#but I could not bite my tongue for any longer

[penny-for-thots]

edging the windbre boys ; not requested :]

[!] ON THE EDGE.

ⓘ BRINGING THEM TO THE EDGE JUST TO STOP?! gn!reader — smut. includes. sakura, suo, nirei, kaji, umemiya, hiragi, togame, + choji. blow/hand job, ribbons, cock ring, teasing, whining, + edging. aged up 18+ ; now that im writing this, im thinking abt a dry cumming ver...sorry, ive been writing a lot of smut but its the week before my period. im is ovulating, so um...take this <3

"I CAN'T TAKE IT, PLEASE!!" or, SCREAMING FOR MERCY. he's whining, begging, repeating your name and a phrase over and over and over again. his breath is stuttering and a couple of tears may fall down his face. like- he's legit going to pass out soon from the edging.

SAKURA is shaking. in all honesty, he can go in both this category and the 'JUST ... A MESS.' category, however, what sets him in this one is his begging. he's sobbing, a blushing mess, pleading with you like he'll fucking die if he doesn't get to cum. like, "pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease," is leaving his lips. his legs, his whole body is shaking at this point and he's begging to cum. like- to the point of babbling he's begging to cum, telling you how good it feels, and mumbling to himself that he can't last any longer. GOD FORBID, you put a cock ring on him? girl- he's gone.

CONT. at a certain point, because he's no pitiful, you decide to take mercy. you're tongue licking a long stripe up his length, hand pumping him earnestly. your tongue circles around the head and he cums, hard. like- a big ass load is dumped into your as he's hunched over and twitching from the relief he got.

"OOH, YOU'RE GONNA GET IT." or, HE'S ACTIVELY SEEKING REVENGE. this man isn't as much of a mess, in fact, he's doing everything in his power to contain his moans and such. he's trying to be somewhat tough and maintain his composure but he's grunting about paying you back. his hands are definitely tied behind his back, though that doesn't stop him from trying to get out of it.

TOGAME is seething. like- he loves it but he cannot wait to have you over his lap, fingering you and stopping until you get the feeling he's getting right now. he's breathing rough, "ooh, baby. im gonna get you back," he hisses, "i—ngh-oh—fucking promise." his arms might be tied, but he's trying to hard to hump your mouth, seeking any release that could push him over the edge. you'd have put a cock ring on him to get him to stop (hear me out though, a cock cage on togame?). regardless, he's grunting, his abs flexing and relaxing, thighs tensing and shaking, and his toes curled as he swears up and down he'll get you back.

SUO is breathing heavy. he's purposefully trying not to say something, so nothing you can tease him with slips out. unfortunately for him, a grunt that transforms into a whimper has your lips coming off of his cock with a pop! he looks down to see a cocky expression on your face. he huffs with a chuckle, "ooh, mm—damn—when we're done me and you are gonna have a- ngh- very long talk." suo bites his lip to prevent his whimpers from slipping, though he doesn't help himself by watching what you're doing. tying that pretty bright pink ribbon at the base of his cock, he's not against it. he has no problem with "feminine" things, but did you really have to tie it that tight? "hayato! you're staining my ribbon!" suo has to fight himself not to say something, he only chuckles, a hiss leaving his lips. oh, you are so going to get it.

KAJI is literally about to fight you. no bull. of course, being the person he is, he isn't allowed to use his hands. though he wants to, he can't shove your face full of his cock. his tongue swirls around his lollipop in a futile attempt to distract him from the warmth of your hand around him. "damn it! i am—fu-ucking—get- getting you back for this!" his his hips lift urgently off of the bed you've got him tied to. his legs are shaking; dazed and low-lidded eyes staring down at you as is orgasm builds, only to fall off at the last second. he nearly growls, swearing he'll get you back (in his head).

CONT. he isn't geting relief (none of them). he's normally a man with a lot of confidence, and yet, he's fucking trembling because he can't cum? i mean sure, he's out to get you later, but it's completely worth it to watch his eyes roll back into his skull, his hips practically convulsing, and thick ropes of cum shoot from his tip and stain his stomach. plus, the breathy "fuck" nearly has you doing the same.

MR. CAN'T SPEAK, or HE'S REALLY FOCUSED. the man is nearly silent. he either doesn't want to make a noise, or he's like- breathless. he may be huffing, eyebrows furrowed so deeply he'll cause permanent wrinkles. he's looking down at you, but he's more so focusing on not losing his shit because he can't cum. like- "fuckfuckfuck ... " is going through his head while he fights internal demons, and you. how dare you look at him with those pretty eyes?!

HIRAGI strikes me as a quiet man in bed, especially when something like this is happening. his core is tense; his face is tense. eyebrows knitted, eyes screwed shut, jaw clenched, and thighs flexed. he tries so hard not to—to which he fails—though at some point, he genuinely can't. he's moaned and groaned, even whimpered, and now a sound can't come out of his mouth. he's so close to losing it he's lost his voice to beg or whine. "damn—" he croaks, body trembling.

CONT. hes another one where your mercy is his salvation. he just looks so cute- why would make him suffer more? its not until he's allowed to cum does his let out a string of pretty noises, sweat dripping down his forehead and body shaking.

JUST ... A MESS, or SELF EXPLANITORY. he's losing his fucking shit. this man is damn near wailing because he can't cum. he can't get the release he wants and he's losing his shit. fat globs of tears spill down his cheeks, there may even be snot. he's barely coherent, babbling pleads and jumbled strings of words to get you to let him cum.

NIREI is the one literally about to die from being denied. honestly, the display has you wanting to stop. he's sobbing, his voiced cracked, snot dripping from his nose, and body shaking like a leaf. he barely tell you "sorry," or "please," let alone fully beg. his words are mindless babble, strings of saliva falling from his lips, a web of them shown in his mouth. he keens and whines, "puh- plea- plea-ease!" when i say he's vibrating in his spot, i mean it. hes is NAWT the type of person to be able to handle this type of sexual activity (you can't overstim him either).

CHOJI is ... something. i see choji as someone who isn't too interested in sex, though when it happens he's sooo sensitive. and ridiculously whiny. like- the man will not shut up. he's whining your name, pleading, whispering to himself, cursing—anything. at some point tears start to form and he gets shocked at the waves of pleasure that appear and disappear. he almost gets mad until your tongue starts to work him. his eyes get low-lidded and his body relaxes, it feels to him as if a wave is inches from sweeping him away, and then you stop. and then he sobs. and then he gets mad. then you get back at it. cycle repeats. "i- urgh! can't- can't—awh!" he's legit a fucked up mess, whining and crying like a girl, convulsing and breathing heavy as hell.

CONT. you have to let him at this point, he's not surviving a minute longer. his cock is raw and stiff from your strokes; at one moment, you thought he had accidentally came because of how much pre-cum seeped from the tip. he almost passed out once he cums, that's how much he needed it.

IT DEPENDS or THE OUTLIER WHO'S MULTIPLE. he can range from sobbing and crying for you, to telling himself not to cum, to being a complete and utter mess. it genuinely depends on how he feels that day, what happened. is he letting lose? is he still up tight? does he need to blow off some steam? it really depends on his mental state. he could go from

UMEMIYA grunts. his breaths are shaky, chest stuttering. he's laughing at both you and himself, he's certainly having fun with the moment. though, his body is being a little fickle. one second he's too hot, he's about to burn up, then the next its calm, though there's that painful pleasure in his groin from being denied. he laughs, "it looks good on me, it's—fuck—like y'r openin' a- pre-present." he looks down at the bow you've tied around his cock. of course, he asked for it. it looks better than he thought. he lets out a shaky breath, core tensing as he tries to keep his noises inside. though, to no avail, as he's a naturally loud person. his grunting and groaning fills the room, tears brimming at his eyes, and saliva pooling on his bottom lip. he bites his lip, chuckling, "fuck—y'r making me lose it!" he moans, "ooh, im gettin' you back."

CONT. he broke from his restraints, a stupid mess and all and forced your mouth to stay lodged on him until he finished shooting ropes down your throat. he watches in amusement as you cough, looking down at the mess he's been made of. he 100% got you back seconds later.

[unfortunate17]

i agree with you about being frustrated with how often this fandom has top/bottom discussions but its a pretty common talking point in most fandoms so YR isn’t special for that

No I totally agree with you that it’s a common topic of discussion in a lot of fandoms, but there’s a particular way we have it in this fandom that really grinds my gears.

And don’t get me wrong, I don’t care if you hc Wilmon to be vers or if you think Wille tops or Simon tops or whatever - it’s the justification and reasoning that I’m seeing behind these headcanons that I find deeply irritating and, frankly, insulting and kind of homophobic.

This is going to get long so forgive me.

1. I’ve seen so many posts talk about how the show is “brave” and “subversive” by having Wille go down on Simon or potentially bottom, but like - what the hell are we even talking about? In what world is it subversive to show a queer character having queer sex?? What are we subverting?? This show has never shown us anything with its intimate scenes other than two guys that are deeply in love and really horny for eachother and I hate that we keep bringing this shit up!!!

2. I’ve also seen people say that it was very important for us to see Wille moving to go down on Simon in the tape in S1 because it’s “more damning evidence that he’s queer” and otherwise Wille could’ve just said he was horny and desperate but he was actually imagining he was with a girl in his denial statement. But be so fucking forreal, in what world is that a thing he could argue in an official statement to the press? He’d be the laughing stock of the world.

Wilhelm isn’t more or less gay because he went down on Simon vs the other way around. He’d still be having queer sex because he’s having sex with another guy. Arguing that the framing here is for anything other than a plot device so Wille’s face wouldn’t be visible to set up the denial is actually kind of ridiculous.

As someone very smart on here said, “I’m sorry that you apparently have a tier list of sex acts ranging from “kinda straight” to “Gaylord” 😭😭 get well soon, couldn’t be me.”

Imagine for one second Simon was the one giving Wille head? Would you have criticized the show for that?? And WHY?!

3. Next: saying that Wilmon’s relationship is “equal” because you think they’re vers is…a take and a half lmao. What the fuck does being vers have to do with a relationship being equal?? Why are we assigning arbitrary hierarchies to sexual preferences??? Why are we implying that topping and bottoming are somehow not equal and you have to carefully balance both, when, ideally, it’s just whatever the fuck everyone is into???

Wille isn’t selfish for topping. Simon isn’t sacrificing anything by bottoming. They’re fucking because they’re in love and they want to 😭

TLDR: Wille doesn’t suck Simon’s dick for class liberation. Simon riding Wille isn’t a commentary on how he’s “girl-coded.” It’s just sex, leave them alone to have a good time and stop assigning agendas to queer sex.

[chuluoyi]

✎ insatiable

- gojo satoru x reader

your boyfriend is hot and wild, and he has one problem: he always finds you too pretty to resist

genre: 18+ suggestive content—minors do not interact!—in the form of heavy smut (gojo eating you out, p in v sex, missionary style, and hints of semi-rough sex?) and fluff, fluff, fluff—it gets exponentially soft during aftercare because i need fluff to live

note: i'm no saint, i know, and i'm blaming all this on my pms🤧 this is obviously not my best work but pls enjoy regardless🥲 based on this idea of love hotel dates

a part of gojo's love entries

series masterlist | oneshot masterlist

Gojo Satoru is a man of demanding needs, and ‘holding back’ is never in his vocabulary.

Sometimes he swears you do it on purpose—the choice of your sundress, revealing your soft thighs for everyone to see; or pulling up your hair to enunciate the beauty of your neck, which reminds him of just how much he loves it to leave his love bites there.

And how you coyly look at him while doing so, it’s hard not to get hard.

You made him want to fuck you into the mattress and devour you whole—well, with you looking so inviting like that, you couldn’t really blame him for leading you to love hotel in the middle of your dates now, could you?

. . .

“Why are you so pretty, huh? All dolled up just for me...”

Your plush thighs framing each side of his head, your dress was long discarded as you lay sprawled out, legs parted wide . . . with Satoru sucking your dripping cunt hungrily and you pulling at his hair.

“Ahh... hah... mmnghh!” the way his voice was muffled between your legs, paired with how his tongue was tasting your clit had you moaning like a distressed kitten— and you felt hot all over.

And oh, couldn't you tell that you were so wet already down there?

You grimaced, focusing on the rising heat pooling in your lower belly. “Satoru... you're too—!”

“Hmm? Too what? Too good, sweet pea?” he edged you on, that devilish smirk on his face. “Of course I am. I'm the best.”

The way he lapped at your overflowing pussy was mind-blowing to say the least—casually nipping, licking, and overall, just scarfing down your sensitive flesh with such fervor.

How could someone be so incredibly sinful and heavenly at the same time?

"Aahhhh!" you yanked his locks and arched your back when he blowed air into your clit—your body spasming when you finally felt the knot in your belly burst once again, his awaiting tongue slurping you as if you were his tastiest treat.

And by now, you could barely form any thoughts, after he pulled the rag out from under you by making you cum four times.

“Do I make you feel good?” he chuckled, still pressing his face between your legs. With your head spinning and stars dancing in your vision, you could only whine.

Seeing you rendered into such hot mess—all because of him, Satoru smiled, ignoring the slight pain in his scalp as he swallowed your cum with that devious smirk before kissing your inner thigh with the very same daring mouth that was devouring your pussy before.

Beautifully and perfectly wet. You were like a ripe fruit for ready the taking now.

“Now, sweets... let me just show you what the best feels like.”

Suddenly, his length slid into you like a perfect fit, hitting you right where it should be. The sensation left you breathless, and in a flash, you let out hitched cries as he began to move within you, setting a relentless rhythm that seemed almost unforgiving.

“Satoru— too fast! Too de—ngh, hah—!”

Oh my, what a precious thing you are, writhing under him like this. “Really…? Then it means I’m doing—haah—a great job at this then.”

With each thrust, he marvelled at how tight your walls were engulfing him. Damn, if this kept up longer, even he wouldn’t last. Your pussy was a heavenly treasure.

“Fuck, you're so—hot,” Satoru panted, his fingers digging into your thighs as beads of sweat formed on his forehead. He was really going to lose it soon, especially when right now, under him, you were a sight to behold. So pliant, so pretty, all his—

“I can't—!” you suddenly blurted, tears running down your scrunched-up face. “Satoru, I can't anymore—please—”

“Oh, but you can, baby girl,” he slowed down and countered in a low growl, interlacing his fingers with yours and folded your knees, effectively pinning you down to the bed. He had never made you hit five orgasms in one session, but now he was about to set a personal best.

His eyes captivated you, with how glittery they were. “One more time. My girl can do it.”

The underlying command in his tone triggered you, turning you on. And then he plowed into you— and then you didn't know anymore as the one thing you could utter was his name, in broken wails. “Satoru! argh—aaaah! Satoruuuu!”

His name spilling nastily from your lips, and—holy fuck, how your folds were still clenching around his cock so deliciously tight was just so—!!

He grunted, brushing his lips on yours in a messy kiss as his other hand squeezed your plump breast, making you yelp. “Can't blame me for this. Will fuck you till you can’t walk. You're mine now.”

He thrusted faster and harder, targeting your cervix repeatedly like a predator in heat. And your scream was the loudest ever yet when you cummed for the fifth time—

“Ah… ah—ahhhh!” your body shuddered, a wave of blinding pleasure crashed upon you so hard your vision dimmed, lost in the sensation of how his hips snapping and rolling into you sharply without giving you a chance to recover.

And by God, you are amazing, because in the next minute, Satoru lost all his shits and groaned loudly—his hot cum spurting in successive bursts and filling you up oh so nicely . . . even overflowing as it dripped out of your spent folds and down to the pristine sheets.

Satoru slowly sat up on the bed. The air was still thick with the aftermath of the best sex he had for the first time in a while.

It took him a few moments to realize that you passed out as you were lying face down on the pillow, motionless. A frown creased his forehead as he pulled you closer to him, tenderly brushing your hair aside.

“Sweetheart, hey? You okay?” he cautiously whispered. “Hey...”

His heart suddenly thudded within his ribcage when you failed to respond. The mere thought of you being anything less than okay was enough to send him spiraling.

You cracked your eyes open at his prodding, and let out a whimper when you felt a sudden cramp seizing your lower abdomen. In reflex, you clutched at the source of discomfort and curled upon yourself.

Satoru got a hold of you quickly, alarmed, trying to soothe you. “We're getting a bath, yeah? Hold on.”

Gone was the rabid man who senselessly fucked you over, replaced by the sweet boyfriend who was worried sick over your state.

He rushed to the bathroom to prepare a warm bath. However, noticing your slow, pained attempt to stand, he hurried back, lifting you effortlessly with one arm under your knees.

“Shh,” he quieted your whine gently, planting a swift kiss on your forehead. “You’re sore. Don't walk—let me carry you.”

And not only did he carry you, Satoru also tenderly bathed you, keeping you close to his chest. He sat behind you in the bathtub, comforting you with gentle caresses when you sniffled and pressing soft kisses on your wet shoulders, one arm securely around your waist.

After the bath, he quickly dried you off and wrapped you in the hotel's plush bathrobe. With utmost care, he lifted you again in a princess-carry and tucked you into the bed you both shared for the night.

“How are you feeling now, hmm?” he asked you softly, drawing you to his embrace again. “Better?”

Even refreshed from the bath, your mind was still partially muddled in the afterglow from the earlier lovemaking. You sought solace in his comforting presence. “Mm-hmm...”

“I was too rough on you, wasn’t I?“

He really made good on that promise—you wouldn’t be able to walk now as you felt too much like a jelly. You simply let out a soft sigh and gently bumped your forehead against his chest in a resignation, which brought a smile to his face.

“Sorry...” he murmured, his hand finding your hip to start a gentle massage. Unbeknownst to your half-sleepy state, he genuinely meant his apology. “In my defense, you are just unbelievably ravishing though...”

“You’re insatiable,” you retorted through a haze, your voice scratchy as you poked him in the chest with little force.

“Heh, for you? Most definitely.”

That got you to smile. His words, warm and fond, wrapped around you like a comforting blanket, affirming his deep, unwavering affection and desire for you alone.

The soothing motions of his hip massage lulled you back to sleep, your eyes fluttering shut with a sense of tranquility. And seeing you like this, something inside Gojo Satoru pulsed with tenderness.

“So pretty,” he blurted in pure adoration, his honored eyes fixed firmly on your sleeping form, blinking in wonder. “Wasted on someone like me…”

Suddenly, he found that he wanted to be soft to you more than ever. Next time, he would take it nice and slow. He would mold himself into your needs and desires— that was his vow to himself.

And it dawned to him, how he didn't want this love hotels anymore. Instead, he wants forever, with you—

But until then... he would relish this moment to the fullest, indulging himself in your presence, skin to skin, heartbeat to heartbeat—secure with the knowledge that he was yours, at least until forever falls apart.

[screampied]

need gojo shoving my mouth down on his cock till my eyes roll back n im struggling for air only for him to quickly pull me off n call me pathetic for not being able to take it for any longer

☆ : gojo x fem! reader

⤷ tags: oral, spit, praise, hair pulling, dirty talk, big dick gojo </3

an. me tooooooo.

“…f-fuck, take it all the way down,” he’d grumble, a hand gently yet roughly gripped on the top of your head. his touch was quite gentle. your jaw was open as he sunk himself right into your tight throat.

his warmth, it was purely appetizing—you swirled your tongue gingerly against his fat tip, tasting the sweetened pre-cum that coated there. “good girl, no teeth. jus’ just like that.”

as your knees dug into the thick wools of the carpet, you felt your own saliva trickle out of your mouth, past your chin and into your chest.

“god, mouth of yours is always so m-messy,” he hisses, taking a second to bite his lip. “how’s it taste, baby? the meal okay?”

you eagerly nod slowly, his dick prods way back against your throat and you let off a gag. “aw, there’s that weak gag reflex of yours. so cute.”

gojo’s boxers were still on, just barely, pulled down just for you—you teasingly claw near the hem as you’re taking him into your mouth.

he watches you, breath hitching every few seconds and he’s just in awe. you’re so dirty, before he grabs your head, gradually shoving your head down and he hears you let off a satisfied, “mhmm.”

“you always know how to fuckin’ take it,” he murmurs, and you grab onto his flexed thighs once he starts to smoothly thrusts his hips into your mouth—you have the lewdest expression plastered on your face, the way your eyes rolled back, just drool escaping past your lips. gojo was all the way in, fully in, and you moaned, breathing through your nose.

by this point, you could barely breathe so he pulled you off, watching the strings of spit depart from your lips.

“pft. ‘s that all you can handle?” and you could hear the rasp in his tone, the kind of rasp that had you pulsing between your pathetic legs. “do you think ya deserve more?”

“y-yes,” you whined, licking your lips, already a mess since he pulled his cock out of your mouth. you wanted more, despite your gagging and utter mishap to take him longer than you thought. he was just so thick, a few inches down your throat felt like he was fully in, stuffing your mouth with such girth — the inches, it was something you couldn’t ever get enough of. “i can go longer, promise, ‘toru.”

“if you say so,” gojo snickers, and you’re already sticking your tongue out like a dumb cock-drunk girl. he purses his lips together, swiping his swollen tip all against your tongue—giving it a few smacks just to drag out a whimper from you. “now open wide, princess.”

you do, desperately anticipating his taste. he grunts, feeling you softly lick against his frenulum. the most sensitive spot he’s at, causing gojo to grip onto your hair again, giving it a slight yank.

“f-fuck, ‘s that’s it. hold it in, relax that throat for me ‘n keep me warm, yeah..”

gojo shudders at the feeling of your plump lips ghosting against his tip, and he’s buried all the way down your throat — thick cock having you an entire mess, just filthy. the very tips of your fingernails claw down his thighs as he’s pushing your head down every few seconds.

“good girl. pathetic, but good..” he tries to crack a joke at ridiculing you but ends up moaning from how good you’re taking him. “shit…”

with his thick shaft being hidden down your throat, you feel the sudden throb of a vein that’s running down him. gojo lets off a low sexy grunt at feeling your tongue tickle against it.

“stop f-fuckin’ trying to tease me, whore,” he mumbles, stammering over his words completely. once he moves your head down further, you gag and he groans, pulling back out just to watch your spit-coated lips tremor for more.

“god, you’re so nasty,” he pants, before smiling. “that’s okay though. as long as you’re nasty just for me.”

gojo tenderly brushes a thumb against your bottom lip while staring deep into your eyes. he gawks at how you whine, opening your mouth again—a sign that you wanted more of his taste and he clicks his tongue. “greedy girl, can’t get enough can you?”

“no,” you immediately spoke, leaning in to give his mushroom-tip a soft kiss. “i need more.”

“you don’t need anything,” he utters, bringing his eyebrows together. the sudden bass in gojo’s tone, the authority, you felt your pussy twitch. he’s still got a firm grip in your hair before he says. “you want. big difference, pretty girl.”

your lip quavers, growing impatient at his stalling before you correct yourself. “o-okay, i want more. please—please.”

“fine,” he rolls his eyes, with such sass he pulls your bottom lip down briefly with his thumb before uttering. “open up again. nice ‘n wide then.”

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Captured.

A Continuation of This Piece.

Pairing: Yandere!Geto x Reader x Yandere!Gojo (JJK).

Word Count: 3.3k.

TW: AFAB!Reader, Dub/Con -> Non/Con, Implied Kidnapping, Oral Sex, Threesomes, The Pervasive Aire of Homoerotica, Slight Exhibitionism/Voyeurism, Violence, Intimidation, and Biting. Dead Dove: Do Not Eat.

He let you wait outside while he booked a room. It was a test, obviously – to see if you’d try and run as soon as he let you out of his sight. You didn’t. You kept your back pressed against the peeling cement wall and your hands in your pockets as the man at the front desk screamed, as you listened to the slick sounds of carnage and Geto’s muffled laughter. By the time he came out, his clothes dotted with dark stains and his hands lathered in the same dripping scarlet, you thought you might’ve been too sick for whatever he wanted to do with you.

He held up a hand, two keys and their accompanying plastic tags hanging from each finger. “Pick a number, one through ten.”

You just wanted to get this over with. Then, you wouldn’t have to worry about monsters or mysterious men or any of this ever again. “Eight.”

“Oh, the honeymoon suite.” Your eyes widened, and he cocked his head to the side. “Kidding, kidding. That’ll have to wait, for now.”

The room was nicer than you’d expected. Not quite the oppressively beige monstrosity you’d feared, but not as far from the eye-bleedingly pink love hotel that’d be the permanent backdrop in your worst nightmares as you would’ve liked. Currently, you were sitting on the edge of a king-sized bed with faux-velvet sheets, staring at your feet as Geto washed his hands in the in-suite bathroom. So lost in your own spiraling thoughts, you didn’t notice the water shutting off, didn’t hear him approaching you until the mattress dipped at your side and a pair of hands came to rest on either side of your waist. In one smooth, effortless motion, you were hauled into his lap, left to balance on his thigh as his eyes raked over you unabashedly. “You should try to relax. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were afraid of me.” His hand fell to the hem of your sweater. You’d gotten dressed in a blind panic after waking up to an apartment crawling with those awful things, but now, you regretted not throwing on as many layers as you could, not putting as many barriers as you could between yourself and the feeling of his calloused fingers skirting over your skin. “I can help take the edge off, if you’d like.”

For the first time that day, you felt a spark of relief. “Do you have anything? I’m alright with pills.”

“I was thinking something more along the lines of…” His hand splayed over your stomach, his tone laced with a dark edge. “Choking you until you black-out, then having my way with your helpless body?”

“Oh.” Just as quickly, that spark was extinguished – crushed under an unforgiving heel and stamped into total nonexistence. “I… I think I’d rather be awake, thank you.”

He hummed, tapping two fingers against your hip. “Have it your way, little one.”

Without warning, you were thrown onto the center of the bed. Before you could haul yourself up, before you could fully realize what was going on, Geto was between your open legs, mouth latched onto the inside of your thigh and his hands tearing at your shorts. The flimsy material gave away easily, and your panties didn’t last much longer. You took back what you’d said about wearing less revealing clothes; making this take any longer than it already did would’ve been torture. As deftly as he worked, the knot of dread forming in your chest was faster, quickly overshadowing every rational thought you might’ve had in favor of telling you that you weren’t supposed to be here, that this was dangerous, that you didn’t know what was going on, that you—

His broad tongue laved over your now-exposed slit, and your panicked mind went completely blank. His mouth was hot, and he didn’t waste time, latching onto your clit and sucking before you could think to push him away. Your body, nerves fried by adrenaline and senses dialed up to the point of hypersensitivity, responded immediately, your back arching as you struggled to swallow back a fractured moan. He encouraged your reactions, laving over your clit as two of his fingers found their way to your now-dripping entrance.

His digits slipped into you without resistance, scissoring apart and splitting you open as your own hands balled around the sheets, as you locked your jaw into place and did what little you could swallow back any sounds that’d make you seem more pathetic than you already were. Your pitiful attempts at resistance earned a throaty chuckle that reverberated against your clit and made your thighs clench together. Vaguely, in the distance, you felt his hand curl around your ankle, then you were being bent in half, your legs thrown over his shoulders as he ate you out like a man starved. It was all you could do to keep your eyes shut, the tears that would’ve escaped otherwise safely locked away, to make sure you didn’t kick or thrash or do anything that’d make him decide you’d be more entertaining after you’d been half-mauled by one of his monsters. It was all you could do to keep your mind blank, to block out the terrible, wet noises rising up from between your thighs, to—

The door creaked as it swung open, and you scrambled to pull away from Geto, to cover yourself before someone saw you being brought to the brink of climax by a murderer. He held you in place, though, his grip turning vice-like as he kept you splayed-open and on-display for the familiar, white-haired stranger now standing in the doorway. “Satoru,” Geto started, still idly pumping his fingers into you. “How kind of you to join—”

He didn’t get a chance to finish. You closed your eyes, and when you opened them again, Gojo had him pinned to the far wall, a small crater blown into the cement where the point of collision would’ve been. You could see an orb of blinding, blue light forming in his other hand, but Geto only clicked his tongue, shaking his head. “Keep your dick in your pants, pervert,” he purred, eyes flitting to you. “There are innocents nearby.”

The orb of light disappeared, but Gojo didn’t move. “I don’t mind getting my hands dirty.”

You watched a first form at Geto’s side, watched in a daze as his knuckles collided with Gojo’s cheek with enough force to send him flying across the room and into the side of the bed, fracturing the steel frame. “Me neither, ‘toru.”

Letting out a ragged exhale, Gojo pushed himself to his feet and their conversation devolved into a rush of blows and kicks and insults half-finished before Gojo’s fist collided with Geto’s chin or Geto caught Gojo’s throat in his teeth. Clothes were torn, blood spilled across cheap carpeting, and you blinked once, twice, before shaking your head and hauling yourself up and taking stock of the situation.

They were fighting. Eventually, one of them would probably win, and that winner would probably want to fuck you. Maybe, after that, one of them would also help you. Maybe.

Gojo caught Geto’s hair in his fist and pulled. You could’ve sworn you heard Geto moan.

Okay. Alright. Yeah. No. Fuck this, actually.

Slowly, careful not to make a sound, you stood up and pulled your sweater down to cover your still dripping cunt before inching towards the door which was, surprisingly, still in one piece (it would dawn on you later that Geto must’ve left it unlatched, if not open, much to your delayed mortification). You could figure something else out. There were two other people who knew about your monsters, which meant there must’ve been at least one more. Gojo had been wearing a uniform, when you first met him, running for your life from the mangled mess of teeth and claws that’d managed to sink its talons into you, and you thought you’d heard him mention a school. You could find someone else, someone who wouldn’t ask for sex, someone who wouldn’t know your name before you introduced yourself, someone who’d give you a protective charm or a talisman and then demand for money or unpaid labor in return. You could—

It felt like vertigo, like the surface of the Earth had shifted underneath you. Your body tilted, collapsed, and then Gojo’s arm was wrapped around your waist, his chest pressed into your back and his fingers burrowed into the flesh of your side. “Trying to get away?” His voice was raspy. Geto must’ve gotten his throat. “That’s not very nice.”

“You were the one who burst in uninvited and distracted me,” Geto muttered. His lip was busted, and he cracked his nose back into place as he hauled himself up from the floor. “If you hadn’t interrupted us, they’d still be cumming on my tongue so adorably.”

Gojo didn’t seem to pay him any mind. His attention remained fixed on you, his free hand drifting to your vulnerable pussy. Using his thumb, he gathered some of the slick staining your inner thighs, toying with it as he spoke. “I thought the first time I touched you like this would be more romantic.” He paused, his ears ghosting over the shell of your ear. “Or, the first time I touched you while you were awake, at least. It… it got harder to control myself, toward the end.”

You snapped to Geto, teeth bared. “This wasn’t what we agreed to. I don’t want to—”

“Don’t talk to him.” His fingers slipped into you, curling against the walls of your cunt. Your breath hitched in your chest, and Gojo pressed a fleeting kiss into your cheek. “Don’t look at him. He’s not supposed to be here.”

“I could say the same thing about you, Satoru.” Stretching his back, he made his way back to the bed and collapsed onto it, letting out a strained groan. “If I hadn’t been so kind as to donate all of those very valuable, very hard-to-come-by curses to your pitiful cause, you would’ve waited… how long? Another year before so much as breathing the same air as your little crush?” His half-lidded stare met yours, and he smirked. “You should have a taste. The poor thing is heavenly when they’re scared.”

“He’s always been this bossy. I’m sorry you had to deal with him on your own.” Gojo drew back, but didn’t let you go. Rather, he looped an arm under your knees and pulled you off your feet, carrying you back to that fucking bed. He laid you out with more care than Geto had, but his expression remained uncannily blank. He’d been blindfolded the first time you’d met, and whatever eyewear he’d come with had been either removed or torn away, revealing eyes that were almost painfully blue. The only mercy was his hair – long enough to fall over his face and obscure his empty gaze, his parted lips. His hand drifted to your injured leg, still bandaged from the knee down, and his lips quirked downward. “I’m sorry you had to get hurt, too. But…” He smiled, leaned in until his forehead rested against yours. “It’s good that we’ll get to be together, right?”

You wanted to scream. You wanted to tell him to stop touching you, to let you go home, but you couldn’t go home, so you said nothing.

Geto let out an exaggerated yawn. “I didn’t put this little reunion together because I wanted to hear you talk, ‘toru.”

“See what I mean? So fucking bossy.” And yet, one of his hands fell away from you. You heard fabric rustle, metal clink, and then his cock was free, prodding against the inside of your thigh. You could feel your heart drop into your stomach as your eyes broke away from his and raked over his pale shaft, his flushed head, already leaking beads of ivory precum. He was tall. They were both massive, but nothing attached to a human being should’ve been that big. “You’re lucky I’m letting you watch.”

“Who said I’d be watching?” So preoccupied by your own terror, you didn’t notice Geto shifting until you felt his hands on your sides, then at the hem of your sweater, pulling your only remaining protection over your head. You scrambled to stop him, but there wouldn’t have been much you could to do fend him off at your best, let alone in the state you’d been reduced to tonight. With a breathy chuckle, he finished stripping you down, his attention immediately falling to your chest. “You wouldn’t want me leaving you alone with him, would you, little one?” He bowed his head, catching your nipple with his teeth and pulling harshly. A pained whine slipped past your lips before you could choke it back, and he turned towards Gojo, grinning. “See? They like me.”

Whatever rage Gojo felt, he managed to bury it beneath a soft smile, a pulse of pure electricity in his eyes as he took his cock in his hand, dragging the tip over your entrance. You thrashed, kicked, fought, but he only cooed as he thrust into you, like he was trying to comfort you. Like you would need to be comforted if he just stopped.

He bottomed out, his hips pressing into yours with a blissful sigh, and you lurched forward, moving to claw at his eyes, to wrap your hands around his throat, to do something. Geto caught your wrists before you could so much as touch him, though – laughing as he forced your arms flush against the mattress. As Gojo started to move in earnest, Geto slotted his lips against yours, taking advantage of your distress to force his tongue into your mouth while Gojo fucked you open, whatever gentleness he’d been attempting to show you falling away in favor of burying himself that much deeper in your tight heat. As soon as Geto pulled away, Gojo took his place, his kiss not quite as aggressive but no less invasive, no less unwelcome. You should’ve never left your apartment. You should’ve never run from your monsters. At least they might’ve been kind enough to kill you quickly.

By the time he broke away from you, your vision was spotted with black, your lungs aching from a lack of oxygen. Jerkily, he straightened his back and raised a hand, his fingers soon tangled in Geto’s hair. You watched in a daze as teeth clashed against teeth and lips collided with a bruising force, and considered the terrifying possibility that you might’ve been the first person either of them had ever kissed.

Gojo’s pace turned erratic, his hold on your hip crushing. His pelvic bone caught on your clit every time he thrust into you. You’d been able to control yourself when faced with Geto’s teasing, but now, every little cracked moan and pained whimper slid past your lips, barely audible above the sound of slick squelching and skin slapping against skin. Unwillingly, you clenched around him, and Gojo doubled over with a throaty groan, burying his face in the side of your neck. You felt his mouth on your throat, then his teeth, sinking into your skin deep enough to draw blood. You clenched your eyes shut, willing your body to go numb to the pain, to ignore the coil of pure agony winding tighter in your core, but Geto caught your chin, forcing you to tilt your head back and stare up at him. “Trying to run away again so soon?”

“S-stop,” you half-sobbed, trying to pry his hand away from your face. “Don’t touch me—”

“We’ll have to bring a gag along, next time. That is, unless you learn to be more appreciative.” He shrugged his sweatpants below his waist, wrapping his fist around his cock and guiding it to your lips. “Open up, little one.”

You grit your teeth, keeping your mouth shut as tightly as you could, but Gojo bit down on your collarbone and you screamed, jerking against him. Geto took advantage of your misery, slipping a thumb into your mouth and prying your teeth apart, forcing his cock down your throat. “Bite down,” he muttered, voice low and tone sharpened, “and I’ll make sure he knocks you up.”

A wave of cold dread washed over you, but you didn’t have time to linger on your newly realized fear. Geto was already fucking your skull, already leaving you struggling not to choke as you tried to remember how to breathe around him. Where Gojo was uncontrolled, Geto almost seemed… unaffected, holding your head in place while he rolled his hips with the idle pace of a man determined to milk every second he could out of you. It was unbearable; the burning in your throat, the heat in your core, the feeling of Gojo battering into your cunt until you couldn’t stop your legs from twitching, your back from arching, your pussy from clenching around Gojo’s length and drawing a sinful noise from somewhere deep in his chest. You let out a ragged moan half-suffocated by Geto’s cock, and then you were coming undone around him, your body convulsing underneath his. Gojo wasn’t far behind. With a hitched groan, he pressed his hips into yours and pushed another open-mouthed kiss into your neck, making no attempt to pull out before flooding your pussy with something thick and awful.

Geto wasn’t far behind, his eyes falling shut as he came down your throat. For the longest time, neither of them moved, Geto forcing you to choke down every last drop of his cum while Gojo stare down at you, eyes blank and lips parted, his expression caught somewhere between tender and awe-struck.

Finally, he glanced away from you, looking to Geto instead. “Let’s switch. I want to feel their mouth.”

Geto let out a breath of a chuckle. With your body limp, your jaw slack, he pulled away from you, leaning just close enough to let his lips brush against your temple before straightening his back and moving to take Gojo’s place between your legs. “Whatever you say, lover boy.”

~

Hours later, when your skin was little more than a patchwork of hickeys and bruises and you couldn’t feel anything save for a constant, excruciating ache in your cunt, Geto had fallen asleep with his arm around your waist and Gojo laid next to you, head propped on his fist and a soft smile painted across his lips. You could see the sun starting to rise from behind the thin motel curtains, feel the dread that accompanied being in a strange place with strange men at a strange time, but it all seemed secondary, pushed to a distance by your exhaustion, your devastation. When Gojo wrapped his arms around you, pulling you out of Geto’s hold, all you could summon was a whine of protest, and even that was quickly glazed over with an airy laugh, a quiet hush.

Geto’s shirt (discarded three hours in, when he stepped aside for a shower while Gojo made you cum on his tongue for the fourth time) was pulled over your head, Gojo’s glasses (lost in the initial fight, found briefly while Geto was bouncing you on his cock with one hand and jerking Gojo off with the other, then lost again) snagged off the floor and pocketed. As he slipped out of the beaten motel door, you shut your eyes against the dim light, burying your face in his chest, and he encouraged you to, cupping the back of your neck as he pressed a kiss into your forehead. With his lips still lingering against your skin, he spoke, his voice muffled by his proximity. “It’s alright. You can sleep, if you need to.”

It might’ve been sweeter, if you hadn’t been able to feel every inch of his smile cutting into your skin.

“I promised I’d keep you safe, didn’t I?”

[ceilidho]

take me home, country road

[ao3]

prompt: 1800s price/reader…. reader flees to his town where Price is the sheriff after a murder in her previous town only to be mistaken for the mail order bride that Price just sent for ….and he’s not interested in hearing any of her excuses when she tells him that he’s got the wrong girl (part 6) part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5

-

And they say if it sways, you have to cut it off at the root.

You repeat that to yourself when you catch the way you glance out the kitchen window again, surreptitiously watching John. It’s hard to pull your eyes away. He walks over to the well to fetch water for you to do the dishes, the chore you’d elected to take when he offered you the choice between that and feeding the horses. It’s a fair compromise since you balk at the thought of getting anywhere near either of those beasts. 

Watching him bend over the well to lower the bucket down, his muscled shoulders tapering to a narrow waist and suspenders drawing tight against his back, makes you bite your lip. Then scowl. Then pull the curtain shut to block out the view.

You have to cut any gentleness off at the root. 

When he comes back, you step to the side without a word to let him pour the water into the wash basin, hot water from the teakettle and lye soap making the water already in the pan sudsy. In a sense, it’s not any different from anything you’ve done back home; the same two pans for washing and scalding, the same cake of soap, and the same dish towel to dry the dishes off at the end. The only difference is the man that pours the cool water into the basin to make it more comfortable for your hands. 

“I’ll be out back,” he tells you, before grabbing you around the waist and pulling you in close to press a close-mouthed kiss to the side of your head. You only scrunch your nose a little. “When you’re done, come get me. Got business in town.”

“Why do you need me to come with you?” you ask, lips cresting into a pout without a thought. You’d never considered yourself a bellyacher, but it’s almost second nature around John. “I can…I can stay and clean the house.”

“You saying I keep a messy home?” John asks, a teasing lilt in his voice.

You look pointedly down at the dirt he tracked into the kitchen after fetching the bucket of water from the well. “It could do with a spit shine.” 

That gets a laugh out of him, a bellow from deep in his belly. It shakes you to your bones. 

“Darling, I’ll be honest with you,” he says, turning you to face him before folding his arms across his chest. “I don’t trust you not to bolt like a runaway horse, and you’ll only wind up putting yourself in danger if you try to make a run for it out here.”

That expression makes your stomach twist. “Good to know you think of your wife as some scared filly.” 

“You talk a whole lot for a woman who’s been over my knee. Do we need to repeat that?”

When his tone goes stern, you lose the wedging piece of candor keeping you upright. Eyes widen and then narrow. He’s been patient despite your loose tongue, but when that patience slips, you can see the steel underneath his gentle exterior. It’s the true root of him. 

You clam up under his stare, sullen and begrudging. Smooth your dress down to have something to do with your hands. You’ve forgotten your place again. Side-stepped it out of intimacy or misplaced trust or naivety or forgetting, again, for the umpteenth time, that the world is not a place for women that open their mouths. So you keep it shut, trap every festering word behind your teeth. 

He must not like something he sees painted on your face because his brows draw closer together, frustration brewing anew in his eyes. The longer you stay quiet, the more irritated he grows, his nostrils flaring wide. 

“See that you come get me as soon as everything’s squared away in here,” John bites out, pointing a single, blunt finger at you. “Else I’ll come get you myself.”

And we wouldn’t want that, you think, surly. You hope it swims across your eyes. Blooms on your face. Perhaps it does. 

The lines around his mouth and eyes grow more defined when he smiles. His whole mustache moves with his smile, every part of his face expressing his satisfaction. It’s beyond infuriating. He taps you on the nose with his knuckle before leaving out the backdoor, not sparing you a backward glance. You nearly shake with indignation. 

It’s hard not to watch him out in the paddock while drying the dishes though, not with him set against the gilded sun. You inch the curtain slightly open, just enough of a gap to peer through. The Stetson shadows his face when he tilts his head up towards the sky, the hard edge of his jaw the only thing that meets your gaze. It’s not the first time you’ve seen a man out in the fields or pastures, but most of those have been at a distance, removed. Glimpsed briefly through the window while your train barreled on past acres of farmland. 

John cycles through the morning tasks of guiding the horses into the paddock by a lead fixed to their halter, replenishing the food trough, and fetching more water from the well to fill the water trough. His horses are striking in the sheer size of them; muscled shoulders and legs, and well-padded flanks. Most of the horses you’ve seen out west haven’t seemed nearly as well-fed, many whittled down to rib and hip bone. 

It says something about him, but you’re not ready to confront exactly what. You turn your attention back to the dishes, scrubbing the last of the dried butter and eggs at the bottom of the pan. It takes a little extra grit, but cleaning is a familiar chore—it’s one you’ve done all your life, what got you into this mess in the first place. 

You don’t like what you find when you finally venture out of the house to track him down. 

“I’m not getting on that thing.” 

You put your veritable foot down with that, arms straight and stiff by your sides, more out of worry than annoyance. You do also give a little stomp for good measure, but you’ll chalk that up to reflexes should John inquire. 

He doesn’t. Just stares down at you with unimpressed green eyes that haunt your days and nights now. Tells you without telling you that you’ll get on that horse, willing or not. 

It’s not for a lack of beauty that you can’t quite shake the nervousness they elicit in you. Buttercup, the one that John saddled up and now waits patiently to be mounted, keeps her head low as if sensing your disquiet, curiosity glimmering in her coal black eyes. Not even the animal curiosity of is this a friend or foe, but the curiosity that comes with pure trust, almost intelligible that way. 

John runs his hand down her smooth, buttery flank. “Did you enjoy yesterday’s walk?”

“I didn’t hate it.” Truth be told, you’d hardly been of a mind to notice it at all. Though your legs still ache from the walk back to John’s house, the walk itself had not seemed especially grueling in the moment. The mind can put aside quite a bit when it has something else to focus on. 

“Well, I’m not too keen to repeat it.” He leaves it at that, tightening a strap on Buttercup’s saddle in such a purposeful way that your shoulders tense. 

“I could meet you there,” you say, a touch desperately. Your stomach turns when you think about hoisting yourself up onto Buttercup’s saddle. It doesn’t seem possible. It’s not something you’ve ever done or ever considered doing. You remember horror stories of stableboys back home trampled under their hooves and stomped to death, kicks so powerful that they could break a fully grown man’s ribs or cave in his face. 

“My wife isn’t gonna wander into town by her lonesome like some vagrant,” John says disdainfully, almost scoffing. Insulted by the whole idea. “And you’re sure as hell not staying here alone, darlin’.”

“Well, figure something else out because I am not getting up on that thin—” You cut off on a yelp when he circles around you and abruptly lifts you up. Your head rushes at the sudden motion, legs flailing beneath you. 

“Quit squirmin’ like a damn barn cat. Little hellion,” John grits out, guiding your heel into the stirrup. “C’mon, you’re just side saddling, so you only need your butt on the saddle.” When he sets you down lightly onto the saddle, you stop wiggling around, acutely aware of the thousand pound horse beneath you. “There we go—that wasn’t so hard now, was it?” 

“I hate this,” you hiss, fingers clamped tight over the pommel. 

“Aw, darlin’, don’t go insulting Buttercup like that,” John chuckles, replacing your foot in the stirrup with his own.

You sit there stiff as a board, perched precariously on the saddle as he hoists himself up behind you. His sheer proximity doesn’t register right away. You’re too concerned with the moving beast under you, its ribs expanding and contracting with each breath. Unlike you, John is more than comfortable sitting astride the horse, not a smidgeon of tension in his body. You suck in a horrified breath when you feel him readjust himself before settling down more comfortably. 

He reaches around you to grab the reins, a sharp whistle signaling the horse to take her first stride forward, looping around the side of the house. Even the slow trot threatens to buck you off at first. You lurch forward with each step, certain that you’ll slip right off the saddle and onto the dusty ground below until John loops an arm around your waist and pulls you to his chest.

You grow stiffer in his arms somehow. Despite sleeping in the same bed the night before and sharing far too many kisses for your comfort or virtue, being pressed up tight against a man never gets easier. Perhaps if you’d been married for longer than a single day you’d be more at ease with the notion, but as of yet, it comes as a shock to the senses every time. 

You carefully avoid the thought that other married women wouldn’t be still in possession of their maidenhead so many hours after their wedding night. That’s none of your business.

The two of you navigate into town at a slow canter, allowing you to gradually acclimatize to the gait of a horse. Part of you remembers riding horses when you were younger, but that was a lifetime ago, long enough to shake the memory from your muscles. These days, you can barely remember the hands holding you steady, the ones that would’ve lifted you up onto the horse and helped you back down. Those people are faceless in your memories. 

John stays silent at your back, only tightening his hand around your hip when you slip the slightest bit when Buttercup picks up the pace, heading towards the familiar sight of the sheriff’s office. It draws a quick squawk out of you, neatly masked by a fake cough. His chuckle at that rumbles through you, clearly not buying it. Another lesson in humiliation. 

You manage not to flail as much when he gets off the horse and helps you down, even though you’re still not used to being manhandled so, particularly not in front of the townsfolk milling about and glancing over with undisguised interest. 

“Are you working today?” you ask, curiosity getting the better of you while John ties Buttercup’s lead to the post outside the sheriff’s office. 

“Don’t exactly get many days off when you’re the only sheriff in the county,” John replies. “We’ve got a few deputies in every town, and a couple here, but it ain’t an easy gig.”

“How many deputies have you got here?” 

“Just the three. Simon, John, and Kyle. You met Simon the other day.” 

His name draws up the faint memory of the masked deputy from your wedding ceremony. “I remember,” you say flatly. There’s no lost love between you and anyone involved with that sham of a wedding. 

“Don’t hold that against him,” John smiles. “He’s a good ole boy. Can’t fault a man for following the boss’ orders.”

Watch me. You glance away lest he see that thought etched across your face. 

The town is bustling with activity this late in the morning. Steps and floorboards creak under the weight of boots coming and going. A man going by in a horse-and-buggy whistles sharply when he cracks the reins, his horse puffing out a low, frustrated grunt. 

Men hustle past you decked out in leather chaps and waistcoats, spats covering the half-boots of those not decked out in tall, spurred cowboy boots. There are far less women scampering about town than men, particularly not so close to the sheriff’s office, but you keep finding your eyes drawn to them. 

John grips you under the arm and swiftly pulls you back when you narrowly sidestep a mound of horse droppings left uncovered in the middle of the road. The smell only hits you a second later. 

“Well, that’s lovely,” you remark, deadpanned, putting your foot down deliberately a good distance away. 

“Wouldn’t need to complain about it if you just watched your step.”

“You know, this really would’ve been a nice day to just stay home,” you mutter, chastised enough not to say something sharp in return. 

While the smell makes your nose wrinkle, you have to admit that the air here is far less pungent than back home. In general, this bucolic town is far more pleasant in certain respects than the city you’d left behind in a haste. 

“Where do you want me to wait for you?” you ask, turning to face him now at the front steps of the sheriff’s office.

He frowns. “Wait for me?”

“While you work, I mean. Surely you don’t mean for me to sit inside all day twiddling my thumbs while you work.”

His mustache twitches with a smile. “Thought I’d show you around first—get you acquainted with the locals.”

The idea of mingling with the townsfolk doesn’t appeal to you, but you also can’t think of a good enough reason to refuse. Especially with the curious glances already being sent your way. You duck your head to stare down at your boots when you spot a group of other women clustered together and whispering to each other, their eyes trained on you. Somehow you’ve gone from being furniture in a room to being a source of local gossip, and it’s almost hard to believe that you miss being ignored. 

When you look back up at John, you find him still staring down at you, waiting patiently. Up close, the sunlight almost turns patches of his beard gold; he has a smattering of moles across his face, not the blush of freckles but rather a few dark spots by his nose. Aside from the tuft of hair under his bottom lip, his chin is mostly bare, and when he smiles, his whole face moves with it. You have to blink to snap yourself out of it. 

Your upper lip curls involuntarily when you say, “So you want to help me make friends?” 

“Well, seeing as I know most of ‘em, figured I’d be a help.”

“The job’s really not all that busy then, huh?” You really wish you could learn to shut your mouth, since it keeps getting you in trouble, but the barbs roll off your tongue so naturally. Luckily, it seems to amuse him now more than it did early this morning. 

“Guess life isn’t as exciting ‘round here as it is back in the city, but it has its days,” John chuckles. “Now come on; I’ll give you the tour.”

For some reason, you hadn’t pictured the town being quite so big, but during your walk, you realize you’ve vastly underestimated the true size of it. Though not anywhere near as ostentatious as the cities back east, the sheer breadth of it eclipses anything from back home. It’s spread out on an incomparable scale, the mountains in the background stretching out along the horizon like the skeletal remains of a giant long since dead and decayed.  

It’s not the ramshackle town you envisioned when you stepped off the train the other day, despite the wooden facades and their brightly painted signs. You almost wish you had more time just to admire the craftsmanship, but John leads you from store to store like he’s on a mission.

He seems most interested in towing you around like some prized mare, all trussed up and clean from your bath the night before. You meet so many people that their names and faces all begin to blur together. The worst offense of all is that it makes you lean on John for support, looking up at him again and again for reassurance whenever you can’t answer a question or your answer triggers a moment of awkward silence. 

Those moments come aplenty too. The few people nosey enough to ask you about your life back in the city find themselves on the butt end of a cheerfully delivered lie from John. It unnerves you at first, seeing how comfortable he is with lying. He doesn’t even hesitate for a second when recounting your previous life as a schoolteacher in Connecticut prior to your engagement.

Perhaps it’s not a lie though. You don’t know the extent to which he and his original betrothed corresponded. Certainly not enough for him to suspect you of not being her, but maybe she’d spun him that story. Or maybe it had been the truth. All this time you’d thought that John had been swindled by some con artist using desperate men to fund her lifestyle, but maybe somewhere between here and Connecticut, there’s an unmarked grave with the corpse of the woman that John had intended to marry. 

That makes you feel guilty somehow, like you’ve taken something not meant for you. Even if you hadn’t wanted it—in fact, been forced into taking it. 

You swallow that thought when John leads you into the general store. Your eyes bug at the sight of a blonde haired woman in khaki cloth knickerbockers stocking the shelves, who turns at the sound of the door creaking open, the sharp look on her face melting away at the sight of John.

The warmth in her face infuriates you more than it should. You have no right to feel this way—or, some right, but you resent the fact that you do as well. 

“Hi John,” she greets. Her voice is deeper than you anticipated, springtime crisp like a babbling brook. 

“Laswell,” John greets, scooping his arm around your side until he can palm the side of your hip, dragging you in close. You stumble into him, catching yourself with a hand on his chest. Your neck and face go hot when Laswell’s eyes turn on you, curiosity glinting in them. 

“Your lady finally showed up then,” she surmises. “I’ll be honest, I was starting to think you made her up. Told the boys to think about forcing you into an early retirement.”

John huffs at that. His fingers tighten at your waist when Laswell says your lady, as if the words alone make it fact. Speak it into being. The metal burns against your ring finger. In a sense, it is fact, despite the subterfuge. You wonder if it would hold up in court, but out here, it’s real enough. 

“Well, she’s very real, as you can tell.” He gives you a little shake with the hand on your waist. “Say hi, darlin’.”

If looks could kill, yours would be pit-viper venom. You’d leave behind a festering puncture mark and a body in the throes of envenomation. “Excuse me?”

Your attitude might come at a cost this time because he looks unamused at your back talk in front of an audience. “Darlin’.” It’s said like a warning. 

You bite your tongue instead of lashing out. “Pleasure to meet you.”

“Kate Laswell; I own this little shop,” she says, introducing herself and stepping forward to hold out her hand. You have to step forward to take it, pulling you out of John’s arms. It feels familiar being on your own, certainly more natural than being constantly at John’s side the way you have for almost two days now. It’s also a bit cold after having John’s warmth at your back or side at all times. 

There’s a moment when you realize that Kate is the first person you’ve had to introduce yourself to, John having introduced you to everyone else you’d come across. It hovers on the tip of your tongue when you realize that you could just say your real name, and you find yourself torn between setting it free and the odd fear of John’s reaction. 

You chicken out at the last second, giving Kate the same name as the one John introduced you by to everyone else in town. 

“He might growl like a bear, but you’ll get used to that,” she says, winking.

You frown. Awfully familiar talk for someone who isn’t his wife. Why should she know that? 

You make yourself push that thought away, reminding yourself again that it doesn’t matter. It’s none of your concern. 

“He’s been a gentleman,” you croak instead, smile so thin that it might as well be a grimace. 

A shout from the bar across the street startles you, drawing your attention away from the conversation. John stills too. A series of raised voices puts him on alert, and then someone inside the bar must fire a gun because the violent crack of one makes you scream, the noise pulled involuntarily from your chest. 

“Stay here,” John growls, his pistol already drawn. He’s out the door before you can respond, darting across the street towards the bar and shouldering the door open so hard that it rattles in its frame. You watch everything happen through the window of the general store with your heart in your throat. 

“Good Lord,” you whisper, hand over your mouth. Kate stands beside you in a similar manner, her eyebrows pinched in concern. 

The thought doesn’t even occur to you that now would be the perfect time to make a break for it, with John busy across the street. Your feet are rooted in place; you doubt you’d be able to take so much as a single step towards the door. 

There’s precious little that you can see through the grit-lined bar windows, not as dusty and dirty as they are, but you can hear the commotion from inside. Raised voices and the sound of breaking glass. It makes you flinch, heart galloping at an even faster pace. Like harness horses on the Freehold Raceway. It’s not long before you see a large, masked man hightailing it down the road towards the bar, dust clouding around his boots with each heavy step. 

You recognize him almost instantly as the man from your wedding, the one that signed your marriage license. John’s man—Simon. He nearly takes the bar door off its hinges when he throws it open, barely in there a second before he and John come out each with a man in hand, both already handcuffed and looking roughed up They drag them stumbling down the dirt road towards the sheriff’s office, Simon half-dragging another man whose white button-down is slowly saturating with red blood oozing out of a gunshot wound in his belly.

“Shouldn’t they call a doctor for that man?” you ask Kate in a frantic voice, whipping around to face her. 

She nods. “They probably will once they’ve got the four of them locked up. Doctor probably heard that anyway—he’ll be on his way, I bet.”

“On his way already?”

“There’s only one doctor around here. And not much else sounds like a gunshot.”

“Does that happen a lot around here?” You don’t know why the thought makes you nervous, but there’s a cramp in your belly and a sweat building up on the back of your neck and your hands itch to grab something. When you swallow, it almost doesn’t go down. 

“It’s not uncommon. I reckon it’s not something you’re used to?”

You purse your lips. “I’ve seen a dead body before.” You don’t know why that comes out so defensively, like a slight that’s been levied against you. There’s no easy way to dispel the myth in everyone’s mind that you come from a life of comfort and ease, with delicate hands fit for delicate work. You curl your hands into fists at the thought, conscious of the old scars and calluses built up over years of scrubbing and cleaning. If she were to look down, she wouldn’t see the well-kept hands of a lady. 

When Kate quirks an eyebrow, you realize that your response had nothing to do with her question. “Well, look at you.”

When John and Simon disappear into the jailhouse, the door swinging shut behind them, you sway on your feet for a second, feeling oddly unbalanced. Something about the sight of the man’s blood leaves you feeling woozy, taking the chair that Kate offers you when she sees the way you rock back on your heels. 

“Let me get you something to drink,” Kate offers, brows now furrowed sympathetically at the pathetic sight you must be. “I’m sure you got a little fright thinking of your husband facing down a man with a gun, but I’m afraid that comes with marrying a sheriff. There’s danger everywhere, you know.”

What you don’t say is that your lightheadedness came not just from the sight of the man with the blood leaking from a wound in his stomach, but the grim look on your husband’s face as he carted away the man responsible, eyes hard as steel. No sympathy for the man in his hands. Only another criminal to be tossed away in a jail cell. The punishment for making another man bleed.

Your hands shake in your lap, but you don’t say that. Instead, you smile weakly and take the glass of water from her hands when she comes back from filling it at the sink. “You’re right. Just a little fright.”

[luveline]

could you please write something where maybe bombshell!reader hears one of the team members teasing about how she’s torturing spencer and she kinda backs off with the flirting and maybe it’s his turn to hold her hand and call her cute names because even though he always says he doesn’t mind, maybe he does and he just doesn’t want to tell her

tysm for requesting, 1k

Spencer's hair is brown silk in the sun. You bite your tongue to hold in a compliment rearing to come out, saccharine and completely true. Looking sweet, Spence. 

You love to compliment him and especially while Hotch is out of earshot. He and Derek play pairs against two agents from a different unit, their tennis racquets a shiny FBI navy. You start to speak and bite it back —a memory flashes, a shouting stop sign. 

You'd been teasing Spencer as he left the room, something about his indecisive hair. He's cut it shorter but left his curls without product, and you love it. 

Poor guy, Emily'd murmured, lips set against the rim of her coffee cup. 

What's the matter with him? you asked, perplexed. 

Nothing, just that he spins into a total meltdown every time you guys are within ten feet of each other. He must be exhausted.

She was joking and you know that, but something deep down worries she's right. It's not fair for you to keep winding him up… Especially when Spencer might be going along with you because he isn't sure how to say no. 

What if you're forcing yourself on him? 

You're sitting together on a small blanket in the grass with Anderson and a few of the other less competitive BAU agents. You bring your bottled iced tea to your forehead to cool down, condensation wetting your hot skin. The top of your head feels as though it has the full concentration of the sun beating against it. 

Spencer looks up at your movement. He's been reading a book for pleasure, or so he says, so he isn't going a mile a minute but he's still way faster than the average Joe. "Do you want to go find some shade?" he asks. 

"You look comfortable," you say, putting your iced tea aside.

Which is to say, I don't want you to come with me, it would disrupt you. Spencer nods and turns to the brown leather of his familiar satchel, popping the buckle open to dig around inside. 

"Do you think this would be okay?" he asks, bringing out his baseball cap. 

The fabric is starchy and the brim stiff as you accept it and wedge it over your head. You don't immediately cool, but your heart spins strange loops. "Thank you," you say. Thank you, handsome, gorgeous, baby, all beg to be said. 

Spencer stays looking at you for longer than normal. 

"Do I have something on my face?" you ask, swatting self consciously at your cheeks. 

"Nothing. You look really pretty," he says. 

"Thank you." Another loop. You point at his book, fingertip hitting a creamy page with a small thud. "Is this any good?" 

"I think you'd really like it, it feels like that last book I borrowed from you, and you loved that. They're very similar. I can lend it to you when I'm done." 

"Don't rush it for my sake."

Spencer gives you a private smile. "I won't. Just because you could watch a movie at two times speed doesn't mean you should." 

Your returning smile isn't half as nice. No shared lightness, no bright eyes. You're feeling awkward and unhappy —you really like Spencer. Like, you think you could be happy together for a long long time sort of like. He's charming and sweet and no one is ever as kind to him as he deserves, which is why you're trying to be kind now by putting distance between you.

You'll be brash forever. You can't change that, and Spencer doesn't need the stress of dealing with you, not on top of everything else. 

His smile fades as yours does. Quiet, without fuss, he scoots back on the picnic blanket, putting you knee to knee. The subtle muscle of his arm presses to yours and his hand wraps gently around your wrist as he dips his head down, his cheek touching briefly to your shoulder. 

"I know it's nice, but if the heat is getting to you we should go inside," he says, his fingers sliding across your palm to slot between your own. He squeezes your hand. "Heat stroke isn't obvious at first. Do you feel woozy?"

You stare at your twined fingers. He surprises you again, being this soft with you, and being uncharacteristically forward. Or maybe not uncharacteristic at all; Spencer won't let something like timidity stop him from comforting someone that needs it. 

"Spence," you murmur, closing your eyes, face angled down. 

"What?" 

"I'm sorry if I… If I've been messing you around. But I don't think this is a good idea." 

"What's not a good idea?" 

You can't make yourself say it. Instead, you rub the back of his hand, more for your own comfort than his, your tongue like a useless lump in your mouth. 

"You're sorry? Are you sure you're okay?" Spencer asks, no heed to the people sitting with you as he lets go of your hand to put his arm behind your shoulder like a shield. 

"I don't want to torture you," you say. 

Your friends love that word. You torture Spencer with your flirting and your easy affection. 

Spencer makes a face, eyes squinting and nose wrinkled. "They're just kidding when they say that. Emily, Morgan, they like making fun of me, it's like, sibling bonding or something. They don't say it because there's actually something to feel sorry about." He lowers his voice, bashful but sincere at once, "If you're torturing me, I guess I'm a masochist." 

You laugh without thinking, a breathless, girlish sound you'd regret if you had the wherewithal. "You're a masochist?" you ask. 

He takes the brim of your borrowed hat and pushes it up to unobstruct the view of your eyes. 

"If that's what it takes," he says. A hint of wryness creeps into his otherwise smooth tone. 

Despite his brave talk and his steady eye contact, his face has started to blush. A rosy hue kisses the tops of his cheeks and his nose, a dusting of pink splodges stark against his paleness. The curve of his lips seems extra tantalising now. He's very, very pretty. 

And he doesn't mind stepping in to take the reins when you're unsure of things. 

"We really should sit in the shade for a bit," he says. "Let's get drinks from the gazebo. Yeah?" 

You're halfway through a nod when he kisses your cheek too quickly for you to respond. You follow him to the gazebo without any more reluctance, weaselling your hand back into his, and attempt to pull another kiss from him.

[matchascara]

VAMPIRE AU | ANEMO BOYS

- IN WHICH: you’re a touch starved vampire, who just can’t seem to keep her fangs to herself…

nsfw/suggestive

(i wrote this very quick as the idea just popped into my head, so it’s not profread!!)

you were eternally grateful for the friends you had, after all, they let you relentlessly suck their blood when needed. or more like, when you wanted. were you going to die if you went a day or two without human blood? no. could you have easily suck the blood of an animal? yes. but human blood just tasted oh so much better, especially when it came from them.

they felt special whenever you’d ask for a taste, little did they know, they were one of many, and you were just getting started.

KAZUHA

never failed to grasp the back of your head as you dove your fangs into his soft, delicate skin, grabbing a handful of your hair as he threw his head back in pain. his refreshing cederwood scented cologne intoxicating your nostrils everytime you released your breath to drink more. he was never hesitant about you taking his blood, especially when he knew you craved it, because, he craved you just as much. and you knew this as he made no effort to hide his soft moans that would shamelessly escape his lips, praising you, and begging you to take more, “mmgh k-keep going— take as much as you need—more…more…“ he couldn’t deny that it hurt, when you so hungrily devoured him, as if he was nothing more than another evening snack. however, he also couldn’t deny that he enjoyed it, maybe a bit more than he should. sometimes he’d find himself interrupting you to shift his positions, as to hide his growing erection when you’d swirl your tongue around his neck, making sure to take every last drop.

XIAO

was more of the aloof type, never one to show his emotions in public. his voice was always nothing but stern and his tone was cold. sometimes talking to him gave you chills, and you’d be left wondering if the two of you were really friends. that’s why you found yourself often begging for him to share his blood to you in public, causing him to break his cold nature. and unfortunately for him, he couldn’t deny your puppy dog eyes as he’d scuff and grab your hand, leading the two of you to the closest bathroom. your favorite part about him besides his neck, was his arms, so firm and muscular, his veins often popping out as he grabbed your waist, forcefully digging his fingers into your skin as to not make a sound when you’d suck his blood. if he wasn’t biting his bottom lip until he bled, he’d find himself slipping, letting out low pitched hums, groans, and curses. that’s when he couldn’t deny it any longer, he needed you to give him more than just your fangs, he wanted your whole body, “fuck, fuck, — i can’t— just make it quick— before i…”

HEIZOU

was the most needy, with most times instead of you asking him to take his blood, it’d be him asking you. no matter the place, time, or event, heizou wouldn’t fail to beg you to take him right then and there, teasing you by wearing loose fitting clothing, rubbing his neck continuously and playing it off by saying he’s “hurt” and “needs assistance”, and most of all, touching you directly. he’d teasingly slowly rub on your thigh up and down , just to make his way up your shirt, fondling your breasts as kissed you deeply, swirling his tongue along your fangs. “come on…don’t you wanna suck my blood? just a little…please..” breaking off from the kiss, he’d stick out his tongue that was stained red with his blood that escaped when it pricked your sharpened tooth, winking as he toyed with you. he knew what he was doing, and he knew he would always be the victor because you couldn’t resist your urges. and you’d be taking much more than “a little” because more than you craved his blood, you craved to hear his needy pleads beg you to stop, in which you wouldn’t, because that’s what he asked for, right?

SCARAMOUCHE

was the best at saying the opposite of what he wanted. constantly pleading with you to get off of him, and to “go ask someone else”, yet, whenever you’d agree to follow through with his demands, you found yourself continuing to feast on his sweet blood as he firmly held your head in place, deeply rooted in his cold neck. scaramouche dreaded the nights where he’d be unable to sleep without you coming to claim what was yours. his pride was too large to ever ask of you to suck his blood, or for him to even agree to the idea. so he loved it when you’d force yourself upon him, digging your claws into his hair as you sprawled on top of him, like a crazed hunter who’s found its prey, leaving him helpless at your embrace. his denial turned to silence, then turned into sensual whines, him trying his very best to conceal his pleasure by biting his hand as his usual pale complexion hued red. “aah—aah—aah—stop- stop- it really…really…feels…” you loved making him crumble before you, and one day, you were going to make him scream for more. scaramouche, so high and mighty, being knocked off his pedestal by a persistent vampire who wants nothing more than his blood.

[wysteria-bloom]

⚝ "oh shit you're crying okay"

Hazbin Hotel boys react to you crying at a party

Warnings : mentions of val. hate that motherfucker.

Genre : angst, comfort, fluff

A/n : bro I jump between fandom obsessions too much I need help. Why am I simping for THE DEVIL from THE BIBLE and A TV-HEAD MAN 😭😭 actually devastated with myself. Anyways Vox and Alastor's may be a bit longer because... yeah. Angel-Dust's is a friend relationship but you can interpret it differently if you are a dude lol

Characters : angel-dust, husk, alastor, vox, lucifer

▢ angel dust 𔘓

When he walked into the bathroom, he was shocked at first at the sight of you, feeling fear grip his heart.

Had Val got his hands on you when he was distracted? He would never forgive himself if he had-

"Toots, ya can't jus' go an' disappear on me like that," He began softly as he closed the bathroom door, locking it for privacy," had me tearin' out my hair."

You sniffed as you look up at him, eyebrows furrowed, cheeks swollen from tears," s-sorry..." you whimpered out, curling in on yourself a little more.

He grimaced at the dirty floor you were sitting on before maneuvering around you sit next to you, one of his arms pulling you into his side-embrace comfortingly.

"This party's fuckin' shitty, ain't it? Sorry for bringin' ya here, doll." He sighed out, hand caressing your side softly.

You had to bite your tongue to stop yourself from sobbing as you shook your head vehemently," i-it's not that, Angel... you were only trying to cheer me up..." you furiously wiped at your eyes to stop more tears from falling," I just-... Fucking hate everything down here..."

He hummed, head leaning on top of yours," cheers to that." He droned out with a frown.

You looked up at him, his heart squeezing at the innocent look on your face. You weren't supposed to be down in a place like this, there was no way.

"Can we just... go get ice cream or something?" You then gulped, waving a hand," b-but if you're having fun-"

"Nah. I'd rather do one of Charlie's trust exercises than be in this shit-hole." He stood up smoothly and pulled you with him, keeping you close to him as he grinned toothily," I would kill for an ice cream right now."

▢ alastor ⍋

He didn't willingly want to be here, in fact he stayed for a total of 15 minutes to please Charlie before escaping outside to leave.

But the sight of you sitting on the steps outside sniffling to yourself made him pause in his long strides.

You had your head hung low, a red plastic cup sitting at your side alone.

You were prime for manipulation.

But... Alastor found himself being sympathetic. He breathed out a sigh before walking over to you," my, what do we have here? My dear, being out in the open in such a vulnerable state is a bold choice!" He exclaimed, grinning down at you, but it wasn't as sharp as it usually was.

You jumped at his sudden presence," Jesus-!" You looked up.

"Not quite!"

You seemed to relax at the sight of the red-haired demon and sighed in relief," Alastor..." you gave him a weak smile, wiping away at your tears," Wh-what brings you out here, huh? Needed fresh air?"

He sat down on the steps with you," As a matter of fact, I was planning my great escape from this wretched event!" He tilted his head at you, hair falling along with him as he regarded you with a knowing glint in his eyes," I believe you're well acquainted with the feeling, hmm?"

Your smile fell as you huffed, deciding it was useless to keep up a happy persona around Alastor when he was so good at reading right through you," You could say that."

"What bothers you so, my dear?" He gave you a closed-eyed smile, tugging at your cheek like an annoying auntie would do," perhaps your favourite radio demon can be of service to you."

He earned a giggle from you as you waved his hand away amusedly, making his expression soften at the sound.

"You're the only radio demon I know." You raised a brow at him in amusement.

He nodded with an exageratted shrug," I wouldn't have it any other way, dear."

You smiled genuinely at him, feeling your worries already disappearing," parties suck." You answered his previous question.

"Aha!" His smile looked like a grimace and his fluffy ears flattened as if an unpleasant memory was reminded to him," agreed."

"They're gross."

"Tell me about it!"

"And the people in it make me want to kill myself. Again."

He snapped his fingers at you," I knew we had something in common! Well-said, cher, very well-said~!" He pressed a hand to his heart - as if he had one.

As you laughed, your tears dried up and you leaned back a little," as for you being of service?..." You trailed off, referring back to his earlier inquiry. A soft smile made its way to your lips," I think you've helped enough already, Al."

The red demon's posture seemed to stiffen but relax, his grin curving gently which was his way of softening it," Wonderful to hear, my dear."

He gave you a gentle pat to the shoulder and you had never felt so comforted in that moment.

▢ husk ꩜

Before even attending the party, he knew something was up with you. You weren't smiling as much on the way there, and you were jumpy at his comforting touches.

Even so, you insited that you wanted to spend time with everyone at the party despite his assurances that you could stay home.

When he found you crying in the bathroom, he froze in his spot before grumbling to himself and closing the door behind him, not before giving a growl and a deadly glare at the demon that was whining about needing a piss.

He led you gently from the ground to a standing position before settling you on the toilet seat.

The silence between you both was soft and comforting, hanging in the air like a gentle caress of wind.

He got down on his knees in front of you and began to wipe away at your tears, a deep frown settled on his face.

You only stared into his eyes with your glassy ones, bottom lip trembling," my makeup probably looks so fucking gross..." you sobbed.

Husk snorted," should be the least of your worries, doll." When you finally stopped crying he huffed and flicked your forehead," you have some serious FOMO." He grumbled out, an amused smirk on his fluffy face.

You sniffled and nodded, choking back more tears," I know."

"And you need to know when to stop if you're uncomfortable."

You nodded again," I know.."

His brows furrowed," and you still look pretty with your makeup running down your face." His reassurance was sweet and charming despite the disgruntled expression on his face.

A watery smile broke onto your lips,"... Thank you." You breathed out softly.

"Wanna get the fuck outta here? There's a nice bar I know a few blocks away we could drink at. Just the two of us."

You hummed," Sounds awesome."

▢ vox ᯤ

When he agreed to go to this stupid party for Val, he wasn't expecting to run into something like this.

His greatest enemy, you, was sat outside with your head in your hands as you sobbed and cursed to yourself.

To be honest he was torn between making fun of you or just taking advantage of the situation and killing you.

But there was that little voice in the back of his coding that screamed to comfort you.

He groaned and ran his hands down his face," fuck my life fuck my life fuck my life..." He muttered to himself as he walked over to you.

He stood behind you and watched as you paused to look up at him, face puffy and pathetic.

He grinned wryly at the sight," Holy shit you're an ugly crier." He stated without thinking.

Your wide eyes turned half-lidded as you turned your attention away from him," Go fuck yourself, Vox. I'm not in the mood for your whiny baby shit." You grumbled out.

"Hey, hey. Whiny baby is too far, sweetheart. Take the insults down a few notches, yeah?" He then sat down next to you," treating me like this when about to comfort you. The fuckin' nerve of you."

You gave him a deadly glare, growling," Vox, leave. I told you I'm not in the fucking m-" you were interrupted by being pulled into a sudden embrace, making you shut up immediately.

There was a long awkward silence as you were pulled into Vox's side in a side-hug.

Then you spoke with a small voice,"... what is this." Was more of a demand than a question.

"Comfort." Vox replied casually when he was fucking sweating buckets.

"........ huh...." you bit your lip as you felt tears sting at your eyes,"... alright."

You leaned into him unknowingly, making him gush a little to himself. Why the fuck was he being soft right now? He didn't know.

"You looked hot tonight. All dolled up." He gritted out.

"Yeah? Looked? Past-tense?"

He nodded," you look like a wet-rag now."

You snorted," fuck you, man." You grumbled, and leaned your head onto his shoulder," fuck, I'm pathetic..."

"Yeah. But it's okay." He replied as comfortingly as he could but it just came out awkwardly," y'know parties are supposed to be fun? Why are you crying?"

"I hate my life? Or lack thereof?"

He hummed with a nod," Fair enough." Then he smiled widely," guess we have one thing in common, huh?"

You looked up at him before you sent him a slightly amused smirk," do we?"

He cleared his throat at your expression and looked away quickly, blush on his screen,"I-I mean.. yeah. Fucking sucks down here. Literal shit hole." Then he shrugged, trying to brush off the stutter of his heart," but... but at least you're not like... alone or whatever the fuck."

You stared for a moment, eyes softening as you nodded in agreement,"... Yeah. At least there's that, huh?"

You leaned back into his embrace with less tension in your body as Vox began to relax alongside you.

▢ lucifer morningstar ⚝

He came to this party just to make a brief appearance for his daughter's celebration of the hotel being rebuilt to be honest.

But he took quick note of how you had left very suddenly, mumbling to him about needing to take a breather outside. He was worried, of course, but he just left you in your lonesome until he got worried when you didn't return for 20 minutes.

When he walked outside onto the balcony of the hotel his eyes widened in horror at the sigh of you sobbing to yourself.

"Oh shit you're crying okay ummm," He walked over to you quickly, playing with his fingers awkwardly," Honey is everything okay? Do...do you need a hug?"

"Shit... sorry..." you mumbled looking up at him ashamedly from the floor, smiling pathetically as tears trailed down your cheeks," I.. I'm sorry you have to see me like this..."

He frowned deeply, his nervousness subsiding as he crouched down in front of you," Don't apologise for something so silly." He mumbled, grabbing on your hand and gently squeezing," what's wrong? Is it something I can help with?"

His concern was incredibly sweet and touching, not something you would expect from the King of Hell.

But here he was comforting you like you were the most precious treasure to him. And you were... aside from Charlie, for obvious reasons.

You sniffled and felt your tears gathering again at his concern, you bottom lip trembling. At the sight, he frowned," Oh, love... oh honey..." He brought you into a hug, arms wrapping securely around you as he let his wings embrace you as well," I'm here now... always will be..."

You nodded against him as you just cried your heart out.

[generalsmemories]

sensitive

✧ sunday x gn!reader

✧ synopsis: the wings by his ears are far too sensitive for what you're both about to do to them.

✧ contents: just a lil scenario for the piercings on sunday's wings. and the hc (that has probs become every writers canon take) that his wings are oh so sensitive. established relationship, mildly suggestive cause why not, uhh, mentions of blood? sunday being utterly weak against his lover. ooc sunday cause goddamn i have NOTHING on this man.

✧ a/n: breathes in. listen i don't believe in any god but good lord i would start praying for this man if he asked me to.

jing yuan wips still in order, i just want to be on my best self mentally when writing for my eepy general so have this brainrot so i can function this week at my work and hopefully i'll write something more <3 thank you once again for your patience!

NOT BETA-READ THIS WAS WRITTEN WITHIN AN HOUR CAUSE THIS BRAINROT HAS BEEN BREWING INSIDE THE MIND FOR A MONTH, IM SORRY FOR THE ALL OVER THE PLACE WORDS - I HAVEN'T WRITTEN SINCE THE LAST JING YUAN ANGST PIECE.

Your fingertips have barely grazed the very edges of the feathers when the distinguished leader beneath you flinches in surprise. The fingers that grip your hips tightening further which causes your body that was previously hovering above him to settle down on Sunday's leg. You can hear a tiny sigh leaving his lips before you feel his head rest against your shoulder, the action causing you to chuckle.

"The longer you delay this, the more nervous you'll get, you know?" you muse, threading your fingers through his hair in an effort to coax him to lay back in the same position he previously was in. You're barely able to touch his right wing again before a gloved hand shoots up from his side and you feel a sharp nip at your neck in warning - causing you to immediately halt all of your actions.

"It would've gone a lot faster have you decided to not do it in such an orthodox method, dear." Sunday retaliates with a sigh, pecking the bite mark as some sort of apology, an apology that you knew was not sincere in the slightest.

You giggle once again, settling down comfortably on his legs whilst slightly leaning back to fully look at your lover. Your arms loop over his neck while cocking your head to the side in slight confusion, although said confusion doesn't reach your mischievous eyes or the huge grin on your face. "Why I thought this would help calm you? It was your idea to pierce these wings of yours after all," you remind him, tapping the piercing gun that you're currently holding onto on his shoulder.

The man before you sighs, seemingly in exasperation over your usual antics whilst shrugging away the piercing gun that you're continuously tapping him with. You can however clearly see the slight reddening on top of his ears, while his wings tuck a bit behind his ears - clearly a signal that he's feeling a bit embarrassed.

"You're well aware of the effect you have on me, my love." he admits, the hand on your hip moving from its spot to instead rest against your neck. "Hmm? Then I suggest that you hurry along to let me pierce your wings before said effect makes you lose your patience," you tease with a quiet laugh. "I do have a lot of experience with this lil' gun of ours after all." you cheekily say - causing Sunday to direct his gaze towards your own ears, which have a few more piercings than your average person.

"... I'm well aware." Sunday replies.

Well aware of how sensitive your own ears are, almost as sensitive as his own wings that have yet to be pierced. He could let out a breath beside them which causes you to tremble, a small peck would make you gasp softly, but if he were to use his tongue-

"You're thinking of inappropriate things again, dear." you mutter into his ears before unlooping your arms from his neck to rest against your sides, your whole weight supported by the singular hand Sunday has on your hip.

"Hardly."

For someone not of Halovian descent, you're somehow able to discern his thoughts immediately - quite a hassle to be honst.

"Well then, my dear? Why don't you relax so we can get this over with so you can return to your duties?" you whisper, moving your body to sit between his legs so that you can get a closer look on his right wing, where he preferred the piercing to be on.

"... Just- don't say anything when you're about to do- Ah!"

The single clicking noise of the needle piercing his wing before retracting back to it's original spot makes Sunday jolt in surprise, the grip on your hip increasing in pressure, but you're too busy looking at the placement in glee to care for your distraught lover right now.

You notice the edges of the piercing reddening a bit, extending your finger to gather the tiny bits of blood that had escaped from the wound. Glancing at Sunday, you notice his slightly glossy eyes that immediately diverts from your gaze.

The quiet laugh you let out makes Sunday glare at you, but his eyes widen slightly when you lick his blood away from your fingertips with closed eyes. "It wasn't that bad, was it?" you ask, opening your eyes again to lock eyes with Sunday, diverting your gaze slightly to his right wing.

You decide not to comment on his glossy eyes, deciding to instead scoot closer to peck the corner of his eyes, "Sorry that I surprised you, but as you said - Doing it this way is far more convenient for the both of us," you explain, lips pressing against Sunday's to coax him into relaxation.

"Mhm, thank you for indulging me, dove." he whispers, arms wrapping around your waist, the tension in his shoulders finally leaving.

"Although..." you murmur in between various pecks against Sunday's lips, your lover raising an eyebrow up in confusion and imploring you to continue speaking.

"I think you said you would go for 2 of the same piercings if the first one looked nice, no?" you say before pressing your lips against his once again. Sunday was barely able to understand the meaning behind your words before he could feel the same pain of the needle shoot through his already overly-sensitive wing.

The loud gasp he lets out is swallowed by your lips, his open mouth letting your tongue slip inside while the piercing gun in your hand slips away from your lips now that you've done your part of the deal. Your hands settle themselves against Sunday's cheeks now- wiping away the few tears that have now slipped down from his glossy eyes with your thumb.

There's a certain desperation in Sunday's hands by your waist. He had first bunched the material of your clothes upwards by surprise, but now he's slipping his gloved hands beneath them and quickly traveling further up - he moves in a way that you don't know if he's trying to push you away to scold you, or press you closer to him to feel your warmth.

He eventually decides to push you away. His cheeks are reddened and he's heaving for breaths while he's glaring down at you in mild disappointment and a hint of excitement - and yet the hands that's dragging the buttons of your shirt from inside to snap them open tells another desire from the esteemed leader of Penacony.

The same mischievous smile is present on your lips when you part ways, your lips are a bit swollen but it doesn't stop their journey from grazing against his now incredibly sensitive right wing, the jerk of his entire body not bothering you in the slightest as your lips glide over his feathers, your lover shuddering a bit when you let out a breath right over his newly pierced wings.

"All done now, my love," you mutter into his ear, shrugging off your now ruined shirt off of one shoulder, "Do I get any reward for doing this so smoothly and quickly?"

Sunday lets out a scoff, rolling his eyes at your triumphant expression before shoving you down onto the couch the two of you were previously resting on. "I'm thinking a punishment is more fitting for how you didn't warn me of your actions twice, no?"

[chxrryhansen]

2. Rafe x innocent (and kinda naive/ airhead?) reader where reader and rafe are dating (still very new) and reader keeps reminding him she wants to wait longer (when they are making out/feeling each other up) and he keeps trying to go further, so he tells/manipulates her that it’s not normal for girls to not want to go further and something could be wrong, so he “checks” her (rubbing her clit and fingering her) and asking things like “does that feel good?” “Doesn’t that make you want more?” “Something probably is wrong if you want me to stop”, just so he can convince her to say she wants more (so then he fucks her).   

-💎

ur asks have me going FERAL. your brain is so beautiful and it must be treasured and protected at all costs. i actually hate the way i wrote this but i was too far in to change it by the time i realised i didn’t like it😒😒 nevertheless, this is a long one guys so buckle up!! (1.5k words!!!😱😱)

₊♡₊˚ 🎀・₊✧

you and rafe had only been dating for a few weeks, relationships were pretty much a whole new thing for you since your upbringing hadn’t really allowed it. you hadn’t had sex before, ever. and rafe wasn’t going to be patient for much longer, the furthest you two had went is making out, when it got heated you pulled back.. pushing him away and saying you didn’t feel well.

rafe was getting desperate, you didn’t even realise what you did to him. he was painfully hard most of the time since you were oblivious to how sexual you were being. such as bending over right infront of his face, showing him your cutesy pink panties or accidentally grinding against his cock when you squeezed past him in the kitchen. rafes frustration was at its peak and he couldn’t take it any longer.

rafe stretched his arm around your waist as you both lay in bed watching tv, biting his lip in thought before reaching out to grip your jaw gently, turning you to face him. he leant forward, catching your lips in a deep kiss, it didn’t take long knowing rafe before it got heated, as his tongue began battling your own for dominance you pulled away, taking deep breaths as you stared up at him with big innocent eyes.

“what’s wrong, pretty girl?” he muttered, lifting his thumb to wipe his drool from your mouth.

“n-nothing rafe, i just.. i don’t… i can’t go any further with you, i-i don’t think i’m ready for that.” rafe’s patience was out of the window by now, all rational thoughts evaporating as his cock grew harder, straining against his pants, desperate to be inside your sweet cunt.

“baby…” he sighed. “this isn’t normal.”

you stared at him with a confused expression, your eyebrows knitted. “i-i don’t understand, did i do something?”

he was quick to shut that thought down “no, no, no, my sweet girl, it’s more about what you didn’t do. see, other girls your age…they love being good for their daddy’s, and i just don’t think you are being good f’ me.” tears began to whell up in your eyes, his negative feedback not sitting right in your stomach. “daddy?” you questioned gently, your bottom lip wobbling.

“yeah, i’m your daddy, baby. and i think it’s about time you start calling me that. it’s true, no? i take care of you, i feed you, pay for your clothes, hell, i even take you to the bathroom. i may aswell be your daddy, so that’s what your gonna’ call me from now on, you got that?” he speaks softly, not wanting to discourage you or push you further away but needing to be firm enough so you understand. he’s testing the waters. seeing how easy it is to control your sweet mind in ways only a man like him could.

“i mean.. yeah, that-that makes sense i guess.”

a sly smile appears on his face, his thumb wiping a salty tear from your cheek “good girl.” he lifts your skirt with one hand, pushing into your panties and rubbing your clit, you gasp in surprise at the new sensation. “daddy! w-what are you doing?” you ask in shock.

rafe sighs “daddy needs to give you a check up baby, just to make sure nothin’s wrong. all i need to do is rub that sweet button of yours and fuck my fingers into your pretty pussy, mkay?” your cunt involuntarily clenches around nothing. “mkay, daddy.” you moan. rafes fingers stray from your clit to your entrance, his cock growing impeccably harder from the feel of your wetness, your pussy leaking around his hand.

“d-daddy, feels s’ good.” you whimper as he pushes his fingers into your hole, your walls clenching instinctively around his thick digits. “yeah? you like that? you like it when daddy fingers your sweet pussy?” he groan into your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

he picks up his pace, fingering you roughly until the knot in your stomach begins to tighten, you grab at his wrist, pushing him away, which doesn’t really do much since your strength is no match for his own. “daddy! stop, i-i think i’m gonna’ pee.” you whine, embarrassment flooding through your veins. your cheeks flushed from the humiliation.

he lets out a small laugh, his famous smirk still painted across his face “no baby, your not gonna’ pee.. your gonna’ cum. your gonna’ cum with my fingers deep inside your cunt. ask me. ask daddy for permission.” he growls, a flip switching inside his brain. “p-please daddy, make me cum, please can i cum? please please please.” you beg, tears streaming down your face as you try desperately to hold back.

“cum.”

he growls, watching as your legs begin to shake, your pussy sucking his fingers further into your cunt. you cry out as your body spasms, a thick creamy fluid leaking out of you and into rafes palm. “that’s it, let it all out. dirty fuckin’ girl. creaming all over your daddy’s fingers.”

your breathing begins to slow as you come down from your orgasm although rafe keeps his fingers deep inside your pussy, catching you in a deep kiss. he takes your hand in his own and leads it down towards his cock, making you instantly recoil. rafe lets out a mixed groan of annoyance and sigh of disappointment under his breath. you look towards the bed, feeling guilty as ever. he turns you to face him again, his pretty blues simmering in darkness. “listen. pretty baby, i was trying to be nice earlier but… i think there is something wrong with you. all the other girls your age wanna’ fuck daddy, so why don’t you? i’ve been so patient with you sweets but, the clock’s tickin’.”

rafes fingers begin to fuck into you once again at a rapid pace, your whimpers and cries filling the room as he fucks you with his fingers. “see? doesn’t that feel good? doesn’t that make you want more?” you nod your head, dazed with pleasure. not even fully understanding his questions. “good girl.” he mutters before taking his cock out of his pants, before you even realise whats happening, rafe had removed his fingers and crawled on top of you, pushing the mushroom tip of his swollen fat cock against your entrance.

your eyes burst open in shock at the feeling “wait, wait, wait, da-DADDY! Oh fuck!” you practically screamed as rafe bottomed out in your pussy with a single thrust. essentially, popping your cherry. his hand is quick to cover your mouth as he glares down at you from above. his sanity is long gone by now, the crazed look on his face scaring you into submission.

“shut the fuck up. i-i’m done playing games now. your gonna’ shut your pretty little mouth and-and daddy’s gonna’ fuck your cunt until he cums deep inside you, okay?” you didn’t respond seeming as his hand was covering your mouth.

he lifted his palm from your mouth before quickly striking you across the face, you cried out as your skin began to fluster due to the impact of his hit. he swiftly gripped your jaw making you look him in the eyes once more “you-you fuckin’ answer me when i’m talkin’ to you. you nod your fuckin’ head when daddy asks you a question.” this time you were quick to nod your head, tears streaming down your cheeks as you sobbed a “y-yes daddy.”

if anything they just seemed to turn rafe on even more. “good… good girl.” he groaned before pummelling his cock further into your cunt, he began thrusting at a rapid pace, fucking you so hard the headboard began to bash against the wall. your screams of pleasure probably being heard for miles. “ohhhh shit, you see that, you fuckin’ slut?” he pointed your face towards where your cunt and his cock connected, a pool of pink cream surrounding the base of his cock, a mixture of blood and cum. you were too far gone to talk at this point, moans and whimpers spilling out of your lips as you simply nodded your head, your eyes rolling back.

“fuck i can’t believe you tried to hide this shit from me, tried to hide how much of a greedy fuckin’ cock slut you are. it’s okay though baby, daddy loves when you turn into a desperate little whore. gonna’ have you writhing on this fat cock every day of the week from now on.”

[ryukatters]

don’t go - k. bakugo

a/n: I’m so horny for this man I can’t even think straight. This was supposed to be short and fluffy but now it’s turned into this. I would say sorry but I’m not. (Yes I am alive)

pairing: katsuki bakugo x fem! reader

wc: 1.5k

content/warnings: smut, unprotected morning s*x, begging, overstimulation, bkg is obsessed with you, also completely not proofread

Your boyfriend Katsuki is clingy. Very clingy— in all senses of the word, and you’re convinced that if you open a dictionary right now his name would show up as the very definition of it. Bakugo would live under your skin if he could, or at the very least come up with a way to keep you in his pocket. 

As lovely as your boyfriend is, his innate urge to smother you in affection poses a problem in times like these— early mornings where you have to get up and get ready for work. 

“Katsuki, I need to go to work. Go back to your side of the bed.”

“Just quit,” he murmurs, “I’ll take care of ya.” 

“As appealing as that sounds, no. I need to get up and do my part as a functioning member of society.” Any attempt to leave your shared bed is shut down by Bakugo, his strength easily overpowering yours as he wraps his arms around you and lays on top of you. 

“But you’re my pillow,” he says with a bit of a sigh, pressing his into the crook of your neck, melting further into you. His hot breath tickles your skin, and it’s enough to have your heart pounding along with a familiar warmth in between your legs. Katsuki is observant to a fault, he knows you better than the back of his own hand, and knows just what to do to turn you into putty. 

His hands snake up under your (read: his) shirt, kneading your breasts. You let out a sharp gasp as he tweaks your nipples and sucks a love bite at the junction of your neck. He hums in appreciation as he slowly leaves a trail of wet kisses down your stomach, stopping just as he reaches your underwear. 

He traces your slit, eyes darkening as the fabric begins to dampen with your slick. “So wet for me already, baby.” It’s not a question, it’s a fact that he already knew. Katsuki wastes no time sliding the garment down your legs. He takes a moment to run his hands up and down both your thighs before prying your legs further apart, exposing yourself to him completely. He can feel his mouth water at the sight of you. 

Katsuki can’t help but moan the minute his lips attach themselves to your clit, sucking fervently. “Always taste so good, princess.” 

You take a moment to glance down, which proves to be a mistake. Katsuki’s practically making out with your pussy, and when his eyes meet yours, they’re nothing short of lovesick. His vermillion orbs draw you in, and they’re absolutely magnetizing. You have to close your eyes to stave off your orgasm for a little longer. 

Katsuki can’t help but grind against the edge of the bed to feel some sort of release. He’s so fucking hard. He thinks he’s growing delirious. Katsuki swears he can cum from the taste of your pussy and the sound of your angelic voice filling the room with a sweet symphony. When you let out a particularly breathy call of his name, he has to will himself not to finish in his boxers, which is already usually a difficult enough task on its own, but now it's almost impossible from how impossibly hard he is with morning wood.

You grind against his mouth, hands carding through his hair as your orgasm rapidly approaches. Katsuki is more than eager to be used as a means of getting there. Even as you cum, he continues to fuck your hole with his tongue and lapping up your pussy. It’s only when you begin to push him away does he feel the need to lean back, a loud pop reverberating as he does. 

“You gonna be a good girl and let me take care of ya?”

“Mmm, fuck. Yes, ‘ki.”

“Good girl,” he coos, his lips pressing against yours with fervor. You allow him to deepen the kiss, sucking on his tongue. He moans appreciatively, hips stuttering as he continues to grind against you. The head of his cock bumps against your clit over and over, smearing precum all over your pussy. His tip just barely presses against your fluttering hole, and you can feel your insides ache with anticipation and utter need.

He’s teasing you. You’re overstimulated yet somehow unsatisfied. Your pussy is craving to be stretched out, and Katsuki is making sure he’s doing everything but that. He likes getting you like this— needy, clingy, nearly delirious as you beg for him. He likes to think of it as reparations for how insane you make him feel on the daily. 

You’re not sure how much more you can take. 

“Katsuki, please,” you whine, lifting your hips to grind against his dick, hoping to get what you want, what you need. You look up at Katsuki and for a moment, you think you’ve got him— think that you’d be able to look at him with those doe eyes and get what you want easily, like always. He never could refuse you.

But he merely smirks, and uses one hand to press you back down into the mattress. 

“Tell me what you want, princess. You know I’ll make it good for you.” 

“Want you to fuck me, ‘ki.” 

“Yeah?”

“Mhm,” you whine sweetly. 

“I’ll give you what you want baby,” he affirms, the timbres of his voice reaching the depths of your soul. He uses both hands to press both of your legs by your shoulders, cock lined at your entrance. I always do, don’t I?

You can’t stop the moan that tumbles out of your lips as he fills you up. Katsuki presses a kiss against your forehead, relishing in the way you tighten around his dick. 

The familiar coil that’s been forming in your tummy is threatening to unravel, if your stuttered moans and breaths are any indication. Katsuki seems to know this too, as he pulls out right before you hit your climax. You whine at the sudden lack of overwhelming pressure, and Katsuki’s quick to silence you with a hard stare. 

His breath ghosts against your lips, vermillion eyes burning into yours with intense, unspoken passion. “What’s wrong, princess?”

You shake your head in the negative. “Wanna cum, Katsuki. Please.” 

He starts thrusting again, slowly and with purpose. His eyes never leave yours. It doesn’t take long for you to be on the brink of an orgasm again. “You want to cum, right baby?” He smiles when he sees you nod. “You can cum,” he says carefully, “but only if you do one thing for me.” 

“I’ll do anything Kats,” you manage to choke out. Katsuki continues to pound into you, the sound of skin slapping filling the room. You really would do anything, Katsuki’s own desire and utter want for you is so persuasive that you feel compelled to follow. 

“Don’t leave,” he whispers, lips pressing a chaste kiss against yours. “Stay with me, today.” There’s an urgency behind his words despite them being said so softly. 

Fuck it. 

You barely manage to let out a stuttered “yes, ‘ki,” before you reach your peak. The pleasure rolls over you in waves, tears threatening to spill as Katsuki continues to drill into you, chasing his own high. A few particularly rough thrusts punctuated by staggered moans let you know that he’s cumming. 

Katsuki manages to plop right next to you, bed shifting under his weight. You lock eyes as you both try to catch your breaths. He gives you a quick smile before pressing a kiss to your sweaty temple, one arm wrapping around you to pull you against him.

“So…” he starts, his eyes brimming with satisfaction, lips upturned into a smirk. He knows he’s won. “Ready for round 2?”

[messylustt]

We need more touchy & needy Hobie who has feelings for his friend (she's the prettiest girl in! the! world! and his eyes akhxsj) i can imagine him being that type who brags a lot about her too lol (but he's not with her.....yet, he's just crushing very hard)

my girl — hobie brown. longer name. your best friend, hobie, is a protective bastard.

you were laying back against the couch, busy glaring at the tv. hobie walked in, a slight tilt to his head as he moved towards you. “please don’t hit it.” you shift your gaze to hobie sighing. “it’s not the tv i’m pissed at. it’s him.” you gesture to the actor on tv. “i mean can he be any more oblivious?” hobie bites down on his lower lip chuckling at your furrowed brows. he jumps down into a seat beside you, fingers reaching to smooth out the wrinkles on your forehead. you swat his hand away, and his eyes narrow. “i’m only tryna help.”

“with what?” you give him a side glance. his fingers shift back to grab your chin. “just makin’ sure you don’ grow too old, too fast.” you narrow your gaze on him, scoffing at his ‘wrinkles equal old’ joke. “and here I thought you were into older woman.” hobie scoffs, shifting slightly closer to you on the couch, arm moving to rest behind you.

“not that old. i prefer the forty to fifty age range.” you jab his side with your elbow, making him chuckle, slightly doubling over. “what time is it?” you suddenly ask, seeming to just realise how dark it had gotten outside.

“‘bout eight.” he comments, his hand moving to fiddle “absentmindedly” with your shirt — arm having to move further around you to do it. “eight? shit, i should go.” you move to stand, but hobie pulls you back down by a now permanent arm around your shoulders. you slightly fall back into him, the back of your head hitting his chest, as you feel it rumble in a chuckle.

you grab his wrist, preparing to move his hand, but hobie just pulls you closer. “jus’ stay ‘ere tonight. i don’ mind.”

“i should be getting back to my own universe.” you say, trying and failing again to move his arm. “hobie.”

“nah they won’t miss you.” he says, hand now rubbing the material of your collar between his calloused fingers. “that was nicely put, hobie.” you sarcastically say, twisting so that you can see him, but his hold still doesn’t let up.

“mhm.” he hums, a wide grin on his face as he catches your gaze. “you’re being clingy…” you narrow your gaze. he feigns innocence. “am i?” he wraps his other arm around your waist, pulling you even closer, making your breathing hitch a fraction. you quickly place your hands on his chest, so that you physically couldn’t get any closer. “yes. and it’s…weird.”

“weird? and here i thought ya were a nice and accepting girl.” his teasing smile hasn’t left. your tongue pokes out against your cheek, as you push farther away from him, finally managing to stand. hobie holds back from grabbing you again, having liked having his friend that close. his…friend.

that’s all you were, or all you saw him as. he saw different. he liked sparing you touches, and disliked when you would inevitably leave his hands. yeah, he knows you need to protect your universe but sometimes he wishes he could be a bit more selfish with you.

;;

when you were in groups, say with pav, gwen, miles and peter. hobie would have an arm wrapped around your shoulder. or when you all would sit, he’d make sure you were sat beside him, tugging your suit closer if necessary. the others found it rather sweet, how whenever you couldn’t make a ‘hang out’ being on a mission or something alike, hobie would use the time to talk you up. saying things like “yeah, did ya see y/n the other day? one of the best swingers i know.”

“didn’t y/n win that one? yeah i think she did.” he’s always been there to brag about you, but when someone else found a place to compliment you — especially if it’s the guy whose been eyeing you — hobie would use the terms ‘ma girl this’ ‘ma girl that’. “ma girl could have done better.” and everyone would know who he was talking about.

so, maybe he did have a little crush on you, maybe he wanted to get the spiders who paid extra attention fired. and maybe he liked your entire attention only on him. to anyone new you two would seem together with how hobie talks about you, but no, you’re ‘just friends’.

;;

hobie grins when you walk into HQ, but a frown soon forms when he sees how battered up you look. rushing past the others he reaches your side, grabbing your chin. you slightly startle at his fast movements. “oh, just a hard mission. i’m fine.” but hobie doesn’t loosen his grip, actually slipping his large hand further around you as he forces you to sit.

“what happened?” gwen asks, all of them having moved towards you after hobie. “just a mission. i’m fine though.” you somewhat chuckle, trying to stand again. “sit down.” hobie states, leaving no room for argument as he inspects your face full of cuts, his frown not lifting.

“hobie.” you move to grab his hand, but he only tightens it. your brows slightly furrow at his clear concern. you weren’t that badly injured, nothing life threatening. but to hobie it was the prospect of it, it could have been life threatening. “let me come next time.” he says, catching your gaze.

“you don’t have to — ” but he cuts you off. “i’m coming next time.” he sounds more sure of himself, as he grabs you into a stance. bringing you to the medical room, even after your protests of ‘i’m fine’. it goes in one ear and out the other, hobie just sitting you down as he mends your cuts, waving off the medical spiders.

“i feel like i should be flattered.” you slightly chuckle, as he tilts your head how he wants. “yeah, you should be.” he says, dabbing at a cut on your lip. “look at all this attention i’m giving you.” you chuckle, mouth opening a fraction. hobie shifts closer to you on the medical bed, hand moving to hold part of your ear and hair as he makes sure he got every cut.

“what is with all this…attention anyway?” you ask, forcing him to meet your gaze. “we’re friends aren’t we?” he asks, still not removing his hand from your face. “yeah, but…you’re acting….” you drift off brows furrowing. hobie shifts his fingers to smooth the lines on your forehead. “remember: forty to fifty age range.”

you raise your brows. “then i’m in the clear.” hobie licks at his lip ring. “not quite.” he mutters. you tilt your head, as hobie’s fingers leave your face by drifting down your skin, stopping by the cut on your lip. you both freeze at the movement, his touch sending shivers down your spine. “does it hurt?” you shrug. “more of a sting.”

“hm.” hobie hums absentmindedly, his gaze caught up in the cut. at first even he doesn’t realise how close he’s moving. your eyes slightly widen, as you lose your breath.

hobie moves closer a small tilt to his head, as his breath then fans over your bottom lip — over your cut. and then before either of you can say a word more, hobie’s lips are slowly wrapping around your lower lip, his tongue poking out to brush right along your cut, soothing the wound with his spit.

his hand has moved to your hair, a tighter grip accompanying. he draws back a fraction, your bottom lip now wet. hobie can’t help as his tongue comes back out to soothe at your cut again, dragging all the way across your lower lip, and stopping when he’s hovering over your entire mouth, tongue so close to slipping in. you feel lightheaded, as your grip has moved to his jacket, but hobie seems in a daze of his own.

“i jus’…it looked…” and he swiftly pulls you closer, hand now weaved completely into your hair as he slips his tongue into your mouth, lips connecting with yours as his head tilts for better access. “yeah…jus’ looked sore…” he pushes harder against your mouth, his hand slipping to grab your waist. ‘friends’ can now officially be used loosely, as hobie’s eager mouth takes ownership of yours.

© messylustt.tumblr please don’t steal, copy or translate my work onto other platforms.

[chososdiscordkitten]

MDNI

Pt 1 here

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x fem!reader Content: no use of y/n, SOME plot, read pt 1 for context, BREEDING KINK, PREGNANCY and BABY TRAPPING, unestablished relationship, reader has an iud that Gojo is NOT a fan of, manipulating, reader is a lil dumb lol, talk of birth control and hiding it, creampies 24/7, mentions of NURSING and BRESTFEEDING, 'wife' used like twice Word count: 3.3k

(a.n) I kept getting asked for pt 2 so here it is. more plot, not so much smut this time lol

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

It had been 3 months since Gojo came to the conclusion that pregnancy was the solution to his fear of you finding someone else. Seeing you come out of the bathroom, a bath towel wrapped around you as small droplets fell from your neck.

Looking at you bewildered as though this was the greatest disappointment he had ever felt. You were talking about something- something irrelevant to the issue at hand.

Why you weren't swelling with his child right now. Why you were denying him- the world of the next generation of Gojo babies. 

And it’s not like he could keep letting out those little ‘get pregnant’ comments while he fucked you, often contemplating asking you to gag him so they wouldn’t slip. You had your suspicions, not outwardly saying it but if one more little comment fell from him you'd be forced to ask.

Satoru was sure that your medical state wasn't an issue, he carefully combed through your medical records to find any sort of reason as to why you weren't pregnant. One appointment 3 years ago for an iud insertion, and one appointment to get it removed a few weeks after you met him. 

And it's not like he was the issue here, he made sure he was fine in that aspect. Gojo was sure he was fine- and you had no issues with getting pregnant.

So, the solution to his fear needed a solution too. No problem, this just meant he had to fuck you even more now. More often, and even move you into his apartment. Permanently.

He was hung up in his own little world as his eyes burned holes through your damp skin. “Are you okay?” you asked, looking at him with furrowed eyebrows. 

Gojo quickly fixed his face as he looked at you with a smile, “M’just thinking about havin you move into my place.” He hummed, folding his arms to rest beneath his head. Eyes following your expression as you waited for him to continue, “You're already here all the time~” he hummed, you raised your eyebrows in defense.

“That's because you can't keep your hands off of me for longer than an hour.” you laughed as he pursed his lips, feeling like he was being scolded in that moment. Knowing you meant it as a joke- but it was true.

No matter how many showers- how many breaks. Satoru was always ready to go again, and again, and again. Praying that this time will be the one. Gojo daydreamed of coming home to you, breasts swelled with milk to welcome his child into the world.

Glow on your skin and tummy growing his child. Twins, he'd fantasize. “We should just get married while we're at it.” he’d joke, knowing if he kept bringing it up, you'd cave. Knowing you weren't the kind of person to co-parent. 

But those daydreams were always cut short. Whenever he'd message you saying he wanted to see you, only for you to tell him you were on your period.

We all know that never stopped him, but the disappointment knowing his attempts were in vain, always made him try even harder next time. 

And yes you did question his constant need to fuck you, at times fully skipping prep and pushing into you- knowing you didn’t really need it since you had cleaned yourself up from the last round not to long ago.

How he'd bite his tongue whenever you'd ask him to cum inside. And I mean lets be real, when has Gojo ever bit his tongue during sex?

All but telling you to ‘shut up’ when you’d whisper in his ear, “Fill me up-” knowing if you didn't, he'd start babbling words that had been boxed up at the back of i his mind. 

That one time Gojo let them slip, the sight of your cunt swallowing his cock greedily, the words pushed themselves past his lips forcefully.

“Get pregnant” he demanded of you, only you didn't listen. You found it an odd thing to say- sure. But knowing him, he’s said worse things in the heat of the moment.

You always chalked up Satoru’s babbles before he came as meaningless words, knowing you shouldn't hold him to the promises and threats he'd make before he came.

Gojo’s made empty proposals into your ears before, “S-so good, m-” he hesitated, a low whine leaving his lips by just thinking about what he was about to say, “-marry me hm?~” he’d whisper as he overstimulated your senses.

Making sure you kept your eyes open to look at him, taking in the desperate sight of his forming ‘o’ face. Ears being fully invaded by the vulgar squelching from his hips slapping against the back of your thighs, and his unforgiving whines and moans.

Both of your hands gripping tightly on his back, knowing you'd leave raised marks on his skin. So caught up in your own orgasm you'd say ‘yes’ to any of his questions right now. 

And there was nothing Satoru liked more than asking you questions when you were close to cumming, fully taking advantage of you not being able to think straight.

Even if you had just gotten out of the shower, freshly cleaned from the last round. He'd still toss that useless towel off of you and go again, making sure to keep you on the edge- not fully giving in to your pleads and you urging him to hurry up.

Relishing in the idea that round after round, unable to count just how many times he's cum inside of you that weekend- you're still up for more. 

“You wanna go get tested together?” he asked you randomly one morning, making you look at him with furrowed eyes.

“Do I have to get tested?” you asked, unknowing that he had other sexual partners. Satoru let out a small laugh at your accusatory tone.

“No.” he smiled playfully, “I just thought it would be fun.” He hummed. And as he requested, you and him ended up in a clinic. Getting tested for any diseases or any issues.

And Gojo insisted he stay in the room as the nurse asked you the embarrassing questions. Sitting on the uncomfortable exam table, fiddling with your thumbs and thinking of how stupid it was to do this after months of having unprotected sex.

Looking over at Satoru and seeing a smile on his lips as you heard the paper wrinkle below you.

“Are you sexually active?” the overworked nurse flashed her eyes to you above the clipboard. You sighed, “Yes.” Looking over at his smug smile. 

“What kind? Oral, vaginal, anal?” she asked, looking at you. This would've been fine if it was just you and the nurse, but having Gojo in the room with you made this even more humiliating.

“Uh-” you hesitated, eyes flashing to Satoru and back to the nurse. “...All?” you hesitated, shrinking in your seat when you heard her check three boxes with the pen in her hand. 

“How many people have you had sex with in the past six months?” she asked nonchalantly, obviously having bigger issues in the world than what was happening in this room right now.

“One.” you answered, making Gojo’s chest swell with pride, knowing you were being faithful- even if there wasn't a label on what he was to you.

“In the last 12 months?” the nurse asked, you sighed, looking over at his smug face. “One.” your tone was a little more stern, knowing if you had said anything else this would've ended in a very different way.

“Are you or your partner trying to get pregnant?” the nurse flashed her eyes to Gojo, seeing him mouth a quiet ‘yes’ 

“No.” you answered, making the nurse look back at you and check no on the clipboard. 

“Are you or your partner using contraceptives or birth control?” the nurse exhaled, your hands between your knees, ‘no’ Satoru answered the question mentally.

“Yes.” you answered honestly, making him furrow his eyebrows and snap his eyes to you. You looked at him, turning your head as though you were asking him ‘what?’ 

“What kind?” the nurse asked, looking at you directly.

“I've had an iud for 3 years.” you looked back at her, hearing her write down on the paper. Satoru’s mind started remembering the online records he read, he was so sure he saw an appointment for a removal on them.

“Any plans on removal, or renewing?” she asked, side eyeing Gojo who muttered a quiet ‘yes’

“No.” you scoffed, looking at the nurse thinking he was just trying to be funny, “I had an appointment for removal- but I didn't go.” you admitted, looking over at Gojo who was suddenly sitting very stiff.

“Okay-” the nurse started, clipping the pen into her pocket and taking a step back towards the door- “The doctor will be in soon.” The nurse gave a fake smile before stepping out of the small examination room. 

A soul killing silence was in the room, mentally Gojo was scolding you for not telling him.

“Why didn't you get ‘it’ removed?” referring to the pesky little thing inside of you, you furrowed your eyebrows.

You tried remembering why you didnt go, “Hmm,” you pondered, looking at him, seeing an opportunity to lighten the heavy tension in the room. “I met you and somehow I knew I'd need it.” you joked, making him let out a sarcastic laugh.

“Besides, you didn't really think I was letting you finish inside of me without birth control…Right?” you asked, raising your eyebrows. 

That's exactly what Gojo thought, he thought that you loved him enough to not care about the repercussions that followed his addiction of cumming inside of you.

Satoru was silent, “Right?” you asked again, throwing him from his train of thought.

He stuttered, “I-I just don't remember you mentioning it.” he gave you a half smile, already plotting how he'd convince you to remove it.

“You never asked.” you scoffed, dangling your feet from the examining table, with a smile you looked at him. “And it's a good thing-” you huffed, “If I didn't have it- your apartment would be crawling with a bunch of Gojo toddlers.” You joked with a laugh. 

The thought made his heart crack, picturing all of the wasted cum he's pumped into you. His pouting lip for the rest of the appointment worried you, not hearing anymore dumb comments or seeing him smile anymore. In your mind, you thought that maybe he didn't like that you hid this from him.

That to his sensitive feelings, this was a sort of betrayal. To Satoru this was just another hurdle he'd have to jump over to achieve his goal. 

On the drive back to his place you held onto the negative tests from both of you. Gojo was thinking of all the ways he'd be able to convince you to remove it, even thinking about including Mei in his plans. Knowing if the words came from another woman, you'd hear them more clearly than if they came from him.

All it would take was a few bucks and she’d play along with his plans, yeah. That's a good idea. 

He wanted to call Mei right there as he was driving, urging her to call you and tell you how bad iud’s were for your health. But he knew this idea would have to be nursed in your mind with time. ‘1? No, 2 months is more than enough time.’  

Eventually you were convinced that iud’s were the devil, with Mei telling you horror stories about them in one ear, and ads on your phone showing birth control pills as an alternative from how much you were speaking about this.

You knew that Satoru wouldn't go back to using condoms, the conversation of asking him to use them would be futile. 

So you got it removed, with Gojo telling you that it's for the best. “That poor little thing was probably working overtime heh~” he’d whisper into your ear. Taking one pill a day was tedious, but you did it for your own health.

Even if Satoru joked that- “You don't even need any birth control~” you still took it. Everyday for the first month.

Of course, Gojo was elated at his success. Knowing that the small pack of pills were easier to hide than something that was inside of you.

And with staying at his place more often than not- leaving the pack of pills in your bag became an unsecure hiding place. Oftentimes finding the pack in odd places that you certainly did not put them. When you wouldn't be able to find them, you'd ask him if he's seen them. Making him nod his head ‘no’ with a content smile. 

Ultimately leading you to miss one or two days of taking the pill. And that led you to forgetting if you had taken a pill that day or not, but checking the pack, and seeing there was one missing from that day, you knew you did. Unknowing that Satoru was punching out the small pill and tossing it, knowing how forgetful you were at times.

The hopes of you being forgetful weren't the only thing he was counting on. Satoru made sure to keep a steady routine of intercourse after any activity.

Breakfast? He'd push you against the counter and kiss you- humming into your mouth before pulling away. “You taste like syrup-” he whispered against you. Making you let out a small giggle before connecting your lips to his once more.

Not caring if the half eaten pancakes would go cold, Satoru would gladly empty himself into you over and over again on the same counter he was just making breakfast on.

Morning, noon, and night he filled you up. And it's not like you had any second thoughts, besides it's like Satoru justified it.

“It just takes a little bit of water nd soap and you're clean again.” whenever you told him you didn't want to make a mess. Saying that sheets can be cleaned whenever he’d dirty them.

“Mops exist.” he’d defend whenever his seed would spill out of you and land on the floor. 

If he was being honest, just knowing his cum was being spilled made his soul cry. So he found a solution to this problem. Cockwarming. It was perfect in his mind, being able to stay inside of you till he was sure his load had more than enough time to impregnate you. Now having a fondness for keeping you plugged up afterwards.

Not letting you clean up by saying, “Let's just stay like this.” he’d hum in your ear, holding you close as he pretended to go to sleep. And knowing how stubborn he was- like a perfect future wife, you'd let him. 

As much as he liked to take all the credit, fate finally granted him his wish. And it was as he pictured it. 

Satoru noticed a shimmering glow on your cheekbones long before you did, he felt the difference in the way your breasts filled his hands.

The way you'd cover your nose whenever you smelled something he didn't notice. The random mornings you wake up and run straight to the bathroom.

The mere image of you potentially being pregnant made Gojo want to pull you under him again. He would never admit it to you- but the idea of your breasts full of milk, so full that they'd leak- it drove him mad.

His mouth would suddenly feel very empty and dry anytime he thought of it. Trailing thoughts as he heard you speak, wondering if you'd ever let him taste it- ‘just to taste’ he’d think. Knowing damn well he'd keep asking for a taste over and over again. 

Satoru was so sure he could convince you to let him nurse on your breast. Picturing you complaining on how full they felt- how painful it would be. Only for him to happily offer his assistance, “I just want to help,” he'd tell you.

And you being the perfect wife you are, you'd let him. Satoru relished the thought that you'd grant any of his wishes, no matter how filthy they were. Even thinking about it had him reeling for a taste- leading him to aimlessly suck on your breast harshly.

Wishing for something to come out prematurely, eyes rolling to the back of his head as you cradled his face in your lap, your other hand stroking his cock softly as you unknowingly played into his fantasies. 

On one weekend that Gojo was out of town, you picked up a test. Fearing the small changes happening in your own body. Placing the small stick on the bathroom counter, hands held together almost in prayer, ‘pleasepleaseplease.’ you muttered to yourself.

Over consuming anxiety flooding your mind as you saw the blinking halt- ‘Pregnant’ the test read. You exhaled sharply, closing your eyes and feeling the world come crashing down on your shoulders.

Unbeknownst to Satoru, you thought this would be the last straw. Thinking he couldn't busy himself with a child, let alone have a child out of wedlock- not even in a relationship.

Not even sure about your own place in this world, now considering bringing a child into it. You thought up every single horrible scenario that could happen if you presented him with the stick. Not even recalling all the sweet words he'd tell you.

The ‘ I love you’s ‘ that came straight from his heart when he'd fuck you. All the joking futures he’d picture with you.

Somehow you saw him as every cruel man you met before him. Doubts of ‘if I was enough, he wouldn't just be a situationship.’ unfolding in your mind as you blame yourself for this accident.

You inhaled, remembering to not overthink. To not assume till you spoke to him. So you waited. You waited in his place, on his couch. The white and blue stick wrapped in a napkin as you clutched it in your pocket. Waiting for him to unlock the door and step through at any moment. 

You snapped your head to the moving doorknob, seeing him bust through the doorway with a happy smile. Seeing you as he pictured you all those times. Tear stained cheeks, shaky hands and pouting lips. Hurrying to you asking ‘whats wrong?’ 

“Sit.” you croaked, closing your eyes with a sigh as you felt him sit next to you. Pulling out your hand from your pocket, unwrapping the napkin and placing the stick on the table.

“I'm pregnant.” you whimpered, eyes tearing up as you saw his face go unchanged. The corner of his lips threatening to curl into a smile. “What do I do ‘toru? Tell me what to do.” a hot tear fell from your eye, fearing that he’d toss you aside with a few hundred dollars to take care of it. 

“Why’re you cryin?” he hummed, wrapping an arm around you. You let out a struggling breath.

“I just-” you inhaled, “I'm so scared.” you cried, pressing your face to his chest.

“Scared of what?” he scoffed, trying to sound sincere, fighting off the sinister smile that crept onto his face. Proud eyes staring directly to the blue and white plastic stick.

You pulled away from him, not being able to find the words to form the sentences. Satoru took your hands in his, looking into your eyes with all the feigned sincerity he could muster. 

“I will take care of you.” he started, caressing his thumb over your knuckles as you sniffled. Taking a hand from yours and pressing it to your tummy, “Both of you.” he said with a smile, making you halt your tears and look at him bewildered.

Not knowing why he looked so excited right now, why he looked… accomplished? Seeing that glimmer in his eye he only got when he triumphed.

-

.... I don't know what to say. im sowy this doesn't have as much smut. yes this is a Segway to me one day writing a lactation kink post, im just testing the waters hehe

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

[hyuckiefluff]

may i request a jaemin x femreader where he’s just fucking her dumb and she’s trying to say that her family is downstairs or in the living room? if you’re comfortable with it ofc !!

a/n: first of all THANK YOU SO MUCH for requesting! i would’ve probably disappeared for another two months if it weren’t for this lol! i didn’t know if you wanted something short and sweet or for me to go all out but hopefully you like this! i had fun writing it and it made me revisit my jaemin brain rot so yeaa

for a bit of context, i decided to write this as if jaem and fem!reader are already in a relationship and jaem is the picture of charm and good manners and he could never do anything wrong in his in-laws' eyes but he’s secretly a freak lol (also didn’t wanna make it too long so things move a bit fast)

wc: 1.7k ish

content: just pure smut tbh

warnings: cursing, oral sex and fingering (fem receiving), creampie, loud sex, marking, usage of pet names like princess and pretty girl, boob grabbing

m list

When Jaemin walked into your place your parents welcomed him grinning like they hit the jackpot with their son in law. Your mom invited him to stay for dinner, and your dad gave him a solid friendly pat on the back. But his mind was upstairs, where you remained clueless about his arrival, thinking he was off to visit some relatives.

When he walks into your room, you’re lying on your stomach with your headphones on and wearing nothing but your panties and one of his oversized shirts. The whole scene feels like the start of one of his wet dreams, and he's seriously struggling not to pounce on you. Instead, he sneaks up from behind and gently slips the headphones off. You're not the jumpy type, so you casually turn your head, half-expecting it was your mom barging in. But when you see Jaemin smiling at you, your whole demeanor changes. You don't waste a second, practically wrapping yourself around your boyfriend. He lets out a deep, rumbling laugh that vibrates through you. 

“Missed me, princess?” you responded by kissing his lips, you only meant to give him a soft peck, but he couldn’t contain himself any longer so in no time he had you flush against the mattress and his warm body.

His hands immediately found their way inside your shirt, a delicious moan coming out of him when he felt you weren’t wearing a bra. He would go crazy if he didn’t have you right now, but he also wanted to make you feel good. He pulled away from you slowly, biting your lower lip in the process. Then he started crawling down your body, not missing the way you tensed up as he positioned his face right in front of your sensitive area.

You knew where this was going but you had to remind yourself that you two weren’t alone.

“Jaem… my parents are-…” your words were interrupted as his mouth attached to your core over your panties. The smell and taste of you was driving him feral and he couldn’t bother to even remove the thin piece of clothing. All you could do was gasp and pull his hair.

“Be good for your boyfriend that missed you so much…” he coaxed, his nose nuzzling against you. Your thighs instinctively closed around his head “Don’t hold back, let me hear how pretty you sound”  his warm breath sent shivers racing across your skin. He continued sucking and kitten-licking your pussy, the insistent way in which his tongue was pushing against your entrance in a teasing manner threatening to push you over the edge. He groaned when he felt you weakly push his head away.

In one fluid motion, he discarded your panties, a low whistle escaping him as he saw how they clung to your slickness. His dick twitched uncomfortably in his sweatpants. "Fucking mine," he growled softly before diving between your folds. His tongue and lips latched on your clit like a magnet, producing a chorus of wet sounds that were nothing short of vulgar. 

Despite your efforts to restrain yourself and keep quiet, as soon as he added a finger you were reduced to a whimpering mess. You brought a hand to your mouth, teeth sinking in to stifle the noises, but Jaemin didn’t like that. He pulled away and the sight of his glistening lips coated with your essence caused you to involuntarily tighten around nothing.

"I said..." His voice dipped several tones and his pupils dilated, darkening his eyes in an almost eerie manner "Let me hear you," he demanded. 

"Please… Jaem, my parents are downstairs," you gasped, breathless. He looked unamused by your pleas but still seemed to be contemplating something. 

Then suddenly, he withdrew from you entirely. You thought he would listen to you, so it took you by surprise when instead he discarded his sweatpants and boxers. His erection sprung free in a somewhat comical way. The tip was flushed with urgency, the veins and girth caused you to whimper. Your mouth watered with the desire to take him into your mouth, but Jaemin had different intentions.

"Then let's give 'em a show, princess," he grinned, planting a kiss on your inner thigh before pulling your legs up and positioning himself between them.

He entered you slowly and you couldn't help but whimper at the stretch. His lips curled up at the sounds you were making, knowing it took this little to make you lose all restraint was amusing him more than he cared to admit. He bottomed out right away, giving you no time to adjust. Though he was trying to keep it together, he couldn’t help but let out a string of guttural moans whenever you clenched around his dick. Desperation drove his hips to meet yours with sharp, urgent movements.

"So good for me," he murmured, gaze fixed on the way your pussy took him so well. Biting his lip, he looked up at your face contorted with pleasure. Your flushed appearance, eyes nearly shut, and lips subject to the mercy of your teeth. This is how you looked prettiest to him.

He hiked up your shirt, granting himself an unobstructed view of your boobs. He reached his hand to your right breast and caressed the soft skin there, his fingers toying with your hardened nipple. He relished your reactions to his every touch, loving the way you tried so hard not to be loud.

“Jaem-…fuck-… me," you moaned, his name coming out as a blur amidst a string of curses and cries.

"I am, baby," he quipped, though the strain in his voice betrayed the struggle to keep his composure. The way your walls clenched around him was driving him wild. The grip of his other hand tightened on your hips, urgency escalating as he thrust into you with an almost feral rhythm.

The sound of your skins slapping was obscene and it resonated throughout your room. If your parents walked by your door they would definitely hear and know what you two were up to. You wondered what would happen if they did, would they stop allowing Jaemin to come into your room. Would their trust for him vanish? Those questions made you anxious but the boy didn’t seem to care. And you were soon to follow him, because the way he was fucking you right now was too good.

He lifted your leg higher, adjusting his hips to hit that sweet spot he knew you liked. Your eyes involuntarily rolled back as he plunged deeper into you like this. He was so familiar with your body, knowing exactly where to touch to unravel you. A smirk played on his lips as he tenderly caressed your hips, a stark contrast to the rough way he was thrusting into you.

"You drive me so fucking crazy," he groaned, his rhythm faltering slightly as he leaned in for a messy kiss. Your mouths met in a fervent dance, his tongue swirling around yours, teeth grazing against each other's lips. He devoured every sound that escaped your lips.

Just as you were catching your breath, he abruptly increased his pace, catching you off guard and causing a loud moan to erupt from you, the sudden change overwhelming your senses.

“There we go, that’s my pretty girl” he murmured against your jaw, leaving a wet trail from there to your neck where he started sucking and marking you. Only in places that he knew you would be able to cover. After all, he knew you had to keep up the innocent facade with your parents.

Oh, if only they knew you let your boyfriend fuck you every day under their roof.

“Jaemin! Fuck!” He sneaked a hand down to where your bodies were connected and focused on your neglected clit. His fingers and the insistent thrusts of his hips obliterated any caution you had, leaving you too overstimulated to care about your parents overhearing.

But then a call from downstairs brought reality crashing back in “Dinner’s ready, kids! Come down!”

Jaemin's movements halted mid thrust, his eyes flashing with a mixture of surprise and panic, mirroring the same emotions that played across your face. You gave his arm a quick slap, the unspoken message in your eyes was clear: pull out, now. Yet, your body had other plans, clenching involuntarily around him as if begging for more, and he shut his eyes tight. You felt way too good to stop now.

“We’ll be right down!” He yelled, and instead of pulling out he picked you up, and switched positions. He knew riding him would make you come fast.

From his seated position, he looked up at you through his long lashes, a silent plea in his gaze. It didn't take much for your resolve to crumble. Your hands settled on his shoulders, grasping onto the firm sinews of his muscles as he wrapped his arms around you. As soon as you started moving, you saw him slowly lose his composure. This angle made each thrust reach deeper within you, “How the fuck do you… feel so good, hm-.... every time,” your eyes fluttered open and you caught a glimpse of the tension etching his brow and the way his teeth clamped onto his lower lip. He was getting closer to his limit, just as much as you were.

“You’re gonna be the end of me,” you breathe out, fingers tracing along his cheek. All he can manage is a throaty moan, too lost in the sensation of being this deep inside you to form coherent words.

“I’m-…I’m close”” he whimpered, half lidded eyes locking onto yours. Your rhythm starts to stumble a bit, your pace getting uneven as you get close to your orgasm too. He caught onto this quickly grabbing your hips to guide your moves, and every time your hips met, the sounds resonated through the whole room.

A couple more thrusts, and you're there– caught in the riptide of an orgasm that slams into you so hard that tears gather at the corners of your eyes. Jaemin's not far behind, a few more sloppy thrusts and he's right there with you. The feeling of his cum filling you and your walls clenching around as he emptied himself inside you, it was a sticky mess, but he fucking loved it.

“C’mon, let’s not make your mom wait.” He said after catching his breath, giving your hips a slight pat.

“Jaemin… I swear if they heard…” 

“Yeah, yeah… You know they love me too much to think I would ever soil their pretty daughter like that.” He winked and kissed you one more time.

ps: feel free to request more!

[y13evie]

I crawled out of a coma for this

You know thats future man clip of Josh hutcherson jerking off? Imagine that with Mike and reader walks in ANNNDDD he’s all subby maybe even gets edged 😋😋

jae i love u so much i missed you

tags: fuck this is driving me crazy, absolutely pure filth. there is nothing sfw about this. afab!reader. dacryphilia maybe + the tiniest blood

mike had the house to himself. his whines and empty pleas rang throughout the home. he wasn’t usually this needy, but god he hadn’t seen you in so long and his cock was just so achy and leaky in his jeans. he couldn’t take it. he tried to at least go slowly. pumping his cock at a reasonable pace, swiping his thumb over his slit at the tip of his cock for an extra wave of pleasure. he tried so hard to be patient, imaging your voice telling him to not be so needy. but he couldn’t help himself and began wildly grinding his hips into his hand, imagining it was you.

what the brunette failed to realize is that you had walked into his home a few minutes ago. you heard his cries and whines, each of them going straight to your core. after another agonizing minute you decided to make your presence be known. you walk up to his door and slowly open it to realize the heavenly sight.

“mike?”. your eyes hold a false innocence, knowing full well you had savored his pleas up until this moment. his teary eyes batted up at you. his eyelashes barely hiding his doe eyes. mikes chest was heaving and his head was leaned up against the wall. his thick cock was drooling beads of pre coating his hand and length. his tip was bright pink, begging for attention.

“i need you so, so bad.” those six words were all you needed. your lips make quick contact with his, the kiss was sloppy. he lips swollen from his teeth digging into them combined with his never ending whines. your tongue smoothly found his way into his mouth, he didn’t even begin to try and fight for dominance. he was putty under your touch right now. before pulling away your tongue glided over his bottom lip, tasting the metallic remnants of blood from his biting. he whined. you held the palm of your hand out and mike immediately knew what to do. he spat in your hand and guided your wrist to his neglected cock.

you started of slow knowing that he was sensitive and not wanting to overstimulate him, yet. you began to quicken your pace after noticing mike had become accustomed to your slower one. his big round eyes batted up at you once more, this time tears spilt from them. he watched you stroke him with his mouth slightly open, eyes never leaving you. you opened your mouth to let some drool fall onto his already drenched cock. this sent him over the edge. he held your hand in place and began fucking up into your hand. you let him, knowing you weren’t gonna let him get away with it so easily. his cries got louder and he pulled you towards him, lips animalisticly taking your own. you knew he was close. so just when you believed he was gonna cum, you snatch your hand away. he lips left yours, only leaving a string so saliva connecting you two.

“baby please.” tears began to fall again. “you can’t do this to me, not right now. needa cum so bad, please.”. his eyes were pleading you.

“m’ sorry baby, you gotta beg. you know better than to fuck yourself using me without asking first.” your hand cupped his face, wiping away his tears. you know how pent up he was, the way is cock was leaking so badly, and the way you could see it throbbing against his happy trail.

“pleasepleaseplease let me cum. i won’t do it again- ngh, promise baby. just please- let me feel you.” he sniffled back his tears while begging for release. you couldn’t deny him any longer.

“you’re so good for me, my sweet boy”.

your hand make it’s way back onto his length, resuming the pace you originally set. mike reached his high quickly, reducing him to a whiny mess while you helped him ride out his orgasm. huge white spurts of cum painted his tummy and your hand. you let his breathing come back to normal before peeling your hand off his softening cock. mike picked up a towel from the floor and wiped both you and himself off before leading you to his bed. you immediately felt comfortable in the familiar bed. he found his way into your arms, one of the only ways he can fall asleep.

“i love you so much”, he sleepily mumbles into your neck. you give his temple a loving kiss.

“i love you too, mike. you know i’ll always take care of you.”