#hc drabble

[spurhill-n]

He finds he's fond of noise, the sound of people being idle together. Yet in this room of his, this place barely lit by a flickering candle by his side, he's sure he can still hear it. Noise.

But there's a silence in him that burns.

A coldness in his chest that takes and takes and takes, making the hole there bigger and harder to heal. Once upon a time there was something there. Memories, warmth, passion and--it's empty. His mind knows, of course, that the absence of flesh does not erase the time he spent feeling. Does not change the records in his head. He can feel a shift in his eyes; targets narrowing as if locking onto something and when he brings himself back out of his thoughts, he finds at his feet is a cat. Slung over his 'boot' without a care in the world; napping away.

"Heh. Would we could all be carefree."

[catbolt]

Sylus who awakens from a nightmare and acts immediately on his instinct to hold you, gripping you close under the sheets with one arm around your waist and one tucking behind your neck. You blearily look up at him, shaken out of your own sleep. “Sy?”

He doesn’t respond, only rests his chin atop your head, breathing in the smell of your shampoo, arms locked around you like a vice. You can feel his heart racing as you’re pressed up against his chest, the slight tremble in his hands. “Sy,” your voice grows more serious. “What’s–”

He silences you by pulling you in even closer, burying his head against your neck. For all the times he’s helped you pick apart your own struggles, he’s not very good with words when it comes to his personal feelings. You sigh, stroking a gentle hand across his bare back. “That nightmare again? The one where I’m stabbing you with a big sword?”

He nods, the motion almost imperceptible. His voice comes out like a low hoarse growl. “Sounds stupid when you say it like that.” The silent plea for reassurance, something his usual confidence rarely needs, is clear to you.

“Not stupid,” you correct softly, rubbing his back. As your touch soothes him slowly, his tight hold on you gradually relents. He sighs in frustration, leaning back on his pillow and staring up at the ceiling. You shift closer, sitting up on your hand to place a kiss in the center of his broad chest. His body tenses at the sensation, and he looks down at you, red eyes soft and almost murky with emotion. “See? No sword here,” you mumble, as you lay your head against his chest.

He only pets your hair in response, but you’re satisfied as you hear his breathing slowly steady, his touches becoming lazy and usual, not as if he’s still trying to convince himself you’re really here. He drifts off finally back into sleep, the rise and fall of his chest like a gentle ocean beneath your head.

[itsoutrageouss]

It’s the first time Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley sees you cry that something in him changes profoundly. You had always had your different skill sets out on the field, it was what made you such a powerful duo for the task force. You were sly, agile, a killer in the dark and he was a brute show of force and strength, able to kill with his bare hands. You argued a lot, though. Your differences that made you work so well also made you clash time and time again. He found you annoying. You found him arrogant.

But after a mission, Ghost finds you collapsed on the floor in an empty building— Crying. He’d never seen you do that before, but he knew you were a softer more sensitive soul, you were just good at hiding it.

He was moving before he realised it, crouching down in front of you, eyes narrowed as he tried to find your gaze that was lost in a heap of warm tears. His hands got clammy and his throat dry because how could he make it stop? It was like the sight had reached in and seized a part of him long gone, maybe one he’d never found before now.

“Stop crying.” He said foolishly, but his tone had lost its usual edge, and the very rare lilt of pleading had laced into his voice. Why did he suddenly grab your shoulders and press your trembling body into his? He had no clue but he wanted to shield you from whatever had made you look so vulnerable before him.

A part of him didn’t like seeing this, didn’t recognise the garbled sound of soft sobs, the way your body’s strength seemed to evaporate into a fragile, soft one that he wanted to pick up and put back together. Another part of him was sucking in this moment, afraid it would get lost and maybe feeling a bit guilty about it. But this feeling of… was it protection? Protection, yes. He’d never had it like this before. Usually, protecting means killing and hurting. Right now it meant nurturing as your small hands reached around his neck and you curled into him. He reacted immediately, sitting down and scooping you into his lap.

He closed his eyes, his chin resting on your head with a sigh. He had no idea what came next. This had to change your dynamic in some way because he couldn’t ever look at you the same. He saw your softness and maybe he fell in love with it right there, and wanted to be the one you showed it to. Only him.

“Im sorry” You whispered into his chest. His hands flexed around you, fighting the urge to smother you even more against him.

“Dont say that. Just keep holding onto me.” His voice was more hoarse than usual as his fingers unconsciously combed through your hair.

Whatever had happened, he was sure you felt it too, or you would’ve never let him this close. And he wished for everything you would let him again one day.

series masterlist

[reit0o]

caleb gets cuteness aggression whenever he sees you

caleb tries and I mean he tries to take you seriously when you complain about him taking the last slice. but he won't ever admit that he does it just so to see you all riled up. the way your eyebrows furrow and face pouts while you try to lecture him is almost too adorable

caleb loves when you spent the day helping him build his new airplane model. he purposely picks a difficult design because he loves seeing your concentrated expression as your hold the pieces together, waiting for the glue to dry. and when you get frustrated, he just chuckles softly and holds it together with you

caleb needs to see you in clothes all the time. he almost gets offended when you sit down on his couch after a long day instead of immediately changing into his soft cotton shirt. he goes through his wardrobe once a month, looking for things he doesn't wear anymore just to see what he can add to your side of the closet. there's nothing like seeing you in your most vulnerable state, dressed in his clothes, thinking all mine

caleb loosens the jars in his house ever so slightly just so you can get the satisfaction of opening them yourself. you boast about how you don't need his help anymore because you're a strong hunter now. but he just looks at you lovingly, because he loves celebrating your victories

caleb adores watching you struggle not to fall asleep during late night movies. he doesnt say anything, just nudges you into his chest and strokes your arm until your breathing slows down. he feels like the luckiest person with you curled up against him, quietly counting your lashes as he pulls you in closer like his own plushie

[suksatoru]

"if you can hear me, chosen one, give me your strongest kick."

you lift your gaze from the book page pinched between your fingers and offer satoru an unimpressed glare. as scolding as you try to appear, there's a hint of a smile tugging your lips upward at his ridiculously adorable antics.

"i think our princess might be napping," he hums, pressing a flurry of kisses over the swell of your stomach as you squirm under his touch, wiggling your toes.

"you're going to be late, satoru! weren't you supposed to leave fifteen minutes ago?"

"hahh?"

he drops his face back onto your stomach gently, sighing happily as his hand glides over the soft bump. you decide to let him lie with you for a little while longer—the soft smile etched onto his face was far too precious to disturb.

"i'll text nanami and let him know you'll be a bit late to the mission, okay?" you say softly, carding a hand through his platinum locks as he hums softly, lashes fluttering close.

satoru talked to the baby in your belly quite often—even going as far as having full-on conversations with her. there had been countless nights where you stirred awake only to hear his silky sweet voice muffled against your stomach, all while he gazed starry eyed at the gentle curve of your stomach in front of him.

satoru's dearest dream had always been to have a family. it was a quiet truth he wouldn't ever dare to speak into existence because it didn't seem possible in any universe—but somehow, he stumbled upon a way. and now he gets to spend his evenings like this with you.

satoru's boundless affection during your pregnancy will forever be something you would be grateful for. the fondest thing you would look back on would have to be the endless amount of baby clothes he got—satoru had even purchased a matching set of onesies for all three of you to wear. typical satoru. he was adamant about making sure the three of you would have a bunch of pictures together as a family so he'd be able to send everyone he knew those corny holiday cards he always saw on tv—the only reason you remember that moment from so long ago right now is because of the phone call you received.

"hello?" you speak in a hushed tone, rocking the ivory haired baby in the crib next to you gently as you hold your phone between your cheek and shoulder.

"hello! is this mrs. gojo? i'm calling to confirm your family photoshoot scheduled for next week. it's the two hour session. it looks like you scheduled it a little over a year ago?" her voice comes to life through the phone, and your rocking slows to a stop.

"oh," is all you can manage at first.

you hear the sound of her typing come to a slow stop as she waits for your response. you resume rocking your daughter's crib before answering.

"i'm sorry, but it seems like my husband forgot to cancel the appointment."

she goes on a bit of a tangent, gently scolding you because the company was extremely busy with numerous photoshoots and you had canceled so last minute—but she promised to get it fixed and have the money refunded as soon as possible.

the line beeps quietly when you drop the call, and your hand feels perpetually numb as you drop your phone into your lap.

you rub at the sting that blinds your eyes a second later before rising on wobbly legs, not checking if your baby is asleep as you stumble towards your bedroom's balcony door and slide it open. you tuck your knees under you on the ground and rest your head against the railing, allowing the cool metal to be pressed against your cheek as you take a steadying breath.

you were nearing the one year anniversary of satoru's death and, quite stupidly at that, thought you'd be in a better condition by now. but his presence was irreplaceable—and it was moments like this where you were reminded how painful it was to lose your soulmate in the blink of an eye.

the night air kisses your cheek, whipping your hair around gently as it falls over your eyes—and the sensation is uncannily familiar to the way satoru's slender fingers would play with your hair and tickle your cheek whenever he was in a particularly playful mood.

the night traffic flowing beneath you fades to nothing as the wind whirls around you—but, it felt like if you closed your eyes hard enough, strained your ears as much as possible—then maybe you could make yourself believe that the whistling wind whizzing past your ear was satoru's voice lulling the ache in your chest away instead.

[simpforboys]

frat!perv!manipulative!rafe who’s obsessed with topper’s dumb gf…

(warnings: shameless groping, dry humping, reader is innocent and ditsy, cheating (?))

series masterlist

Sweet Jesus, no way you were actually that dumb?

When Rafe walked into the dorm he shared with Topper at the Sigma Alpha Phi fraternity house, he wasn’t too shocked to see you. After all, you were with his best friend.

“Hiya, Rafey.” You sweetly called out to him, lying on your stomach and mindlessly kicking your feet behind you while you scrolled on Instagram.

“Mhm, hey, pretty girl. Whaddya doin’ here alone? Top ditch you?” Rafe questioned, throwing his backpack down on his side of the room.

“He’s in the bathroom.” You murmur, eyes still glued to your phone as a funny meme came up, and you couldn’t help but giggle at it.

Rafe hummed in response, a small smirk curling onto his lips as he took in your outfit. A mini denim skirt, babydoll shirt, and… white lace panties.

Rafe knew you weren’t the smartest or most aware girl in the world, but your sweet and bubbly personality made up for the lack of it. And he can’t say he minded, really. Not when he always got to see peeks up those little skirts you wore or your bra every now and then.

“Sweetness, y’know your panties are hangin’ out, yeah?” Rafe scoffed, walking the five feet over to your boyfriend’s bed.

His large hands moved to grip your soft cheeks, pulling them apart to see the white piece of fabric barely covering your cunt.

You peered over your shoulder, seeing Rafe squeezing and touching your butt. It wasn’t anything new, Rafe always touched you like that when Topper was gone. But you were okay with it, because he always assured you that he was just looking out for you as his best friend’s girlfriend.

“‘m sorry, Rae. Didn’t realize.” You mumbled, before turning back to scroll on your phone, genuinely believing Rafe was fixing your skirt for you.

He climbs up onto the lifted bed, knees on either sides of your hips. “This skirt s’so damn frustratin’… doesn’t wanna come down this pretty ass.”

“Fix it, Rae.” You huffed, adding another post to your close friends story.

Rafe rolled his eyes. Damn brat. But his cock was painfully hard against his shorts, and he knew Topper took forever in the bathroom. “Yeah, baby, ‘m fixin’ it.”

So, his hands lifted your hips a bit, presenting more of your (barely) clothed cunt and ass to him. He pressed his erection against it, grinding slowly at first.

You just kept scrolling, unaware Rafe was dry humping you shamelessly on your boyfriend’s bed — because he was fixing your skirt.

He had to bite down on his lip to keep a moan from leaving the back of his throat. Your pussy was so fucking warm against his bulge, the lace revealing most of it.

And every day Rafe hates himself for not getting with you before Topper did. But, some sick part of him also liked the thrill of doing this on his best friend’s bed, with your ditsy brain.

The adrenaline coursing through him was enough to make him throw his head back a little, sculpted hips moving a bit quicker as he let out a strangled whimper.

His bulge directly hit your clothed clit, making you gasp out. “R-Rafey, are you fixin’ it?”

“Yeah, sweetness. Jus’ hold still f’me…”

He grunted, hands digging into your hips. The sound of your gasp and the delicious — yet not enough, friction felt made his hips stutter, eyes squeeze shut, a small moan leaving him as he cums in his shorts.

He pants a little before he snaps out of it, and reluctantly pulls your skirt down to cover most of your ass. The tall boy then climbs off the bed, looking down at you, still giggling at some meme.

And then Topper finally came in, bidding his friend a “hey”, unaware that his roommate just dry humped his girlfriend.

[mncxbe]

# . ݁₊ ⊹When you transferred to Shiratorizawa during your second year you didn't expect to have a full blown crash out in the first week. As a new student, there were many things you needed to take care of— bringing documents back and forth from the secretary's office to the medic to the PE teacher. Just as you were entering the gym to drop off the last papers, the file tucked between your chest and the cup of iced coffee in your hand, scrolling on your phone, a volley ball came crashing against you. You froze, looking down at the coffee spilled over uniform and documents before looking up to see a guy jogging towards you. "Sorry, miss–" he began but you quickly cut him off, throwing your hands up in the air.

"Dude what's wrong with you? Can't you aim?" you huffed angrily, cringing at the feeling of the wet shirt clinging to your skin. "I was literally on the side of the court didn't you see me there?"

And so you went off at the massive guy in front of the whole volleyball team until you eventually stormed out of the gym, your face flushed from anger. Unbeknownst to you, Wakatoshi Ushijima was hooked. Staring aimlessly at your shrinking figure, anxiously grasping the volley ball in his hands, Ushijima tried to make sense of the strange flutter in his chest. And from that day on he followed you around like a puppy, his sharp gaze finding you in the cafeteria during every break. Despite his friends' taunts and comments about how whipped he was for the new mean girl in school he always came to sit by your side, bringing you a little treat— a soda, milk bread or whatever cake the cafeteria was selling that day. You thought it odd at first but figured he wanted to make up for the unfortunate accident on the day you met so you let him stay.

And Ushijima stays, silently at first, looking over your frame with that stoic expression of his, his eyes following your manicured nails tapping relentlessly at your phone. "Do you have something to say or what?" you snap after a few days of this behaviour, looking him over and Ushijima feels dizzy from how pretty you look with your brows pinched together and that angry little pout on your face. "I was wondering if you don't like the fruit cake. You haven't touched it."

You roll your eyes, pushing the cake towards him. "I don't eat kiwi, it's gross." Ushijima nods, staring blankly at the tart as he rubs his hands together. "They don't have anything else today." he begins and before you can spit another biting comment he speaks up again. "Maybe we could grab something else after class? If you want."

The captain's words make you pause for a second, his earnest look softening your anger. You finally notice how nervous he seems, fidgeting under the small table in the cafeteria while waiting for an answer. Then it occurs to you that maybe you are too bitchy to him— after all, why hold a grudge against some guy who you just met? One who was handsome, polite and bought you sweets too. So instead of throwing another scathing remark at him you nod. "Alright. But only if there's no tart."

Ushijima visibly relaxes at your approval, a small, hopeful smile tugging at his lips. "Yea, no tart. Got it."

Yea, his friends were right. He was totally whipped.

[dmitriene]

cw: könig is a weirdo and reader match him.

könig likes pretty things, young and vulnerable dolls that bat their eyelashes prettily at him, wrapping their dainty hands around his thick bicep, trailing beside him despite his perverse touch, letting him lure them to his messed bed in some dark apartment, fuck their brain silly.

it's always a one time thing, könig ain't good for a long term relationship because of the bitter need to posses that been festering in him from the start, they just use each other, he has a lovely built body that makes girls salivate, and he packs a cock that is too thick you able to feel the ache even the next morning while trying to escape his apartment.

it's not the same with you, könig notices it by the way you cling to him while he punches his fat cock in your tight pussy, shallow thrusts of his wide hips making his thick cockhead pummel into your spongy spot, your hands clinging against his broad shoulders, walls tightening with rapid pulsing.

you ask him for kisses, enveloping his rough mug with your delicate palms and letting his tongue make out sloppily with your mouth, whining broken groans as he presses a wide palm to your tummy, feeling the bulge beneath where his girthy cock pistons in you, making your pussy squelch with each wet glide, as you coat his length in oozing slick.

you even let könig cum in you, flooding you full of creamy cum that drips out your pulsing hole, making a mess from the sheets and your trembling thighs, not uttering for once that now everything is tacky, instead, you curl against him like affectionate kitten and try to nuzzle your face in the crook of his neck and wrap your cramping legs around his waist.

könig doesn't even knows what to think, you don't try to escape his bed immediately, instead pressing your naked body against his beefy one, letting his twitching cock stay buried inside of you, cockwarmed by your snug walls, as you let his burly hands envelope your frame and rock you to sleep like a baby.

and when you wake up early in the morning with pleasurable ache in your body and pussy throbbing, welcomed by the sight of breakfast in bed and könig clinging to you like a pup, smothering your neck in sloppy kisses and slurringly calling you his girlfriend, you don't run away.

main masterlist. quidelines.

[aquasoftware]

★ VANILLA WITH A CHERRY ON TOP 🜼

Desc | Kento Nanami meets you at the library, recommends you filthy books, wears his fancy business suits, and kisses your hand like a gentleman. He’s patient, polite, and sweet. But when you finally give him your body, you realize there’s absolutely nothing vanilla about the way he makes love to you.

Cw | MDNI 18+ Cherry popping, soft/service dóm! Kento, súb! Reader, body worsh!p, óraI f!xat!on (f rece!v!ng,) f**t play, chóklng, brèèd!ng/cr3amp!e, overst!m, pra!sè, tùmmý buIgè, nanami has a Prince AIbert piercing, f!nger!ng, cúm pIay, d!rty tàIk, & aftercàre + ML

“Vanilla”! Nanami is a man who you meet at a library, his gentle smile is so warm your heart completely melts everytime you glance at him and he flashes one, but you ignore the fact that he’s standing in the erotica section, glasses perched on his nose, quietly flipping through each page like it’s classic literature.

“Vanilla”! Nanami is observant to a pulp. He notices how you always ask for help reaching a book on the top shelf, even though he’s certain you’ve worn heels taller than that. He picks up on how you linger after conversations end, eyes dancing between his lips and his shirt that’s slightly unbuttoned allowing his pecs to happily greet you. How your gaze is anything but innocent, yet he never calls you out on it.

“Vanilla”! Nanami who never flirts explicitly—he just speaks in a tone so sultry and calm it makes your stomach twist.

“Vanilla”! Nanami who always has book recommendations for you, and every time they’re a little more suggestive than the last. “This one had beautiful prose,” he claims, handing you something with chapters full of longing, pinning, or toe-curling tension.

“Vanilla”! Nanami who underlines details in his books that remind him of you, then gets shy when you find them. He’ll mumble "It's just good writing,” but won’t meet your eyes when you see what he underlined is the filthiest smut possible.

“Vanilla”! Nanami who gives you his number after realizing you often come to the library just to constantly see him, he slides you his phone like he’s making a business deal with the contacts screen open uttering “let’s keep in touch.”

“Vanilla”! Nanami is the type that easily falls in love with you, your conversations over the phone nearly lure him in over the screen, your voice is so saccharine he’s desperate for a glass of wine to calm him down, he’s almost embarrassed at how weak in the knees he is for how intelligent you are, your shared hobbies and how your personality is just as attractive as your face.

“Vanilla”! Nanami who sends you photos of his open books along the cozy spots he reads in with captions like “Wish you were here.” (You wonder if he means the reading with him or his lap.)

“Vanilla”! Nanami officially takes you on a plethora of dates after a long while of talking and he’s this huge gentleman, he takes you on real dates. The kind with linen napkins, dim lighting, and soft jazz in the background. He pulls out your chair without thinking twice, gently wipes sauce from your cheek with his thumb, and feeds you bites of dessert with his fork, as his eyes never leave yours.

“Vanilla”! Nanami chuckles when he eventually meets your best friend and she mutters into your ear “I didn’t know you were into squares Y/n.”

“Vanilla”! Nanami who goes quiet for a moment when you tell him you’re a virgin—not because he minds, but because he suddenly feels the weight of your trust.

“Vanilla”! Nanami becomes careful with his words when he finally speaks “I just don’t want to overwhelm you,” he says nervously, placing a loving kiss on the back of your hand. “You deserve someone who’s patient with you… who makes it feel right.”

“Vanilla”! Nanami who tries not to become too emotional when you tell him that someone is him, his ears are tainted a rose pink. His eyes gloss over you as if you’re only someone he’d be able to find in his dreams.

“Vanilla”! Nanami tries to make things perfect for your first time, wanting things to be so memorable that he (unknowingly) ruins you for any other man. He lights coconut scented candles, decorates the entire room with rose petals and there’s a tray of two wine glasses waiting for the both of you afterwards.

“Vanilla”! Nanami who isn’t so vanilla after all, especially when you makeout with him, you’ll understand exactly why he was in the erotica section. Your cherry flavored lip gloss is only an excuse why his lips keep chasing yours for more, he holds your jaw with his fingertips like he’s unworthy of being able to touch you.

“Vanilla”! Nanami takes a deep breath when you tell him you’re finally ready, asking “Are you sure about this?” He presses a featherlight kiss to your forehead once you eagerly nod.

“Vanilla”! Nanami who bites his lip trying not to laugh when you apologize for not wearing anything sexy underneath your clothes and he undresses you to reveal a matching SpongeBob set. He reassures you by saying “You’re sexy in whatever you feel comfortable wearing.” And he gently rubs your back.

“Vanilla”! Nanami unclasps your bra, carefully planting kisses on your bare chest as if it's a delicate flower waiting to be picked. At first he acted as if he had all the time in the world, twirling your bud between his fingers, but then he instantly gave in when you pleaded for more—latching onto your nipple, while suckling as if it could produce sweet nectar.

“Vanilla”! Nanami who preps you for hours eating you out, and if you’re insecure about how you look down there? It’s just an excuse for him to eat you out like his life is on the line, sucking your clit until your thighs are shaking, until his head is practically being crushed to death by your thighs, or until you’re desperately humping his face like a needy slut.

“Vanilla”! Nanami who preps you with another hour of fingering, going painfully slow, refusing to rush things at all. His fingers are thick, so when he curls up and hits that g-spot each stroke? You nearly drool, throwing your head back into the flood of pillows, swearing it’s better than the smut you read.

“Vanilla”! Nanami who shocks you when you learn he has a prince albert piercing and you quickly learn what those hours of prepping was for. When you tell him “I would’ve never guessed you’d have a piercing there!?” He responds, shaking his head “I got it in my youth, but couldn’t bring myself to remove it.” If he notices any concern on your face he tenderly kisses your jawline and lets you hold his hand.

“Vanilla”! Nanami eases in but he goes feral when you cry “Kento, fuck! N-need you faster baby, please.” He throws your legs over your shoulders and can’t help but to suck your pretty white manicured toes, causing you to gasp out of shock, yet pure pleasure.

“Vanilla”! Nanami who thrives off the erotic books he reads, knowing it ingrained the words in his head on what to say, he feels like he won a medal each time he evokes deafening moans when he praises you murmuring “You’re doing so well for me sweetheart,” or “take all of me, mmmh, just like that.”

“Vanilla”! Nanami purposefully presses a big hand on your tummy bulge as he slows down his pace just so you can feel his piercing nudge deliciously against your weak spots.

“Vanilla”! Nanami who tries not to cross any boundaries with you but when you guide his hand to your throat it’s practically testing him, he remembers from a guide that teaches you should start off with small pressure. When you squeeze his cock at the light pressure? He considers putting a baby in you on the spot.

“Vanilla”! Nanami who makes you orgasm for the ninth time that night, when he reaches down to rub your clit while you're spasming around him. As soon as you finish, he doesn’t last long asking “Where do you want me princess?” His eyes nearly roll back when you say “I want your cum inside me baby.” He cums so deep, you’ll feel it in your womb the next day.

“Vanilla”! Nanami who watches as his cum oozes out your swollen cunt, and eats you out one last time, “for good measure.”

“Vanilla”! Nanami who has insane aftercare he cuddles with you, constantly asks if you’re okay, feeds you grapes like he worships the ground you walk on, and holds up your wine for you to drink.

“Vanilla”! Nanami who is anything but vanilla.

Divider/Boarders produced by uzmacchiato & dollywons

Song written by Koi’lani/@aquasoftware.

‹3 Masterlist!! | more nanami smut?

REBLOGS, COMMENTS, AND LIKES ARE HEAVILY APPRECIATED!! THANK YOU < 3

[zephyrchama]

Mammon is highly possessive of you. It shows in all gestures big and small. From insisting you take the window seat so you're less visible from the train aisle, to wresting you away from his slimy brothers when they get too close. He takes out predatory loans to buy you a little something when you're feeling down. Usually treats and getaways. They're rumored to bring lovers closer together when shared, but you don't need to know about that. He reminds you that he's your first - that means he needs to be the priority in your life. Don't you forget it.

Mammon is also incredibly tsundere. "Whaddya think you're doing!?" he'll exclaim, pushing you away. His cheeks are as red as his savings account. "Tryin' to worm your way into my arms like that? Ain't never heard of a human as bold as you."

Except, he forgets that he's the one who grabbed you. Curled his arms protectively around you and pulled you into his chest as if shielding you from rains of hellfire. Guarded you from prying eyes of lesser beings and swept you away somewhere more secluded, all because a random salesman grabbed your shoulder. Only he's allowed to touch you like that. Only when his heart is ready.

[softaestluv]

Kyle Garrick is competitive, a know it all, and a bloody sore loser.

When you join the team suddenly everything turns into a competition. Chugging a beer, clearing a building, lifting weights, sparring, Price’s attention— anything and everything under the sun.

The two of you drive each other up the wall, sneering into each other’s face with bared teeth and upturned noses. Until the day Simon pinches his temples watching the two of you argue over a game of dominoes.

“Won’t you two muppets fuck an’ get it over with already?”

You laugh, real deep from your core, “Like he could make me cum.”

Cue Kyle dragging you to the nearest spare room to show you how many times he can make you finish with his fingers alone.

a little part 2 | part 3

[catbolt]

— SYLUS HEADCANONS

random assorted hcs for my man (fluff, 18+)

would be really into sending you sweaty post-gym bathroom mirror selfies

he thinks it's hot watching you put makeup on and so likes to watch you get ready to go out even if he's not coming with you. you get flustered a little with him just standing by your vanity in silence. "what, is it a crime to watch my beautiful girlfriend get ready for her girls night? then take me to jail. i'll just break out again."

ALWAYS has his hand on the small of your back if you're going literally anywhere it's like an unconscious habit

wears glasses for working or reading but keeps misplacing them so he has like 20 pairs floating around the house at any given time

would be excited when you get your nails done and always wants to help you pick a color/nail art design

very into pet names, always calls you "little dove, little bird, my dove, my flower, honey" etc.

is really bad at putting in contact lenses (dont ask me why i think this but i just know he has to use two hands and then drops them in the sink half the time)

he's a biter during sex and aftercare is kissing and licking every bite (it's the dragon talking)

he def has a size kink and likes being bigger than you. he would so pick you up to get stuff off the top shelf even when he could get it himself just because he likes picking you up

he says "honey i'm home" when he gets home bc he's corny like that

god at parallel parking

sings in the shower so loudly that it's audible throughout half the mansion

would be an audiophile/into really expensive headphones and speaker setups and would make you test out all his different headphones to try and find the most optimal setup for his music. "what do you mean moving the speaker two inches to the right doesn't make any difference, sweetheart? are your ears working correctly?"

sleeptalks about business when he's stressed which is always how you can tell if he's more stressed out than he's letting on

doesn't use instagram except to send you cat videos

always feeds you bites of his food off his fork to try anytime you're out at a restaurants

part 2!

[itsoutrageouss]

More Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley coming into your room at night, no words needed. Follow up on my last post.

His hands are gripping your waist and your tummy, but not only that, he’s actually dragging you downwards with all his strength, pawing at you so your body scoots down the bed, onto his face, ruffling the sheets. The sounds he makes are unholy and like nothing you’ve heard. He’s always barking orders, grunting in disapproval. Now he’s moaning, nearly whining into the wet mess he’s making between your thighs, spit and slick everywhere.

You can’t even see him, only faint moonlight illuminating his bulging arms and head snug between your thighs. You still haven’t said a single coherent word since he came in, running a hand through his short hair, tugging in a way that makes his whole body shiver. He can’t breathe and he fucking loves it, feeling the stress melt from his muscles with every flutter of your hole around his tongue, cramming it inside you.

Everything is a haze. You had been asleep, and now your lieutenants stern, usually hidden mouth was enveloping as much of your pussy as it could and just slurping. Your thighs quivered around his head, feeling worshipped with the way his hands pulled and pulled on your flesh to get you closer.

He inhaled sharply, groaning in his exhale as his shoulders relaxed. You were his free therapy right now. It wasn’t even for you, because he moved up your body at a crucial second, unconsciously edging you. An annoyed whine left your lips, but he was quick to silence you with two fingers slipping between your lips, calloused fingertips pressing down onto your tongue.

“Good to me” was the first words spoken. His voice was hoarse, quiet and you weren’t sure if he was talking more to himself than to you, his eyes narrowed as they observed the way spit pooled at the corners of your lips as you suckled his fingers in contentment. It sounded almost like a surprised observation as it fell from his spit slicked lips.

You blinked up at him in the darkness, spreading your legs to accommodate his wide hips as he slotted them between your thighs.

Your hand curled around his wrist and gently pulled his wet fingers from your mouth. “Can be even better,” you whispered softly, an innocent expression on your face that he found cruel because how could you look at him like that? He had to squeeze his eyes shut for a second to gather his bearing before he looked at you again.

“Show me” he commanded lowly, lowering his chin, his expression dark and set like the lieutenant he was.

[khioneee]

simon is possessive and obsessive.

“you’re mine.”

the sound of his hips slapping against yours echoed through the room, each thrust harder and faster than the last. the force of him inside you was overwhelming, leaving you gasping for breath. a broken cry escaped your lips as your orgasm hit, tearing through you at the unforgiving pace he’d set. your body trembled beneath him, bouncing uncontrollably with each thrust as you clawed at the floor, desperate for anything to hold on to.

tears blurred your vision, but even through the haze, you could see him—ghost. his massive frame loomed behind you, the white skull mask glowing dimly in the low light. his blue eyes pierced through the shadows, flickering occasionally into a deep, predatory stare before shifting back, as if a monster lurked just beneath the surface.

a shaky, heated smile curled your lips as you caught sight of yourself in the mirror—wrecked, helpless, taken completely by the man behind you. every thrust sent shockwaves through your body, and the way he possessed you made it clear there was no escape.

simon leaned in, his breath hot against your ear, his voice low and rough. “i’m going to make you watch me take you over and over again until you’re nothing but a numb, broken thing.”

then he slammed into you harder, pulling a ragged cry from deep within you. your nails scraped the floor in desperation, but there was no reprieve, only his unrelenting rhythm.

“i’m still angry,” he growled, his words vibrating through you as he thrust deeper, faster. “and i’m going to make sure you understand, love—no other man will ever satisfy you again.”

his pace quickened, every thrust a punishment, every motion a claim. you could feel it—his rage, his desire, and the dark promise that dripped from his voice. and in the mirror, it was all laid bare: the power he had over you, the way he unraveled you completely.

simon was taking you, body and soul, and there was no turning back.

[suksatoru]

it takes you a handful of minutes before you notice satoru's head resting against your thigh. he's staring off into space. there's a barely noticeable pout on his lips that replaces his trademark grin, and he looks... dejected.

albeit a little clumsily, you slip out of your seat as quietly as you can and lower yourself onto the ground beside him. satoru perks up once he sees you next to him, and everyone else around you two converses noisily, oblivious to you two crouched under the table like little kids.

you give your boyfriend a curious tilt of your head, and he smiles sadly.

"hi there, pretty."

"hi. who are we hiding from?"

there's a flush to your cheeks that is entirely from the drinks you've had tonight. your eyes are a misty haze — and in your intoxicated state, you fail to notice satoru's thumb brush over the small, velvet box in his hand as he tucks it back into his pocket.

tonight had been the night satoru wanted to propose to you. he'd give himself at least a dozen pep talks between waking up and picking you up for your umpteenth date — then, he'd taken you to your favorite restaurant, a modest little place tucked into the outer edges of the city.

he thought it was perfect. despite all the extravagant things that came along with dating the satoru gojo, he wanted your proposal to be personal and special. just the two of you.

what he didn't expect was to run into all of your sorcerer friends and co-workers.

satoru supposes it is kind of his fault for not telling anyone about his plans to propose to you tonight. of course, he planned to tell everyone after you two were formally engaged, but he never considered the possibility that you two could run into others.

before he knew it, tables were being pushed together and chairs were being dragged around to make room for everyone else to join. shoko, suguru, and a few other of your co-workers had all finished up a late night mission and headed to the nearest restaurant — which inconveniently happened to be the one you and satoru were dining at.

"no one in particular," satoru finally says, trying his best to mask his disappointment with a dorky grin as he pokes your cheek.

you catch his hand, eyes squinting as you look closer at him.

"you look sad. is it because i ate your spinach dip?"

your boyfriend gasps, loudly and deeply offended by the accusation as you break out into a silly giggle, telling him to shush before everyone eating notices you two under the table.

"is food the only supposed source of my emotions?" satoru laughs, and you shrug with a slanted grin

"if the shoe fits."

"oh, you are asking for it, little miss—"

his hands find your sides, and you quickly cover your mouth to stifle your laughter as you squirm against him. eventually, shoko's head dips under the table, and her loud burst of laughter manages to distract satoru enough to allow you to pry yourself out of his grip.

"come on, satoru! you didn't even try the chocolate fudge cake yet. nanami accidentally ordered three, let's try and snag one to take home." you suggest with a grin, rising on wobbly legs from under the table and wiggling back into your seat as satoru follows

"ooo — quick! before utahime eats it all!"

his first attempt at proposing was a total fail. but, honestly, satoru can't even be mad. you had a great time tonight with him and all of your friends, so what's there to be disappointed about?

his next try will be better, he's sure of it. and maybeee somewhere on a remote island where the chances of running into anyone else was in the negatives.

in a few years, satoru's hopeful he'll be able to look back at this moment and laugh about it with you. so, he'll forget about the ring in his pocket for now and focus on the present — which was competing in the 'who can eat the most cake without barfing' competition against you.

spoiler alert: he ends up winning :P.... fatass <3

[simpforboys]

more frat!perv!manipulator!rafe who is still obsessed w topper’s dumb gf

warnings: groping, manipulating, ditsy/dumb/innocent!reader, handjob, praise, cheating, kissing, brief thigh humping

thank you for 6,000 friends <33

series masterlist

It shouldn’t have surprised Rafe, really. Topper is your boyfriend, after all.

But when Rafe walked in on you sitting on Topper’s lap, giggling at some compilation of cats doing funny things, it irritated Rafe more than anything.

“Hi, Rafey.” You greet him warmly, your pretty eyes flicking up to see his cold blue ones.

“Hey, sweetness.” Rafe murmurs, although he doesn’t look at you like he typically does. He just hated being around you and Topper together, when you were so affectionate, knowing that you were with his best friend and not him.

“How was class, man?” Topper asks, his hand absentmindedly running up and down your crossed legs. You were only wearing some leggings and a crop top, a more casual afternoon.

“S’fine.” Rafe grunts, taking off his snapback and running a hand through his hair.

He moved over to his twin xl and hopped up on it, his back against the pillow as he propped himself up on an elbow and started scrolling on his phone, trying desperately to block out you sitting on Topper’s lap.

“You don’t wanna watch cat videos with us, Rae?” You ask, turning to look at the tall man who is lying with his thighs spread out a bit.

“‘m good,” he replies shortly.

You frown, but before you could even think about going back to watching the cute kitties, Topper was patting your thigh.

“I gotta go do somethin’, babe. I’ll be back in like twenty minutes.”

You hum, getting off your boyfriend’s lap as he stood up. You gave Topper a small peck, watching as he grabbed his wallet and keys, before uttering a “goodbye” to you and Rafe.

You turned, looking at Rafe. His eyes were already on you, a slight snarl on his lips.

“Are you okay, Rafey?” You ask, moving to the side of his lifted bed.

Rafe stares at you for a minute, not saying anything, the throbbing his cock is feeling against his jeans too distracting.

You poked his meaty thigh, feeling upset for your friend that he was feeling so down.

“Y’know what could make me feel better, sweet girl?” He hummed, a twisted idea forming in his mind as he turned his phone off and set it down on the bed.

“Hm?”

“A kiss.” He says bluntly, blue eyes fixated on the sight of your tummy poking out from the hem of the crop top and waistband of the leggings.

You just smile, leaning over to peck his cheek. You weren’t a stranger to giving Rafe kisses on the cheek or forehead, or him doing the same.

He grabbed your wrist before you could pull away, though. “Not there, baby.”

Your brows furrowed in confusion.

He had to internally roll his eyes. That stupid pout and look of confusion only made his cock harder.

Stupid girl.

“A real kiss, sweetness.”

You pondered it, lips still in a small pout. Your insides twisted, a weird feeling in your heart and tummy.

“I dunno, Rafe…”

“C’mon, pretty girl. S’jus’ me, yeah? Y’know only you can make me feel better.” He convinced, trying to resist the urge to just push his lips onto yours.

You went silent for a moment, just staring at him, looking unsure.

“We’re not doin’ anythin’ wrong, Y/n. You’re jus’ tryna cheer me up, ain’t that right?”

You let out a small huff, but nod. You did wanna cheer up Rafe, it killed you whenever he got so upset.

You leaned over the bed, his big hand moving to your thigh to help pull you up until you were almost hovering over the side of his body.

He kept his hand on your thigh, squeezing it a bit, feeling precum leak from his aching tip as he licked his own lips.

You both leaned in, him a bit too eagerly, you a bit too cautiously.

Your lips collided, and Rafe immediately took control and dominance. He hums into it, his left hand moving to the back of your neck, so you can’t pull away.

You had to put your hand on his thigh to keep yourself upright, which in response, he let out a small moan into the kiss.

His kisses were different than Topper’s. Topper was controlled, slow, sweet, gentle.

Rafe was desperate, dominant, rough, lustful.

His tongue slipped into your mouth, trying not to bust in his underwear when your tongue slid against his. He could still sense your hesitation, and it annoyed the hell out of him.

His right palm left your thigh, lifting your crop top up a bit as it shamelessly groped your tit through your bra. He felt you huff through your nose against his, and he couldn’t help but buck his hips up a bit.

“Mhm— you okay?”

You pull away, feeling him buck. You panted a bit, your lips swollen, as you looked down at his waistline.

“‘m jus’ feelin’ so needy, sweetness. Can ya help me?” He asks, giving you those puppy dog eyes.

The blue irises were just a weakness — no matter who had them.

“Um…” You hesitated, face warm. But then he took your palm and placed it on his clothed bulge, letting you feel how hard he is.

Before you could fully comprehend what was happening, Rafe was already unbuttoning the jeans, the words Lucky You embroidered. He pushed them down just enough, along with his navy blue boxer briefs, for his raging hard-on to stand out.

A small noise left you, one that caused more precum to leak from the dark pink mushroom tip.

“Ya trust me, yeah?” He hums, caressing your cheek.

You hesitantly nodded, eyes locked onto the big dick. Topper’s wasn’t this big… it was like the ones you see in porn.

He had to hide the devilish smirk on his lips as he spit on his own hand and guided it down to his throbbing shaft. “Gimme your hand, sweetness.”

Your hand shook as you held it out for him, a heat pooling in your tummy when your palm and fingers wrapped around him.

“Now move it up ‘n down… jus’ like that…”

He coos, throwing his head back a little as you began to hesitantly, and curiously, stroke his cock.

His big hand went back up to grope your tit, feeling the soft flesh as you continued to jerk him off, thinking you were just helping him.

You may be Topper’s girlfriend, but Rafe knew you were his dumb helper.

“S’good, pretty girl… makin’ Rafey feel good…”

He’s already trying desperately not to cum, but the way you were stuck staring at his erection, like it baffled your innocent brain was quickly sending him to the edge.

“I-is this right, Rafey?” You choke out.

“Mhmm… it feels right, ain’t it?” He groans, pulling you in for another sloppy kiss.

He starts to thrust up into your hand, soft moans and whimpers leaving him.

But what really sent him over the edge was when he saw you start to grind your clothed cunt on his thigh, completely oblivious to your own needs, distracted on helping him.

“F-fuck… keep goin’ baby, don’t stop—“

He grunts, panting as his warm seed spills all over your hand. Rafe’s head is still thrown back against his pillow, those pretty blue eyes half lidded as he stared at your face.

“You’re a good girl, baby… such a good girl f’me.”

He murmurs, pulling you forward to press a tender kiss to your forehead.