, slipping in a finger with ease, and it’s not long when another finger joins it to massage your walls. 

You hum your appreciation, glossy eyes looking up to find Satoru watching you. The blue in his eyes have been mostly swallowed in dark lust, hiding behind a lidded gaze. 

You lick your lips, admiring the sight above, and his smile suggests that he’s enjoying the view beneath him too. 

His thumb swipes your clit a few times, matching the rhythm of his fingers inside of you. They curl and stretch, filling the living room with the sound of your arousal. Your hips thrust up for deeper contact, chasing the path towards bliss. The corners of your vision spark, your pussy clenches around Satoru’s slender fingers, heralding your release. 

Another whine escapes you, one of discontent when Satoru pulls away entirely; the sparks fizzle away and you blink.

The frustration is short-lived, replaced with confusion as he grabs hold of you roughly. 

The room spins, Satoru rolls you both over, the mattress moving like a wave beneath your backs.

You’re brought to your knees, nearly falling forward from the unsteady dip in the mattress. But strong hands from below anchor you in place. 

You catch your breath, gathering your wits, realizing that Satoru has pulled you astride his face. His warm breath against your pussy snares your attention and you meet his eyes for a beat until he seats you on his mouth. 

It’s all tongue you feel, licking with purchase and need, granting you what you’ve been craving.

Satoru’s done teasing, he’s done going slow. He’s done holding back. The pace he’s set ignites every nerve in your body, expressing how he can no longer contain himself anymore. His eyes are trained skywards, keen on watching you fall apart.

Your hand takes hold of his hair for stability, yanking a little tightly, but Satoru doesn’t even flinch, gaze unshaken. You take that chance to grind against his face. 

“Fuck—Satoru—” Your thighs quake, reaching your knees and vibrating the mattress. It dips a little, but Satoru refuses to let up.

“I’m gonna make my girl cum,” he murmurs. “Cum on my mouth, okay, baby?” 

He quickens his pace, like a man devout in worshipping you. You gasp the closer you get, utterly delirious from the stimulation. You roll your hips to meet his pace, and after a few more deliberate swipes of his tongue, you cry out. 

“Satoru—I’m cumming—” It’s all babbling after that. Blood rushes loud in your ears, sparks burst like fireworks in your vision. 

Seconds pass and your hand goes slack in Satoru’s hair. His tongue laps you up languidly, no longer urgent.

You’re breathless and at a loss for words. Blinking a few times, your eyes fall back to Satoru, who has not stopped watching you. There’s a telltale smirk as he licks the last of your juices. 

He’s smug, and he has every right to be. 

You’re careful not to move the mattress too much, lifting a leg to allow Satoru up. You barely get a chance to give him space, pausing to drink in the hungry look that flashes along Satoru’s expression; the only warning you’re given. 

Your back bounces against the mattress as Satoru crawls over you, unbridled desire dripping from his gaze 

He captures your mouth, tongue moving with authority, rekindling the extinguished flame in your stomach. 

He springs off of you, shoving his sweatpants and boxers down to free his cock. You lift your head to get a look at it. 

Flushed red at the tip, dribbling precum, a distinct vein protruding down the base—hard and endowed. 

Saliva pools in your mouth, unable to tear your eyes away from it.

Free of his sweatpants and fully nude, Satoru guides your hand to stroke him. 

It’s so fucking heavy. 

Satoru heaves a deep breath, flashing his teeth. “I told you. You’re going to fucking kill me.” A groan rumbles in his throat, reaching your ears like a growl. You shiver in excitement. 

He leans forward on wobbly arms. The momentary kiss is soft, eclipsed with Satoru’s rough hands flipping you over and bringing you on all fours. Crawling closer, the surface of the mattress tilts, making it hard to stabilize your arms and legs. 

But there’s no need, because Satoru’s behind you, rubbing the tip of his dick against your puffy entrance. 

“Ah…” you gasp, thrusting back on instinct. 

Satoru rubs his hands on your ass cheeks, spreading them. You can feel the weight of his eyes there, stoking that flame inside of you. 

His hands move to grab your hips with bruising pressure. “Ready for me? I’m going to finally stretch this pussy out. Finally…” His voice drops, low and gravelly. “…going to make it mine.”

You peer over your shoulder, eyes begging as they meet Satoru. The tip of his dick spasms at your fluttering pussy, and it’s the answer Satoru seeks. He pushes in. 

Your breath hitches, welcoming the stretch, wincing slightly at the tender pain. It becomes an afterthought as Satoru continues to push past your walls that squeeze around him perfectly like his dick is made for you.

He’s so deep inside when his hips reach your ass, you don’t know where either of you starts or ends. You bask in his fullness. It’s heavenly. 

Satoru releases a shuddering breath, taking a moment like yourself to savor your warmth before he pulls back slowly and thrusts back inside with a force that has you almost stumble forward. 

He fucks into you, eager and quick, skin clapping against skin. 

“Fuck, fuck—fuck!” Satoru chants, along with your name—debauched and desperate, a psalm to your ears. “You’re fucking incredible! This pussy is fucking tight, made for me—” 

The sharp smack to your ass echoes in the dark, jolting you with a wave of pleasure as you yelp in surprise.

Satoru spanks you again two more times, reveling in the whimpers you fail to bite back. 

“Satoru—ah!” Another smack cuts you short. “Suguru—will—”

A sharper one lands and this time you don’t hold back the moan that pours out. It doesn’t stop you however, from reprimanding Satoru for his lack of discretion.

“He’ll hear us.”

“Who?” It falls out breathless, but you hear the snark in his voice, confirmed with another slap. So much for not waking Suguru up.

The mattress dips deeper, deflating slowly. You struggle to stabilize yourself but leave it to Satoru to remain determined as he plows into you from behind. He doesn’t want to stop and suffice to say, neither do you.

But your arms ache and wobble from the unsteady mattress that moves and jostles with every sharp thrust. You doubt you’ll last before either of you get a chance at release. Elbows threaten to collapse, your body dropping forward. 

Strong hands tighten around your hips, keeping you afloat the sinking mattress. 

“I got you, baby,” Satoru rasps. “I’ll make sure this pussy doesn’t escape me.”

You want to laugh at that, but it’s proving to be too difficult to get proper friction with how the mattress slides back and forth atop the rug. 

“The couch, Satoru,” you grunt, turning to look at him. “Fuck me there—”

He breathes a strained laugh, throat tight with pride. “Nuh-uh, beautiful. We’re finishing here.” 

Determined or stubborn, it’s hard to tell where it intersects with Satoru. 

And as the mattress sinks, your hands can practically feel the rug beneath it, Satoru pulls out, flipping you onto your back. 

He’s inside you in seconds, hiking one leg over his shoulder, eyes boring into yours, wearing a cocksure grin. “See? We’re doing fine. I’m going to make you cum again on this mattress.”

You say nothing, ignoring how your combined weights mold into the mattress, hypnotized by everything Satoru; his lewd gaze, his cocky grin, his dick drilling inside of you. You throw your arms around his neck, yanking him down until you’re chest to chest, kissing him deeply. 

He groans, one hand snaking behind your back to bring you closer, plunging himself deeper. His free hand dives at your clit, rubbing and slapping it with vigor that has you gasping into his mouth. 

“Cum for me again, baby,” he says.

You cry out, ecstasy reborn within seconds and firing off every nerve in your body as you cum for the second time that night. 

Satoru grunts behind an affectionate smile. “That’s my girl.” His pace hurries, becoming erratic and sloppy, a foreshadow of his climax. Your leg falls away while you ride out your orgasm, but your arms keep Satoru locked above you. 

He meets your eyes again, and you understand. 

You nod lazily. “Cum inside of me.”

He kisses your forehead, bucking his hips sharply and spills himself inside of you, warmth spreading within your walls, all while Satoru moans your name. 

The night falls into a quiet still, nothing but the sound of labored breaths floating in the living room.

Satoru slides his cock out, soft and spent, but remains on top of you. After a moment, he kisses your cheek, thumbing a strand of hair that clings to your sweaty forehead. 

He looks radiant like this, sweaty, tired, satiated. 

“Didn’t I tell you? The air mattress is way better than the couch.”

You laugh, hearty despite how drowsy you feel. It’s also then that the night’s chill catches up, you bristle. 

Satoru reaches for the discarded blanket, draping it over you both, and collapsing at your side, arms and legs entangled around you, tucking your head under his chin. 

While it’s a relief from the cold, it’s too humid under the cover with Satoru clinging so close. You wriggle for some room, but the man has the nerve to hold you tighter.

“I need to cuddle, or I won’t fall asleep,” he whines. 

“Satoru, you’re like ten feet tall and all limbs—” You’re pressed closer to his chest. 

“Shhh…” Satoru whispers. “Suguru’s sleeping upstairs, remember? We can’t be rude.” You hear the smile in his voice. 

Sighing, you manage to kick your feet free for some ventilation. But it’s not too bad. There’s something comforting about Satoru’s arms around you and you melt into his body, burrowing deeper against him, and the last thing you recall is a goodnight kiss to the crown of your head. 

…

By daybreak, Suguru comes downstairs. 

He grimaces at the clothes strewn on the floor and couch, heaving an annoyed sigh to find you and Satoru still sound asleep on the deflated mattress. 

He knew he heard something last night…

☻

[velvetmud]

joel figures out how to make you squirt. he exploits this discovery brutally

hhhhhhhh im in the fucking twilight zone from this

warning(s): explicit 18+, daddy kink, dirty talk, light domsub undertones-ish

-

joel always said he preferred getting his hands dirty, putting them to work. that same logic bled nicely into his sex life.

he never gave you any half measures when he took you in, shoved you face first in his bed. looked right down his nose at you, holding you in your place and began explaining. now the rules were, either you wet his bed with your cum or you won’t get to cum the next night at all.

first night he’d discovered your particularly messy hidden talent, three of those vicious fingers were curled up in you. pounding and prodding every spongey sweet spot he could find. he was grinning like a sadist down at your scrunched up helpless face.

“you look so fucking perfect riding on the edge, baby. just keep holding it. don’t wanna spoil the ending so soon.” his other hand crept down to spread your opening further apart to feast his eyes. listens to the wet squelch when he perks his fingers in a certain way. he tisks at your begs and pleads to give in and finish you off, even after he’s spent a good hour toying with you.

“how’s it feel to fuck on daddy’s fingers like this? bet it feels so good, shit, you’re taking them all up the way up to the knuckle. bet’chu like that, mmm that’s so perfect, lemme hear it.”

your nails latch onto his shoulder, squeezing with irreparable need. the throaty whimpers cry out of you one by one. mixing his names, joel or daddy or fuck keep going keep going please. he eggs you on to scream for him some more, stroking his ego with your unhinged volume when he starts to pick up speed. scissors his runny digits back and forth, feeling your noisy walls closing up on him.

he ducks his head back down to smack his lips with yours. lovingly digs his nose into your cheek while he curls all three of his fingers at once. his happy trail ground down onto you in harsh circles, giving you the perfect friction, fuelling the growing mess of his fingers between your legs. breathless, you pull away from his mouth with quick motion to get a hold of yourself as the pressure became more and more unbearable.

he knows you’re mere seconds away from imploding, the micro movements and noises he’s memorized and replayed over and over in his head happening right under him. he playfully nipped at the side of your ear, sucking the spot with his tongue before whispering:

“you wanna cum on these fingers for me, angel? give me something to taste?”

he can’t help the pitiful laugh at your blatant desperation. “yes yes please, please will you let me—“

joel gears up to hear your pretty sounds when you cry for him again, his half lidded eyes swimming with want when you clench around his fingers once, twice.

you squirmed and twitched as if he fed you back to god himself with an exorcism.

he snaps his head down to stare in awe when he feels your cum drenching his fingers. a warm splash gushed from your legs as he rips his fingers out, admiring the work he’s done on your weeping pussy.

“atta girl, baby. made a nice big puddle, all for me. so fucking sexy.” he dips his face down and inspects the mess, nuzzling in it shamelessly. any energy you’d normally have to overthink or feel embarrassed got fucked out of you a long time ago.

your fingers drifted down to grip a selfish handful of joel’s hair, feeling him start his journey kissing up towards your belly button.

“sorry, tonight I know I gotta wash the sheets—“

“’sorry?’” he snorts, eyes widening with an almost humorous disbelief. crawling up to lay at the head of the bed, he tangles your legs together and brushed a strand of hair stuck to your face. “you did perfect for me, angel. next time I’ll fucking drink it outta you, if you’ll let me.”

from then on, he’ll insist it’s only a coincidence that he goes out of his way to refill your glass of water a lot more frequently. claims it’s because he wants to make sure his baby girl is full and hydrated, healthy. safe. not as if he was plotting for something he’ll be doing to you later.

after all, he loved putting use to his hands, and wasn’t ever afraid of getting them dirty.

-

still working on my inbox everybodyyyy I think about the ideas in my inbox everyday I promise I’ll get to finishing up more. thank you for reading and for patience and for telling me any thots

masterlist + buy me a ko-fi

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

HAL, HEAR ME OUT !!! ghost coming home to wis wife on Easter, he thought he wouldnt manage to come back home in time, but Price dismisses him earlier, so he decides to surprise her by making a egg hunt for her, something she always said she liked to do when she was little, I KNOW THIS IS A SPECIFIC REQUEST, FEEL FREE TO DENY DEARIE, i just really love easter loool (and simon too)

love ur works, hal ❤

A Good Man

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Reader

Synopsis: If such a thing as a good man existed, Simon Riley knew he was not it.

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings: Self-deprecating thoughts, allusions to Simon's past & trauma, delving into his psyche, angst, but a lot of fluff, Simon's POV

A/N: I knew I had to get this out before Easter actually came around so here it is early, Anon! This was an adorable request. Enjoy and have a happy holiday! <3

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

If such a thing as a good man existed, Simon Riley knew he was not it. 

Skin shredded; showing every tear and rip with a thinly veiled sense of pride along with a detailed description of every bullet wound and burn. Rope tears along the forearms and red stab marks over the visible spine of his back. Tattoos that depict skeletons and war. He couldn’t tell you every life he had ended, but he could name names until his tongue went black and fell off; though he spared you the details. 

Simon Riley was a devil incarnate. Dead-eyed and robust of body. Muscles wound with promised death and the trigger finger to prove it. His life was measured in an hourglass, the sand cascading down like the blood from his knife after a kill; it would stop flowing, one day – abrupt and final. Simon Riley was a demon, a monster. Simon Riley was a Ghost. 

A ghost with an impeccable memory and a deep love for the woman currently on the living room couch. 

The man blinks, slate eyes taking in the steady rise and fall of your chest with a slow melting of his shoulders. He had a doubt that you had planned to fall asleep with the Tv on – or the floor lamp, for that matter. 

Its golden light slipped over your form, and he traced the flow of it as the voice of the news anchor went in one ear and out the other. Gradually, a hand slipped to the balaclava over his head as your lips let loose a grumble, nose nuzzling the feather pillow. 

Simon often found himself watching you sleep when he was home; how your face would lose all tension in those brief intermissions between oblivion and awakeness. When his own nights were restless, it helped to know that at least someone was at ease, especially if it was you. The fabric slips from his tired visage, the mess of blonde locks atop his head sticking this way and that; layered with the gleam of grease. As the black face-paint stains his sockets and spreads with a swipe of a stiff palm, the ever-constant cloud over his head peels back but for a brief moment of peace. 

His bag was still in the foyer, holding three months of dirty clothes and gear hostage in its zipped space; stained, and bloodied. The man himself wasn’t much better. 

It had been a long few months. 

Hooking the balaclava onto the belt of his cargo pants, Simon bends down on an achy knee, a grunt in his throat sounding off like a boar. Scarred fingers go to brush your cheek, though no words exit his mouth, no whispers of adoration. Just a glimmer in his eyes, a release of that furrowed line in the center of his forehead that seemed permanent these days. 

Staring, the faint twitch of his lips is the only tell at all that he was content at all, feeling your skin as a feather would slide over water. He takes down a breath.

There were few instances that Simon fully remembers from his childhood – most displaced in the back of his mind with a barbed wire fence and a door with no keyhole – though there is one he refuses to lock away. His mother. He can’t help it, and before he can stop himself the words are spilling directly from his heart to his mouth. 

Hell, he really must be tired. 

“She’d of loved you, Sweetheart.” It’s like he’s startled by his own voice, head pulling back and walls going back up, but that delicate glimpse was enough. 

A gravel voice and manchester accent bleed together to form some piece of the puzzle that was his pure adoration for you; small cardboard cuts and divots that had been given over to create a picture. Simon Riley was a ghost, yes, the Ghost, but he was never that when he was home. 

He was just Simon to you.

Blue eyes study the small smile that blesses your face when the man runs his fingers into your hair and attentively separates knots; your body unconsciously molding to his touch. With a kiss on your forehead, Simon chooses to not wake you. It’s late, the man reasons, and he knows how hard it is for you to sleep when he’s gone. Almost as hard as it is for him when he can’t feel your weight on the opposite side of the thin mattress he’s cursed with in the barracks. 

Against his better judgment, he’d learned to love your contact; your presence next to him and the way you fit into his arms.

As gently as he’s able, the black ink of his tattooed arm slips under your shoulders, pushing between the cushion and your limp body to lie still. The other hooks around your knees, and with a pause to make sure you weren't going to wake up, Simon lifts you as easily as a piece of paper. Your weight lays comfortingly against his chest, shallow breath hitting his neck and he thinks for a moment just how it was possible to love something more than you can love anyone else that came before. 

“Simon…” Your voice brings goosebumps to his forearms, his fingers tightening over the shirt he now recognizes as his own clothing you. A smirk runs over his face. 

Lips caress his pulse, a nose taking in his scent of canvas and sweat; a tinge of barely restrained corruption, a soul more damaged than a window shattered into a million pieces.

How can you stand it? How could your body instinctively lay into him and give redemption willingly? 

Simon grips you ever closer, using his own body heat to lull you back to oblivion. He didn’t have an answer – probably never would – but that didn’t mean he wasn’t forever grateful. 

But he was a stiff man; a stoic one. 

He slips through the bedroom door, navigating in the dark as if his eyes had built-in night vision, and hums out, “it’s me. Go on – back to sleep now, Love.” 

Air communes with a soft grunt, and Simon watches from the side of his vision as your lids flicker open and closed. As desperate as the fight is, it’s over fairly quickly when he lowers you to the sheets, cupping your head and setting in on the pillow. 

Soft fingers wrap his lower arm, and with trapped breath, Simon watches your lips connect to the pale skin of his wrist before your form once more goes slack; ever the stubborn one to greet him even half-gone. Weak mumbles stuck forming ‘welcome home’ and ‘love you’ on a lead tongue garble to nothingness like a gargoyle’s stone speech. 

“Hmm.” The Lieutenant smirks as the area tingles, preening like a bird. There are many things to say to you, but he settles with a mumbled, “Don’t hog the sheets. Gotta go take care of the mess first, copy?” 

You don’t answer, of course. With a delicate pet on your head, Simon exits the room silently to take a shower and organize his gear; closing the door behind him only halfway so he can still keep an eye on you as he passes. Ever the neat partner, he wouldn’t go to sleep until all were in their proper places – clothes in the washer, knives and various licensed weapons in the nightstand, and paperwork in the office. 

There was a sanctity in this. A way to get rid of the lingering adrenaline of being on Base or in the field – deterioration of the mind but in such a way it would be described as a boil to a simmer. 

All of it is uneventful. 

He enters the kitchen with only a white towel around his waist sometime later, flicking on the lights and running his fingers through his damp hair before bee-lining to the fridge. If there needed to be a list made of the things he loved the most, it would be fairly short – only three. 

One, you, two, the adrenaline rush of a good deployment, and, finally, your food.  

Simon would listen to Johnny’s rambling for days if it ended with an excellent heaping plate of whatever you cooked for supper.

Opening the fridge, the man’s eyes widen, shimmering with azure glass.

“Fuckin’ hell, Sunshine,” he breathes to himself, hand reaching inside the box with fervor, “you’ve been busy, then, eh…? Bloody feast in ‘ere.” 

The Lieutenant drags out a heaping plate of steak and potatoes – a side of greens covered in plastic and a sticky note on top. 

‘Save for Simon.’ 

The food didn’t look older than a day or two…did you save him some of your meals every once and a while just in case he would show up?

He grunts, re-reading your chicken scratch with a swelling of his chest and a foreign heat on his cheeks. Simon moves to the oven, preheating it and placing a cooling rack on a metal pan over parchment paper. Damned if the man would mess up your masterpiece; he’d reheat it properly. 

With minimal noise, he waits for the meat to be done and settles on placing the potatoes in the microwave with the greens for time's sake. Standing in the kitchen, his eyes gradually fall closed, their weight heavy. But his ears perk at the faint pitter-patter of bare feet. 

The sneaking arms around his waist don’t startle him, and with a sigh on his lips, Simon feels you melt into the curve of his open skin. A head connecting with his spine. 

“Thought I brought you back to bed?” He whispers, flesh melding to you like hot iron, a scarred hand resting over the one that’s on his abdomen. 

Your nose nestles into the burns over his back, and even if you couldn’t see it – the sudden sweep of vulnerability is nearly heard. You lay a kiss and think no more of it, but Simon shivers with beautiful agony; eyes gazing off.

“...Erm,” you groan, fingers tracing the build of his ribs, “needed to hold you.” Your breath stills – half-asleep. “You’re…here?”  

Simon chuckles, hearing it echo off the walls.

“I’m ‘ere, Love. Few more bloody cuts,” he breathes, “but I’m here.” 

“Good. Missed you.” A second of kisses and distant blue eyes. Muffled yawns into his flesh. “Didn’t think you’d be back in time for Easter.” 

Simon twists, aware of the delicate fold of his towel, and lifts your fatigued form onto the counter, settling you down so you don’t fall sideways. He blinks down at you, cupping your cheek when your neck gets too heavy to hold up. Your lids rapidly move, your nose scrunched at the overhead light and the man knows you’re only awake because he’s home. 

He utters out to you, faces close, “The Old Man let me off early,” and lays a peck to your forehead, holding his lips there for a long second. Mutters into your skin, “prickly bastard’s been antsy – hasn’t had a good drink in weeks. Was about ready to strangle someone.”

She’s warm.

His body slots itself between your legs, one arm around your back and the other placed on the counter. Simon’s forehead falls to your shoulder, and with a groan of satisfaction, he feels your fingers go through his locks; itching at his scalp dreamily. 

“...Dunno whether to thank him or send ‘em to a therapist.” You whisper, kissing his neck, unable to keep your hands off each other for a mere second. 

“Better to place money on the both.” His grumbled words are barely heard. “I’ve got two weeks ‘fore they need me back.” 

A soft hum is all he gets before the timer goes off and he takes down a breath, forcing himself to peel back from you and grab his supper. 

By the time the both of you are in bed, he’d nearly forgotten about your comment, and as he stroked your hair and felt you bring him closer under the covers, he remembers. He’d asked Price to give him two weeks on account of the holiday you’d loved so much – Easter – and had used the Captain's deteriorating attitude as a pry. It had been easy enough, the two had known each other for a long time. They knew their breaking points. 

Sometimes living around a handful of other men formed unbreakable bonds of brotherhood, and while that was true for 141, it was also a pain in the ass. People long for home at the end of it – a soft touch and sweet kisses. There’s only so long you can go with yelling orders into the same faces and playing Poker in a shitty safehouse.

Simon never thought he’d be worthy of it, a home, but here he is regardless and here he would stay. And he knew Easter was your favorite time of the year, and he also knew that Easter was…tomorrow. His dead eyes widened. 

The plan formed quickly, his strategic mind helping as it always does, and as he snuck out of bed and laid his lips to yours in a tiny kiss, a shirt was tossed on along with boxers. You never heard the door to the garage door opening, just snuggled back up to the pillow and an old t-shirt he’d placed in his spot instead; inhaling his calming scent.

—

When the sun had risen an hour ago and Simon had finished with heavy fingers. Groaning, the back of a hand meets a forehead, trying to swipe away sleepiness as one would a fly. But he says nothing, feet hitting the floor as he enters the kitchen, an object held in his palm that was quickly stashed in the breadbox.

This was childish, he knew, not at all like the deadly Lieutenant of TF-141. Like Ghost. The boys would tease him relentlessly if they found out.

“Simon…?” Your voice draws him back, and with a look over his shoulders, he finds you wrapped in the comforter like a mouse. “What are you doing out here?” 

The lie comes easily.

“Fixin’ breakfast.” Your eyes flicker to the open breadbox, eyebrows furrowing. A smirk grows and you walk over with a laugh living in your expression. 

“I don’t even trust you to toast bread, Love, go sit down. You’ve been stuck on rations for too long.” Simon only steps back, gazing over your head and seeing your hand pause. “I’ll make us some…” 

He watches as he loves to do, memorizing the parting of your lips and the recognition lighting like a shy fire. The man smiles then, and it is a delicate thing; an expression not tainted with sarcasm or deception. 

Your hand delves into the box and pulls out a plastic egg softly as if it would snap in two. 

It’s cheap, made of thin plastic and fading in colors of the shade of pastel pink. Chipping. There’s nothing inside of it, just a bare piece of holiday joy that never meant too much to anyone beyond children. But with how you’re staring up at him, Simon thinks all the searching in the bins from the garage was worth it. 

“What’s this?” Your voice wraps him close, and your hand holds the object close. Simon shrugs, digging deep into your vision. 

“I’ve the faintest idea, Sunshine.” The giggle flies to his cold heart and he pulls you to his chest to still the raging of it. “My guess,” he raises a stiff brow, “intruder broke in, yeah?” 

“Did this intruder have ears and a pink nose?” You ask, noses brushing. “A hop in his step, maybe?” 

“Hell if I know,” Simon grunts, eyes flickering away before he can break before you. “Best get my gun just in case – you’ll ‘ave to find the rest ‘o the bastard things, though.”

You kiss him then, and he captures the back of your head, holding you to him as if you’d disappear if he let go. He doesn't know what you did to possess him so, to make his thoughts be only of you even when he’s halfway around the world. Were you an angel? A shred of light made physical? Perhaps an embodiment of all the good in the universe? 

Simon had no answer, as he usually did when it came to you, and you sighed into him, whispering redemption to his soul. 

You said you loved him, and he said it back with every ounce of him that was untouched by death. And then you pulled from him with a laugh that could throw away darkness and disappeared with promises of finding the remaining eggs. Like a loyal hound of hell, Simon followed, pulling on the comforter to slow you down so you don’t trip. He would always follow.

The vision of a good life starts with a view of the present. Who you choose to care about; how you make meaning of nothing but a shared morning and a memory of youth. Simon does not remember much of his childhood. Most of the memories are displaced in the back of his mind with a barbed wire fence and a door with no keyhole. Cast away. 

Coated in fear and lies.

Some days he asks how he can still call himself Simon Riley – it’s the name of a dead man, after all…and then he looks at your beaming face, and his question is answered as fast as it was thought up. 

You deserve Simon Riley, not Ghost. Not a devil incarnate or Dead-eyed. A demon, or a monster. If there was even a shred of purity left in him, that was what he knew beyond doubt. 

Simon Riley was selfish, he admitted, and he was loathed to leave you…so here he would stay. Hiding easter eggs and giving veiled hints when you were close to one near the planted flowers in the backyard. There was a simplicity that the man bathed in – the blatant enjoyment of a plain life. 

With a chuckle in the back of his throat, Simon pushes off the back porch and makes a comment about how you were closer to the dead bird you had buried in the garden bed than an egg. A flick of your middle finger leaves him smirking, and he splays a hand over your back, angling your body farther north. The kiss left on his stubbled cheek makes him warmer than he wants to admit; cold eyes soften.

If such a thing as a good man existed, Simon Riley knew he was not it…but he was trying to be damn near close. Until then, the ring he had bought would stay in his office.

TAGS:

@blueoorchid, @jxvipike, @revrse, @shuttlelauncher81, @bruhhvv, @kittiowolf210, @aerangi, @spikespiegell, @ghost-with-a-teacup, @1234ilikecowsthanyoumore, @uberraschungg, @shoe1412, @jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet @pukbadger, @omeganixtra, @gills-lounge, @voidinfernal, @sukunas-left-nut-sack, @untoldshortsofthefandoms, @batmanunicorns523, @icepancakes, @copiasratscheese, @besas-stuff, @marytvirgin, @misfne, @halfmoth-halfman, @lothiriel9, @anna-banana27, @jade-jax, @cl0wncxre, @john-pricee, @330bpm-whiplash, @lora21, @wolfyland07, @dilfsaremyfavourite, @levietc, @kk19pls, @semieitabby, @thriving-n-jiving, @cringe-kats, @n1choles, @gaychaosgremlin, @johnpricesprincess, @haleypearce

[manias-wordcount]

Soft Squeezes (Howl Jenkins Pendragon)

Kinktober 2023 Day Four: Fondling

𝙒𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚? ⇒ 𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

𝙟𝙤𝙞𝙣 𝙢𝙮 𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙘𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙫𝙚𝙧?

𝙗𝙪𝙮 𝙢𝙚 𝙖 𝙘𝙤𝙛𝙛𝙚𝙚?

It’s always when Howl seems to be at his absolute softest.

  That’s usually when you can expect him to stick his hands underneath the fabric of your dress. 

  Today was one of those days. Not that you were surprised, of course. He was sleepy this morning when you woke him up with the breakfast that you and Calcifer worked to create. He was quiet as he ate, though he answered every one of Markl’s questions with the smallest of smiles on his face. When breakfast was done, he seemed to have floated around the castle. Doing what? You’re not quite sure. There are still parts of Howl that you have to admit as being a mystery still- even to you. 

  But what you do know is that when he crept into your sunroom and picked you up and off the couch to plop you straight down in his lap, you knew you were in for a bit of a distracting reading session. So you didn’t even frown you just barely managed to make it to the end of the chapter. You only settled into him a little more. And you smiled.

  It wasn’t a smile Howl could necessarily see, but you had a feeling he knew it was there. Because all too soon, the long fingers that were tracing the neckline of your dress. Pressing the tips of his nails just barely against any pieces of exposed skin he could get his hands on. Only enough to make you shudder and shiver. And when he noticed the quiet way you fold the top of a page in the book you were trying to read, he didn’t say anymore. He just let out a warm chuckle and let you take your time in placing the book by the side of his lap. And when you finally righted yourself in his lap? Undistracted and oh-so-eager? He finally had the chance to set out and do what he wanted to do ever since wandering in to see you.

  Even so, he started off slow. 

  He still let a finger trace your neckline a few times for good measure. Though his other hand has already just begun gently pressing the pads of each finger just beneath the very top of your dress. At first, the touch was still a little more curious than anything else. But hand tracing your neckline had just wandered down further to cup at your breast from above your clothes. Four fingers had just reacquainted themselves with the size of your chest as they scoped from below and circled around what they could. His thumb came to top it all off as it began to draw small, small circles into you. Something you doubt you would have really noticed if it weren’t for the delicate way he treated you. Even as you fidgeted and squirmed and made all sorts of soft noises as you sat on his lap.

  Speaking of which, you were starting to get a little antsy. And a little bit shy too. A brush against of part of your body that was too sensitive always managed to get a shiver out of you. And the suddenness of a squeeze or a pinch or even a warm kiss to your skin was usually met with a whimper or a gasp pouring freely from your lips. Beneath you, you could feel your lover’s own arousal growing. A stiff, firmness that wasn’t always there is now pressing against your bottom. And if you wonder if it’s because touching you genuinely makes him this excited.

  Or if his body can somehow sense the growing wetness that’s now making a mess of your panties right above him.

  Whatever the reason may be, it doesn’t change the fact that Howl seems more than content with just playing around with your breasts. So content that when his fingers find your nipples hardening from beneath your dress and opts to give it the quickest squeeze that sends you almost jolting out of his lap, he’s quick the grab you with a free hand and keep you rooted in place. 

  “I’m sorry, my dear,” He murmurs into the crook of your neck. His apology is accented by a kiss against your skin as the hand that just grabbed you went from holding at your waist to spreading across the expanse of your tummy and squeezing there as well. The action bunches up your dress a little more than sitting on his lap has already. Not enough to cause major concerns if you were out in public. But just enough to raise some eyebrows now that more of the meat of your thighs was exposed for anyone to lay their eyes upon. But you know that’s now what Howl’s most interested in. Because if he was…. “You know I just couldn’t help it.”

  …then why would he be so focused on pulling down the top of your dress and letting your breasts fall free from the clothes that once confined them?

  And even though you know he’s doing this all for his own enjoyment and pleasure, there’s a certain feeling of embarrassment that overtakes you as you watch your chest become more exposed and bounce freely now that they’ve been revealed to all of the sunroom. But Howl doesn’t allow you for a moment to let that shyness dwell within you. It seems as if not even a part of his agenda or factored into his fantasy. No, because before you can even really blink, the hand that is not grabbing at your body and keeping you pressed against him is now spreading against your chest and grabbing. Squeezing. Feeling. Touching. Anything. Everything.

  And upon his lap, you’re left squirming and shaking. Whimper and whining. Gasping out and breathing deeply as the fabric of your dress pools around you. But behind your every reaction is a man giving into his earthly temptations. A man taking the same hands that once brushed against your pebbled nipples tenderly and turning them into hands that tug and roll the sensitive little point between two nimble fingers. A man taking the same hands that gently cupped and drew shapes along your skin and turning them into hands that give a little lift just to let fall. Or to squeeze just hard enough for him to hear your voice as you sing in surprise. Or to play and play and play with all that he can touch and all that he can feel and all that he can see.

  And he’ll be like this for hours. He’ll sit you on his lap and let your dress hang off your body. Leaving you half naked and all his to play with. He’ll run his fingers against your skin. He’ll be gentle and sweet. And maybe take a quick turn to poke and prod at your limits. But you’ll never have to worry about him being a little too rough with your precious body. Because on the inside and out, you know that the man you’re dealing with is a soft, soft man. A man who just so happens to want only one thing.

  And it just so happens that his hands are the absolute perfect size to enjoy that very thing.

[mayadarlings]

Good things happen to those who wait.

—★! Tags: NSFW, MDNI, AFAB! Slow?? Sex toys, a man way too big, size kink. Fingering.

★- Part 1 here!! Part 2 here!!

You regret missing it. The night GD streamed, you were stuck at work and time was not on your side. Even if you managed to show up, you doubted you could compete with those who had bottomless wallets for donations. By the time you got home, the stream had ended and a lucky winner had claimed their prize, leaving you frustrated at being outdone by someone with more money to spare.

After that, there was a complete lack of communication. No live streams, no new videos. Total silence for five long months. You couldn't help but constantly check his page, refreshing it so frequently that your browser started suggesting it the moment you typed in his name. It was necessary; what if he suddenly returned and started streaming while you weren't paying attention? That would be unacceptable. So you remained his dedicated watcher, eagerly anticipating his return to once again capture your heart and even cause some inevitable arousal.

With no new posts to peruse, you exhausted all of the content already shared on his page. His previous streams and videos became a regular part of your nightly routine – laptop open, legs spread, fingers working their magic as you reached climax again and again. But in just a matter of weeks, this routine grew stale and your fingers failed to satisfy you. You craved something real, something similar to the man who had become your obsession.

On your day off, you made a choice to be daring and try something completely new. Not too far from where you live, there was a sex shop with its bold black exterior and eye-catching logo, "Don't ask, Won't tell." You never thought you'd ever have a reason to step foot inside until today. Trying to remain inconspicuous, you dressed casually in a gray hoodie and shorts, praying that no one from your complex would spot you as you wandered around the small store.

You quickly located the Dildo section in the far corner of the store, it was strategically placed away from prying eyes, giving you the freedom to browse without feeling self-conscious. The selection was overwhelming; there were dildos of all shapes, sizes, and colors that you didn't even know existed. A row of bright and vibrant toys caught your eye, ranging from hot pink to deep purple. Upon closer inspection, you noticed that some were smaller than others and angled differently - some leaning more to the right or left. Curious, you read the label below that simply read "beginners." Were these meant for beginners? You couldn't help but feel a little cocky; surely you could handle more than just beginner-level toys.

Your gaze drifted down to the shelf below, where a collection of dildos labeled as "intermediate" caught your eye. They were all around 5 inches long, a decent size, and you found yourself reaching out to touch a deep blue one that fit perfectly in your palm. But upon closer inspection, it wasn't the right one. It wasn't like his - GD's. You needed something that would remind you of him.

So you moved on to the last row, where the sign in bright red read "Expert". These dildos were flesh-colored and ranged from 6-8 inches in size. They looked almost identical to his. You picked up a realistic-looking one with a caucasian skin tone, measuring at 7 pushing 8 inches. It was thick and veiny, standing tall and proud unlike the ones in the first row. This was the one you wanted - it was as close as you could get to experiencing him.

You approach the cashier, trying your best to avoid making eye contact with her. But her questioning look, as if asking "are you sure about this?", burns your face with embarrassment. The transaction is completed hastily, almost as if the cashier wants you out of the store before it becomes too awkward. You grab the discreet black bag from her hands and make a hasty exit.

You let out a deep sigh as you leave the shop, knowing all that was left to do was walk back to the apartment. It was a simple twenty-minute trek, maybe twenty-five if you got unlucky and had to wait for a red light at the stopwalk. You started on your way, clutching the shopping bag tightly, afraid that passerby's might try to peer inside. As you rounded the corner, a single raindrop landed on your head, followed by more until it was pouring without warning.

The unexpected downpour caught you off guard with little time to react. You were positive that the forecast called for clear skies, so you didn't bother bringing any protection. As droplets of water hit your skin, your eyes dart around in search of shelter. Finally, you spot the bus stop with its small roof offering some relief. With bare ankles splashing through puddles, you hurry towards it.

Taking shelter at the bus stop was a much better option than attempting to walk in this downpour. It was already raining hard enough to make a twenty-minute walk feel like eternity, and you would have been completely soaked if you had attempted it. Now, at least, you could relax a bit, knowing that you were somewhat protected and dry. All you had left to do was wait for the storm to pass. As you take out your phone from your pocket to check the weather app, a sudden shadow looms over you and a large figure squeezes into the small space next to you.

You quickly lifted your gaze from your phone and had to tilt your head back to meet the imposing figure who squeezed into the already cramped area. It was a man, who paid no attention to you whatsoever. He was wearing a black hoodie with the hood pulled tightly over his head and a black surgical mask covering his face except for his piercing brown eyes. Those same eyes locked onto yours as he noticed you staring at him.

Your body tensed up, and you averted your gaze, avoiding looking at him altogether. You couldn't help but think, "Could he be any more intimidating?"

The two of you stood next to each other in utter quietness for what felt like an eternity. He kept his gaze fixed ahead while you found yourself inexplicably fascinated by your own shoes. A sudden, loud splash caught your attention and you looked up just in time to see a group of children running by, gleefully splashing and playing in the puddles.

The combination of mud and water was heading straight towards you, ready to create a messy situation. But before it could hit you, he smoothly stepped in front and took the full force of the splash. He grunted as the liquid hit him, but he shook his head and glanced at the kids who seemed oblivious to the mess they had caused.

You were taken aback by his sudden actions, and you couldn't help but look back and forth between him and the mess on his previously spotless hoodie. The stain was large, surely leaving a big wet spot. "I- I mean, you didn't have to do that." You cursed yourself for saying the wrong thing as he raised an eyebrow. "Damn, that’s not what I meant."

He shakes his head and lets out a low chuckle. " 'S okay."

As soon as he spoke, you froze in place. His voice was unmistakably deep and one that you had heard before. You couldn't help but wonder if you were overreacting. Out of the corner of your eye, you observed him as he attempted to wipe away some moisture on his hoodie with a handkerchief. As far as you could tell, there were no visible tattoos on him.

Apart from that, you couldn't help but sympathize with him. He didn't have to do this at all. It was refreshing to see chivalry still existed, and the least you could do was assist him. "Do you live close by?" you inquire, causing him to pause and turn his gaze towards you.

They say that everything in life is predetermined by fate, and it seems like fate had a plan for you when you asked that seemingly innocent question. Little did you know, your simple act set off a chain reaction of events. He lived far away, but you couldn't let him go on with that stain on his hoodie. So after the rain stopped, you brought him back to your apartment complex and showed him to the laundry room.

“Just give me a moment to grab my detergent. The stuff the landlord gives us is terrible.” You told him, motioning for him to take a seat on the nearby chair, which he did without saying a word. You quickly went up to your apartment and threw the bag on the couch before heading into the bathroom to retrieve the detergent. As you headed back downstairs, the scene in front of you left you speechless.

The man had removed his jacket and tossed it into the laundry, his back tense and facing away from you. He was dressed in a grey t-shirt that revealed his defined forearms. You couldn't help but recognize the tattoos decorating his skin. Could it really be him?

You had to act casual, not let your excitement show. You didn't want to seem like some creep and scare him off like a desperate fool. Taking a deep breath to calm your nerves, you approach him with a gentle smile and present the bottle of detergent. "This will make your hoody spotless and leave it smelling amazing."

He turns his masked face towards you, revealing dirty blonde hair and a weathered complexion. It's not the kind of wear and tear that comes with age, but something else. "You have a staring habit," he says bluntly, catching you off guard. You didn't even realize you were staring at him.

You feel like you're about to jump out of your skin, but you manage to compose yourself. "Sorry," you apologize quietly as you approach the washing machine. You pour in a generous amount of detergent for his jacket and close the lid with a firm click. "The washers here aren't great, so if you want, you can come up to my apartment until it's finished." Normally, you wouldn't invite a total stranger into your home, hell you wouldn't have even let him see which complex you lived in, but your curiosity gets the best of you.

He stands there with his arms crossed, scanning you from head to toe. His intense gaze makes you feel exposed, as if he can see right through you. "I'll only be here until it's finished," he says in a smooth yet cautious tone. After all, you are a stranger. He understands that and so do you.

With a nod, you lead him up to your apartment, locking it behind you once you step in last. He seems to pause, taking it all in, glancing around at every little thing but not touching.

After a brief nod of your head, you guide him up to your apartment and lock the door behind you as soon as you both enter. He takes a moment to survey the space, his eyes scanning every detail but not daring to touch anything. You set your keys down on the kitchen counter while he settles onto the couch, trying to get comfortable. His gaze falls upon the black bag resting nearby, and although he doesn't reach for it, he does lean in closer to see what's inside.

You step out, and he's back to his usual self, sitting motionless as if nothing had happened. You realize you completely forgot about the bag in your hand; it was an easy oversight. Smiling at him, you take a seat in the armchair across from him, but he catches you off guard. "You seem like the last person who would shop at that kind of store."

As he speaks, you feel a pang of confusion and want to confront him about his words. However, your attention is diverted by the black bag you left out in the open. Your face flushes with embarrassment and your jaw drops, but you're unable to utter any words or even come up with an excuse.

His smirk grew as he observed your flustered reaction. The crinkles at the corners of his eyes gave it away. "I was just joking, didn't think it would make you so shy."

You huff and lean back in the chair, feeling defensive. You can't bring yourself to meet his gaze as you say, "I'm not shy. I just…"

"Just?" He teased, casually draping an arm over the couch.

Feeling self-conscious, you defended yourself with a shy tone and blushing cheeks. “It’s perfectly normal to want a change.” you explained.

All he does is hum, but his eyes are fixed on you. Those damn eyes that seem to see right through you. "A little big don't you think?" He nods towards the bag.

You widen your eyes in surprise and finally gather the courage to confront him directly. "That's quite a bold topic to bring up with someone you barely know," you say.

"Coming from the woman who allowed a stranger into her home without even knowing my name, that's rich, love."

Touché.

“So whats your name then?”

“Simon.”

“Mines is y/n”

The two of you began to talk or rather you talked up a storm. As you spoke, he sat there and actually listened. Despite being the one to do most of the talking, he let you vent about work for almost ten solid minutes without interrupting. All he did was nod along, showing that he was truly paying attention.

You asked about his job and he wasn't very forthcoming, only mentioning that he traveled frequently. You ventured to ask his age and discovered he was twenty-eight years old. He didn't seem eager to talk about himself, so you changed the subject out of respect for his privacy.

He wasn't exactly the most exciting person, but he had his moments. Every so often, he'd tell a cheesy dad joke that made you giggle. You loved seeing the sparkle in his eyes whenever he cracked a joke. The two of you were having such a good time together that before you knew it, an hour had passed and you could hear the familiar beep of the washing machine downstairs. "Hold on, I'll grab your hoodie," you say as you get up and step out of the apartment for a moment.

He sat alone, quietly anticipating your return. By chance, the two of you had crossed paths, a coincidence he was grateful for because… he knew who you were. He noticed you struggling to make connections in your mind while he had already recognized you.

He had come across your profile on his streaming platform. You were a new fan, which he could tell based on your activity. How? Your profile picture was of yourself, and you never participated in the chat or donated. This piqued his curiosity about you, but he didn't bother reaching out at the time. However, when he saw you waiting at the bus stop in the same city as him, he took a chance and decided to approach you.

Now he was currently sitting in your apartment while you were busy downstairs. His gaze kept returning to the toy inside the bag, a flimsy and unnecessary item in his opinion. Why would someone like you need a toy? Surely you had a boyfriend, right? He heard your footsteps approaching and quickly turned to watch as you entered the room. "Why the toy?" he asked curiously.

You approached him and handed him his jacket, just cleaned and now carrying a hint of lavender. He brought up the dildo again, but you were feeling more assured this time. "As I said before, I wanted to experiment with something different."

He snorted in disbelief at those words, reaching over and holding up the black bag. "Why would you need this when you have a boyfriend, right? You do have one, don't you?" Simon secretly wished that you didn't have a boyfriend. You were too beautiful to be with someone who couldn't satisfy you.

You feel heat rush to your cheeks as you quickly take the bag from his hand and set it on the ground. "No, I don't have a boyfriend and so what if I have a dildo, what's it to you?”

For the first time, Simon is at a loss for words. He's confused, and even he doesn't understand why he cares so much. What he says next surprises not just you, but himself as well. "I could do better."

How the hell are you supposed to react to that? What would be an appropriate response? Was it meant as a joke, maybe? "Yeah, right, and pigs can fly." You try to rebut with a half-hearted tone, still uncertain of how to handle the situation.

As he sits up, his posture becomes rigid and his gaze locks onto yours. His eyes, a deep brown like icy orbs, possess an inexplicable warmth when focused on you. He takes a moment to assess you, his gaze lingering on your hips before meeting your eyes once more. You can feel the weight of his stare, as if he is trying to read your every thought and emotion. His expression remains stoic but there is an intensity in his eyes that cannot be ignored.

The realization washes over you like a wave, leaving behind a tingling sensation that starts in your toes and travels up your spine. He's serious…actually serious. Your heart races as his intense gaze bores into yours, causing a familiar heat to pool in the pit of your stomach and spread through your body. Your intuition spikes, confirming what your body already knows - there's only one man who can make you feel this way. It's ironic, really, that getting turned on was the only indication that he is the mysterious streamer you've been pining after for so long.

A bead of sweat forms on your forehead as you struggle to maintain a composed exterior, but inside you can't deny the desire that surges through you. Simon practically offered himself on a silver platter, you couldn't let this opportunity slip by. You could feel the tension in the air as he waited for your response. "Prove it then," the words escaped your lips in a rush, betraying your eagerness. But it was too late to take them back now. The anticipation and lust swirling between the two of you was palpable, like electricity in the air. Your pulse quickened as you prepared for what was to come next.

After hearing your confirmation, Simon's eyes darken, their once warm hue turning into a deep and intense shade. He slowly rises from his seat on the couch, his tall frame easily towering over you. Without saying a word, his large hand comes to rest on your hip, gently brushing his thumb in tender circles. His touch brings a sense of warmth that radiates off of him, causing you to tremble slightly. You can feel how gentle he is with you, knowing exactly how to handle you with care and tenderness.

With a firm grip on your waist, he gently guides you onto his lap. His strong thighs support your weight effortlessly, as if you were weightless in his arms. Simon tenderly presses his lips against your neck, his surgical mask now discarded, leaving his warm breath and soft kisses to trail down your neck and over your shoulder. The feeling sends shivers down your spine and causes you to squirm involuntarily, releasing a shaky gasp from your lips.

Desperate to catch a glimpse of his true identity, you strain your neck to see his face, but he squeezes your waist possessively. You felt his warm breath on your neck as he murmured, "You'll get to see if you behave, love." A soft kiss was pressed to the sensitive skin at the nape of your neck, making you whine with need. Despite your curiosity, you couldn't resist the calming effect of his embrace. The need to know his true appearance still lingers, but you trust in his promise and enjoy the moment with him.

His rough hands glide up and down the curves of your body, pressing firmly against your back as he pulls you closer. You can feel his chest rising and falling against you, and you can't ignore the bulge in his pants pressed against your plush ass. Despite the thick fabric of his jeans, you can sense every inch of him. He is just as large and intimidating as you had seen from watching him on screen. Perhaps even too big for you to handle. Simon's hand ventures underneath your hoodie and slips beneath your shirt, his calloused fingers tracing slow circles on your stomach. Though they are rough and coarse, they mold you like soft dough in a baker's hands. You feel like a piece of bread ready to be shaped according to his will.

With a deep sigh of relief, you let your eyes flutter closed, the tension slowly draining from your body. Soft moans escape your lips as his hands work their magic, easing away the stress and bringing a sense of pleasure to every inch of you. Your eyes snap open as one hand ventures underneath the band of your panties and gently strokes between your legs. You can feel the corner of his lips curl up in a confident smirk against the sensitive skin of your neck. "Already so wet," he whispers huskily, making you crave more of his touch.

Simon's fingers glide over your clit, causing it to quiver under his touch. He's exploring, trying to figure out what turns you on. When your body responds with a subtle yearning for more, he applies pressure with his index and middle finger, gently swirling them around your sensitive spot. You inhale sharply, almost unconsciously closing your legs at the sensation of a new hand wandering all over your body.

As Simon's fingers glide over your body, you feel a rush of electricity shoot through you. His touch is tentative at first, exploring the curves and crevices of your skin as if he is mapping out every inch. When he finally reaches your clit, it feels like a firework has been lit inside of you. Heat spreads from the contact point to every nerve ending in your body. You can't help but huff as he presses down with his index and middle finger, creating a slow, tantalizing swirl against your sensitive nub. Your breaths come in quick pants as your body responds to the unfamiliar sensation, arching towards his touch and almost closing up in surprise.

Gently, Simon nudges your thighs apart with his own, a low growl escaping him as he nibbles on your ear, his breath is hot against your skin. “That's a good girl,” he whispers, his voice gruff and full of desire. “Let me take care of you.” His touch is featherlight, teasing and electrifying, making it hard for you to focus on anything else. As one hand wanders up and down your body, the other finds its way to your perky breast, kneading and caressing it gently. Simon is determined to leave no part of you untouched, his actions attacking all of your physical senses at once.

A sharp pinch on your hardened nipple elicits a tiny squeal from you, and he responds by gently kissing your cheek. His lips trail up and down your jawline, providing comfort for your cry. Your slick has already coated his fingers, and it now seeps through not only your shorts but also your panties. He can feel the wet spot on his knee, evidence of your arousal. "Your pretty cunt doesn't get enough attention," he remarks, observing the way you're leaking all over him with a smirk on his face.

He uttered that word, "pretty," in such a raw way that it only made you more aroused. He noticed how wet you were and withdrew his fingers, teasingly waving them in front of your face as you try to catch your breath. "Look at the mess you've made," he says, running his fingers against your lips. You obey and open your mouth, tasting the salty slickness on your tongue.

The vulgarity of his words shot dopamine straight to that lust-filled brain of yours, and you couldn't deny the fluttering arousal that followed. He noticed this and pulled his fingers back from between your legs, holding them up to your face. Your breath came in short gasps as he taunted you with your own slick moisture glistening on his fingertips. "What a mess you made," he said, rubbing his fingers against your lips, encouraging you to open them. You complied eagerly, tasting the tangy saltiness of yourself on your tongue. It only made you want him more.

You suck on his finger, savoring the taste of yourself as your tongue laps at it with eagerness. The taste of yourself lingers on his skin, sweet and intoxicating. Simon's eyes are glued to you, mesmerized by your actions. His pants feel unbearably tight, but he knows he must take things slow and loosen you up before he can have you completely.

“Want me to keep going?” Simon asked in a commanding tone, and when you nodded, he shook his head. "I need words from you, Doll. Tell me what you want."

Your lips feel swollen as you bite down on them, feeling a wave of embarrassment wash over you. But you can't forget your current position and the events that led to it. "I want more Simon, please."

Simon grunts and nods, taking his finger out of your mouth and holding onto your hips with both hands. He guides you to lean against his strong chest, positioning you so you can see his face. His rugged appearance, with a fresh stubble brushing against your soft skin, adds to his appeal. A cut on his nose gives him a rougher look, but it only makes him more attractive. He uses his fingers to collect your wetness and spreads it over your clenched opening. Taking advantage of your distraction, Simon slowly inserts his index finger into your tight hole.

He can't help but groan at the incredible tightness he encounters with just one finger. Your walls squeeze and cling onto him as if your life depends on it. It's a good thing he's taking the time to loosen you up, because if his cock were to experience this level of tightness, he'd have you pinned down on the couch in no time, causing your knees to shake uncontrollably.

You flinch at the sudden intrusion, his large index finger feeling almost intrusive as it slowly enters you. It fills you more than your own fingers ever could. Simon tenderly kisses the side of your lips, reassuring you. "It's okay, I've got you…I've got you." He pauses to make sure you're comfortable before continuing. His fingers continue to explore with care, his thumb gently pressing against your sensitive clit to mask any pain with pleasure. A deep moan escapes him as he feels your walls pulsating around him, making his cock throb in anticipation within his boxers. It begs for attention.

You looked up at him, your eyes blinking rapidly as you flinched when he slowly inserted another finger into your tight and slippery opening. It was a bit too much to handle, but you forced yourself to bear it with clenched teeth and an open mouth. Your cheeks were flushed and your skin had goosebumps all over from the stimulation. The pain gradually turned into a hint of pleasure, causing your nipples to harden in response. His two fingers moved in and out at a slow pace, your whimpers of discomfort slowly transformed into moans of pleasure. Simon quickly found a rhythm, picking up speed until there were wet slurping sounds coming from the movement of his fingers inside you.

The intensity of the moment was immeasurable. The sight of you writhing on his lap, your body shuddering and your walls gripping around his fingers, drove him to grunt loudly in response. He could feel his own cock throbbing and pulsing with desperate need as he watched you shatter before him. With deliberate care, he curved his finger and found a sweet spot deep inside you that made your toes curl and your eyes roll back. Taking note of this, Simon altered his rhythm and started moving faster, his fingers thrusting in and out with an almost frantic pace.

But he didn't forget about that special spot, and each time he hit it, it sent waves of ecstasy through your body, leaving you breathless and craving more. You were starved for touch, and Simon could tell by how eagerly you pushed against his hand, your hips seeking out his fingers no matter how deep they delved inside you. He was playing you like a skilled musician, knowing exactly which strings to pluck to elicit the most intense reactions from your body. And despite only having just met him, Simon seemed to have a better understanding of your own body than yourself.

He knows that adding a third finger now would be too much for you to handle. Instead, he expertly curls both fingers inside of you and uses his other hand to pinch and tweak your swollen clit. The pleasure is overwhelming and has you seeing stars and cumming far too soon. Your whole body arches off of him, your legs trembling like leaves in the wind as your orgasm crashes over you uncontrollably. You weren't given any build up or time to prepare, it came on full force and ready. When you come down from your high, he pulls his fingers out of your quivering core, holding you close with one arm while the other shifts you slightly for comfort. His pants are now slick with your release, evidence of your intense climax.

Mindful of your orgasm, he gently lifts you up and places you onto the plush couch. You sit there for a moment, heart racing and breath catching in your chest. Your mind is dizzy with pleasure, trying to process everything that has transpired. Suddenly, a metallic clank and a loud zip interrupt your thoughts, causing you to open one eye and peer up at Simon.

He stands directly in front of you, blocking out the rest of the world with his strong body. As your eyes trail downward, you come face to face with the very same girthy cock that had captivated you on screen. Up close, it was even more daunting and intimidating than before. Thick veins pulsed along its length, the tip glistening with precum from being pressed against his boxer briefs. His heavy balls hung low and full, adding to the overwhelming image before you.

"You didn't think this was over, did you?"

♡! This one is really long but I don't like how I did the sex scene that much. o(TヘTo). Expect more of Simon talking in the next!!

˚ ��� . Taglist (People who commented): @theirkenfiles @@crazy-phan-girl13 @forgotten-lego-piece

[stevenose]

The hand on the forehead to push her back + the hand on the back of her hair to push her in

It’s like… sweet!stevie who you’re trying to corrupt <3 showing him it’s more than fine when you’re choking on him <33

um YEAH. 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 here are some crumbs for u

gender unspecified reader; steve receiving oral; corrupting steve hehe; teasing

you love torturing him.

steve’s legs shake, the muscles in his thighs twitching on either side of your head. spread all wide for you. and his cock, so pretty and thick and hard, aching, twitches with each little movement you make. he’s drooling precum, thick, clear ropes of it running down the shaft and settling in his trimmed pubes. big hands gripping the couch while he watches you with wide eyes and a heaving chest.

you take some mercy on him and kiss up those beads of pre he’s drooling. smiling warmly at him because that gets him off. you’re so sweet when you’re driving him to desperate measures. “taste so good,” you murmur, looking at him through your lashes. you kitten lick the head of him and he sighs, shivering. “what do you want, steve?”

“your mouth,” he answers immediately. but he makes no attempts to take it. “honey, please.”

so you give it to him, but in your own way. you lick up the underside of his cock, tongue running against a thick, pulsing vein before taking only the tip of his head into your mouth. steve groans, eyes rolling back, adam’s apple jutting out as he swallows. his hips just nearly roll into your mouth but he stops short of taking what he needs.

it kills you.

you suck on his tip for just a few moments before pulling off, a thin string of saliva connecting your lips to him. “like that?” you ask.

steve’s conflicted on his answer. you watch him struggle, brows furrowing, frowning, his mouth opening and shutting. “no,” he finally says.

“oh,” you whisper. “then what about this?”

now you’re properly sucking him off. pushing your own head down onto his cock, as far as it’ll go, but you don’t let yourself gag on it yet. he has to take that, whenever you’ve driven him to it. steve’s fists clench up tight and he whimpers, nodding slowly while you suck him off. but you’re moving slow, too. lazy. not really wrapping your lips around him to suck him off. and you don’t do it for very long either, pulling off when his cock twitches in your mouth.

“like that?” you ask, voice a little thick.

“angel.” he’s struggling and it’s gorgeous. “you - you know what i want.”

“i don’t think i do.”

steve groans, letting his head fall against the back of the couch. you’d been edging him like this for entirely too long. you watch his hands twitch like he wants to take your head in them, but he relaxes them soon after. “baby, just - suck me off, please?”

you press a wet kiss to his balls and he groans. “but i am sucking you off.”

you wish you were inside of his head. it’s delicious just watching him find the words he wants to use. doesn’t want to be mean, doesn’t want to critique your performance. in an attempt to help him, kiss up his shaft, open mouthed and breathy. his cock twitches hard and steve groans loud, clenching his jaw.

“what do you want from me?” he asks, voice cracking. “i’ll do whatever you want, just - please?”

your bottom lip drags up his cock, catching some more precum before you pull away again. “i want you to show me what you need,” you say softly. your breath fans over his dick and he shudders. “whatever you need, steve. just want to make you feel good. don’t you want that?”

“yes,” he grits out. those big hands move again, reaching for your head, but he pauses. “sh-shit. i don’t - i can’t -“

“you can’t what? show me?”

he shakes his head again, squeezes his eyes shut. “i’ll hurt you.”

now you’re excited, your stomach flipping. you readjust on your knees. “you won’t, angel, i promise,” you coo. “i’m here to make you feel good. i’m a little toy for you, stevie.”

you’re giddy when he groans, his warm palms coming to rest on either side of your head.

“play with me,” you whisper. “teach me what you want.”

steve takes a deep breath and finally looks down at you, his brown eyes dark and hooded. “can i?”

you nod against his grip. “want to be good for you.”

he still hesitates so you help him along again, leaning forward to rest the angry red tip of his cock against your lips. you taste the salt of his precum. your mouth waters. you watch steve through your lashes again while he struggles, biting his cheek, before he finally pushes your head down.

and it isn’t much - just a little. he’s testing the waters. and you make no efforts to help him. you stay precisely where he’s put you, until he gets the hint that he has to do the work now.

“stop me,” he urges, “if it’s too much.”

you slowly blink up at him. “mhm.”

steve readjusts his grip, and then pushes your head down slowly, right up until he’s satisfied and settled in the back of your throat. you refrain from gagging as best as you can - you know the sound will scare him off. that can come later, when he’s properly using your throat as a flesh light, when he’s so lost in his pleasure that your gags only fuel him further.

it’s a steady pace. up, down. up, down. you wrap your lips tightly around the shaft and he shivers again, planting his feet. if your mouth wasn’t so full you’d have laughed in victory when he starts fucking his hips up into your face too. drool runs down your chin, and each time he cants his hips upwards it transfers to his aching, sore, swollen balls.

“fuck,” he mutters. he’s blushing so hard, must be so hot up there. fighting with himself. “you feel so good.”

you hum and stick your tongue out so he can go deeper. he pushes you down with his hands and then thrusts up with his hips. it’s now that you gag, and steve gasps above you, a hand moving to your forehead to push you away. but you stay there, stay gagging on his cock, your eyes welling with tears while his pulsing shaft stretches you out.

“baby!” he gasps, pushing at your head only slightly harder, like it’s more of a moral obligation than a want. and you finally pull off, panting for air and giggling, face a mess.

“you’re a dirty perv, aren’t you, stevie?” you ask, wrapping one hand around his cock. “wanna cum down my throat, don’t you?”

“yes,” he gasps, unable to look at you in the eyes, just looking up at the ceiling while he pants. “wanna feel you swallow it, oh my god.”

you moan. “wanna fuck my face some more? you know i can take it.”

“uh - uh-huh,” he mumbles, a big hand finding its place on there top of your head. “you’re so hot, god damn it.”

“says you.” you kiss his thigh. “tell me you want to fuck my throat.”

steve takes a shuttering inhale. “wannafuckyourthroat,” he groans quickly.

you push your wet thighs together. “oh, good boy.”

steve whines, his body shaking. “can i? please?”

“take it,” you encourage.

he doesn’t fuck around this time. pushes your head as far down on his cock as it would go, keeping you there while you gag, then pulling you back up by the hair. pushes you down, til your nose presses against his lower stomach, pushes his hips up to chase it. you moan silently around him and reach down to play with yourself.

“you wanted this?” he strains, scandalized.

you nod around his cock.

“fuck,” he gasps. his hips twitch up again, his grip growing tighter in your hair. “gonna fuckin’ give it to you.”

[remember-to-be-gentle]

Friend, I just screamed. SCREAMED.

How about this~ if I may request an Enji that happens to see a perfect little darling happening by and can't help himself...

...I'll happily write a request for you in exchange!

You'll get yours 😈 when I think of one

Subject: BNHA, Enji Todoroki aka Endeavor

Title: Future

Trigger Warning: Obsessive behavior, kidnapping, fantasizing, breeding (mentioned), Enji is a Karen confirmed

Enji fumed walking to his tailor. He had received a message from one of his sidekicks stating that his presence was "unnegotiable" at tonight's charity gala and worse, he needed a new suit within a handful of hours because he'd put on so much muscle mass that he'd burst out of his old one. It was turning out to be a rough and irritating day.

He shoved open the door to the shop, the little bell jingling to make his presence known--as if he needed it when his heavy footsteps.

A tiny figure popped up from behind the counter. "Just a minute! Mr. Ao is currently working with another client but I'll be more than happy to help when I put these swatches away."

Great, the apprentice. Well, it didn't matter to him as long as you sewed his suit correctly. He was paying good money for the best possible service, after all.

He didn't pay much attention when you lead him to a private fitting room. It wasn't until you closed the door that he remembered where he was. The private room was decently sized with a rack of premade jackets to the side, three mirrors that caught every angle in the room, a small table full of sewing equipment, and of course the dark wooded chair for Enji to sit in.

In this room alone with you, he finally processed who he was looking at. You. With your pretty little sewing apron and messy hair. Your tiny but nimble hands unwrapping the measuring tape. The way you politely commanded him to lift his arms as if you could possibly command him to do anything...

He wanted you. Bad.

Feeling your hard-working hands wrap around the meat of his muscles, giving a gentle squeeze to measure the give for the fabric. Your short arms struggling to wrap around his waist, pulling the measuring tape taught against the planes of his abs and dragging it up to the full curves of his sculpted pecs. He shivered when the tape scraped his nipples through his shirt.

"Are you cold?" You asked.

God, even your voice was cute.

"I don't get cold," Enji said. He was still grumpy, you being the cutest thing he'd ever seen hadn't changed that.

"Oh, okay." You picked up his old suit and examined it, comparing your new measurements with the old recorded in Ao's customer book. "Wow, you sure gained a lot of muscle Mr. Todoroki. Looks about a whole three inches of girth all around."

Why did you have to say girth? Now he was thinking about those little hands wrapped around the meat of his cock. Would those tiny hands of yours even be able to wrap around his balls? God, feeling you cup them would be amazing, desperately trying to wring his cum from them--

Now was not the time to be fantasizing, he reminded himself.

"Where's my tea?" Enji demanded, trying to get his mind off of you. "Mr. Ao always has tea prepared for his guests."

"Right! Sorry, sir." You skittered out of the room and returned with a paper cup of steaming green tea. When your hands brushed his for that split second of transference, Enji could have sworn he felt sparks.

When he married Rei it hadn't been for love. It had been about power when he spread her open and bred her. Enji knew of love and saw it everything and everyone but himself. But now... He felt it. This was love. Or at the very least, this was his breeding instincts begging for one last round in the ring.

Would you be a good girl for him, like Rei? Or would you fight him every step of the way? He could imagine you clawing at the wide expanse of his back, your tiny legs wrapped around his waist as he plowed into you hard enough to ensure you couldn't escape him the next day. You wouldn't want for anything under him, nothing but freedom--assuming you were coherent enough from his cock that you remembered you wanted it.

Shit, you were talking again. Oh you pretty little thing, didn't you know what you were doing to him? You had to know.

It took him everything to focus on what you were saying, "Since we don't have time to make a whole new suit, I thought maybe we could change the design to add more fabric in a fashionable capacity." You picked up a tablet and showed him a rough sketch of his jacket with red fabric inlaid in the seams to accommodate his size. Frankly he knew nothing about fashion so it looked good to him.

He just wanted you to touch him again.

"That's fine," he said. "As long as I have full use of my arms and legs. You wouldn't know anything about being a hero, but even the clothes we wear outside of work need to accommodate our movement as well as be quirk resistant."

"Of course, sir! Hero work is really intense. I can get started on your suit right away and have it delivered to your address with time to spare. Should I have Mr. Ao bill to the usual account?"

"Will you be the one delivering it?"

"Ah, no. We usually outsource deliveries, sir."

"Hm. I think it would be best if you did. That way you can come with me to the gala." What was he saying! "It would be... Uh, it would be a good way for you to show off your work, maybe make some connections. People from all walks of life will be there, I'm sure that this could be a good opportunity for you."

"I... I don't know what to say." You blushed, sweet and shy, confidence slipping in the face of opportunity. "I would love to."

"Excellent, my driver can take us there and back. Just dress nicely."

"Of course, sir, and thank you again. I'm going to get started on the modifications."

"Please do." Enji stood up, turning away from you quickly and coldy to walk out the door so you couldn't see the outline of his hardening cock in his pants.

He reminded himself to be patient.

Later that night when you arrived in your pretty, slim fitting dress and his bold but fashionable tux, Enji said, "You're a little early. Please come in. I'll make you some tea before I change."

"Oh, I don't want to bother you Mr. Todoroki!"

"It's no bother." He gestured for you to come inside and the moment your foot crossed the threshold of your new home, Enji firmly closed the door and locked it. "Now, why don't we talk about your future?"