#bath fitting companies

[countess-of-edessa]

im aware that this is just like,,,the nature of food. but it’s kind of galling when something takes 5+ hours to make and the family member who had the least to do with its creation eats seventy five percent of it in fifteen minutes

[the-premium-plus]

Faucet Company in India

Premium Plus is the best Faucet Company in India. One of the top Bathroom Faucets Manufacturers & Suppliers in India. Best Bathroom Fittings & Sanitary Brand India. Faucet Manufacturing & Distributor Companies in India. Best Water Tap Brand in India.

[juletheghoul]

The General

a/n: So, the Roman got me. It was to be expected, honestly lol. I am well aware we know practically nothing about this character but I couldn't help myself. I wrote reader as a slave here, if you aren't into that - no worries. This is un beta-ed, any mistakes are my own. Shout out to @foli-vora for letting me flood her with my thoughts and ideas and for helping me flesh it out🩷 Hopefully you enjoy!

Warnings; 18+ no minors, vague but big-legal age gap, piv sex, some dirty talk, creampie, alcohol, master / slave dynamic (power imbalance) one creepy dude making a pass, Marcus calls reader Girl, reader calls Marcus Dominus, let me know if I missed any!

Pairing: Marcus Acaciusx F!Reader

word count: 1.6k

reblogs are appreciated

Series masterlist Masterlist next chapter; the baths

He comes through the tent flap late into the night, covered in blood, grime, and rage, and yet - you are there to greet him. The gods have seen it fit to bestow him with another day of victory, another day of life and with that life, comes his expectations of you.

You rush to pour the water you’ve kept hot at his fire into the basin he uses to wash, eyes scanning quickly for the clean linens he uses to cleanse himself of the gore of battle, and making yourself scarce once the basin is full.

He says nothing, but he has no need to. 

You watch from your place at the edge of his vision, every nerve and receptor in your body honed to anticipate his needs. 

His armor needs to be cleaned before first light, thank the Gods I didn’t fall asleep. I will need to mend the tear in his tunic as well–

His hand shot out, face up towards you, interrupting your mental tally of his state but your body responds quicker than your mind and you’re there in an instant, placing the clean linen into his dampened hand. Still, he says nothing. 

You move towards his table while he finishes, shuffling his maps and well laid battle plans with great care in order to set out the olives and cheese he likes, the crusty bread and the dark wine he prefers. 

“General.” The gruff voice at the tent flap scares you half to death, but you don’t cry out. You’re too well-trained for that. A few of his soldiers stand at the threshold. “We wish to share a cup, a toast to your victory.” They are eager, the red glint of blood still fresh in their eyes. 

He grunts in response, but gestures to his table before giving you a pointed look. You rush to fetch more cups, setting them down at the extra places at his table. They are all seated by the time you finish pouring for them, and with another glance from Marcus–your general–you move to fetch more food from his stores. 

They’re raucous, the heat of the battle still coursing through their veins. Where Marcus is focused on calming the blood, they are eager to stoke the fire. They are either oblivious to his dark mood, or unbothered by it. 

“More wine!” One of them cries out, despite the way the General’s jaw clenches. You hurry to comply, pouring into the younger man's cup without spilling. “You are lucky General Acacius, a pretty, young, thing like this waiting to warm your bed of a night,” he leers up at you, his gaze slipping across your body like eels in a bowl, “would you share your wealth, I wonder.” His other hand slides up the back of your thigh causing you to gasp, his touch wholly unwelcome. 

“If you would like to keep your hands, I suggest you keep them to yourself.” His voice cuts through the air, “Come girl, take my cup away. I have no taste for wine just now.” You move away from the unwanted touch and towards Marcus, avoiding his eyes to complete the task at hand. “Go now, all of you. I will see you in the morning.” He moves from his place at the table, and if the others are unwilling to comply, they make no mention of it. The table is clear by the time he comes back, absent unwanted company. 

He says nothing while removing his armor, but you rush to his side to assist anyway, carefully putting the pieces aside to clean. 

The mood shifts, and his gaze now bores into you, and your heart races to feel it. Where the other man's eyes made your skin crawl, Marcus’ eyes feel like a caress. You feel them on the slit in your tunic, where your thigh is exposed. You feel them on your chest when you turn towards him to help take his chest plate off. 

Goose flesh spreads like a stain across your skin, and your cunt weeps for him, betraying any thoughts that you might not want what he quite obviously wants to give you. The proof of it tenting his tunic when the leather Pteruges are removed.

Those brutal hands, the ones that’d been covered in blood and grime not an hour past, now grab onto your hips, the grip hard enough to bruise. The thin linen shift does nothing to insulate you from his heat, does nothing to dull the press of his want against your belly. Any doubts swimming in your mind about crossing this line with him–again–are silenced when the linen is all but ripped off, leaving you almost shivering in his arms. 

The arousal is something fierce, an entity all in its own and it responds to his brusque movements with a perverse glee. It sets your nerves alight, drips down onto your thighs as he herds you towards his bed mat. His intensity infects you, it strengthens your grip, you’d swear it sharpened your nails by the way you rip at the very tunic you’re going to have to mend.

You land on your back amongst his linens and he’s quick to follow you there. It takes less than a breath for him to shrug everything off, both of you as nude as the day you were born. 

“Open your legs.” His voice is gruff, and thick with want, the same want that smears fat pearly drops against the skin of your thigh. 

Your nipples harden, drawing both his eye, and his mouth as you hurry to comply. He bites, pulling a gasp from your lips. His tongue quickly soothes it though, this is his pattern, an addictive balance of pain and pleasure. First one breast, then the other gets his attention, but only briefly, his desire burns too brightly. 

You only manage to pull his face up to yours before his cock finally slips into your wet heat, feeding a gasp directly into his mouth when you take his kiss with a force to rival his own. 

The size of him always shocks you into silence. He isn’t the first man to have you this way, your chastity had been gone long before you came into his service; you were glad of it to feel the way he molded you to accept him though. Now, and every time he’s been inside you. 

His stroke is brutal, it’s hard, and rough and all but moves you higher onto his mat. It’s perfect.

Your knees hitch high onto his hips, just as he raises one knee to press against the back of your thigh for purchase and it pays off because he finds the spot that makes you keen. 

He lets out a breathy laugh, relishing the state of you and the euphoria of your climax is far too close to feel any shame. Instead your cunt floods him, the slip of him moving so noisy and vulgar and welcome and blissful it pushes you closer still.

“More, please—“ you moan out the words, the first words you’ve spoken to him since he’d returned from a day of violence and he corrects you even now. 

“More what,” he grunts, anger and ecstasy shining on his visage, “speak correctly, girl.” His voice is clipped, his movements faltering and you know he’s close.

“More please, Dominus.” They’re a whimper, and he responds to them just how you hoped he might. He moves quickly and for a moment you can see how he’s earned his reputation, agile and smooth and within a moment he sits back on his haunches, pulling your hips up to meet his thrusts. 

You don’t know whether to scream, or weep, either way you thank the Gods for putting you in this man’s way. The pleasure is peppered with pain where his fingers dig into the meat of your thighs, and you know you will feel the ache of holding them open tomorrow, but it’s so hard to care when it feels so good.

The precipice looms, the shadow of the climax clouding anything and everything and when you reach down towards where you’re spread wide, it only takes a couple of quick, wet circles at your clit to float away.

He groans, hips stuttering and you know you’ve taken him over the edge with you, you can feel the evidence of it painting your insides. His eyes glaze over as he watches himself fill you to the brim, slack-jaw and drunk on his orgasm and your flesh on display for him. 

“I expect you to remain full of my gift-“ his tone is filthy, lust and victory of a different kind on his features as he grinds himself deeper, “until I take you again.” He hisses the last few words out, pulling his softening cock out to inspect his mess. “Am I understood?”

“Yes Dominus.” The words are sweet as summer fruit on your tongue, eager to please him.

He smiles, but it’s predatory and it makes you clench around nothing, your body betraying your words when you feel his spend dripping out in front of his eyes.

He tsks, pushing it back in with thick fingers.

“You are well aware I don’t tolerate such insolence.” His eyes narrow, but his mood is still playful, removing his fingers from your cunt, only to stick them in your mouth. “Now, get some rest. I expect you up at first light.” He speaks with absolute authority as you suck his fingers clean, and nod.

------

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[another-lost-mc]

Shower Thoughts: Their bathing habits, with and without you.

Featuring: The Demon Brothers x gn!Reader

NSFW // Content: Domestic fluff and non-explicit smut. Sharing a bath/shower together; sexual and non-sexual touching; mentions of teasing, semi-public sex (showering together in the RAD locker room), penetration (Reader receiving).

A/N: Shaking off the rust. I blame the new Nightmare cards by the way. I wanted to write this for the OCs and figured I should show some of the others some love too. Like always, my fav bias is showing. (Most of Asmo's section is based on things that occur in the bath scene of Desperation.)

LUCIFER

Showering is part of his morning routine - he wants to look and feel his best, his pride won't settle for anything less. (Plus, it helps wake him up for mornings when coffee alone won't do the trick.)

Baths are a rare luxury for him. Ideally, he'll have the house (and your company) all to himself so he can soak in the fragrant bubbles without worrying about what his brothers are getting up to.

(The fact that they're not home and loose in the Devildom is just as worrying, please try to distract him.)

He's not against the idea of shower sex, but it can be cramped and awkward. He would rather tease you with gentle, lingering touches that leave you both a little hot and desperate before leading you to bed where he can enjoy you properly. He's surprisingly unconcerned about getting his bedsheets wet when it means having you naked and willing underneath him as soon as possible.

MAMMON

Mammon usually showers at night. He'd rather have the extra time to sleep in the mornings before class. If he has to work or has a photoshoot, he's definitely showering before bed - he and his bedding are a mess from sticky, gel-caked hair and the eye makeup he didn't remove properly if he doesn't.

He doesn't usually take baths - too boring, too slow - but if you like taking baths...well.

Whether he's in the shower with you or the tub with you, he's open for anything and everything you might want to do. Even an innocent suggestion for a romantic shower or bath together turns dirty quickly when his eyes and hands start to roam across so much exposed, wet skin.

LEVIATHAN

For a self-proclaimed otaku, his showering habits aren't that bad.

Sure, maybe before you came along, he spent less time worrying about his grooming and personal hygiene and more time worrying about his idols' stream schedules and pre-sale ticket dates for the various movies or concerts he wanted to see.

However, you're here now and you're important to him, so whether he wants to admit it or not, that changes things. If he wants you to hang out in his room for hours at a time gaming or binge-watching anime, both him and his room need to be in guest-ready shape.

He showers more often when he's been cooped in his room on the sofa or in his fashionable-but-not-functional gaming chair that makes his back sweat. Even a quick cool-off rinse in the shower is enough to leave him looking and feeling refreshed which is perfect - he hopes he can convince you to cuddle with him in his tub after.

Maybe it's his natural affinity for water, but he enjoys showering or bathing equally. It's tricky when most tubs aren't big enough for him to spread out with his tail out too, but thankfully they're big enough for you to fit in the tub with him which is just as good - better, even!

He's shy with you in the shower or tub. He prefers to stand behind you so he's not tempted to stare at your chest (or lower). No one touches him as gently or with more care as you do. And the way you run your hands along the scales of his tail or his neck...he's going to try and hide his twitching erection from you and hope you don't say anything if you notice it. He can't help how good you make him feel, but he's not always confident enough to return the favour.

If you want him to touch you, you'll probably have to explicitly ask him to - and wouldn't you know it, your hands resting on his while you guide them to move over your body is one of many acts of intimacy he ends up craving from you.

SATAN

He showers in the morning. He's one of the few student council members that wears his uniform properly and I think he wants the rest of him to look and smell good too.

He enjoys a nice bath once in a while. Maybe not as much as Asmo, but they're a semi-regular part of his routine. He can load up the bath tray with a book, even a cup of coffee or snack if he's feeling peckish that night; time passes in a blue as he soaks away some of the stress that burdens him. If you join him for a bath, he'd love to read to you or simply hold you against his chest while music streams from his D.D.D. nearby.

Showers are useful if he's in a rush, or maybe he just wants to rinse off the day's grime (especially if he was at the club or in a fight). Or perhaps he's not in a rush after all, judging by the way he ushers you into the bathroom with him and tugs at your clothing so you can join him under the warm spray.

Whether he simply wants to melt under your fingers as you work suds into his hair and across his body, or if your naked body so close to his is too much temptation to ignore, know that you're probably the only one who gets to see him - all of him - exposed this way.

ASMODEUS

It's no secret that the Avatar of Lust adores his private bathroom, with its high ceiling and numerous cupboards full of fluffy towels and bottles full of the most expensive haircare and body wash and massage oils that Grimm can buy.

His luxurious tub - if you can call it that, considering it's bigger than any hot tub you've ever been in before - is full of fragrant, crystal-clear water that Asmo adds scented oils and skin-softening potions to. No matter how long you bathe together, the water remains clean and warm (there's a handy spell for that).

Asmo loves the intimacy of pampering you and having you do the same for him. It's almost magical, the way he massages you with slow, rhythmic strokes as he washes you with beauty products he personally selects. He considers your preferences above his own so that everything he brings into the bath is scented with your favourite fragrant notes. If you share his bed that night, he can smell you on his pillow and sheets long after you've parted ways.

Naturally, once he's spent his time spoiling you with his tender touches and whispered affection, he's desperate to have your hands on him next.

Bathing doesn't always have to lead to more than soft, teasing touches. He's not against the idea - it wouldn't be the first time his fingers teased between your legs while he nuzzled the back of your neck and nipped at your ear - but this sort of comfort is like divinity to him. It's a sort of worship he offers you that he's offered no one else before, and no matter how much the outside world demands your attention (or his), this is one rare opportunity where you can truly be alone together.

BEELZEBUB

Beel's shower routine is fairly simple. 1. Shower after Fangol practice or games. 2. Shower after eating at a buffet-style restaurant. 3. Shower before bed if nothing else applies.

Of course, Beel learns that there's a certain charm to showering with you too. He used to complain the communal shower he shares with his siblings is a bit too cramped for his liking, and with you it's even worse, but that's simply a convenient excuse to press himself against you while he hardens against your back, or he cages you against the wall while his arms block everything else from view.

(The open showers in the locker room at the Fangol pitch are fun in their own way when post-victory showers with Beel turn frisky from giddy excitement and too much adrenaline to burn.)

Showering is simply a part of his routine, but like most things he does, Beel thinks they're more enjoyable when he can entice you to join him.

BELPHEGOR

Belphie's not necessarily lazy - he just prefers to spend his time and energy doing things that are important to him. It's not his fault if that very short list can be summarized as sleeping and spending time with you.

Sleeping is most comfortable when he's clean from the day's sweat and smells - the last thing he wants to do is ruin the attic's cozy little nest by crawling into bed smelling like anyone else but him and you. That means if he's going to shower before bed, he's dragging you with him if you haven't had one already.

Belphie might not be lazy, but that doesn't mean he won't use every trick in the book to convince you to touch him and pamper him as much as possible. He whines that he's too sleepy to fiddle with all the buttons of his RAD blazer, and he smirks like a satisfied cat while you huff at his ridiculousness and help undress him anyway.

(He knows you indulge him because you like it too - did you think he wouldn't notice the way your eyes roam his bare chest or the way your fingers twitch excitedly when you reach for his belt?)

Shower or bath sex is a bit messy and not as relaxing as he would like - the tiles are hard and cool against your back, it's hard to prep you properly in the tub as water sloshes against the sides and spills over the floor. It's inconvenient and not the sexiest experience in his opinion.

However. The shower is an excellent place to tease you with an innocent pout on his lips and a wicked gleam in his eyes. Lips trail lazily along whatever bare, wet skin they can reach while greedy fingers prepare you for something bigger once you're finally in bed together, moving together lazily in the sheets and putting off cleaning the mess until morning.

(And even if Belphie gets a little carried away in the shower as he stretches you with his fingers or his mouth, or possibly his cock if he's that riled up, the clean-up has never been easier.)

Read more: Obey Me! Masterlist

[reobsessed]

Unfamiliar Waters

Pairing: Tav X Astarion, Reader X Astarion. Gender neutral. Content: Bathing, kissing, hair washing, fluff, comfort, slight conflict that gets resolved immediately, no sex, minor mention of torture. 1500 Words. Summary: You were in dire need of a bath after a harrowing fight outside the inn you were staying at. Unfortunately you find the tub already occupied by Astarion. In an attempt to bond with and get him out of there, you offer to wash his hair. Another short Astarion fic I started a while ago. Wanted to do something fluffy and intimate without any sex. Thanks again to Suri for edits and help with lines and the title!

You flung open the wooden doors, uncaring as wood chipped against lavender painted walls. Just as you were halfway through discarding your shirt, an indignant cry caught you off guard.

“What in the sweet hells, do you mind?!” The towel and toiletries fell from your hands. You’d never been very perceptive and today was no exception. Already fully submerged in the tub was Astarion; chest bare slumped over the side, a dripping copy of the Baldur’s Mouth Gazette in hand.

“Astarion?! I haven’t seen you in hours, is this where you’ve been?” You spluttered. “We really could have used your help. There was a fight right outside the inn. There’s absolutely no way you didn’t hear the commotion.”

“Some of us take pride in our appearances and besides, I needed time away from that festering group of ingrates.” As if to emphasise his point he shuddered. “You know, you could all learn a lot from me, starting with regular bathing.”

“And how exactly are any of us meant to bathe when you’re in the bathroom four hours every day?”

“Oh I don’t know, Baldur’s Gate has plenty of scenic rivers and lakes. I’m sure the bear has no problem leading each of you to nature’s finest bathhouse.”

You rubbed your temples with a freehand. As much as you loved this man, he could really start to grate on your nerves after a while. You scooped up your belongings and made your way over to him, arranging your towel neatly on the floor beside you.

He looked up from the paper disinterestedly. “As much as I love your company, dear, I hope you’re not planning on joining me. I hardly think this,” he gestured disapprovingly at the tub, “can fit us both.”

“Astarion, if there’s anything I can do to cut this exceedingly long bath short, I would be more than happy to assist.”

His eyes widened momentarily. How stupid of you, you hadn’t considered the implications of what you’d said. 

“No, no, that's quite alright. I’ve still got my hair to wash and that’ll take at least another half an hour.”

Perching yourself on the edge of the tub beside him, you began rolling up your sleeves.

“Then allow me.” You smirked.

He flung the sodden paper to the floor and stared at you dumbfounded. “You mean you- wash my hair. I’m sitting here naked, dripping and gorgeous and all you want to do is ‘wash my hair’?”

“Couples do things for each other. Things outside of sex and combat, I might add,” you sniped back. Using your fingers, you began combing through his dampened locks.

“Without the sex, I suppose that leaves only the one thing we do together then.”

“That’s true.” His body tensed. “No, no wait- '' Flustered, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders and pressed your forehead against the back of his head. A feeble gesture, intended to soothe him and buy you enough time to explain.

“Just kidding,” you could hear the smirk in his voice, but you knew it wasn’t genuine.

“I like doing other things with you,” you mumbled into his curls. “I don’t care about the sex.” You relaxed your hold, allowing him to turn around to face you. Delicately, you reached out and wiped a stray piece of hair from his forehead. As you did so, his unnaturally pale cheeks took on a darker hue, perhaps from the heat or from your touch, you weren’t sure.

He cleared his throat and turned away again. “I see then. Well, this is as good a time as any to try something new.” 

“Really?!” your head perked up. “I’m so excited, haven’t washed anyone else's hair since I left home.” You began swirling a hand in the tepid water, carefully choosing a spot faraway from where Astarion sat. “Did you and your siblings ever do this for each other? Like my family did,” you asked without thinking.

He shot you an incredulous glare, which soon contorted into sarcastic glee. “Oh, of course we did! And then in between our torture sessions we’d paint each others’ nails! What good fun it was.” His smile dropped and he fell backwards into the bath, splashing you in the process.

You scratched the back of your head. “Sorry I-”

He waved his hand dismissively. “Leave it, my love. No use dwelling on all that now.” You nodded your head in agreement, not that he could see you. “Come now, we don’t have all day.” 

You hummed in agreement, looking over the various bottles that sat on a shelf beside the bath. Astarion was a very particular man and you didn’t wish to upset him by, god’s forbid, using the wrong fragrance. You gestured towards the selection of shampoo. “What’s your poison?”

“Hmm, I think today I‘m in the mood for jasmine- no wait- night orchid and ginseng- actually, that honey shampoo sounds positively delicious.”

“Might net you some unwanted attention from our camp bear,” you joked, hands sifting through the knots in his hair.

“Fair point. Alright then, I think I’d like to try that raspberry one, the one you got from that dear little market stall.” 

The same one you liked to use.

With a gentle firmness you cupped the sides of his head. You hoped it was enough to stop him from turning around and seeing the pure glee etched onto your face.

“Alright, I need to get it wet, lean back,” you instructed, as you scooped up a handful of water.

He did as he was told and reclined backwards, eyes closed and squinted, anticipating the stream of water. Doing this for your brothers and sisters had been easy. Hells, you could get away with lobbing them in the river and they’d be just fine. Astarion, on the other hand, required a more delicate touch (even if he’d never admit to it) and you were more than happy to cater towards him.

With slow precision you poured the cooling water over his scalp, immediately pushing back any stray drops that threatened to drip down into his eyes. 

Gods, how was it possible for such a man to be so beautiful and how was it that such a man had chosen you as his partner? Your hands stopped and your gaze lingered, as you took in his picturesque features.

An eyelash heavy with steam peeled open, giving you an inquisitive look.

“Enjoying the show, darling?” A thick, humid heat bloomed across your cheeks. “By all means, keep admiring me.”

“Shut up and close your eyes!” You grabbed the bottle from the side and began lathering it in your hands. The familiar fragrance filled your nostrils and despite having grown accustomed to having it as your own scent, you were looking forward to how it smelt on him.

You rubbed the foam through your fingers, fully enveloping his hair in a thick mousse. As your nails dragged across his scalp you heard him moan. 

“That feels positively wonderful.”

“Oh yeah, like this?” you asked, repeating the same motions as before. He mmm-ed softly, sinking further into your hold. You paused for a second, this might be the most satisfied sound you’d ever heard coming from his lips, not a bad thing of course, given his past experiences. 

His eyes were open again, staring up at you, face awash with bliss. 

“Itching for a taste are we?” he goaded lightly.

There was no use dignifying that with a response. You brought your lips down upon his, his head still clasped in your hands. It was brief and sweet, reminiscent of those first kisses you’d once shared with young lovers. Unthinkable that such innocent yearning could be reclaimed so late in life. 

Reluctantly you broke the kiss and pulled away.

“I do rather like that, you know…”

“I know and so do I.” You beamed. “Okay now can you please hurry up so I can have a bath,” you pleaded, peppering his mouth with more kisses.

“Always so demanding,” came his curt reply (the audacity). Nonetheless, he complied and finished up. 

A deep sigh of relief escaped your lips after finally lowering yourself into freshly ran water. About halfway through wetting your hair, a freezing pair of hands on your shoulders caught you off guard.

“Astarion!” you shrieked. The little rogue had snuck up behind you.

“Oh, do be quiet, and don’t splash me. Wouldn’t do to get me wet again.” You watched as he rifled through the shampoo bottles disapprovingly. “We must go to the market together again soon, darling, just the two of us. I know just the product that’s perfect for your hair type, might do something about that helmet musk too.”

You opted to ignore that last dig, instead choosing to relish in the satisfaction of a warm bath and your lover threading his fingers through your hair. “I’d like that,” you hummed happily. 

A contented silence descended over the room. You felt at peace and when you saw him hovering above you with that serene grin on his face, you knew he felt the same.

[xiaowhore]

hydro dragon, hydro dragon, don't cry!

premise. in which you manage to make neuvillette feel better at the expense of your dignity. (a fair trade, really.)

word count. 1.5k

note. do umbrellas exist at teyvat. i really don't know.

You've never taken Monsieur Neuvillette as the type to dramatically brood in the rain when he gets sad, but to be fair, you don't know much about him at all.

You clutch onto your umbrella, contemplating. So, uh... Are you supposed to approach him now? Shield him from the rain with your umbrella? That doesn't sound too bad, actually. But then what? Ask him if his pet fish died and now he's mourning his loss? That's hardly appropriate to say to the Chief of Justice... But it would be creepier to just stand there without saying anything, right?

You could leave and pretend you didn't see anything. Of course, that's an option too. It's possible he prefers to be left alone when he's unhappy.

But sulking while standing in the rain just gives “I want someone's attention” vibes, doesn't it?!

With a fit of reckless courage and a “fuck it” mindset, you advance your way forward to where he stands.

Regretting something as soon as you do it is on-brand for you, you realize as you soon come to learn you have to be on the tip of your toes to have the umbrella barely raising over his head instead of hanging from him. You must make a pathetic sight, attempting to shield both yourself and this hulking tower of a man from the rain with a tiny umbrella.

“...What are you doing?” Neuvillette turns around, taken aback when you're in much closer proximity than he expected. Panic flares in his eyes, and like the gentleman that he is, he steps back to create some distance. His head presses against the edge of the umbrella.

“Hey, you shouldn't move away!” You follow his movements, closing the gap. His head is now safely within the umbrella's reach, but you're an inch away from being pressed up against his chest. “I miscalculated. This thing's too small for us.”

When the initial shock wears off, his shoulders slump, a sign of him lowering his guard. “If you know that much, you should use it for yourself and go home.”

That doesn't sound like a bad idea. Appealing, even. You've never felt so silly in your entire life and the option to run away is looking more enticing with each second that ticks by.

Still.

“It's dangerous to walk alone at this hour. Won't you accompany me, sir?”

...Not the best excuse you could've come up with, but your mouth runs faster than your brain. Neuvillette, being the considerate person he is, actually takes some time to think about it, and you hurry to say, “If you leave me alone now, you could have another disappearance case in your hands tomorrow. Would you really like more work on your desk rather than some company tonight?”

He gives you a long, suffering stare that looks suspiciously like the one he gives to Lady Furina when she disappoints him, but he doesn't say no. His hand wraps around the umbrella handle, overlapping with your fingers. It takes another two seconds of that stare before you get the message and you let go, finally able to rest the balls of your feet on the ground as you stand on normal footing.

“I hope you don't make a hobby of coercion,” he hums as you walk together, your shoulders brushing every so often. “Or else I'd see you as a criminal suspect tomorrow instead of a victim.”

“I see that jokes aren't your strong suit, Monsieur Neuvillette.” You laugh awkwardly, your nervousness spiking to an all-time high throughout your entire interaction with him. It's been barely ten minutes.

Silence ensues.

“Do you like showers, sir?”

You should've just kept your mouth shut, damn it.

“I like them the same amount as the average person, I suppose.” The ridiculous question doesn't phase him, and you don't know how he's able to keep a straight face while saying that.

You decide to push your luck. “...Do you prefer bathing with cold or hot water?”

Finally, you draw out a light chuckle from him, the sound deep and pleased. It almost makes playing the fool worth it. “I've been told I'm not the best with small talk, but you seem to be worse than I am.”

Your head snaps up to look at him, affronted. “It wasn't a bad question!”

“Certainly not as bad as talking about the weather. Do you want me to praise you?”

Was the Chief Justice always this sassy? “You're making fun of me,” you point out the obvious, turning away and crossing your arms. “I asked about showers because you were standing in the rain.”

“You thought I liked showers because I was in the rain?”

“Well, I didn't know for sure. That's why I asked.” Even you can tell you're sounding more and more ridiculous by the minute. Was your house always this far? You can't wait to dive to your bed and pretend this encounter never happened. “I think I'll just shut up now.”

“Really, now?”

“Every time I open my mouth around you, I embarrass myself further. I think it's for the best.”

You hear another chuckle as heat crawls up to your cheeks, spreading to your ears. “For what it's worth, you did put me out of my terrible mood. You're quite funny.”

“That's a nice way to say you think I'm being strange.” You hide your face with your hands, peeking at Neuvillette's expression between your fingers. Bathed in the silvery moonlight, he looks straight out of a painting, even with wet hair and drenched clothes.

You've never seen him up close, never even dreamed of standing next to him. Now, you're exchanging jabs at each other like it's the most normal thing in the world, like you weren't just thinking he was someone out of reach when you watched his court trial in amazement. Now, he's so close that you can almost feel the heat from his body, so much more tangible than just a figure you admired from afar.

“But I do have your strangeness to thank,” he admits, looking off into the distance. The stars shine bright in his eyes. “Had it not been for you squeezing me under your umbrella and forcing me to walk you home, I'd surely still be under the rain.”

“...Couldn't you have phrased that better?”

“In court, I only state facts.”

You laugh dryly. “You could spare me some dignity by embellishing the story a bit... Oh, we're here.” You were so occupied defending yourself from his witty comments that you didn't realize you had already arrived home until your door was right at your face. You glance at Neuvillette, who then nods towards the door. If he's disappointed to have the stroll cut short, he doesn't show it.

“Go in. It is rather late.” He closes the umbrella and offers it back to you, a gentle smile on his face. The sight is almost like a reward for your efforts; the small upturn of the corners of his lips makes all the difference, his sharp, cold gaze softening into something more affectionate. The rainbow after the storm. The gratitude for a small kindness.

“You have to get home, too,” you utter, pushing it back to him.

“The rain stopped a few minutes ago,” he insists, gesturing behind him. You blink owlishly, observing the still pools of rainwater. You didn't even notice. Why didn't he say so? You didn't have to squeeze together under such a tiny umbrella, then.

“You should still keep it.”

He raises an eyebrow, inquisitive. “Why?”

You unlock your door, stepping inside, but still not closing it shut. “Well, it gives you an incentive to see me again.” You grin at him mischievously, like you thought of a genius plan. “I work at the cafe in the main street. I'm sure we have some tea that will strike your fancy. Make sure you're not moping next time we meet, yeah?”

Not for the first time, he seems taken aback. But his gaze softens once more, his expression molding into something pleased. “Very well.”

And so, he leaves with a small umbrella in his hand, a smile on his lips, and the clear skies over his head.

The next time you see Neuvillette, the sun is high in the sky. Compared to that night, you can see him a little better now.

That's how you notice he looks unusually shy with a bouquet of flowers in his arms and a pink blush high on his cheeks. “...Good afternoon,” he starts, his lips curving to a beginning of a smile. “The weather is great today, isn't it?”

You stare. You stare some more. And when the sight finally processes in your mind, your twinkling laughter rings in the air, as sweet as the aroma of freshly baked muffins. “And who stooped so low to talk about the weather this time, huh?”

Neuvillette can't even pretend to feel bad about it, not when you're jumping off the seat in the counter to show him a table for two. “Your silliness is infectious, it seems.”

“Hey!”

(You've never taken Monsieur Neuvillette as the type to be smart-mouthed, the type to be indulgent to your whims, the type to be romantic towards the person he's interested in—

But now you have all the time in the world to get to know him better.)

[dragon-ascent]

You think you can train a dragon. Unfortunately, the dragon is the one training you.

Zhongli sees the net fall over him and yet decides to stay still as a summer leaf. You're bounding over to him excitedly, goofy-looking thing you are, but there's no malice in your grin.

You better have a good reason for interrupting his idling with this rather bothersome net. Briefly the dragon wonders if he should simply open his mouth and terrorise you into thinking he'd eat you - not that he would, though. Human flesh isn't particularly palatable to him.

"I caught you, dragon!" you exclaim, despite the fact that the net hardly covers half his draconic body. "You shall be mine! Forever and ever!"

The dragon looks utterly unfazed as he tilts his head. "Oh?"

"I'm going to train you," you add, placing your hands on your hips. "Everyone'll be jealous of my new pet!"

Pet? Zhongli thinks to himself as he gnaws the net away with ease. Ah, humans call dogs and cats their pets, and they seem to be quite close. He could use some company for a change. "Very well, I shall be your companion."

But who's REALLY the pet here?

This dragon is very picky about the feng shui in and around your place. "The arrangement of your garden is lovely, but it could use some work. I would suggest having the roses to the east, and the peonies should be by the pond so that the..."

His long noodly body doesn't fit inside your house, but he can still peer through the windows, softly tutting at the placement of your bed or your tea-table. Zhongli gently instructs you what should go where for maximum elegance, and every time you wilfully ignore his suggestions, he stuffs you in his mane for a bit. Enjoy all that golden hair in your mouth and eyes.

He doesn't even let you stay out late. He can track you by scent so he simply shows up wherever you are, huffs in disapproval, gently swats the other people away like flies, and picks you up by the collar using his teeth to take you back home.

You can't even slink away in shame while he lectures you about the dangers of the night, for he simply picks you up and drags you back once more, smoothly picking up in his lecturing where he'd left off.

Cooking, sleeping, sitting - you name it, Zhongli has something to nitpick about it.

He never lets you be unless you adhere to his standards. Much to your chagrin, he even bathes you himself using the soaps that he thinks are good for your skin. You're sick of it, but the dragon is your societal flex, and he has an attractive rumbly voice, so you put up with it. Plus, your skin does seem to be doing better these days...

"I have something for you, little one," he tells you one morning while you're sitting in your garden chair reading (with a straight sitting posture like he'd taught you).

"Oh, goody," you reply, rolling your eyes. "What is it, oh scaly one?"

Perhaps he hasn't picked up the sarcasm in you, or he's simply that overcome with excitement, for his tail wiggles incorrigibly. He opens his curled-up claws, and there in the middle is something shiny. Moving to take a closer look, your eyes widen.

"It is a collar," the dragon states before you. "For you."

You stare, agape, at the fine jade collar. "Are you...serious?"

"Of course," says Zhongli, eyes crinkling in elevated elation. "Proof of our companionship. Allow me to put it on you."

And thus, you end up walking around with a jade collar around your neck at your dragon's insistence.

[godsfavdarling]

sitting pretty 1

part of my sitting pretty (one-shot series), my masterlist

+18!

pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader summary: You and Spencer enjoy a movie while his dick is buried deep inside you. words: 2,8k warnings: cockwarming, sub!Spence, soft!dom!reader, unprotected sex (don’t do that), Spencer being just a little bit disobedient, female masturbation, bodily fluids, aftercare, praise <3 a/n: this is part of my 1000 followers celebration! thank you for following me!

The soft glow of the television bathed the room in muted colors, and the gentle hum of the movie filled the otherwise quiet space. The evening was meant to be simple - just a cozy night in with a movie, the two of you relaxing in each other's company.

But things had taken a different turn, one that was particularly fortunate for you, though you weren't sure if Spencer was quite as ecstatic. 

His hard, red, ready-to-burst cock was buried deep inside you, so deep that his swollen tip pressed against your cervix.

You were seated on Spencer’s lap, wearing only one of his baggy t-shirts, the hem barely covering anything as it draped over your thighs.

Your legs were spread, resting on either side of his, leaving you completely exposed to the cool air of the room - a stark contrast to the heat building beneath you.

Beneath you, Spencer was completely bare, his skin warm against yours, his cock filling you, stretching you in a way that left you breathless.

His hands were at his sides, though they instinctively twitched every now and then, wanting to rest on your hips, or, in a perfect scenario, wrap around your waist and hold you steady. 

But Spencer had received clear instructions—his hands were to stay at his sides, not touching you unless you said otherwise.

He was leaning against the couch, but you remained seated with your back straight as if he were merely a chair.

You knew it was killing him.

You knew how much he wanted.

He wanted you completely naked.

He wanted to see your ass pressing against his skin.

He wanted to pull you closer.

He wanted to wrap his arms around your waist, find your breasts, and give them the attention they deserved.

He wanted to squeeze your nipples and pull them gently, knowing it would make you squirm and arch your back.

But he couldn’t. All he could do was look at your clothed back, which blocked the TV screen - not that he could focus on the movie at the moment - and feel your walls wrapped around him.

You’d been sitting like that for a good half-hour already.

You wouldn’t say you were extremely comfortable, but Spencer actively losing his mind behind you was reward enough. You were thankful he couldn’t see your face or the soft smirk playing on your lips from time to time.

You could feel every twitch of his cock inside you, every time he tried to suppress a groan, and it only made you more aware of how full you were, how perfectly he fit inside you.

You shifted slightly, adjusting your position just enough to send a ripple of sensation through both of you.

He hissed, his body tensing suddenly.

You smiled to yourself, knowing exactly what you were doing to him, how desperately he wanted to move, to take control, but he held back - just as you’d asked.

Minutes ticked by, each one dragging out the exquisite torture. The movie droned on, but your focus was solely on the way Spencer’s cock throbbed inside you, the way his breathing grew more ragged as the seconds passed. 

You could feel his restraint slipping, his resolve weakening with every scene.

“Spencer,” you murmured, tilting your head back to catch his gaze. His eyes were dark, pupils blown wide with desire, but there was that hint of submission, the need to please you, to follow your commands.

“Yes?” His voice was rough, and strained, like he was barely holding on.

You shifted, arching your back slightly to press more of yourself against him, feeling his breath hitch as you did. “You’re doing so well,” you praised softly, your words laced with affection and control. “But I need you to keep sitting pretty for me, okay? Just a little longer.”

He swallowed hard, nodding as his hands twitched to touch you but settled back on his thighs, gripping the sides.

“I will,” he promised, though his voice shook with the effort.

You shifted again, just enough to feel his cock pulse inside you, that delicious friction making your toes curl. 

You moaned softly, a sound that went straight to Spencer’s cock, and you could feel him twitch in response, his hips trembling with the effort not to buck up into you.

“Good boy,” you whispered, slowly leaning against him and reaching up to run your fingers through his hair, tugging gently to tilt his head to the side. You pressed a soft kiss to his jaw, smiling against his skin as you felt him shiver.

Your gaze shifted to the TV as you leaned your head against his. His breath was hot against your ear, and you could feel the tension in his body, every muscle coiled, ready to move but held back.

“You’re doing so well, Spence. Do you want to touch me?” you whispered, your voice soft and inviting as you gently played with his hair, twirling the soft strands between your fingers.

His eyes fluttered shut for a moment, savoring your touch before he breathed out a soft, “Please.” The word was barely audible, laced with yearning.

A smile tugged at your lips as you leaned in closer, your breath ghosting over his ear. “Okay, you can wrap your arms around me,” you offered your tone both soothing and teasing. 

Spencer’s hands moved hesitantly at first, almost as if he was afraid to take liberties, but his need for contact won out. 

“Can you take your shirt off?” he asked, his voice full of innocent longing as his fingers itched to explore more of you.

Your playful smile widened as you pulled back slightly, just enough to look into his eager eyes. 

“Slow down, pretty boy,” you chided with a soft laugh, tapping the tip of his nose affectionately. 

“I don’t want you cumming yet. Don’t get greedy.” The gentle warning in your voice held no real reprimand, just a playful edge.

His face flushed with a mix of embarrassment and desire, and he bit his lip. “Sorry,” he mumbled, his gaze dropping to the space between you.

Your hand cupped his cheek, tilting his face up to meet your eyes. “It’s okay,” you reassured him, your voice a soothing balm. “We’re taking things slow, okay? You can hold me for now.”

A relieved smile spread across his face as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer. 

His breath fanned against your neck, warm and steady, as he inhaled your scent. You chuckled softly, feeling the love and need radiating from him.

You stayed like that for a good few minutes. 

But you could feel his gaze drifting over you, his eyes tracing the lines of your face and body, drinking in every detail as if his mind suddenly lost the ability to remember everything. 

Slowly, almost as if testing the waters, his hands began to move. They slid down your sides, fingertips barely brushing your shirt. 

He paused at your hips, lingering there before slipping under your shirt.

You raised an eyebrow, the corners of your mouth twitching in amusement. 

Was he in a mood to disobey you today? 

“Spencer…?” you murmured, your voice carrying a hint of playful suspicion.

“Hmm?” he responded, his attention clearly elsewhere, too focused on the feel of your skin under his hands.

You tilted your head, your lips curving into a knowing smile. “Are you feeling bratty today?” you asked, teasingly accusing him as your fingers laced with his.

He looked up at you with wide, innocent eyes, shaking his head slightly. “I’m not bratty,” he insisted, though the faint smirk playing on his lips betrayed him.

“Yes, you are,” you countered with a soft laugh, gently squeezing his hands. “But I’m feeling generous, so you’re forgiven, and we’re ending this.” 

You wouldn’t admit it to him, but you could barely keep it together at this point. 

The way he filled you, the way you loved feeling stuffed by him, but you needed to see him unravel now.

So you started moving your hips, sitting up straight and leaning your hands on his knees as you slid slightly forward and then backward. 

Spencer began moaning, his hands gripping your hips as he fought the urge to thrust up into you.

You wouldn’t take off your shirt. If he had been more patient, maybe you’d let him have a better view, but not today.

You knew he wouldn't last long

“I’m so close,” he panted, his voice laced with desperation.

You smiled, your movements deliberate and slow, drawing out his torment. “Not yet, pretty boy,” you murmured, your voice firm but gentle. “You’ll cum when I say so.”

His breath hitched, and you felt his cock throb inside you as he tried to hold back, his entire body trembling with the effort.

“What about you?” he asked suddenly, his voice laced with concern and a hint of desperation.

“Don’t worry about me,” you replied, your tone firm yet tender. “I wanna feel you cum inside me first, okay?”

He swallowed hard, nodding quickly. “Okay,” he agreed, his voice barely above a whisper, already teetering on the edge.

You resumed your movements, increasing the intensity as you dug your nails into his knees, anchoring yourself as you rode him. The sharp pressure of your nails made his breath hitch, a low moan escaping his lips.

“Oh fuck. I can't. I can't,” he whimpered, his voice cracking as tears welled up in his eyes. He was almost crying at this point, his body trembling with the effort of holding back. 

You wished you could see his pretty face now, the way his features contorted with pleasure, but you knew that if you looked, he’d see yours too. And he didn’t deserve that today.

Feeling the tension building within him, you pushed harder into him, your movements deliberate and forceful. 

You squeezed your walls around him, holding him in a vice-like grip. “Now, Spencer,” you commanded, your voice low and sultry, “cum for me.”

His entire body shuddered as he finally let go, his release hitting him with overwhelming force.

His grip tightened on you, his nails digging into your skin as he moaned your name, his voice raw and desperate. 

His cum spilling into you and then trying to escape, leaking from you onto him. 

You looked down at the mess you both made - his and yours slick mixed between your legs dripping on the floor. The sight alone made you almost climax. 

“Good boy,” you whispered, a satisfied smile curling your lips as you leaned against him again.

His body was still trembling in the aftermath, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he tried to catch his breath.

You stayed close, savoring his warmth and closeness you restrained you two with, his arms still on your hips, holding you tight. 

But as his breathing began to slow, you were still on a mission. 

You kept him inside you, feeling his softening length still nestled within your warmth.

Slowly, you let your hand trail down your body, your fingers grazing over your stomach before slipping under your shirt. 

Spencer’s breath hitched as he watched you, his gaze fixed on the movement of your hand. 

You cupped your breast, your fingers finding your nipple and giving it a gentle pinch, sending a fresh jolt of pleasure.

A soft moan escaped your lips as you played with your nipple, rolling it between your fingers while your other hand moved lower, finding your clit and circling it with slow, deliberate motions. 

Spencer’s eyes widened, his mouth slightly open, as he watched you touch yourself. He was captivated, unable to look away, his own body responding to the sight despite his exhaustion.

His hands traveled from your hips to your thighs, but you stopped him with a firm, “No. Keep your hands to yourself.”

Spencer’s hands froze mid-motion, his breath hitching as he quickly pulled them back. A mix of surprise and obedience flashed in his eyes. 

“Sorry,” he murmured, his fingers twitching with the urge to touch, but he kept them firmly at his sides, waiting for your next move.

You could feel his gaze on you, his eyes darkening with renewed desire as he sat there, powerless to do anything but watch. 

His hands tightened on his legs, his fingers digging into his skin as he tried to steady himself, his breath coming in shallow gasps.

You arched your back slightly, pressing your breast into your hand as you pinched your nipple harder. Your other hand worked steadily on your clit.

Spencer’s eyes flicked between your hand under your shirt and the movement of your hips against him, his face a mix of awe, frustration, and longing. 

He could feel the way your walls fluttered around him, and it was driving him crazy that all he could do was sit there, under you, and watch.

He could feel your mixed moisture dripping from your core onto him.

You bit your lip, your breathing quickening as you pushed yourself closer and closer to the high. 

The pleasure twisted tighter within you, your fingers working faster as your body tensed.

When the wave of release finally hit, it was overwhelming. Your body shuddered violently as you came, your walls clenching around him, your moan loud and raw as you lost yourself in the feeling.

Spencer forgot how to breathe as he felt every pulse of your orgasm. 

You rode out the waves of pleasure, your body slowly relaxing into his as the intensity ebbed away.

Finally, you let out a contented sigh, pulling your hand from under your shirt and resting your head against his shoulder. 

Your body hummed with satisfaction, your mind hazy and blissful as you nuzzled into him.

But as the cloud of pleasure slowly faded, you became more aware of Spencer - his tired eyes, the way his body finally gave out in the aftermath.

Gently, you lifted your head and pressed a soft kiss to his jaw, your lips lingering there for a moment. “You did so well,” you whispered, your voice full of warmth and care. 

You slowly began to ease yourself off him, feeling him slip out of you. Standing up you looked at him after such a long time inside you. 

Spencer watched you with heavy-lidded eyes, still coming down from the intensity of everything that had just occurred. 

His breathing was slow and deep, and though he looked exhausted, there was a soft, gratefulness in his gaze that made your heart swell with tenderness.

“Can you stand up?” you asked gently, offering him your hand with a reassuring smile.

He hesitated for a moment, his body still feeling the aftereffects, but he nodded. “Yes,” he murmured, his voice quiet but steady. 

He pushed himself up with a bit of effort, then grabbed your hand, his grip warm and trusting.

You led him to the bedroom, walking slowly to match his pace, your fingers intertwined with his.

As you reached the doorway, you turned to him, your eyes full of care. “Do you wanna take a shower? Or a bath?” you asked, your voice soft and soothing, offering him whatever comfort he needed.

Spencer considered it for a moment, his brow furrowing slightly in thought. “Maybe later,” he replied, his voice carrying a hint of weariness as he leaned into you a bit more.

“Okay,” you said with a gentle smile.

You led him to the bed, guiding him to lie down. Once he was settled, you slipped in beside him, lying on your side so you could face him.

Your eyes softened as you watched him, his features still slightly flushed, his eyelids drooping as exhaustion began to take over. 

Your fingers combed gently through his hair, the soft strands slipping between them as you massaged his scalp in slow, circular motions. You knew how much this relaxed him, and it wasn’t long before you felt the tension in his body start to melt away.

“You okay?” you asked softly, your voice a gentle murmur as you continued to stroke his hair.

“Mhm,” he hummed, his voice sleepy but content. He nuzzled closer to you, his arms wrapping around your waist as he pressed his face against your skin, seeking your warmth and comfort.

You smiled softly, pressing another kiss to the top of his head. “Good,” you whispered, holding him close as you traced soothing patterns on his back. 

You stayed like that for a while, the room quiet except for the soft sound of your breathing and the occasional contented sigh from Spencer.

After a few minutes, you pulled a blanket over the both of you, tucking it around his shoulders to keep him warm. “Get some rest,” you murmured, your lips brushing against his temple as you spoke. “I’m right here.”

Spencer let out a deep, contented sigh, his body relaxing completely into your embrace. “Thank you,” he whispered, his voice barely audible as sleep began to claim him.

You held him a little tighter, your heart swelling with affection as you watched him drift off. “Always,” you whispered back, your own eyes growing heavy as you nestled into him.

[lavenderspence]

A runaway kitten | A.H.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x fem!reader

Content warning: fluff, cuteness overload to be honest. 

Word Count: 1.5K

Summary: A troublesome kitten prompts quite the meet-cute

Request: May I please request a meet cute with Hotch? Maybe they become new neighbours or reader has a child jacks age and they meet like that? I honestly don’t mind I just love the cuteness that comes from first interactions 😫💛

A/N: for once, I'm not really sure what to say...except, I forgot this blog's three-month anniversary, so...happy over 3 months? writing's been a bit hard recently, but I do hope it's going to get easier. enjoyy

Request are closed!

“Olive?” You called out, setting his water bowl down. You clicked your tongue a few times, hoping he’d come out of hiding to drink some water, or at the very least, show you he was slowly acclimating to the new space. 

Olive was your very pretentious, borderline-dramatic, six-month-old kitten. You’d found him near your old apartment building 3 months ago, cowering in fear and shivering because of the rain.

One look at him, and you knew, this little fella was your new roommate and cuddle buddy. You’d brought him inside, bathed, fed him and the rest was history. 

But Olive did have a flair for the dramatic, at least that had been the case for the last three and a half weeks, ever since you’d moved into your new apartment. 

The moment you’d opened his pet carrier after moving in, giving him a chance to look around and get familiar with the space, he’d turned his small head around a few times, hissed, and walked back into the carrier. 

He’d spent most of his time inside, venturing out for only a few minutes to investigate the space, and then making it inside again. He did slip into your bed every night but still refused to explore the space or get used to it.

He started looking around more the last few days, sometimes spending some time in your closet or at the back of the couch, but that was about it. 

“Olive?” You looked around. He might hate the space, but he always showed up when you called for him. No meows, no movement, and no kitten in sight made you worry a bit. You checked the places he usually visited, if for a little while, and then you checked everywhere else just in case. 

No sight on him, not a peep anywhere. And that’s when you saw it - your bedroom window was open. You ran towards it, head ducking outside to check. You looked around frantically, looking for any sight of him, and finding none. 

But there was a small ledge outside the window, running around the whole building, and any neighboring windows. It was a big enough ledge for Olive to walk across and make it to your neighbors’ apartments. 

You closed the window and ran towards your front door, straight to apartment 123. The lady who lived there always greeted you with a smile, and this time was much the same. But a frown, and a sad one at that made its’ way onto her face when you told her about Olive, and she replied with a shake of her head. 

Olive hadn’t made it to her apartment, all her windows were closed. 

You made your way to apartment 121 and knocked on the door. Your heart was pounding, worry overtaking your senses. Thoughts, about whether he’d made it to apartment 121, or if he’d fallen down. Thoughts about him missing and you trying to find him and failing. 

Deep in thought, you didn’t hear the lock click, or even the door getting opened, until a man stood in front of you.

He was handsome - black hair sprinkled with a touch of grey, chocolate brown eyes. Dressed in jeans and a fitted polo shirt, his hair was messed up like he hadn’t expected any company. He was fit, not overly so, and his posture was a little guarded. 

You remember seeing him, once or twice just in passing, but he hadn’t been dressed that casually. No, he’d been sporting formal attire - a suit and tie, dress shirt, and slacks. You’d barely glanced at each other then, but now standing at his door, you could fully take him in.

You watched him arch a brow, waiting for you to speak up. You shook your head the tiniest bit. 

“Hi.” You started with a small voice and equally a small smile on your face. 

“Hello.” His mouth barely moved, but you caught the small lift of his lips.

“I know this is going to sound very strange. Do you, by any chance, have a grey kitten that showed up out of nowhere, possibly getting in using any of your windows?” You were fidgeting, picking at your cuticles as you waited for his reply.

He relaxed a little, an actual smile making way for a row of white teeth, and the most adorable dimples you’d seen. He chuckled. “Well, I may have an even stranger answer for you. Why don’t you come in?” He moved aside and pulled the door open. 

Upon walking in, you took in the place. It was tidy, with minimal decoration, but also full of personal touches. Throw pillows and a blanket over the couch, pictures on the walls, and photos neatly arranged on the bookshelves. A blond woman, beautiful, smiled in one, her eyes striking. 

A photo of a small, adorable boy, no more than three, holding a small plush koala decorated another shelf. A small carbon copy of the woman. 

A chest of toys sat close to the bookshelf, and a lone toy truck was on the coffee table. 

“Sorry about the mess.” There was no real mess, to begin with, just a laundry basket full of clothes waiting to be folded and put in their rightful places. “This way, please.” He led you towards the back of the apartment, his strides small. 

The hallway was well-lit. A child's drawings were framed and put up, making the space homey. 

You made it to a half-opened door, “Jack, buddy?” Your neighbor called out, pushing the door open. On the floor next to the bed sat the same, cute boy from the picture in the living room, and close to him, lying on his back, paws in the air, was Olive. 

“Oh, Jesus.” You laid a hand over your heart, willing your heartbeat to slow. The little troublemaker was okay. 

“Who’s this daddy?” The boy, Jack, asked as he reached to pet Olive’s tummy gently. 

The man turned towards you, opening his mouth, but you beat him to it, “Hi, I’m Y/N, your neighbor. And this bad boy you have there is Olive.” You missed the soft look the man gave you when you introduced yourself to his son.

“Oh, he’s yours?”

“Yes, this little devil is indeed mine.” You shook your head with a chuckle.

“Why did he walk through the window then?” He asked, expression earnest and sweet. This might just be one of the cutest kids you’ve ever seen. 

“Jack!” The man, whose name you had yet to learn, crossed his arms and shook his head, sending you an amused look.

“Well, I left the window open, and he’d been very vocal about not liking the new apartment much, so he decided to go on an adventure.” You kneeled, getting to his level where he still sat on the ground. 

He looked like he was thinking for a second before he smiled, “He’s been liking my room, maybe he should stay here?”

A choked laugh fell from the brunette behind you, “Jack, no. You can’t say stuff like that.” 

“It’s okay.” And it really was, because Olive was still flat on his back, looking at you in boredom. 

“Worth a try.” He grinned back at you, one of his front teeth missing. You laughed in earnest, overcome by his cuteness.

“We better get going, we’ve taken enough of your time…” You trailed off. 

“Aaron.” He reached his hand forward, offering it for a handshake. 

You accepted his handshake with a timid lift of your lips, watching as his big fingers enveloped your smaller hand. You swore a small spark went through you at the contact - the feel of his skin on your own. Like a zap, an electric current - even your heart skipped a beat. 

There was something about his touch, maybe him as a whole, that you reacted to. A nice reaction. 

“Nice to meet you, Aaron.” You said, repeating your name to him too. 

His eyes shined just a tiny bit in wonder, he wanted to know more about you, to get to know you. As his new neighbor, he hadn’t paid you much attention, any at all. But now? Stood in his son’s bedroom, in search of a troublesome kitten and speaking softly to Jack as if he was the most precious thing ever? He felt a small piece of his heart crack, making space for a new person to enter - a new person to get to know better. 

You clicked your tongue, calling for the kitten again. He turned on all fours, looking bored, and started walking towards you. 

Just when he was mere centimeters from you, he stretched, his whole body shaking. Aaron expected the grey creature to walk up to you, but instead, it stopped at his feet and stretched again.

This time it stretched up his leg, his small eyes widening in plea.

You laughed, and Jack’s small giggle followed. 

“Well, maybe Olive does like it here.”

“Maybe he does,” Aaron added, looking at you. Your kitten may have liked his apartment, but Aaron liked seeing you both in it just as much.

comments & reblogs are greatly appreciated!

[rottiens]

are we havin' fun yet?┊ s. getō ft. s. gōjō

✫ word count. 5.1k

✫ summary. you get caught up in the unresolved argument and tension from years ago between two old best friends.

✫ tags. (18+) — explicit content. no curses au, bisexual panic and denial, female reader + afab (the reader wears painted nails and has somewhat long hair), mostly geto-centric narrative, objectification, praising, cucking.

✫ notes. ok this is born thanks to the idea of this ask, a drabble that i lost control of heh. there are many things i love about this piece and i hope you enjoy it kiss kiss. divider creds: cafekitsune.

From food and video games to shirts and colognes, Suguru and Satoru have always shared everything. It's adorable, to a certain extent, how close the two of them are and how others perceive them as brothers from the outside. It's an unbreakable friendship that was born spontaneously when they were both little. They met in elementary school, when Satoru decided to share his crayons so Suguru could color the house he had drawn, and since then, the affection that began then has only grown along with them.

The only time the two were apart was during their time at university where Satoru was inclined to study history while Suguru, with his tendencies towards human relations and his great empathy, decided to study social psychology. However, after graduating and starting work not far from the city center, they both decided it was time to live together again, at least for a while, with the intention of saving expenses.

Suguru has never minded sharing. His shampoo, his food, his bath gel. So it was only natural to expect his friend to do the same for him, to share everything, right? Just like back then.

That afternoon, Satoru was returning to the apartment after a long day at work. The backpack slung carelessly over his shoulder as his footsteps echoed in the hallway. He unlocked the door with his key, which turned with a familiar, comforting sound. Upon entering, he was greeted by the scent of the incense Suguru always lit to keep the atmosphere calm and cozy.

Suguru was in the kitchen, chopping vegetables with precision and care. Hearing the door, he looked up to greet and greet him, as usual, only the greeting died on the tip of his tongue, turning into a long sigh.

“Oh.” Disappointment disguised in a subdued tone, so Suguru decides to add. “You bring company.”

Again. He wants to say, but he bites his tongue and harshly splits the onion in two. You're here. Again. The friend Satoru has been bringing home every weekend for a month now. Suguru thought it was going to be casual, like all the times before, something that would last a week or two at most, because Satoru isn't the type to have long-term relationships. But seeing you here after a full month surprises him, no, it bothers him, and he can't explain why.

Satoru smiles, seemingly oblivious to the tension in the air.

“'Hi, Suguru,” you greet him, accompanying your words with a nervous twitch that leads you to squeeze Satoru's intertwined fingers. You look adorable, and he avoids rolling his eyes. You're wearing a tight-fitting black knit-and-button blouse that highlights your figure, and a short black skirt that exposes your legs that he can't help but admire before focusing on his friend.

“Will you stay for dinner?” Suguru asks out of politeness and breaks eye contact with you to look at Satoru, who struggles to hold back a smile.

His fingers tighten around the knife just as a muscle in his jaw does.

“Later. We'll be in my room.”

Unable to add anything else, Satoru tugs your hand towards the hallway along with a slight nod that has you following him like a lost puppy. A few seconds later, the slam of the door rattles the walls and minutes later a pop song reaches the kitchen. It's the voice of a familiar artist, high and raspy, and Suguru wants to rip out his eardrums.

He plunges the knife down on the onion hard, hitting the board with a dull thud that gets louder and louder. Even over the noise of the knife, his thoughts, and the woman now singing another song from the same album, Suguru can hear it: those sounds Satoru tries to muffle with his hand, the breaths, the moans.

The hot oil bubbles in the pan rising with the anger cooking in the top of his stomach, the olive oil toasting the onions and garlic, while Suguru pretends he doesn't know what's going on a few feet away from him. He doesn't hate you, not really. You're sweet, you're kind, and he thinks that makes it worse. What really runs across his skin from the inside, like fingernails scratching a chalkboard, is the fact that Satoru doesn't talk about you. Of what he does, what he doesn't do, that he doesn't offer you as an offering from which he can take. Like one of his toys, like his shirts, like the other partners he's had before you.

It is the exclusivity with you that irritates him to such an extent that his thoughts corrupt him and make him completely forget about the garlic that is now dark and smells burnt.

“Fuck this,” he growls to himself, wrinkling his nose at the smell and the plume of smoke rising to the ceiling. Suguru scoops up the burnt ingredients with the spatula and pushes them into the trash can. He puts the pan back on the fire and grabs a new onion to chop. As he cuts, he hears your laughter, that bubbly, mischievous, genuine laughter that comes out of your belly and echoes throughout the apartment, as if Satoru is making you cry from the tickling. Suguru peels and chops the onion harder, throwing it into the pan once more, his eyes red and watery, his nose full of the peculiar stench of onion.

Satoru laughs, says something (perhaps in your ear, even against your thigh) that Suguru can't decipher. A door opens and closes. Then he hears the shower water, and the words of the song come through more clearly thanks to Satoru leaving the door open, as he always does. Suguru adds the ginger and concentrates on the curry, and on nothing else but cooking, showering and getting out of there. And that's what he does.

He waits for you to finish playing newlywed couple in the shower, takes off his clothes, ignores his erection and steps into the shower that still smells of you. To the shampoo you both share, to your perfume, to the minty toothpaste and- it's the first time it happens, as an irony of fate, as if life is mocking him, suguru finds your panties lying on the side of the shower, he is stepping on them and looking at them as if he has discovered something horrifying, they are soft, white and lacy around the edge and have a sticky, almost white he might say, fluid on them.

Suguru picks them up. He watches them a few feet away, he knows he shouldn't do it, he would never take anything his friend doesn't offer him first and he doesn't because his pride is stronger.

He throws them on the floor a little further away from where he picked them up, steps into the shower and cums silently in his clenched fist as he drowns in the smell of you.

Suguru wraps the towel around his waist when he's done, lets his hair cascade loose dripping droplets down his back and looks in the mirror to see his cheeks stained red and finally exits the bathroom.

You are with Satoru in the living room, apparently arguing about something, you catch a glimpse of him out of the corner of your eye entering the room and closing the door.

Suguru takes off his towel and looks at his hand. Okay, he did it. He tries to justify himself but there's no reason other than, he thinks he has the right to taste you, to smell you, to know what has satoru coming back to you, so he brings the used panties to his nose shyly at first, full of embarrassment, but when he spits on his hand and starts fucking his cock harder he realizes as he sniffs you like he's a stalker pervert, he notices there are no inhibitions now, it's just you, your panties, his hard cock and his imagination telling him the different poses he could take you in if satoru would let him.

He cums silently as he hears the front door close and the shame returns to him as if it has always belonged to him. Suguru hurries to clean up his mess with napkins he keeps hidden in the room and moves to stow your panties in one of the drawers where he keeps his underwear, way down low.

Suguru's face is hot and his chest tight. His naked body as an accusation reminds him of the crime he just committed, so he moves to pick up some shorts and slides them up his muscular legs until the heat in his chest is descending.

He lies down for a moment on the mattress that makes no noise when he moves and stares at the ceiling until his vision blurs and he stops thinking and, then, remembers the curry.

——

The second time it happens it's not even his fault.

This seemed like a joke of fate or some divine plan to punish him for being thirsty for water he can't drink.

You are sitting in front of him, on the floor, legs slightly spread while wearing a satoru t-shirt too big for you which helps him discover that you have nothing on underneath except for black panties. Suguru can see for a moment how your pussy lips swallow some of the material and thinks of the excuses he can come up with to justify if asked about the blush or the amount of sweat pearling his temples.

“ UNO!” Shouts satoru victoriously placing the last card in the center of the floor and you feign indignation as you tap him on the shoulder, moving into your space, and flashing him again your panties. “Are you okay, man?” asks Satoru still laughing, he has your wrists clutched against his chest to keep you from hitting him again as you accuse him of cheating.

He was. But Suguru didn't care to discuss that now.

“Suguru, say something to him!” You chuckle slowly as you do when he sucks too hard on your clit and he leaves you breathless. He knows because he saw you, a couple of weeks ago when satoru was eating your pussy on top of the counter when he thought suguru was asleep, you were right where he was preparing the curry just a couple of nights ago.

Suguru closes his eyes for a second erasing that mental image and gets up, before anyone notices what's going on and is grateful for the baggy t shirt he's wearing that hides his semi erection.

“Yeah; it's the curry… I think, I'll be back,” he excuses himself.

The third time it happens Suguru looks around the room for cameras. This had to be a joke.

A pair of black panties were attacked at the bottom of the washing machine, mixed in with his clothes, kept there since the last day you visited them. Suguru knows he must return them and he will…. soon.

He slips them into the back pocket and finishes placing the clothes he will wash that day inside the washing machine. Then he closes it harder than he should.

——

It's incredibly hot, so he's not wearing a shirt. You're close to Satoru, as usual, huddled a few feet away from Suguru as you watch the soccer game. The fan is barely enough for the three of you, but Suguru prefers to stay away from you for his own good.

The game's narrator announces halftime and Suguru takes the opportunity to blink and stretch his legs. He raises his arms above his head with a groan, and his shorts are pulled down a little, revealing the beginnings of the short hairs on his abdomen.

“Man, this is getting boring,” Satoru grunts with a yawn. You two look at him.

“What do you mean? The match is 2-4 right now…”

“You've really given up already?” Suguru frowns, looking at the back of your head but unable to see the expression with which you watch your boyfriend… or whatever you two are now.

“Huh?” he replies in confusion.

“I thought you wanted to fuck my girlfriend,” blurts out satoru, as casually as if he's talking about the weather, his eyes now on the commercials playing on TV.

Suguru thinks that if he were still drinking from the water bottle he'd be coughing right now. Instead, his eyes widen to such an extent that they could pop out of their sockets and roll on the floor, his throat goes dry, his heart leaks out of his chest and a whiplash hits his cock. Satoru laughs noting the expression he finds comical. “Funny you act so surprised when you've always been so easy to read,” he says.

“Babe, come on,” you murmur as you stroke Satoru's chest in circles, your short red nails contrasting with the Red Hot Chili Peppers tank top he's wearing.

Suguru turns on the couch to get a better look at you, his blue eyes locked on yours intimidating. They always have. However, with a deep breath you steel yourself not to break eye contact.

“Why didn't you say anything before?”

Satoru smiles sideways. Hearing him say this last, you turn to position yourself perfectly in the middle of the two of you, avoiding the gaze of either of them, and fixating on the commercial about the energy drink they're promoting now.

“I thought you were going to ask, as usual,” he says with a shrug, still talking as if you weren't present.

“I thought it was different now.”

“Well, are you going to ask?”

Suguru pushes his cheek with his tongue and his fingers gently grip the couch.

“Satoru…” you warn, averting your gaze to the floor. Suguru notices how fast your breathing has become, his friend's long fingers playing with the edge of your denim shorts, sometimes hiding under the fabric as they scratch the fat of your thigh from time to time.

“Say it,” Satoru encourages him gently, looking up at you through his eyelashes and with determined eyes that mimic those of an eagle.

Suguru bites his cheek gently, perhaps to make sure he's not dreaming. He has a slight feeling that this is a trap, that Satoru is leading him to a place he won't be able to get out of, and yet he decides to sink his feet into what is probably quicksand.

He's always wanted this, clearly, and to have it in front of him, being offered on a platter for him to take and satiate his hunger- there's very little a hungry man can take.

“I want to fuck her,” Suguru spits and his voice doesn't tremble. There's a slight frown on his forehead and the summer heat prevents him from breathing normally.

You bite your lip as you watch Suguru, feeling the knot in your stomach tighten as Satoru continues to tease you underneath the material of the shorts. Your eyes widen slightly and your cheeks heat up, anticipation and nervousness mingling in your expression.

“How badly you want it?” asks Satoru, his voice barely a whisper.

Suguru closes his eyes for a moment, his jaw tensing. “I'm dizzy just thinking about it,” he replies, opening his eyes slowly, his gaze fixed and determined on him. He hasn't even dared to look at you. “I want to fuck her so hard and deep, you have no idea.”

“Fuck,” Satoru's fangs are visible for just a second, a wolfish grin warning danger. “Atta boy…” he purrs, sliding his fingers over your jawline to force you to look at him. There's something about Satoru that has always made you feel intimidated. His blue eyes, as deep as the sea, and his cotton-white hair give him such a peculiar appearance, he almost looks like the divine character from some book you must adore. His touch is firm, but not aggressive, and the intensity in his gaze leaves you breathless, as if you're under a spell you can't break. “You still want to fuck my best friend?”

“Satoru…” you beg in a trembling voice.

“Don't be shy, angel. If you can ask for it, it's yours,” he replies with an indulgent smile.

You had discussed this before, once… well, maybe it was twice. You remember it clearly because it's impossible to forget how the idea made you feel. The first time, you were drunk and thought it was all a joke; but when Satoru brought it up again, whispering it close to your ear while you were both sober and cuddled in the dark your room, you thought it was just a fantasy that would fade away and stay just that.

“You know… we used to share everything,” he told you.

The idea of being shared between the two of them is… overwhelming, to say the least. Just thinking about it takes your breath away; both men are huge, tall and muscular, not to mention how handsome they are.

“You know I do. We've talked about it,” you confess in a low voice.

Suguru barely manages to hear you over the hiss of a whistle on the TV, but what he does manage to catch makes his heart beat wildly and his thighs tense.

Satoru examines you up and down, perhaps looking for some trace of doubt about what is about to happen. Finding no sign of uncertainty, his eyes fall on Suguru and, with a wave of his hand, he beckons him closer.

“C'mere, Suguru. Don't be shy.”

Suguru moves like a magnet towards you, shuffling his legs over the couch until his warmth envelops you. Suddenly, you are acutely aware of the heat that has built up in the room, of the sweat on your back and the sticky feeling on your skin. The atmosphere becomes dense and suffocating, each breath feels heavier, Suguru's bare knee touches yours and the friction of your bodies makes your skin burn, intensifying the crushing sensation that overcomes you.

Expectantly, you both look at Satoru as if waiting for the next command anxiously, like animals about to be tamed.

Satoru makes an effort to pretend that he does not enjoy the situation, that the idea of devouring you both in one go does not excite him. However, he takes the first step and reaches for you with his hand, placing it on your cheek to force you to look at him. Lips half-open and eyelashes messy, you feel his lips pull you close and kiss you, filling you with a palpable intensity. Suguru beside you gasps.

Your boyfriend's fingers push at the thick denim fabric of your shorts and your needy core reaches for his open palm, swaying your hips in need of more.

Suguru doesn't know what to do; he seeks Satoru's permission, unsure if it's okay to kiss you, if he can touch you. Fists clenched in his tight shorts, he pauses to watch as Satoru's tongue hungrily thrusts into your mouth, creating a mess of saliva and moans. The intensity of the moment draws you into a new kiss, as his mouth fills with water, caught up in the maelstrom of desire that is unleashed.

In the midst of a new kiss that ends with Satoru gently biting your lower lip, he reaches out to grab his friend's jaw, delicately inviting him towards you. Leaving your mouth inches from his and with your eyes still closed, you barely make out the change in mouths, except for the difference in the way they devour you.

Suguru feels very different; his lips are harder and thicker than your boyfriend's, and his skin, rougher from the recent shave. Unlike Satoru, he sucks your tongue with precision. Each movement, though laden with desire, feels carefully planned, not so messy and the sensation of his mouth molding yours has your pussy soaking wet from satoru's long fingers now playing with your drooling pussy directly.

“You're this wet? Just from kissing him?” Satoru bites your neck and you release suguru's mouth to moan and expose your throat even more. “Such a naughty girl.”

Suguru's kisses mark the other side of your throat making you clench around the pair of digits with which satoru explores your insides, a couple of jerks of his fingers inside you has your back hunched for both of them and just as you begin to ride the wave of your orgasm, so close, the fingers are hastily withdrawn from you to show them to the room as proof of how wet you are. A long transparent string ties his fingers together.

“Look what you did to her, suguru.” Satoru brings the fingers to his friend's mouth who after hesitation circles them with his tongue with his eyes closed and face burning.

The heat is as unbearable as the erection in his shorts and suguru is grateful to feel some pressure on the throbbing bulge while still sucking on his fingers. You spit on your hand and cover his cock in saliva jerking it up and down, satoru drags his fingers out of his friend and sees the desire in his cinnamon eyes, lust overpowering shame.

Satoru spits into his own hand and curls it around suguru's throbbing cock, you masturbate his base, he swirls the sensitive tip, your left hand massaging his balls and the whole haze of new thrills and sensations whip him, and make him dizzy.

“Fuck you,” Suguru gasps with his eyebrows drawn together and mouth a distorted circle looking at his friend.

“Don't you want to cum?” you ask, innocent at the dueling gazes battling in front of you.

“Agh, fuck. No, not yet…” selfishness wanted him to continue, not so soon, he couldn't finish now.

“Oh no?” Satoru presses harder, stroking his slit with his thumb. ”Because you want to cum in her tight pussy, don't you? Fuck man, you don't know how hard she squeezes when she's about to cum, it feels like she wants to keep you there and have you fill her over and over again with your fucking cum.”

“Satoru shut the fuck up!” he yells through his teeth.

“Or do you want to cum in me?” as they both look at each other, his balls twitching, no words to respond other than pent up emotions from years ago.

“Please…” is all he can say, unsure of exactly what he's pleading for.

The waves of pleasure that Satoru's fingers give him descend, allowing the pressure in his lower stomach to cease, and he can breathe normally again.

“Stop,” Satoru says, kissing your temple. You obey instantly, getting Suguru to groan with painful longing, cock twitching visibly a mess of his saliva and precum. “Do you want to ride him?” he asks you directly, catching your gaze as he grabs the back of your neck firmly to give you a soft kiss on the lips.

“I do,” you reply, slightly light-headed from the kiss, the physical contact and the heat. Your breath brushes against his mouth and Satoru looks at you proudly, or so you think; you fail to decipher what's really in those eyes, though many times you can't.

Suguru lies down on the couch just as Satoru orders him to. He finishes removing his shorts awkwardly and hurriedly, becoming completely naked. It's not the first time Satoru has seen him without clothes, but it's the first time he's contemplated him in this way, almost like you are.

Suguru is handsome, that's a fact you can freely acknowledge. Seeing him like this, fully exposed, a sense of awe comes over you. His body is toned, with muscles worked by hours in the gym. His legs are covered with short hair that is growing, and a line of hair descends from his navel to his pelvis, where you find a tangle of short, curly hairs. The sight of his naked body is breathtaking, a mixture of strength and vulnerability that takes your breath away.

A few feet away, satoru jerks his cock with his own hand, long rather than thick, pale pink at the tip with a drop of pre cum in the slit and suguru, head cocked to the side and leaning back on the couch licks his lips in his direction watching him satisfy himself.

You grab his cock with one hand and then, the realization has your body tingling the moment you brush the tip at your needy entrance. All three of you moan in unison, connected together by the same thought and it is lewd, it embarrasses you but at the same time excites you to have the attention of both men pouring into you alone, suguru thrusts his hips upward in search of some kind of release and satoru takes a few short steps forward to admire the scene more closely, then sitting down on the ground a few feet away from you to better admire the scene he has set up for himself.

His cock plunges into you, thrusts and expands your pussy, spills your arousal around the thickness. Suguru is much thicker so you feel so full the moment you're sitting on him completely, his warm hands on your thighs massaging you up and down bringing comfort as he thrusts his hips to grind against your clit.

You hold onto his stomach like an anchor, feeling the sweat make your hair stick to your forehead and tangle around your face. Your hips move harder, riding him with increasing intensity, selfishly seeking climax. suguru finds your clit with the hard pad of his thumb and rubs it back and forth as you do all the work. For a long minute it's just the two of you staring into each other's eyes, the open-mouthed panting chanting turns to grunts and moans that gets lost in the noise of the forgotten match in the background; suguru struggles to concentrate on you, watches your lip being punished by your teeth, your tits covered by the thin fabric of the summer tank top and on the way his finger fiddles your nub of nerves lazily.

You lose yourself in him, in the rhythm at which his hips join yours; you feel his desperation, his hunger. Suguru grunts and carelessly grabs your hips to turn you around and place you now on your back on the couch, your thighs spread wide by his wide hips and his hands make prisoners of your wrists above your head.

You moan, with his forehead against yours and his body bending yours in half you feel like you might break beneath him, he notices, feels you tighten which makes him grin devilishly.

“Too deep?” He asks, as if he doesn't know the answer, pounding you harder and more precisely. “I like it like this, perfect for breeding you…. I like how tight you get.”

“Uh-huh,” you reply biting your lip, sharing the sweat from his frown.

“Tell him,” he orders you without looking at satoru, sharing a secret between your open mouth that can't be heard by your boyfriend.

You had almost forgotten him for a moment, too wrapped up in the fantasy. Turning your attention to satoru you realize that he fucks his cock to the rhythm in which suguru thrusts into you, he licks his lips as he watches you come back to him, to the giddy and disoriented and a smile curving the corners of his mouth appears on his face.

“Hi, angel.” Satoru gasps, “Do you have something to tell me?”

“He's so deep,” you gasp, suguru becoming more beast than human with every second you let him take you, caught up in the idea of fucking his friend's girlfriend, now you were no longer his property, you were his; his for that moment. He pushes back to get a better look at you from another angle and pulls up your tank top and exposes your tits, pinching your nipples without remorse.

“Yeah? And you like it?” you look back at suguru, the bun tying his hair back is starting to unravel, black strands falling down his back and you're not sure which one you want to look at first. “Are you having fun?”

“Yes…”

“I can tell… I love that face you're making, you're going to cum soon….. How about you Suguru, tell me how you feel?”

His eyes wander to your crotch, to your panties pulled aside so he can slip inside you, and he loses his rhythm for a moment as he watches his cock thrust in and out of you. He spits right on your clit for extra lubrication and takes his thumb to start massaging you, squeezing even tighter the tension binding your guts.

“She's so beautiful, and this fucking pussy, god…” his back arches and he rolls his eyes, feeling his own orgasm come hard. “She's squeezing me so hard.”

“Don't cum in her,” satoru warns.

Suguru bites his lip coming back to the present, the violent sound of wet skins meeting and the invisible steam of heat overwhelming him and urging him to take his own orgasm soon.

“Suguru…”

Another warning.

Satoru's voice sounds so sweet yet so commanding that it's almost annoying. It's just like before, when he ordered him things like he was his puppet and he was always so grateful to obey him, just to remain his friend. But you feel so good now, so tight, so wet, he doesn't remember the last time he fucked someone raw that nothing feels more like it now than filling your pussy with his load however, he forces himself to pull his cock inside you and fuck his cock on top of your stomach while you watch him with eyes full of adoration, he lets his cum run on your stomach making puddles on your belly button while someone behind him shouts “goaaaaaal”.

Then Suguru leans over, his fingers tangling in the mess that is your hair as his hair trails down his sweaty back, this with the intention of kissing you but he feels a brute hand on his shoulder pulling him away from victory, meeting that warm bluish gaze that reminds him of nostalgia.

“No kisses… those are another thing you'll have to ask for like a good boy.”

[ja3yun]

how about sunghoon as your bf? pls pls pls im on a sunghoon lockdown :((

okay let me crack my knuckles and delve into the delusional world and imagine what park sunghoon would be like as your boyfriend! there will be mentions of some smut so mdni

jake vers. | heeseung vers. | jay vers.

okay at the talking stages, i think he will keep his cards close to his chest regarding what his feelings are towards you. he wouldn't fall in love with you at a fast rate but he also won't run away if the connection isn't immediate! he will take you on dates and really get to know you. his heart is big but it's guarded, so relationships are long lasting and never fleeting, meaning he needs to know you're going to click in values and that your heart is in it for the long haul.

sunghoon, once he determines his own feelings, would want to be exclusive/bf&gf almost immediately. he values being loyal in every aspect of the word and that includes the early stages. he will be a little jarring in the beginning because of this but it's only because he's so scared of getting hurt (more on that later)

he would fall hard and become completely obsessed with you, not in a clingy way but he will always make sure his presence is known. texts to ask how your day was, random updates with schedules, notorious for sending you pictures of random objects just for an excuse to speak with you. sunghoon isn't a texter to anyone else but you, he just wants to talk to you all the time; i think this will die down once his heart settles into yours and first flutters settle.

his love language is quality time!! he loves to sit and do everything and nothing with you. he will take extra steps to make sure he sees you as many times as his schedule allows him. sometimes, he will ask for early shoots so he can meet you after work and take you for dinner or just walk you back home. i don't think he is one for being extravagant outside so he won't take you to high end restaurants or show you off because that's not quality time to him.

more under cut

speaking of relationship vs work, he is going to keep you hidden and would prefer it if you did the same. he is in no way embarrassed by you! it's just that he knows as soon as everyone knows your business and that you're dating, it's no longer your relationship. whether outside interference from fans or the company, he would much rather it be a very private love.

when you are in private, what he lacks in PDA outside, he will surely make up for when you're at home. he strikes me as the domestic type so doing the dishes while you cook, drying your hair for you after a shower, running you a bath, bringing gaeul over for you two to bond, that's his type of love service.

joking and teasing are sure ways to show you his affection. since he is quite tall, i can imagine him putting things up too high on the shelf so you need to ask him to bring it down, but in some instances, he will pick you up to grab it and tickle your sides as he does so, causing both of you to go into fits and giggles of laughter. with the serious moments, there will be nothing but happiness because sunghoon is the funniest man alive, even when he isn't trying to be.

LOVES to feel loved. he will adore it when you give him quick kisses for no reason, hug him so tight he can't breathe, and tell him random reasons why you love him. he will laugh it off and act chill about it but inside his heart would be leaping for joy. with this, he also sees trust and honesty as an integral part of love, so when you open up to him or explain your worries no matter how big or small, he will feel wanted and honoured that you're allowing him to know these parts of you.

as i said earlier, he worries about his heart being broken so he might need more reassurance than some of the other boys. he keeps his emotions to himself and can run hot and cold with no explanation, which can cause a lot of arguments between you. in these scenarios, he would value your assurance and emotional depth; in turn, this can come off as selfish because why should you be understanding when he is the one causing an issue? sunghoon knows it's wrong to ask you of so much when sometimes he gives so little, it's the benefit of him being emotionally intelligent. it is something you can both work on in the relationship and communication here is so so important!

jealousy and possessiveness run in his blood but not in that toxic, dark romance way, rather he his protective. he trusts you with his entire being but others outside are his number one enemy. if you do go out and dress up, i think these are the times he will be a little bit more affectionate towards you outside. he wants to let everyone know that you are his and he is yours and no one could hold a candle to your love. it can be overbearing but as the years go on i think he will be more secure in the relationship, thus, easing off on the whole "no one should look at you but me" front.

i want to add that being in a relationship with sunghoon would be the most rewarding. it's give and take, never boring, always passionate, he is a spontaneous lover with so much soul to give you that every day will be different. if he thinks it's getting a little slow on the tracks, he will do something to quicken your hearts for one another again. he works incredibly hard to be the best boyfriend he can, and he would expect his efforts to be matched and appreciated.

kissing: loves to kiss you. kisses are always on the table even when he is angry or mad, one kiss from you and all his worries are melting away. his lips find yours in the simplest of places - laying on the couch with him, saying goodbye in the mornings, shopping (he will sneak a cheeky one when no one is looking), etc. these would all be lingering pecks, ones he never wants to pull away from. but when you're at home and he needs you, the boy is slow and teasing, his tongue running against the seam of your lips as a warning to what's to come. i don't think he would kiss for a long time but i think 8/10 make out sessions would end up with your clothes off. he would get really into it and can't control himself, and honestly, you wouldn't want him to.

bowchikawowow: quickies are not on his agenda, he wants to fuck you properly each and every time. i think he has sex in two ways: soft and sensual, taking his time with you, teasing you, giving gentle kisses all over your body, fingers memorising the feel of your skin, soft whispers of "so pretty" and "i love you so much". he wants sex to convey his love in the way his words sometimes don't. the other way i see it would be passionate and fiery. he can dick you down hard and fast if you want to, that athletic stamina he built up over the years needs to be put to more than just choreographies. he would go down on you until you cried out for mercy, he would pound into you so good, marking and biting you all over (never on exposed skin but rather only places he is allowed to touch, he doesn't want men to think about you in any position like that).

always aftercare, never anything less. he would grab you water (and possibly painkillers depending on how rough he got), shower with you, massage your tensed muscles, he would be the type of boyfriend that is so in love with you, affection like this would come easily to him, like breathing and tying his shoe laces. he will tell you how much he worships you and after sex is when you see his vulnerability. you will spend a few hours talking about your feelings (it doesn't happen every time but when it does, it only brings you both closer than ever before).

again, these are just my opinions and observations so if you don't agree that's okay <3 (i also love to hear others' thoughts so!!)

[moondirti]

I have to ask about the sheep reader bc my god your brain is so wrinkly and now the images won't leave my head ahhhh love your writing so so much

hybrids. manipulation. brief smut. referenced neglect

it was that or cult leader price which i feel like has been done before so,,, idk man. something about sheep girl! reader being gifted to him by a hybrid averse neighbour, trussed up in the back of their pickup, soft belly up, eyes quivery and wet with tears. though he does not need an addition to his flock — certainly not one that would require extra care — he notices the abrasions sectioning your bare patches of skin (consequence of crowding in with the more animal individuals of your kind), and chubs up upon realising how easy it would be to soft-soap you into submission.

all it takes is a bit of kindness. he herds you into his home, bathing you in a galvanised steel tub with shampoo made for human women. his hands are large and rough, work-worn, but they weave into your wool gently as to not tug on the knots that have accumulated with neglect. you bleat in the novel attention, peering up at him shyly when he works the soap down your back, cupping between your legs to make sure he gets the dirt spoiling your privates.

freshly clean, you’re a pretty thing. round in the most mouth-watering places, teeth healthy upon inspection, plump lips perpetually cast in a pout. price goes so far as to tell you while he detangles your hair with an animal comb, petting your bare cheeks to feel the way they warm. loveliest lamb i’ve ever had the pleasure of caring for. set to be my favourite, at this rate. the most special.

that’s what the collar he buckles ‘round your neck seems to argue, too. fashioned himself out of full grain leather, dyed pink, antique buckle making a sturdy hook for the bell he will eventually procure.

you give in like he’d brought a meat tenderiser down on your flesh. pull apart like a well-cooked feast, unspooling all your ripe sentiments on his lap. as he sups on lamb chops — seated on his arm chair with you by his feet, making you suck his fingers clean — he tells you what to expect in your new home. the schedule, the other animals, your place within it all. you will not be given this treatment daily, yet it does not mean he loves you any less. most winter days, he’ll lay a bed of straw in the barn, assuring you that it’ll be away from the rams and their meddling horns, and come to check in on you when you can. that way, you’ll make friends who can keep you company while he’s busy.

and the way you nod, nose twitching under his heavy palm, hesitant but so trusting of the only kindness you’ve ever known — he can’t help but skip a few steps. promises you that if you get along with everyone well enough, if you’re good, he’ll reward you with a nice bath, trim, and private meal weekly. it’s the right thing to say, too, because your hips jut excitedly at the suggested luxury. just one taste of it and you’re so easily conditioned.

he can’t imagine how eager you’d be if he were to give you more. more; like fondling your doughy pussy as he is so tempted to do, kneading until you’re sloppy and soaked through your wool. like giving you a taste of climax, fingers foraging expertly within your walls, stretching your hole out to eventually supplant them with his cock. you’d move so well underneath him, fluffy and malleable, legs moved up and out of the way to press against your teats. if he knows anything, he knows sheep acquiesce to handling like butter to the knife. he could bend you, tie you, pick you up in whatever way he sees fit, and you’d take it. all he has to do in return is make you squirt messily onto the soft grass, and pump you full of his seed until you cannot clean yourself out without the help of his hand and a hose.

all in due time.

[telvannitea]

pairing: gaz x fem!reader x price

notes: 18+ mdni, unprotected sex, angst/comfort, insecure!reader, price and gaz are construction workers, today's theme is "communication is key", not proofread

wc: 1.6k

you knew from the moment your relationship with kyle started that it wasn't meant to last. you just wish it hadn't happened so soon.

kyle first mentions his coworker john, in passing. a stray comment here and there, usually about some situation on the job. you nod and smile along every time, doing your best to ignore the uncertainty taking root.

you put a face to the name when kyle shows you a photo john sent him, a selfie after a mishap with an electric saw. even covered in sawdust, you can tell that john price is a handsome man, a bit older than you and kyle.

you start formulating your exit plan.

kyle shows up after work one evening, his coworker's broad frame following him through the doorway. you're sitting on the couch in nothing but a ratty tank top and sleep shorts. you yank the throw over you, too conscious of the extra set of eyes in your flat.

"john's here to watch the game, luv. 's that alright?" kyle asks, coming over to give you a kiss on the cheek.

"yeah, of course," you mumble. you feel john's gaze on you. it makes you want to claw off your skin. "let me get out of your way, then-"

"should at least introduce yourself before you go runnin' off, dove." john interrupts. he strides forward when you get up from the couch, throw wrapped firmly around your waist, and catches you in a suffocating embrace. his scent is familiar yet not: you recognize the musk of a hard day's work, but it doesn't make you feel safe like it does with kyle.

he steps back slightly, still holding onto to your stiff shoulders. this close, you have no choice but to meet his eyes. too blue, too cool.

"so you're garrick's girl. heard a lot about you, sweetheart." one side of his mouth quirks up and you feel like you've been told a joke you're not in on.

you fall asleep to muffled laughter that night.

a week later, john is once again back at the flat, this time with an arm sling and a duffel bag packed for an extended stay. they both have the decency to look sheepish while kyle mumbles something about an overextended shoulder and john not having anyone to look after him at home. you're withering inside at the thought of being alone with the man your boyfriend is clearly enamored with, but you offer a thin smile while you say you're happy to take the couch.

you wake to groans from the bedroom and rush to john's side, kyle long having left for work. despite your uncertainty around this man, the sight of his genuine pain twists your insides. you fall into an easy routine: you offer him silent company and meals during the day, and kyle returns in the evenings with dinner and the latest workplace gossip. kyle tries to cajole you into helping john bathe with an emphatic, "we're all friends here, luv!"

right.

you wake one morning and decide that it's the day. john's injury is nearly healed - he tossed the sling days ago. he and your boyfriend have developed a domestic bubble around the two of them, one that you couldn't pop even if you wanted to.

it was inevitable, you have to keep reminding yourself.

so you send an eager-to-be-of-use john price down the street to the mart with a nonsense list and round up your possessions. you've been slowly transferring your clothing to your car, what remains fits in a suitcase. you leave cash on the coffee table for the month's rent.

"goin' on a trip, dove?"

you turn sharply, startled to discover john entering the flat. the bastard even has a bag of groceries dangling from one hand.

you open your mouth to respond but he beats you to it.

"bit cruel to leave our boy blindsided like that, innit?" he asks patiently, hunching his shoulders to make himself seem less like the threat you know him to be.

"it's none of your business." you can feel the unshed tears in your voice and you hate yourself for it, holding the handle of your suitcase in a vice grip. "please just let me leave."

john moves slowly so as not to spook you, setting the bag down on the floor. "let's talk about this, yeah?" he holds both palms out and takes a cautious step forward. "i know kyle isn't the best at communicating-"

"i got the message just fine!" you wail. ugly tears are spilling down your face but you keep going, "i'm not fucking stupid, i know when i'm not needed, when i'm not wanted."

your vision is too blurred to see, but john's face falls apart at your confession. "oh, dove," he breaths, and he's on you in a second, cradling your face, crowding you when you try to flinch away. "shh, shh, don't cry, love, that's not true. you mean the bloody world to kyle, you're all he ever talks about." he wipes the moisture from your cheeks with his thumbs, insistently gentle.

you shake your head, "he doesn't want me anymore, he wants you." you whine. john lifts your chin, tutting at you. "poor, poor dove. let me show you."

he guides your mouth to his, smothering your squeal of surprise. he licks between your lips, humming out his pleasure. the sensation of his tongue caressing the roof of your mouth makes your knees go weak. he's grinning down unto your messy, bewildered face when he pulls back. "been wantin' to do that for a long time. as sweet as he said."

you're pushed backwards towards the couch until you're sitting, john crouched in front of you, thick hands grasping your knees. "let me make you feel better 'til kyle's here with his apologies."

he doesn't tell you about the phone call he made during the errand you forced on him, ordering kyle to return home and "fix the mess he's made".

you don't resist when john pries your legs apart, working your pants and underwear down your legs. his kiss has left your mind pleasantly fuzzy, any prior concerns momentarily forgotten.

"that's it, that's a good girl," john hums, gaze fixed between your legs. "such a pretty little cunt."

he wastes no time, angling your hips up, licking you from ass to clit in one long stripe. you cry out, bucking your hips, but john holds firm. he dips back down, curling into your hole, coaxing your slick out with his tongue. he moans shamelessly into your pussy, hooded eyes trained on yours, watching your every reaction.

a thick finger slides into you at the same time john starts sucking on your clit in earnest. you're so desperate, tugging at his hair and digging your heels into his back, keening helplessly. "oh, fuck- right there, please!"

you cum at the same time kyle bursts through the door, chest heaving, nearly tripping over your luggage still on the floor. "shit, look at you two."

the picture you and john make have kyle bricked in his work jeans. your trembling legs are still draped over john's shoulders, release glistening on your skin and the lower half of his face.

suddenly embarrassed you try to close your legs but it's no use, john's hands are stone. he clicks his tongue, "no use gettin' shy now, sweetheart. come 'ere, garrick."

kyle moves to attention, taking his place next to you on the couch. he pulls you eagerly onto his lap, until your back is flush with his chest, legs help up, leaving your pussy exposed. kyle's bulge rests against the curve of your ass, throbbing and twitching.

"look at you, doll," he groans against the curve of your neck, reaching over to play with your folds. "so fucking pretty like this. you gonna let us take care of you?"

your gaze falls on john, stepping between kyle's legs, thick cock freed from his pants. he doesn't have kyle's cervix-bruising length but the girth is enough to make your insides clench. he taps the turgid head against your clit once, twice before notching it at your entrance. he leans forward, bracing himself on the arm of the couch.

"you ready, dove?" he asks. you nod.

"please." you whisper.

then he's pushing in and all three of you are moaning, john molding himself to your walls while kyle holds you through it. john curses under his breath when he bottoms out - you can feel him twitching inside of you.

"takin' it so well, good fucking girl." kyle pulls your shirt up, freeing your tits from your bra and into his masterful hands. "drives her crazy when you play with her nipples." he plucks the tips of your breasts, giving john a wicked grin. the pleasure shoots straight to your clit and you tighten like a vice around john.

"fuck-" he pulls nearly all the way before driving his hips forward, sharp thrusts driving you up kyle's body. his pace is relentless, chasing your body until you're nearly curled into a ball, feet dangling off his broad shoulders. he ducks down to catch kyle in a sloppy kiss, driving himself deeper, kissing your cervix on every downstroke. a hand reaches down to rub your clit, at this point you're too fucked out to tell who.

you whimper and scream when your climax hits you, clenching down on john's cock until he follows, rutting into you to ensure to take every last drop of him. kyle coos loving nonsense at you while you come down, rubbing your hips with his thumbs. you whine when john pulls out, too empty.

"you good to head to the bedroom, luv?" kyle whispers and you nod. he makes his way down the hall with you cradled in his arms, john close behind.

you're ready for a hot shower and a long nap, so you're surprised when deposited on the bed, kyle and john looming over you.

your boyfriends spend the rest of the night showing you just are wanted you are.

[nocturn-warrior]

Like poppies with seed

Feyd Rautha x reader

Rating: smut, smut, smuuuuttt

Warnings: pregnancy sex, lactation kink, detailed descriptions of body parts, Feyd calling reader his breeding cow, Feyd being extra horny for reader's body. Heavy, heavyyy pregnancy kink.

Summary: Feyd is more than proud in show you off while carrying his child.

@austinbutlerslovers @valeskafics

In the last months of your pregnancy, you are sore. Your ankles are hurt, your back aches, subtle waves of sleep hit you and all you want to do is snuggle in your bed, waiting for Feyd to come back from his duties.

He doesn't allow you to roam around the palace without his company. It sounded frustrating but necessary. You called atention everywhere you go and Feyd couldn't bear anybody looking at you for so much time.

Specially his uncle; he knew how the baron's mind was, and radiant as you looked, he wouldn't hesitate in use you for his own pleasures. The very thought enraged Feyd deeply. You were his and his alone.

That was the reason he made sure to keep you by his side: to claim you as his. To show every single person in Giede Prime who bred you so nicely, and who you belonged to. He had a cocky grin in his face everytime you went out in public.

Night has come and it is almost dinner time. After taking a warm bath, you admire your form in front of the mirror that covers half of the wall.

Caressing your bump, you think about Feyd and how he enjoys kissing your belly, knowing his child is developting in there. It's a repent change in his behavior, but Feyd became sweeter with you.

Sweeter like the male of a feline species protecting his female from others that could possibly take her, but it was still sweeter than the Feyd you knew, that would barely show his emotions unless they were adrenaline in a sword fight or that devilish grin when he urged for sex.

Laid on your bed was the dress he chose for that night. A long and extremely form fitting grey dress with long sleeves. For a while you doubted that piece of cloth would fit your pregnant body, but the fabric stretched perfectly to your size and was comfortable as well.

It puts in evidence your swollen breasts that doubled, maybe tripled in size; your huge bump; your luscious hips; your butt and your pussy. This last one made you a little bit embarassed. Sometimes it seems like Feyd in fact likes when people stare at you, as if he wanted to show you like a trophy.

After combing your hair, you wait for the knocking on the door indicating you should leave your chambers and meet Feyd. Usually he is busy with his duties until dinner, so a female servant leads you to one of the enormous hallways connected to the dinning room.

Today it wasn't different. When you heard the knocking, you opened the wide doors and the pale bald lady was bowing at you in reverence before guiding you.

You walk with a certain dificulty through those dark corridors, almost panting. The servant asks if you are feeling alright and you smile in ressurance, arching your back.

In the end of the hallway the lights from the dinning room can be seen and project a familiar shadow standing still. Feyd waits for you with his arms behind his back, he is eager to see you in the dress he ordered for a tailor to produce.

Even from a far, the sight of you makes his cock tingle. You walk slowly, hips swaying from side to side. Heavy swollen breasts are full of milk and bouncing as you walk. And under your round belly, the outline of your pussy seems to send aphrodisiac energies towards Feyd. The lips are perfectly marked and urging to welcome Feyd's penis.

He can't contain an evident erection as you approach him, smiling sweetly with your doe eyes, hands folded in front of your body. His piercering gaze directs to the servant who understands he'll take care of your from that point.

The na-baron's expression changes into a smile, looking down at you. He settles his hand behind your back and slips it down to your butt, giving it a good squeeze and then an audible slap that echoes through the hallway. You gasp instantly, and Feyd delights at the sound biting his lips.

"You look extra hot this night. I wonder who chose this dress..."

The man comments ironically, placing back his hand behind your back and guiding you to the dinning room.

Entering, you see the Baron eat his enormous amount of food. Rabban is two chairs away from him, leaving them to Feyd and you. You can't handle sitting next to the Baron, specially when he is eating. The sounds he makes are disgusting and your guts are way more sensitive now. Feyd then pulls the chair for you in the other extremity of the large metal table. Five generals watch you enter and sit, their eyes are glued on your body.

Before accomodating himself, Feyd looks piercingly at everybody and specially Rabban, who have always been more a rival than a brother. The thought of showing you round with his child who is to be the heir of Harkonnen, putting in evidence who Baron Vladimir prefers, amuses Feyd although his uncle's aprovation means nothing.

He takes a seat by your side, he places one hand on thigh, softly kneading on it very closer to your core. You press your thighs together trying to ease the crescent wave of horniness inside your cunt. With his free hand he serves you your vegetable meal once you refuse to eat the undercooked meat the Harkonnens appreciate. You barely touch it though. In the last weeks, you've been feeling like your intestines are being compressed and the leak of apetite starts setting in.

Plus, Baron Vladimir looks at you mischievously while chewing on his food. You start to feel uncomfortable, and once Feyd finishes his meal, you poke him with your elbow indicating you are ready to go. The Baron doesn't allow a woman to speak at the dinner table.

Feyd obligues, guiding you through the hallways back to your chambers. He made sure to let you walk in front of him, so he could get a better view of your butt and hips swaying as you walked with dificulty. His cock was hard, he wanted to take you right on the hallway and sink his face into your cunt, tasting your sweet nectar. And on the other side, you could feel Feyd's gaze on you, his bird of prey-like eyes reached you like lazers and your pussy was starting to get wet.

Blasting the doors of your chambers open, you plop yourself on the bed, taking a deep sigh and making fun about your back pain. Feyd was not interested in it, his eyes were glued on your body, admiring how your full breasts were squashed against your bump like a shelf. You looked like a sort of fertility deity, that way. He wanted to attach his lips onto your nipples and drink your sweet milk while fucking you.

He takes off his boots and coat, the matress shiftin with his weight as he sits by your side.

"Stand up"

He orders.

"But Feyd, my back--"

"I said stand up. In front of me"

His tone is more serious now, and you do as he asked, standing up with dificulty and looking down at his sitting form, anxiously playing with your fingers. You knew that tone very well and horniness was taking over you.

Before asking anything else, Feyd looks at how your dress snuggles to every protuding part of your body, your braless nipples were hard, jutting agains it and he unconsciously leaves a soft moan before ordering:

"Take the dress off"

Immediatly you try to reach down towards the hem of your form-fitting dress, but the volume of the belly gets in the way, so Feyd, still in his position, leans forwards a bit to glide up the fabric until your hands could reach and you could do the work yourself.

Slowly your bare skin starts to show; your perfect pussy, your swollen belly, and your bouncing tits that jiggle deliciously when the snuggly fabric releases them. You throw the dress away, waitibg for his next commands

Feyd's cock is so erect it could rip off his trousers. The man spreads his legs a bit and pats his muscular thighs.

"Sit here"

You take a deep breath and do as Feyd said, he balances you on his thighs and rests his broad hands on both your hips. Slowly, he starts to massage the small of your back. His touch is firm yet gentle. Soft grunts leave your throat as he kneads on your skin. Feyd's eyes are glued on your face, fascinated by your relieved expressions. He feels your wetness dripping down on his trousers and wetting the fabric of it. If you are so turned on only by this, imagine when he actually fucks you?

The other hand skims from your hip up to your breasts. He tucks his hand in the space between your pregnant belly and your heavy tits, before lifting one them up and making it bounce on his hand. The sensitiveness of your sore breasts makes your nipples painfully hard to the point a little drop of milk starts to form and drips on your skin, gliding down the curve of your belly.

"Look at those breasts... so plump and full. I barely touched them and they are already leaking."

Feyd squeezes one of the breasts firmly, making you gasp in surprise and pleasure. It squirts milk right on his muscular chest, and the sight of the white liquid graciously running down like a tear amuses the man.

He can't contain the urge to suck your aureola full on his mouth. His plump lips quickly attach to your nipples, making your core ache in heat. Feyd moans as he chuggs on your milk voraciously, and you unconsciously start to rut against his thigh in order to ease the state of overstimulation you've been put on by your husband.

You rest your arms on both his shoulders as he delights on the fluid. One of his hands glides down to cup the underside of your belly, massaging it. With the sensitiveness of your skin, his touch on the area makes you rut even more thrustfully against his muscular thigh as his feet are firm on the ground so you wouldn't lose balance.

You arche your back as you get off on his lap, the fabric of his trousers are completly soaked by your cum now. Feyd releases your breast with a loud pop and smirks mischievously at you, remainings of your white milk can be see in the creases of his black teeth.

"Look at the mess you've made on my lap. You are desperated, aren't you? You are desperated for my cock to penetrate this thigh pussy of yours. When this one is out, i will breed you over and over again."

He rasps, softly poking your swollen belly before he guides you to the center of the bed, all on fours. You feel heavy, your bump touches the sheets and your tits hang slightly.

Your husband zips down his trousers and underwear, revealing his huge pink cock which is so hard that reaches his bellybutton. Feyd moans, you feel the matress shifting with his weight as he kneals down, hands placed on your hips. He gives your ass a big slap and watches you squirm in overstimulation.

"Who is my breeding cow?"

He asks you, hand playing with the lips of your pussy.

"I am"

You babble, eyes shut and core aching for his cock. He smirks and slaps your butt again.

"Say it again. Tell me what you are. Tell me who got you pregnant"

His words make you moan before answering and Feyd waits with his hand ready to smack you again.

"I-i am your breeding cow. Feyd Rautha got me pregnant, and i belong to him. And i am ready to be bred as many times as he wants"

"Nice..."

Says Feyd before comming closer and slowly inserting his cock into your pussy, leaving you completly desmantled. You moan loudly with the thrust of his hips, breasts sagging and bumping against each other with his jostling movements.

The position is not one of the bests due to your body pulling you down, but you are too overstimulated and pleasured to move or ask Feyd for another position.

Though extremely horny for your body, Feyd doesn't want to hurt or make you uncomfortable while with child, so he lifts up your belly once you start to complain about the heft. Having the hands of your husband over your bump is an enormous turn on, and you are starting to cum again.

The thrusts get more and more fast, grunts of pleasure leave Feyd's mouth as your cunt makes loud squishy sounds with the in and out of his cock.

"I am comming..."

He lulls his head back, thrustring his large cock into your tight hole, both your faces are hot, sweating with the waves of pleasure that prologues the orgasm.

Soon, you feel Feyd's warm sees filling up your cunt and he growls loudly, a large amount of sperm oozes from your hole mixed with your own fluids, falling into the bed.

Panting, Feyd helps you to get out from your position, laying your back on the plush pillows. Your legs are spread, head fallen to the side as the frantic rise and fall of your lungs are visible.

Feyd stands up with his legs shaky and grabs a grey towel and rubs it on your core, wiping off the excess of sperm. He throws the towel away before covering you with the blanket and laying by your side, his broad hand rests on your belly as you lean closer to him, resting your head on his muscular arm.

With a shaky voice, you playfully say:

"Thank you for breeding me"

[mintmatcha]

The door closes with a bump of your hip and toss your keys into the bowl. The mumble of the television carries through the hall, marked by the sudden, shaky sound of a cough. You slip off your shoes and walk into the living room, knowing he'll be exactly where you left him.

Kuroo is the epitome of pathetic. Dressed in only his pj pants, he's sprawled across the couch, limbs limply hanging over the sides. Used tissues are scattered on his chest and another one is stuffed into his chapped nose; it bobs as he turns to you and sighs.

"Hey, sicky." You muss his hair before dotting a kiss against his forehead. "How are you feeling?"

"Awful. Horrible." Kuroo's voice is starting to come back, but it's still mostly scratches and jumps. "Worse than death."

It's the flu - he'll be fine in a couple of days. "Poor thing."

"Yeah, I am a poor thing." Kuroo clutches your hands with the voracity of a dying Dicken's character. "I'm supposed to be in America right now. America, baby. The home of deep-fried twinkies."

You do feel a little bad; he was really looking forward to this work trip, but his company didn't want to put a sick man on a plane.

"There'll be other trips," you try, "And other unhealthy smacks."

"Sigh." He says the actual word. "Sigh. And it's so boring here without you. I cleaned the fridge so I didn't die of boredom."

You go to coo again, then pause.

"Wait, really?" You had been putting that off longer than you'd like to admit.

"Yeah, I did the whole kitchen." He sighs again. "And the bathroom."

"The whole bathroom?"

"Even the floor."

Oh. Your heart flutters a bit. You had been lamenting over having to scrub the floor. Kuroo is a good partner, but he's never been one to clean on his own volition. Hell, you can barely get him to pick his laundry off of the floor. The fact that he cleaned without being asked...

You're a little giddy over it.

"Would taking a bath in our clean bathroom make you feel better?" You push his bangs to the side and watch them bounce back.

"I already took a shower today."

Your fingers trail down to his neck. "Would taking a bath with me make you feel better?"

"Are you horny right now?" He points to the tissue jammed into his nostril. "Really?"

"I'm a simple woman: you clean my house and my pussy gets wet."

He barks out a laugh, only to cut himself off with a wheezing coughing fit. When he finally catches his breath, his poor little eyes are red rimmed and wet.

"I'm too sick to give you a good performance."

You debate kissing him, then think better of it.

"Don't worry," you say, "I'll do the work."

Kuroo cackles softer this time, toothy grin biting into his lower lip.

"Can we do that thing you never let me do?"

"Let's see how clean the bathroom is - then, we'll talk."