#low and slow that is the tempo

[polkadotmotmot]

English speaking accents I don’t understand: Maryland waterbillies, Philadelphia, my own brother, Mainers. North Florida, Northeast England, all Irish people, Millwall fans, Dutch people

[joemuggs]

The Lonnnnng View

The brilliant Charlie Fracture just sent me his new blog post, Let's Take It Slow: The Wonders Of Slowing Down Music And The Importance Of The Long Form Listening Experience, saying "thought you might enjoy reading it". And I did, I really did. It REALLY spoke to me. I love slowing things down, I'm always doing it when DJing, as on this short mix when I took early hardcore rave and slowed it back towards the speed of the hip hop it was sampling. And I thought, hmm, I'm sure I've written about this somewhere... after a bit of head scratching and searching through old emails, I found the following article from the 2012 WIRE end of year issue. It's a bit sprawling, but it's on to something, you know... and somehow looking back over decades (as Charlie's piece does too) suits this topic. So.........

👇🏻

Off the grid

Club music's relationship to its own regularity has always been complicated, but 2012 saw these complications multiplying and the music pushing at its patterns and grids in some radical ways. While for many the story was of a retreat to the safety of familiar forms – mid-nineties house and techno in particular dominated, with a jungle revival nascent – in darker corners things were pulsing and warping, starting to ooze and waft around the steady four-square rhythm patterns that have been foundational at least since the invention of the sequencer. This was not a new genre or style in the conventional sense, rather the convergence of some key trends in 21st century music, the coming to a head of certain pressures, creating an uneasy but thrilling sense of potentiality. These are: slowness, rhythmic slippage, and a more physically expressive interaction with the digital means of production.

The tendency to slowing has been brewing for a long time but was everywhere this year. In 2012 the likes of Andy Stott, Demdike Stare, Raime, Holy Other, Old Apparatus, How To Dress Well, Lukid, Om Unit, Hype Williams and Downliners Sekt all dropped releases with rhythms so stretched that they become textural waves rather than percussion, magnified so that every surface of every sound becomes an environment. The tracks, when played on suitably sizeable speakers, are chambers into which one can enter – sometimes desolate and forbidding as with Raime, sometimes voluptuous and dangerously seductive like Holy Other, sometimes Tron-like and glossy like Om Unit, sometimes fantastical and bejewelled, as in the baroque complexity of this year’s EPs by Old Apparatus. This was “post-dubstep” not in the standard sense of simply applying dubstep's tropes to new rhythms, but in building from first principles entirely new takes on what it could have been.

Dubstep itself had an eye on those first principles, too. This was the year that the “dungeon sound” became prominent: the creepy-crawling update of the earliest half-step rhythms with added production finesse and technologically-enabled sense of detail saw the stock of originators like Distance, Tunnidge and Kryptic Minds, and newer talents like Mancunians Compa and Biome rising. It was a reminder that dubstep's original appeal was about bodily immersion and undulating push-pull physical dynamics rather than about the rave rush and the spectacle of the “drop”. Though we were reminded by the increased profile of Digital Mystikz's Coki – incredibly only now after a decade of dubstep production becoming a full-time musician and launching his own label – that even the harder end of dubstep doesn't have to be predicated on percussive impact: at the heart of even Coki's most violent tunes is always the sluggish undercurrent of his preposterously fractal, semi-liquified “scrambled egg” bass tones.

Even drum'n'bass continued a relationship with slowness. While one end of the scene intensified like commercial dubstep into hyper-pop, reaching vast new audiences, the spaced-out half-tempo “Autonomic” tendency of the last couple of years continued to develop. An album from ASC, various releases on the Space Cadets label, and most fascinatingly a terrifyingly psychedelic EP by Archer & Asanyeh on Romania's DubKraft label all turned d'n'b's velocity in on itself, creating suspenseful, gravity-loosened environments in place of demented drive. House rhythms, too, proved capable of suspending time, particular in the hadns of those re-examining the sparser strains of UK Funky and its potential to draw dubstep and Grime’s sonorities and double-time funk into a more considered space. Wen, Visionist, Beneath, Filter Dread, Shy One, DVA and Cooly G all to some degree created eerie, strangely static rhythms in this way. And throughout the underground, like an underlying pulse that influences all around it, increasingly ran samples of or references to the ‘trap’ sound of US hiphop: layered 808 kicks separated by large space through sheer necessity due to their gigantic size, and looping pitched-down vocal samples running throughout, a 21st century counterpart to the dread signals of reggae vocalists that were cut up into 1990s Jungle.

As Bristol DJ/producer Pinch put it in his Wire Invisible Jukebox interview (The Wire 346), “the way we perceive tempo and the rhythms we're most affiliated with does change, based on situations you're in and the way you tune your head to the world.” What it seems the new techniques of music creation allow is getting closer and closer to real-time manipulation of these changes, to “tune” not just the head but the whole nervous system of the listener in more and more precise ways: where the rhythmic codes of other dance rhythms may aim for the head, hips and feet, the enveloping flows and larger spaces between beats of slower music speak to the entire body as a whole. All of this is about the positioning of bodies in relation to music, allowing new ways of coming close to and entering into the music: about sculpting the affect of the sound in four dimensions. And it's technologically-enabled, the ability to zoom into the finest detail and view all the inhuman complexity of those sonic surfaces and spaces a function of just how much information is being pushed through digital signal processing (DSP) now: we are reminded in no uncertain terms that the dancefloor experience is the interface with that vertiginous information flow. As the hyper-acceleration of jungle illustrated the foaming wave of the digital future cresting as it rushed towards us, so this tendency speaks, perhaps, of it having broken and immersed us.

Rhythmic slippage is directly related to the way that slowing music makes it come in waves as much as beats or pulses. Dubstep, as mentioned, continued to prove it was about tones that undulate around and over the beat as much as the beat itself. Chicago's footworking sounds established that their determinedly tricksy rhythms were here to stay as part of the international dance language. The psychedelic hip hop of Flying Lotus and co has been elaborating on the lurch of J Dilla and the astral analogue funk of Sa-Ra for some years now, but in 2012 we saw plenty of proof in tracks like Fly-Lo's “Pretty Boy Strut”, Mark Pritchard's beats for Wiley, and the gloriously juddering melting pots of Geiom's and dÉbruit's albums, that this too is now established globally as dancefloor-rocking music, not just some over-elaborated gentrification or neo-triphop. It's no coincidence that the London club night where Kutmah, Om Unit, Kidkanevil, Blue Daisy & Offshore play these decentred beats is called “Tempo Clash”: this is, again, about grooves slithering out of expected tempo constraints, and more generally out of expected patterns.

Once again, this was about the body in relation to data: about the physicality of musical (re)production, the sampling of complex jazz playing, the hands dancing across MPC pads, the passed-down skills of the scratch DJ being applied to CDJs, touchscreens and other Ableton controllers. Whether in footworking beats or Fly-Lo's Brainfeeder imperative, it was the return of the repressed b-boy drive, a deranged scrawling of digital wildstyle lines across the weird, wired world. And again this was a tendency that had been building for some while, but in 2012 it became apparent that a convergence was taking place between tempo meltdown, rhythmic looseness and this new sense of placing of the body in relationship to the music. We begun to see – in dramatic contrast to the overtly cerebral abstractions of 1990s “IDM” – how the input-output between fleshy bodies and digital transmission systems could be made bigger, sloppier, stranger and more involving.

In this there were close parallels with The New Aesthetic – the (mainly) visual movement that coalesced in the spring of 2012 around a panel organised by British theorist James Bridle and popularised by Bruce Sterling. The New Aesthetic zooms in on the cracks in our day-to-day datasphere, glitches in normality, the sudden Turing Test fails, the moments when the comforting shields of digital culture wobble and you see the bots' myriad eyes peering out at you and assessing you. It's about revelling in ruptures between what we have naively cast as two separate worlds: the physical and the digital. The New Aesthetic – and the lurching, pulsating weirdings of electronic club music that warp and crack the regularity of sequencer patterns – are about the horror and thrill of realising that what is inside the computer and what is outside are all the same system, that we are submerged in floods of data.

It may even be that Burroughs's adage that “when you cut open the present, the future bleeds out” has some traction here: by defamiliarising the rhythms of common genres, by warping and cracking them, we may be discovering ways through the illusory impasse of the everything-available-all-at-once overwhelming by the past and present. Certainly these techniques are a way of breaking the comfort and ease that readily available sound manipulation technology – in particular the omnipresent Ableton Live – engender. Whether it's the excessively sensual surges of sound in Holy Other, the flailing iPad abuse of Gaslamp Killer or the rusted and irregular-edged grime of Filter Dread and Sd Laika, everything here can be seen as a reaction to the predictably mixed and mixable flows of the Ableton DJ generation. When precision and perfection become easier than making errors, magnifying and repeating errors suddenly seems hugely compelling.

Whether it can go further, or whether these remain just pockets of resistance, is questionable. Dance by its very nature is predicated on some degree of regularity and coherence, and the global forces of “EDM” – the all-encompassing term used since house and dubstep bizarrely gatecrashed the US mainstream at the turn of the decade – seem to increase the pressure to conformity and easily-packaged units of DJ culture. Again in The Wire, Pinch talked of wanting to emulate the freedom of tempo and metre in the Qawwali music that he has often taken inspiration from but bemoaned his lack of the “musical intelligence” of the Qawwali musicians – hinting towards an entirely new understanding of the production of rhythm that needs to be collectively built to cope with the possibilities of more flexible and expressive technology.

Dr Matt Yee-King, teacher of Computer Music at Goldsmiths college, and researcher into technological interfaces between sound, mind and information says: “musicians might start to realise that the best way to escape the grid is not to use the grid,” that is to abandon sequencers entirely in favour of all-live coding and manipulation, but it is still extraordinarily rare that club musicians and DJs feel able to break loose completely from the metronomic diktats of sequencing tools like Ableton. The grids are still in place. The slippage and melting of rhythmic and tempo constraints that have come to a head in 2012 are not a revolution in themselves, and whether one is possible is yet to be proved. Could a digital Coltrane or Hendrix, or a collective sound as improvisatory and free as Qawwali, emerge from these new opportunities, and actually become a part of the world's nightlife rituals? For the first time maybe since the peak of jungle's rhythmic fury, these extreme possibilities don't seem entirely ridiculous.

[ask-thearchivists]

Hey would the 4 of you mind rating these songs from 1-10? With 1 being the worst and 10 being the best. Because I wanna know what music you prefer.

(This all based solely off the preview that spotify is giving me)

The Coordinator: I am going to pretend I know how you made those noises with your mouth. In order it's 3, 7, 4, 7.

The Charmer: I think for me it's 6, 8, 3, and 5.

The Cartographer: I don't know? 1, 5, 4, 3?

The Curator: I don't know what you're all talking about that first song is an 8. And then 5, 5, 5.

[sttoru]

·.⌇ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. you’ve been one of sukuna’s many concubines for quite a while now. yet, you still cannot get rid of the jealousy in your system whenever he interacts with the other women in his harem.

wc. idk around 1 to 2k

tags. true form!sukuna x concubine!female reader. angst (hurt to comfort), fluff, suggestive at the end. heian era. you call sukuna ‘my lord’. reader gets called ‘brat, little girl’. size difference. no part2, don’t ask i beg. not beta read.

“get back here, brat,” sukuna raises his voice as he follows you. he isn’t one to care about others’ emotional outbursts, yet here he is, chasing you after you’ve poured out your heart to him.

you don’t know why you’re this upset. you do know, however, that it’s childish of you to walk away mid dinner. you should’ve just stayed seated and refuse to let the thoughts consume you.

now you’re speed walking down the hallways of the estate—your legs carrying you as fast as they can without actually making a run for it. your mind keeps replaying the ‘unsettling’ scene that caused you to flee.

you remember it vividly. the sound of sukuna’s low, amused chuckle. how intrigued it was because of something another concubine told him—how he stopped chewing to say something back to her. which he rarely does.

hell, you’ve never seen him laugh around his other concubines.

“i do not wish to talk to you right now, my lord,” you reply, voice raised so the distance wouldn’t make it a hassle for the king of curses to hear you. you know that feisty attitude of yours entertains sukuna to no end.

he raises an eyebrow once he’s heard your voice; how it’s dripping with envy and hurt. you’ve never reacted like that before—at least not in his presence. it made him want to figure out why and how.

though, he can easily guess the reasoning behind your sudden defiance.

“oh, that so?” sukuna hums. he’s lenient with you this time around. he could catch up to you in under a split second, but he decides to give you that sense of accomplishment first before completely destroying it. he walks after you slowly, your fast steps being the same tempo as his slow pace.

you don’t answer. you’re stubborn. you have no right to feel jealous. you are a fairly new concubine—only a couple months ago did you join sukuna’s harem. yet, the time spent with him was precious.

he treats you differently. everyone notices that. everyone tells you the same. you know he does by the way he lets you off the hook with most stuff you say and do.

you don’t know what you did to gain his favouritsm, but it’s addicting. his attention is addictive. real addictive.

you had sworn not to develop any unneccessary feelings for that ruthless sorcerer. but, with the way sukuna treated you so gently behind closed doors, it was impossible not to.

you eventually reach the doors to your chambers. you slide them open and wish to close them behind you, only for a big hand to halt those movements. you freeze in place and refuse to look up at the owner of that said hand.

“look up,” sukuna demands. his voice causes goosebumps to appear on your arms, but you still don't budge. he clicks his tongue. that’s your first warning. two more and your punishment will be carried out, “we can do this the hard way too if you want.”

you turn your head, your fingers curling around the material of your kimono. you really should not feel this way about a little interaction between sukuna and his other concubine. that is none of your concern. what he does with those other women is none of your concern.

and yet. . .

“i don't want to,” you retort. sukuna walks into your room with a sigh. each step he takes forwards, you take backwards. your back finally bumps against the wall next to your bed.

sukuna towers over you, his tall and big frame making you feel vulnerable. especially with the way those red eyes of his are staring down at you. he crosses all four of his arms before speaking.

“tell me what’s running through that head of yours,” sukuna inquires sternly. he isn’t playing around anymore, you can tell. you glance the other way—knowing that he will laugh at you the moment you tell him why you’re upset.

you have a feeling he knows the reason behind your tantrum anyway.

“it’s nothing of importance, my lord,” you shake your head and relax your tense shoulders to make you seem less upset. your words have some truth in them—you don’t think your feelings of envy hold any value to him.

sukuna sighs again. he’s trying his best not to be annoyed at you. you’re his favorite and he wishes not to sadden you any further. he steps forwards, one hand moving to cup the side of your face.

his rough fingers play with a string of your hair, “i’m not stupid, little girl. i don’t like it when my woman is in distress.”

your heart skips a beat. this is what confuses you—how he can go from stern to gentle and vice versa. it’s surprisingly unexpected, which makes you long for more. even if his behaviour is confusing.

you look up at sukuna. your eyes meet for the first time in a good couple minutes. the corner of sukuna’s lips curls up into a satisfied smirk. that’s one step closer to getting you to open up.

“now,” the king of curses lowers his head to your eye level, the proximity all the more nerve wracking. he holds your jaw super tightly out of the blue. it makes you whimper.

“spit it out.”

there it is. the duality of the man strikes once more. you swallow the spit that’s been building up in your mouth. you bite your bottom lip lightly, trying to gather and form the right words to explain yourself.

sukuna wouldn’t understand. he’s a cold-hearted man who doesn’t care about such ‘trivial’ matters. he’ll just call you stupid, pathetic or whatever other derogatory term.

you stop your thoughts for a moment.

“it’s really just a stupid thing,” you mutter. your fingers curl around sukuna’s wrist—the one hand he’s using to firmly hold your jaw. you take a deep breath in, “i did not like it when you, errr. . . when that woman talked to you at the dinner table.”

your voice is clearly dripping with jealousy. pure, pure jealousy. and for what? because he talked to his other concubine. you feel stupid. you thought you discarded your personal feelings for the sorcerer before you the moment you turned into one of his many women.

“that woman?” sukuna tilts his head, feigning ignorance. that little grin on his face tells you enough. he’s playing with you like some form of entertainment. well, technically you are.

he wants you to be specific. he’s forcing you to be by acting like he doesn’t know what you’re talking about.

in all honesty, sukuna’s already forgotten what that woman had said to him. it wasn’t and still isn’t worth remembering. all he can recall is your adorable facial expression when you saw him interact like that with his other concubine.

that little frown on your face was priceless. it makes him want to keep teasing you.

“you know who i am talking about, my lord,” you huff, trying to look away, but get stopped by sukuna readjusting his grip on your jaw. he firmly yet gently taps your cheek once and you know what it means.

“attitude,” sukuna warns with a quick hiss. he can let you say whatever you want to him, but you also have some limits regarding which tone you use with him. you apologise quietly under your breath.

the king of curses nods in satisfaction before releasing the grip on your jaw. his large hand trails down to your neck, thumb rubbing up and down your throat, “so, my little girl is mad at me because i talked to another concubine of mine, huh?”

you nod mindlessly. sukuna can easily get you to comply with him—to obey his every word, simply with his actions. the terms of endearment he uses are the cherry on top. they slip off his tongue so easily with you.

“tsk tsk,” sukuna shakes his head. his hand is now on the back of your head, fingers tangled into your hair. he’s staring down at you with a smug expression. he knows he’s got you wrapped around his finger, “how childish of you.”

you knew that would be one of the things he’d say to you. what you didn’t expect is for him to go for a kiss right after. his lips land on yours firmly, and to no surprise, you instantly return the gesture.

your arms wrap around his neck—your chest pressing against his. sukuna wastes no time in picking you up and letting your legs encircle his waist. he’s not pulling away for air to breathe and you don’t either.

“you’re going to listen to me, yeah?” sukuna murmurs between passionate kisses. he’s holding onto you tightly with two arms, his free hands roaming over your body whilst he pins you against the wall.

when you whimper out a weak, high-pitched ‘yes, my lord’, he smirks against your mouth before turning to kiss your neck. he slightly bites the skin to make sure you’re paying attention to him.

“i don’t remember what that woman said,” sukuna continues, nearly out of breath because of the kisses he’s leaving all over you. he easily grabs both your wrists and pins them above your head on the wall, “i was too busy lookin’ at a much prettier concubine of mine.”

he pulls back a little so he can look you in the eyes. you’re panting and embarrassed by what he just said. one of his hands finds your face again, tracing the shape of your mouth.

“my favourite,” sukuna whispers whilst licking his lips. you can see it in his eyes: he’s silently planning out how he’s going to remind you of your place. your place as his favorite concubine.

he dips his head back down, aiming for the valley between your breasts. he closes his eyes before sucking on the surrounding flesh;

“guess i’ll be nice for once ‘nd show you just what it means to be my favorite so that you’ll never dare forget it again.”

[oblitum]

not me listening to 1989 (Taylors Version) on repeat. . . Now that we don't talk just hits different though.

[omgeto]

☆ GIMME, GIMME MORE — GETO SUGURU

summary: you were just a stripper who had no desire to fuck with any customers, but there was just one you couldn’t shake. once he laid his eyes on you, he wanted you. and with every little piece of you he got — he wanted more.

wc: 6.5k (my longest fic ever, lord help me) its a lot of plot with a nice chunk of smut

cw: afab!stripper!reader, angst to fluff, smutty smut, you fuck in his car, you fuck in a private room (i remembered condoms this time) so mdni sassy geto, if you squint.

an: listen to this song to feel the vibe, I love me some geto and I’ve yet to do a fic for him so I hope you enjoy this one.

the entrance to the high-end club exudes an air of opulence, with its glimmering lights and sophisticated clientele. geto suguru strolls in alongside his best friend, gojo satoru, the low hum of the music washing over them. the glances around, a mixture of boredom and detachment etched on his face. this isn't really his scene, but gojo had insisted on a night out.

as they find their way to a table, surrounded by plush seating and an atmosphere of indulgence, geto's attention wanders. the dancers on stage move with practised sensuality, but his gaze remains distant. until, that is, a change in the music's tempo signals a shift in the performance.

the spotlight illuminates the stage, revealing a figure that seems to command the room's attention effortlessly. you move with a fluid grace, your body swaying in time with the sultry rhythm. the way your hips move, the confidence in your eyes, it's as if you own the room. gojo's earlier detachment gives way to fascination he can't deny.

he couldn’t take his eyes off the way you were sliding down the pole, leaning forward in his seat to see more of you. the star shaped nipple covers and the gem encrusted thong you were wearing left nothing to the imagination. but still he couldn’t help but picture it all off of you, leaning forward in his seat to try and get a closer look. 

gojo nudges him playfully. "not bad, right?"

geto’s response is a low, appreciative whistle as his eyes remain locked on the captivating dancer. his heart races as he watches you command the stage, a magnetic presence that draws him in despite his earlier disinterest. he couldn’t help but feel that you were dancing for him, call him cocky but the way your eyes were locked on him as you threw your ass back against the pole — he knew that was just for him. he looked around the room and saw that everyone else was just as captivated by you as he was.

“she’s the best performer here, she doesn’t do private dances, she doesn’t even do a long set,” gojo brags to geto but he’s barely listening, his eyes too focused on you, “this is as much of her as we can get.” 

as the performance reaches its climax, geto’s lips curve into a slow smile. gojo’s grin is knowing. "looks like someone's found their muse." geto’s tears his gaze away just as you exit the stage, his interest piqued.

“you’ve got a request,” your boss announces insistent and smug, cornering you immediately after you exit the stage.

“you know i don't do requests, i come here, i do a 30 minute set and i leave remember?” you retort, stepping to walk straight past him, but he stops you, standing in front of you to block your path.

“this is a request you can’t refuse,” he adds, a smirk forming on his lips. your eyes narrow at his words, already feeling a sense of unease.

“oh i think i can,” your intention is clear as you step forward, intending to brush past him and continue on your way. but he remains unmoved, determined to stand in your path, his stance a physical barrier you can't easily circumvent.

“there’s a special guest tonight, someone who’s willing to pay handsomely for a private performance,” he explains, his tone implying much more than his words reveal.

you pause, folding your arms, sceptical. “how much are we talking about?”

he names a figure that makes your eyebrows shoot up. It’s a significant sum, the kind that could cover your bills for months, or even help you save for a future beyond the club. but still, you hesitate.

“like i said, i don't take request,” you conclude, brushing past your boss.

“i don’t think this particular patron will like that,” he tries to argue, following directly behind you.

“ask me if i care,” with those words, you step forward once more, your purpose clear as you attempt to carry on. but his presence remains a persistent shadow at your side, his attempts to sway you far from over. 

his argument falters momentarily, but he regains his composure quickly, his tone becoming insistent. "this particular patron isn't accustomed to denial. I don't think he'll take kindly to it."

a defiant smirk tugs at your lips, your patience waning as you find yourself driven further by your own principles. "well, here's a thought—perhaps he should learn."

with that final retort, you pivot on your heel, striding purposefully toward the locker room. the temptation of the significant sum and the vague promise of this special patron tug at the edges of your thoughts, but your determination remains resolute.

“if you don’t do it your fired.” he calls out after you, a desperate final attempt to get you to agree.

you knew you were going against your better judgement, but you turn back to face your boss and with a deep sigh you agree, “fine, i’ll do it. but you owe me.”

with simmering frustration bubbling beneath the surface, you push open the door to the private room, your entrance punctuated by the subtle swish of the heavy fabric. the air within was charged, a blend of anticipation and tension, as you found geto suguru lounging on the plush sofa, his presence an unwelcome sight that intensified your irritation.

your words come out abruptly, a firm reminder to both him and yourself, “i don’t fuck clients,” you state, a touch of defensiveness in your tone. you wanted to establish your boundaries, to make it clear you wouldn’t be swayed easily.

he chuckles, catching you off guard, his amusement evident. “thats nice…” he adds, with a hint of playfulness, “i just wanted to talk anyways.”

“to talk?” you question, surprised at his request, as you knew what went on in the private rooms and talking was far from that.

“yeah, just wanna get to know you,” he explains casually, his eyes studying you.

“i don’t do time wasters,” you complain, ready to leave the room, “and i don’t have time to waste.”

“even if im paying for your time?” he bargains, raising his eyebrows, “im sure your boss told you the pretty expensive bill im footing just for your time.”

crossing your arms, you met his gaze with a steady one of your own. “look, mr…?”

“just call me suguru,” he interjected with a smile that held a hint of charm.

“alright, suguru,” you continued, your tone resolute, “i'm not here to entertain idle chit-chat. i’ll dance for you for an hour and thats it. just abide by the club rules, otherwise im out.”

“why don’t you take private requests?” he inquiries, disregarding your comments.

“because i don’t have to,” you respond nonchalantly, “why are you so persistent that you pay for my time. there’s tons of other great strippers in this club.”

“because i want you.” he shrugs.

“well too bad,” you mock, “just because you have money doesn’t mean you can buy everything.”

“everyone’s got a price,” he argues, chuckling softly, a condescending tone underling his words, “ah, but isn't that the way the world works? everything has a price, even principles.”

the audacity of his statement ignited a fire within you, your voice heated with defiance and scorn. “you think im for sale? you think i’d compromise my integrity just for a fat stack of bills? you’re delusional.”

“oh but isn’t your integrity already compromised,” he teases, raising his eyebrows, “is miss, ‘i dont do private dances,’ not in a private dance with me right now?”

“you know wha–” 

“i changed my mind. i don’t want to talk anymore,” there was a shift in his tone, amusement danced in his eyes, “strip for me.”

you were pissed. but you couldn’t actually argue – he was right. he was paying for your time and he could spend it anyway he wanted to. you’d rather have him silently watching you anyways than talking to you. 

the music blared through the speakers in the room, and you immediately straddled geto, you could feel his dick harden underneath you. the only thing separating you two was the thin layer of fabric of your thong. 

you could see him smirk at you, but you ignored him, grinding your hips down on him to the beat of the music. his starts to trail down your sides, but you give him a pointed look reminding him of the rules – no touching. he surrenders his hands placing them besides his head, content in watching you dance on his lap.

you moved off of him, using the pole that was in the room, his eyes stayed fixed on you. you wanted to put on a show for him, so you move your body expressing a mix of sensuality and power, your eyes lock onto his, daring him to challenge you further, to push your boundaries even more.

the hour was eventually up, and geto didn’t say anything as he left, he just leaves a fat stack of bills on the table, and for some reason you couldn’t bite your tongue, “is that it? you’re just going to leave?”

“well the hours up, no?” he responds, checking his watch, “and, i’ve paid you for your time.” you couldn’t argue with that, so you remain silent watching as he turns his back on you to leave the room.

“suguru,” you call out, getting him to pause, “wait.”

“i thought you didn’t fuck clients,” he smirks, coming up from in between your thighs, “but i am not complaining”

“s-shut up,” you exhale, you’d like to believe that you didn’t expect this to happen, but you knew that was a lie. you didn’t get far out of the club, in fact you didn’t make it out of the parking lot. the back of geto’s car seemed to be perfect with the way he was eating you out. 

the feeling of geto sucking on your clit, had your head empty. his head being pressed between your thighs makes your back arch as you push up against his face. he laps against your folds, drowning in your wetness. 

“‘i don’t do private dances,’” he mocks your previous words, amused with himself, “oh if only you could see yourself now.” he enjoyed you like this, pinned under him, your pussy dripping all over his face, you were a writhing mess; no longer complaining to him about his actions, you were reduced down to moans and incoherent sentences, the only thing he could hear clearly was his name.

“suguru ah s-shit,” you curse, as he presses down on your clit, “do you always talk this much?” you tangle your fingers in his hair, guiding his face closer in your pussy, his nose deep in your arousal. he was practically inhaling you, swirling his tongue deep inside, trying to taste every inch of you.

“‘m close suguru,” you whine, thrust up against his face aiming to reach your peak on your own.

“calm down princess,” he teases, pulling his lips away from your pussy, “didn’t know you were this eager.” he presses his lips down on yours, making you taste yourself as his hand goes behind your neck to hold you in place. “see how sweet you can be?” 

he takes his dick out of his pants, quickly putting on a condom, not even giving you much time to think before he’s slamming into your cunt. your eyes widen as your pussy stretches, and geto can only bite his lip as he feels you clench around him.

“you feel so good, y’know that right” he murmurs, forcing himself into you deeper, “so fuckin’ tight.” 

he was merciless, gripping his hands on your tits, as he pistons out of you. he could only focus on how your cunt tightens around him with every push. you were pushing yourself down on him, fucking him right back. you didn’t care for his praise, you just wanted to cum.

“‘you’re t-too much, i-it’s too much”

“but you’re taking me so well,” he argues, with a grin. peppering kissing against your neck as he fucks you to a hilt. your hands find their way back into his hair, pulling and tugging at it as you moan out his name. 

his dick twitches inside you as you call at his name, you could feel that he was about to cum. his strokes were getting sloppier, and his mouth went from biting to sucking on your neck. you could feel yourself about to climax, clawing at his back, as he continues to hit your spot.

“suguru, i’m about to–”

“cum with me,” he demands, swiftly pulling out of and leaving his cum all over your stomach. you release onto his car seats, your cum spilling out of your pussy, pooling into his car seats.

after coming down off your high, you come to your senses. “this doesn’t change anything.” you remove yourself out of his hold, pushing him off you.

“you really gonna say that after i gave you the best time of your life?” 

"'best time of my life?'" you echo, a smirk tugging at your lips as you gather your belongings, "someone's cocky."

“i'm starting to feel you like me that way,” he teases, his words a playful challenge.

you roll your eyes, not willing to engage in his banter any longer. "goodbye, suguru," you reply, opening his car door. "don't return to the club."

“oi princess,” he calls after you, “you left your thong.”

“keep it.” you wink as you step outside of the car, “think of it as a souvenir.”

“why would i need that, when im going to see you again?” you don't respond, shutting the car door with a smile on your face as part of you hoped that he did return.

geto did see you again, practically every day after that. it became a consistent routine, he’d book a private room for a couple hours, you’d fuck, you’d talk and see each other whenever he wanted. he came when he needed you – and he always needed you.

as a stripper, you’ve always had one rule ‘don’t fuck with clients,’ but the moment that geto suguru laid his eyes on you – you were his. there was something about him that made him different from all the other patrons, although they were all snobby rich guys, the way that geto carried himself made you feel like he was worth breaking your rule. or at least that's what you told yourself. 

you didn’t just fuck each other – sometimes he just wanted to talk to you, to ask you about your day, to get to know you. and you could tell he was starting to catch feelings that you weren’t prepared to deal with. however, despite him being rich, there was something endearing in knowing that he went out of his way, every day, to pay just to see you. even when you were mean and standoffish.

you always spoke for longer than you expected – longer than he even paid for. geto surprised you, he was actually interested in talking with you. as the minutes turned into an hour, the conversations flowed in unexpected directions. you found yourselves sharing stories, discussing interests, and laughing at each other’s jokes. geto’s charming demeanour and genuine interest gradually chipped away at your initial reservations.

“did you always want to be a stripper?” he asks, you had just finished fucking and he still had an hour left of paid time with you, and he was going to use it.

“do you always pillowtalk?” you retort smartly, evading his question.

“who would’ve thought you’d still be this bitchy after being fucked so good,” he jokes, pulling you into his hold that you quickly ease into, “girl just answer the question.”

“i don’t know,” you sigh, “i needed the money, i loved to dance, so being a stripper was a no brainer to me.”

“do you like working here?” 

you shift slightly in his embrace, your fingers idly trace patterns on his chest. "liking it? well, it pays the bills, if that's what you're asking."

his fingers brush against your hair in a soothing gesture. "but is that all? just a means to an end?"

you sigh, a mixture of vulnerability and honesty in your tone. "i mean, it's not like i dreamt of becoming a stripper when I was a kid. but it's a job that's allowed me some financial stability, even if it's temporary."

geto's voice was gentle, his curiosity evident. "temporary for how long?"

you hesitate for a moment, contemplating how much to reveal. "i don’t know, i haven’t thought that far. i just wanna make money.”

"well, if you ever get tired of dancing, i can always buy the club for you." his response was unexpected, a mixture of humour and absurdity. “i think you’d make a good boss.”

“ha, if you did that i’d know that you’re truly obsessed with me,” you chuckle, his words catching you off guard. “i know you enjoy this place, but that's a little extreme, don't you think?"

"maybe, but you're worth it." he grins, his playful demeanour unwavering. "you're more than what you do here, you know."

a soft, ironic chuckle escapes your lips. "funny, coming from someone who's always here."

his grip on you tightens slightly, his voice holding a trace of seriousness. "perhaps I come here because I want to be around you. not just the dancer."

it was as if his presence had chipped away at the walls you had erected, leaving you exposed to a whirlwind of feelings you hadn't anticipated.his gaze, unwavering and intense, held yours as if searching for a sign—a spark of recognition that you too were experiencing this undeniable pull.

"suguru," you begin, your voice a whisper that barely bridged the distance between you, "this... whatever it is between us, it can't be as simple as you wanting to be around me."

he smiles softly, a gentle curve of his lips that holds both understanding and patience. "you're right, it's not simple. but isn't that what makes it worth exploring?" his words were a delicate melody, an invitation to step beyond the boundaries you had created.

you met his gaze with a mixture of uncertainty and longing. the weight of his presence was undeniable, a force that had drawn you in and left you yearning for more. but your insecurities whispered caution, reminding you of the differences that set you apart.

"suguru," you admit, your voice softer now, "i've never let anyone get this close. it's complicated, and I don't even know where this could lead."

“it doesn’t matter where it will leads,” he says, “what matters is that you like me? right?”

his words hung in the air, a direct question that pierced through the layers of uncertainty and vulnerability that surrounded you. the room seemed to hold its breath, the weight of his question settling like a delicate veil over the intimate space you shared.

your breath caught, and for a moment, time itself seemed to pause. the truth, the raw honesty that had eluded you, stood before you—bold and unyielding. you looked into his eyes, his gaze unwavering and patient, as if he was giving you the space to find your own truth within the question.

your voice, soft and tinged with a mixture of trepidation and longing, finally found its way to the surface. "i..." you pause, the words catching in your throat. but in the depth of his gaze, you found a strange sense of comfort, an assurance that you could be honest without judgement.

"maybe," you admit, your voice a whisper that carries the weight of your emotions. "maybe i do like you, suguru." the admission felt like a release, letting go of the barriers you had constructed to protect yourself.

a slow smile curved his lips, a genuine expression that lit up his features. it was as if your honesty had unlocked a door, allowing both of you to step closer to a truth that had been waiting to surface. he replies with deep content, "maybe is a good start," 

the room felt charged with an energy you couldn't quite define, a tension that simmered beneath the surface. your eyes held his, a silent conversation that spoke volumes—an acknowledgement of the unspoken connection that had grown between you.

as you lay there, cocooned in the aftermath of both physical intimacy and heartfelt conversation, an internal struggle brewed within you. your heart was stirred by the sincerity of geto's words, by the connection that seemed to grow stronger with every interaction. yet, amidst the warmth and comfort, a sense of bittersweet uncertainty gnawed at you.

the boundary you had set, the rule you had vowed to uphold, wavered under the weight of emotions you hadn't anticipated. you were drawn to geto, but a tangle of reservations held you back.

in the embrace of the night, you found yourself torn between the allure of a connection you had come to cherish and the lingering fear of what being with him might entail. 

“you’re here early,” you comment, seeing geto in his usual seat. at this point, you were practically excited to see him, happy to go to work knowing that he’d show up.

“i guess i thought i’d change things up a bit,” he mutters his tone of voice off, “we’ve got to make this quick, though” he starts to undo his belt, “i’ve only got an hour till my next meeting.”

“wow no talking today?” you ask amused. geto usually is the one that likes to take his time, he always says he prefers to stimulate your mind before anything else, but today was different.

he gives you a pointed look, not bothering to respond so you continue to say, “an hour?” smirking as you straddle his lap, freeing his dick, “i think that’s more than enough time.” 

“new outfit?” he muses, pulling at the straps of the lingerie you were wearing. you nod, focusing on stroking his dick, “red’s your colour, i like it. but i’d rather see it off you.” suddenly, he rips off your bra and forces you up to take off your panties. you bend down to take off your heels, but he pauses you, “keep those on.”                 

“get my fingers wet for me,” he commands, dragging you back onto his lap. you happily comply, taking in two fingers into your warm, pouty mouth. he caresses your jaw as you greedily nibble on his fingers. 

he pulls them out thoroughly coated with your saliva and shoves them into your pussy. you gasp at the contact, and crumble into his side but he forces your head up with his hand pressing a rough kiss to your lips. 

“w-whats with you today?” you query, as you see the look on geto’s face – something was off with him. although you couldn’t deny the pleasure you were getting from his current roughness, you were used to a gentler geto.

“nothing,” he dismisses you, slipping in another finger into your soaking pussy. his thumb rubs against your clit as his fingers easily glide in and out of you. you felt like you cum off of his fingers alone, you grind down hard against his fingers aiding yourself in reaching your climax. but just as you were nearing, he swiftly removes his fingers landing a fat smack against your clit, “i know i said i had to make it quick, but i didn’t think you’d be this excited.”

geto swiftly puts on a condom, raises you up slightly before slamming you down on his dick. he smiles as your legs wrap around his back, pleased by the sound of your heels clacking together. you shudder as he immediately fills you, your pussy stretching, taking all of him. 

he thrusts into you hard, and you try to meet his pace and fuck him back as hard as he was doing to you – but you were no match for him. you were practically a ragdoll as he hammered into you, your arms flinging around his neck to hold yourself up.

“f-fuck,” you moan, clawing at his back, “im gonna cum.”

“hold it,” he demands, continuing to give you strong, relentless strokes. your head falls into his shoulder in submission, you were already gushing all over him, but he keeps going, hard and fast. he lifts up your head, and presses a soft peck against your lips before saying, “cum.”

geto movements turn sloppy as he finishes into the condom. you release all over his dick, shuddering as you feel your peak surge through you. he presses one more kiss to your neck, before you move off of him. 

“are you good?” you finally ask him, as you put back on your outfit, “you seemed a little out of it tonight.”

he shifts on his feet, his restlessness palpable as he watches you. "yeah," he mumbles, looking around the room at everything but you, his fingers fumbling with his belt as if seeking something to anchor himself. "i'm alright."

"you sure?" you persist, a touch of concern pushing you to press further. usually, you wouldn't challenge him this way – because whatever he says goes in the time that he pays for. but the stark contrast to his usual demeanour gnaws at your thoughts. "i just want to make sure that you're okay–"

"didn't I say I was alright," he sneers, a defensive edge entering his tone, "it's like you don't listen or something."

“see, there is definitely something wrong with you,” you snap, screwing your face up at his tone, “since the usual geto that walks up in here knows that he’ll have my heel shoved up his asshole before he can talk to me like that.”

your words hang in the air, the charged tension growing thicker as you each hold your ground. he shifts his weight, his gaze flickering toward you briefly before skittering away. the air seems heavy with unspoken words, a tangible unease settling between you.

"i've actually been wondering how long we're going to be doing this for," he finally says, his voice low, almost as if he's reluctant to voice the thought.

“this?” you question, a confused look appears upon your face as you fold your arms. you knew what he was getting at – you just wanted to hear him say it, “you mean my job.”

his gaze finally lifts to meet yours, a sardonic smile tugging at his lips. "oh, I didn't know it was your job to fuck the customers here. I thought you were just a stripper… not a prostitute." 

his words hit like a jolt, a rush of emotion flooding your senses as you absorb their implications. your jaw tightens, a surge of frustration warring with a pang of hurt. "don't be condescending."

he chuckles, the sound a mix of amusement and something else you can't quite place. "why not? you seem to be a pro at it."

“fuck you.”

“y’know, i’ve figured a lot about you in these times we’ve spent together – despite the fact that you don’t talk much,” he starts to say, his grin getting wider with every word, “i’ve worked out that you liked to be chased, you like the fact that I was intrigued enough to make you break your dumb ass rule, you like the fact that even after I managed to break down your pussy walls, I still wanna take your rude ass to dinner.”

his words cut deep, the truth laced with a mocking tone. you glare at him, the mixture of attraction and anger churning within you. he was right in a way – you did like the chase, the thrill of his attention. 

"you really have it all figured out, don't you?" you retort, your voice dripping with sarcasm. his observations stung because they hit too close to the mark. but there was a small part of you that reminded yourself that he was just like the rest of the rich assholes that strolled through the club – and he was proving you right in this very moment.

“well suguru, i’ve worked some things about you.” you sneer, “you’re not the first wealthy lame that has walked into this club demanding more from me than a lap dance and some ego stroking–”

“but i’m the first to get it though aren’t i,” he interrupts, his tone teasing, “what does that say about me?”

you scoff, rolling your eyes as you cross your arms defensively. "it says that you're just like the rest of them, thinking you're different, thinking you're special."

his gaze narrows, the spark of something more intense gleaming in his eyes. "oh, I never said I was different. but I am special, darling, and you know it.” you huff defiantly, sitting back down on the couch – this was an argument you couldn’t. because although he was cocky, he was right.

geto joins you, his hand coming gripping your thigh to get your attention, “look i don't want to be doing this with you, all i want is to spend time out with you outside these four walls,” he says as you gnaw on your lip, considering it, “it would be nice to see you with some clothes on for a change.”

he holds your gaze, his fingers tightening slightly on your thigh as if trying to anchor himself in the midst of the storm of emotions you've stirred. his vulnerability is a stark contrast to the confidence he usually exudes, and it catches you off guard. for a moment, you're caught in a whirlwind of conflicting feelings – his words tugging at something deep within you that you're not quite ready to acknowledge.

but then, you remember the rules you've set for yourself, the boundaries you've fought so hard to maintain. no matter how much he may want to blur those lines, you can't afford to give in.

without giving him a direct answer, you shift slightly, his hand sliding off your thigh as you put some distance between you. your gaze flickers away from him, focusing on some distant point in the room as you compose yourself.

"well, hour's over," you finally say, your tone a touch colder than before. "leave the money where you usually do."

his face falls, the vulnerability replaced by a mixture of disappointment and frustration. he opens his mouth, as if he wants to protest or say something more, but the words seem to die on his lips. the atmosphere between you turns tense once again, the unspoken words and desires hanging heavily in the air. 

you don't meet his gaze as you move to gather your things, your actions brisk and efficient. you've mastered the art of detachment, of creating a barrier between yourself and the clients who come and go, no matter how they may affect you.

as you head toward the exit, your heart beats a little faster, a mix of regret and longing that you refuse to entertain. this is how it has to be – business, no matter how much your heart might argue otherwise.

behind you, you hear him sigh, a sound heavy with frustration and resignation. the door clicks shut behind you, the echo of the room's tension lingering in the silence.

he never returned after that. days turned into weeks, and still, geto's presence remained absent from the club. while you hadn't expected him to return, a small part of you had held onto a glimmer of hope that he might. but the weeks turned into months, and the emptiness left by his absence lingered.

life settled back into its routine – the dimly lit stage, the rhythmic music, you danced, you entertained, you put on a show. yet, there was an ache within you, a void that refused to be filled.

as time went on, you found yourself replaying memories of his presence in your mind – the teasing glint in his eyes, the genuine concern in his voice, the way his smile could light up a room. the connection you had shared, brief as it was, had left an indelible mark on your heart.

you missed the daily banter, the way he would surprise you with his insights, the simple pleasure of knowing he was there. the club felt different now, as if it had lost a part of its vibrancy. the nights were quieter, the laughter more subdued, and the glamour that once surrounded your performances felt somewhat dimmed.

despite your best efforts, you couldn't shake the longing that had settled within you. you had a taste of something more with him, a glimpse of a world beyond the club's confines. and now, as you danced under the neon lights, you couldn't help but wonder if you would ever find that connection again.

the longing in your heart grew with each passing day, a constant reminder of what had been and what might have been. yet, even as you missed him, you were grateful for the moments you had shared – moments that had shown you a different side of life, a side you had almost forgotten was possible.

as you stepped into the club again to start your shift, an unsettling feeling settled in your stomach. the club, which was typically alive with the pulsating beat of music and the murmurs of patrons, was eerily quiet. it was as if the very essence of the place had been stripped away, leaving behind an empty void.

confusion crept into your mind as you glanced around, searching for any sign of movement or life. your footsteps echoed in the emptiness, the sound feeling unusually loud against the backdrop of silence. what was going on? had something happened that you weren't aware of?

just as you were about to turn and leave, the sense of unease growing stronger, your eyes land on a figure sitting on the main stage. your heart skipps a beat, a mix of surprise and a rush of emotions flooding over you. it was him – geto. he was here, his presence filling the void that had gripped the club.

he sat there, as if he belonged on that stage, his posture relaxed but his gaze intense as he watches you. the familiar, cocky smirk was ever present on his lips, and despite the confusion that clouds your mind, a warmth spreads through your chest at the sight of him.

as you draw closer, his smirk softens into a genuine smile, a glimmer of something unspoken in his eyes. the air was thick with tension, a mixture of anticipation and uncertainty hanging between you. your heart races in your chest, the space between you charged with unspoken words and unresolved feelings.

"suguru," you finally breathe his name, your voice a mere whisper in the stillness.

he stands, his movements fluid and confident, as he closes the distance between you. "hey," he greets, his voice carrying a warmth that echoed through the empty club.

"what are you doing here?" you ask, your voice tinged with a mixture of surprise and curiosity.

“let’s just say there’s new management here” 

“you bought the club.” you interrogate, “why?”

“i don’t know, im a guy with a lot of money, so i bought a business.” he shrugs blatantly lying, “that’s what guys like me do…”

"you missed me," you conclude, with a grin.

he nods, "I guess I missed you...or whatever," his facade drops immediately. "it's just after you rejected me, i was pissed. all i wanted to do was to show you that i actually cared about you, for you to give me a chance.”

“and buying the club was the most logical way for you to show me that you care?” you argue. “you didn’t have to do that,” emotions swirled within you – a mixture of surprise, hope, and a spark of something you hadn't allowed yourself to feel in a long time. before you could respond, he took a step closer, his fingers gently brushing against yours. it was a simple touch, but it held a promise, a connection that went beyond words.

"why do you always have to be so difficult?” he questions fiercely, “why can’t you just let me show you that i do care about you?”

the weight of his words hung in the air, and as you looked into his eyes, you saw the vulnerability, the sincerity that had always been there, hidden beneath the surface. “why do you care?” you retort, almost childishly. you knew that he cared, you knew why he cared – you just had an affinity for making things difficult. 

he rolls his eyes at your hard front “if it was anybody else, he would’ve given up a long time ago. but for some reason you were worth it. “because i see you for more than just the standoffish dancer who doesn’t let anyone get to her, im sure you know this by now.” he pulls you closer to him, into a strong hold. “now will you stop fronting and let me have you – all of you?”

you nod with mock reluctance, practically melting in his arms, “but what about my job? I’m not gonna stop being a stripper just because of you.”

“and i wouldn’t even ask you too,” he says quick with reassurance, “besides i find it hot that everyone gets to see you this way but they just can’t have you like i do.” he starts to work your top off your body, unhooking your bra, exposing your tits, “like just imagine, a crowd full of people watching me fuck the shit out of you — wanting you so badly, but not getting to touch.”

“we can’t do this here,” you gasp out as his fingers start to toy with your hard nipples, pinching and twisting them.

“why not?” he smirks, “you’re the boss aren’t you?”

“me, but i thought you bought the club.”

“you’re the one who said if i bought it you’d know that im truly obsessed with you,” he reasons, his lips pressing a kiss under your ear as he whispers, “do you get the picture now?”

“like I said you really d-didn’t have to do that,” you say, “i was the one that fucked things up here. you didn’t have to buy a whole business for get me to tell you that i like you.”

“oh so you do like me,” he comments sarcastically, “who would’ve thought.”

“shut up,” you grumble, swatting at his chest as he laughs, “i am sorry though. i don’t know why i pulled you into my little game, i knew i liked you a long time ago — but I just couldn't bring myself to admitting it. and I'm sorry for that .”

“it’s fine,” he reassures, “i knew dealing with you would be a challenge — granted i didn’t think it would be this hard — but i knew in the end it would be worth it.” his hands lower down your body, shimmying your pants off of you, “so now you gonna show me how sorry you truly are?”

AN: um so this was A LOT my longest fic ever, please lemme know what you thought since I am SOOOO UNSURE ABOU THIS ONE. thank you to my baessss @kazushawty @satoruhour for beta reading (I owe you two my life) also ur boss was pissed asf to find out that the club he owned was bought and given to you when he was the one that basically got you and geto together in the first place. ill make a part two where gojo comes back to the club to see the pretty little stripper who's got all of his besties attention looool jk

[screampied]

Could you please PLEEASEEE do Sukuna with a overstimulation kink😭🩷

₊˚﹕. how sukuna acts with an overstim kink.

warnings. fem! reader, overstim, reverse cowgirl, dirty talk, praise, cunnilingus, p*ssy spanking.

sukuna wasn’t even aware he had a kink of overstim.

however, he realized the moment he easily stole multiple orgasms out of you, again, and again and again. all to a point where you’re an entire mess, stammering over your words. your back's pressed against his chest and he hums. “how’s it feel, princess?”

you moaned, feeling him stuff you full of inches. alas by this part, you weren't even riding him anymore. time stood still….and yet, so did your hips. he brings a soft kiss towards the very back of your neck and you’re just trembling, mind in an entire loop. “good, r-really really good...”

“ya want another kiss?” he snickers, beads of sweat racing down his thin eyebrows.

immensely, you nod, having to stop yourself from rolling your eyes backwards.

“pleaseee,” you’d whimper, and he lightly grabs you by the neck to pull you into a deep, passionate yet sloppy kiss. he tastes sweet, you shudder once you feel a rough hand of his slides down your back, toying with your skimpy bra strap. “sukuna,” you’d whine between kisses. a coy simper goes across the curse’s face as your cute frame jittered and trembled over him, still stuffed full. “again…make me cum again, please.”

“sensitive little girl. dunno if ya can handle much more,” he dumbs you down with just his tone. sukuna’s voice pitches into a low hence of mockery, causing you to soak ten times quicker and he chuckles. “but hm…okay, since you asked so nicely.”

you laid against his chest, and he’s got a soft gentle grip around your throat with another hand reaching between your legs.

“aw, such a whiney little thing,” he purrs.

he’s so incredibly hefty, the base of his fat cock, the hilt buried right inside of your cunt. it fit perfectly and you were so dizzy. “those weak legs of yours are gonna give out soon, careful princess.”

“k-kuna, please…” you’d babble, and he sits up before chuckling lowly against your ear. he’s so mean, prying your legs apart just a bit to bring a soft spank towards your pussy.

“what…? how do ya expect me to make you cum if you can barely ride me anymore?” he whispers, and he gently skims his fingers against your cunt. your body twitched and you felt everything rush against you at once. “hmpf. need need my help, huh?”

you sniffle out a, “y-yes.” and he smiles, sliding a hand down your waist to help guide your shaky hip movements. your legs could barely keep up, yet that’s when sukuna gets an idea.

“then get on your tummy, baby.”

shakily, you comply. repositioning yourself, you wonder what he was gonna do when you let off a soft squeak once he pulls your hips towards him before leaning down, licking a long stripe against your already throbbing pussy.

“y-you’re gonna eat me out—?” you’d mewl with a pout, definitely not expecting him to change so soon. you could barely get your staggering words out, and as he used two hands to spread your ass apart, he started up a slow tempo with his licks.

“you wanted another orgasm… ‘n this is the quickest way i know,” he murmurs, and you moan against the bed sheets once his nose prods against your slick folds. “is someone complainin'?”

you shudder, facing the opposite way before whining out a, “n-no.”

“good girl, ‘s what i thought. now relax ‘n let me eat.”

his voice was a pitched low and heavily raspy as he spoke against your pussy. your toes clenched in pleasure and your lips were just dumbly parted open. whenever sukuna eats…he’s so sloppy.

no remorse whatsoever. he’s lapping up his tongue against your slit that’s already starting to drench down his chin. he’s practically being smothering — your sheeny slick races down his chin and he has to take a few moments to swipe a tongue against his lips to savor the taste. you hear the salacious wet squelches escape from his lips and it only makes you throb ten times more.

“my sensitive baby,” he teases, flicking his tongue against your nub to hear you whimper out—you find your back slightly arching before you cling tightly onto the white silk bedsheets that was currently bawled up into your hands. “gonna give me one more, yeah? just one more princess.”

“k—kuna, ‘m gonna—”

“girl that ain’t a answer.” he grumbles, bringing another light spank towards your pussy before kissing it and you moaned. it felt so good, the way your legs trembled and your ears chimed and rang from the sweetened stimulation.

you whimper out a, “y-yes, yes.”

“there we go,” he praises, and you feel his tongue slide against your inner labia. you’re really sensitive there, and it’s like he knows just the right spots to run his tongue to make you squirm in rapture. “can your dumb pussy even give me another though? might be a problem, princess.”

“sukuna,” you whined, and he was toying with you, most likely to hear you whine and whine for it more. “i can—i can, please.”

his tongue licks around in soft circles and your eyes roamed everywhere, going back and rolling into the depths of your skull.

“if you say so,” he chortles, raising a brow. the bundle of nerves that stored inside your pussy had you spasming, it felt so good—you felt yourself starting to lose it. sukuna’s tongue was longly lengthy too, eagerly sucking and nibbling on the right spots just to feel you pulse. “mhm,” he’d groan, entirely face deep. “best meal i’ve had in a long while.”

once he drags out another orgasm from you, you’re unable to speak.

a whine leaves your throat and your eyebrows furrow in ecstasy. “f-fuckkk,” you’d spat, your entire body going limp.

he was so nasty, taking a brief second to spit on your clit before lapping it up with his tongue, the very tip and flat of his tongue to make sure you feel everything. “thank you, t-thank you.”

“what for?” he snickers, playfully taking a second to slurp all against your pussy, his fangs softly nibbling against your folds and you moan.

“don’t tell me you’re already tapping out, little one. think you could give me at least one more, huh?” and he playfully gives your pussy a caress before gently spanking it. “i trained my girl’s pussy well.”

[rafeandonlyrafe]

country club bathroom part one

words: 800

warnings: 18+ only!, smut, blowjob, mentions of female receiving oral and fingering, mentions of hooking up, semi public sex, pogue reader

part one / part two / part three / part four

“come on.” you tug at rafes hand, just as desperate for him as he is for you, following closely behind as you lead him into the staff bathroom, clicking the lock on the door, shutting you in together.

you’re on your knees in an instant, backing rafe up against the wall. you tug at his zipper and undo his button before pulling his pants down, mouth salivating when you realize he is already half hard in his underwear.

“fuck, such a dirty pogue, needing to suck me off so bad.” rafe groans as you lean forward, pressing open mouth kisses along his length.

“shut up, as if you don’t love this dirty pogue mouth.” you argue back. it started a few months ago, when you first got your job at the country club, ending your first shift by making out with rafe in a back hallway.

you’ve been hooking up since then, never going as far as to actually fuck, but you suck rafe off almost every time he comes in, and he makes it up to you by eating you out or fingering you.

“suck me baby, come on, enough teasing.” rafe says.

you are only on a fifteen minute break, not able to wait until the end of your shift to get your mouth on rafe, you need him now. you tug his underwear down, his hard cock springing up.

you grasp the base of his cock, spreading your lips to suck the head of his cock into your mouth, tongue flicking over the slit, tasting the precum that has begun to leak out.

“thats it.” rafe groans, pressing his shoulder blades against the wall. you bob your head, working half of his cock into your mouth, building up getting used to him going down your throat.

rafes length is impressive, maybe its what keeps you coming back to him, even though he hurls a few insults about you being a pogue every time.

“on your knees for the kooks, such a slut.” rafe moans, keeping his voice low as his hands fist in your hair. he doesn’t need to get caught, knowing it would mean you would get fired, and he would probably get suspended from the country club as well.

“not the kooks, just you.” you say, pulling off of rafes cock to take a deep breath, needing to refill your lungs with air after sucking him.

“damn right.” rafe says, moving his hand to the back of your head, forcing his cock back into your mouth as he pushes you down, making you take him fully. “only a whore for me.” rafe keeps his hips still, using his hands on your head to guide you up and down his cock, not caring about setting a gentle pace or slow tempo as you try your best not to gag around his length.

you moan around his cock, loving the feeling of him, of knowing that while you are on your knees, you have all the control for once. you blink up at rafe through your lashes, keeping your eyes on his face while he moans, jaw slackened, an intense look in his eyes.

“gonna cum in your throat, slut.” rafe says.

you shake his hands off your head, setting your own pace, moving faster, needing to feel his release, to bring him his high. 

you feel rafes cock swell in your mouth, and you know he’s close. you work faster, knowing you’re going to bruise your throat and end up sore, but you don't care.

“fuck, yes.” rafe groans, his head falling backwards against the wall as he presses his hips forward, releasing down your throat. you suck him through his orgasm, milking every last drop that you can before pulling off.

rafe tucks himself back into his pants and redoes them before helping you stand, your knees no doubt bruised underneath your pants. “told ya you liked this pogue mouth.” you smirk.

“yeah, whatever.” rafe rolls his eyes, pressing his lips against yours, pulling you in by your waist as he kisses you.

“my break is almost over.” you hum. “i gotta go.”

“yeah, of course.” rafe nods. you open the door to the staff bathroom, glancing to make sure that no one is around before leading rafe out of the staff area, sneaking him back to the lobby.

“hey, wait.” rafe says as you start to step away.

“what is it?” you ask, looking around again to make sure no one is noticing your conversation.

“want to come over tonight? my parents are gone and i’ve got the house to myself.” 

you know exactly what rafe is asking for, and you couldn’t be more excited to finally get him inside of you. “yeah, yes.” you nod. you make sure again that no eyes are on yours before you press a quick kiss to rafes lips.

“ill pick you up after your shift.” rafe says, a smirk on his face as he heads out of the lobby to finish his round of golf.

taglist: @drewstarkeyslut @rafecamerongirl @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv @drudyslut @drewsbabygirll @jjmaybankswifes-blog @rafescokenostril @jjsmarijuana @jjmaybankisbae @seeingstarks @angelofcigs @cece45450 @babygorewhore @vanessa-rafesgirl @michelleisheres-blog @outerbankspov @drewstarkeyswifehoe @cutielando @kamninaries @buckyswhxre @rafeinterlude

[chiliyue-archived]

physical affection

includes; dazai, chūya, ranpo, atsushi

tags; these get just slightly suggestive (but its nothing too much).headcanons + some drabbles & shorts. these r longer than it should be - I got so carried away

I just woke up so if u find mistakes pls let me know :) I'm posting this before I come up with an excuse to delete it altogether

-

—DAZAI

handsy - that's really the only descriptor you need.

honestly, everyone knows you're his partner with how he acts around you; hand on your thigh, waist, shoulder. having to kindly smack him on the back of his head when his hands trailed a little too far-

^ only for him to send you a pout and doe like eyes that fade when you indulge him a kiss. he has zero shame (often at the expense of receiving a sneer from kunikida who had the misfortune of witnessing sometimes. even then, he didn't stop kissing you)

favorite spot is the inside of your palms and knuckles - with a lingering yield on your pulse point. if you ever kiss those areas on him, he'll have cartoon hearts around him & everything

holding his face though? call him your pretty boy or literally anything sappy and he thinks he might just die on the spot.

on the flip side he's also… a bit of a bitch.

traces your bottom lip tauntingly with his thumb, the other is cupping your head to keep your gaze on him. he maintains keen eye contact and relishes in the way you crack while he remains steady.

his mouth is so close that when he speaks, you could feel it vibrate against your lips. but he never closes the distance, he makes you do that instead for teasing benefits :/(if you're shorter than him, it's so over)

revoke his kissing rights and he trails like a lost puppy behind you. " just one, bella?" he whines when you maneuver your head away. it's cute seeing him get all pouty - not so much when his patience runs thin and he takes matters into his own hands

-> caging you in his physique and kissing you hard. fingers calloused are rubbing against your jaw or brushing past your ear to interlock, teasing the surface of the skin as he does so. he enjoys the tremors and shivers it elicits, such reactions becoming burned in the back of his head.

you could barely make a sound with the vigor he expresses his cravings in with your bottom lip becoming captured between his canines

contrary to his theatrical displays, however, i also believe he exhibits a softened demeanor when cherishing you proper (soft dazai agenda)

the tempo of his kisses are slow yet not in accordance with his teasing. while the meandering of his hands grows greedy, when he speaks his voice is reduced to a low whisper, mumbling sweet phrases with each kiss.

✿

dazai wants to blame the bottom of sake for his vermillion flushed cheeks. more alarmingly, he wanted to ignore the way his heart squeezed when you reciprocated the kiss.

" darling," he pulls away, studying your expression. your hair was tousled, a swell blooming on your bottom lip from his recurrent nibbling and ministrations. the moment wasn't perfect, but he could bask in it for a lifetime. " are you getting sleepy?"

the pretty brown eyes you met were half-lidded and blinking. his bangs traced along your forehead from where he hovered, and if you squint, perhaps you would have noticed how the pink of his cheeks deepened the tiniest bit when you laughed at the tickling sensation.

you murmur something intelligible, the words swallowed by his mouth; he shivers when the syllables reverbate against him and the hand at your hip falters slightly. when he reels back, he remains close enough for his forehead to brush yours.

" repeat that, love."

" i said," you mumble, kissing the corner of his mouth. " can we to stay like this forever?"

almost instantaneously his body shakes in anticipation, heart lurching at the sincerity; how can you be so honest to a known liar like him? he slowly nods, his body arching until your chests were touching and breath pricked at your cheek. ever greedily, he seeks out another exchange, this one careful with a lingering touch of desperation.

an "okay" became lost as he gingerly grabs your chin, angling it just the tiniest bit to deepen it. in between the withdrawals and recoil, dazai chooses to ignore the way his breath stills in the pinnacle of moment, made potent when he twines his hand with yours. he provides the appendage a firm squeeze in coordination with the stirring in his chest, your inhales and exhales becoming synchronized.

he can't lie, he's been thinking just as much.

✿

dazai also likes your hands. chances are his are bigger than yours and he finds himself comparing hand sizes with you. his eyes crinkle when your fingers are dwarfed by his.

adjoined limbs are swayed back and forth when you walk together. same applies with intertwined legs, but when he's not busy doing that, he's playing footsie beneath the table.

he needs to be with you whenever he can!! the spot across your table remains permanently empty as he makes a home of sitting as close as possible next to you instead

he can't even be embarrassed with overly sappy displays, not when he's loving it twice as much. " good morning, osamu," you once said, palms cupping his face. he doesn't know if something has ever made his heartbeat spiked as hard as that did. " can I have a kiss?"

if he didn't turn to putty from the request alone, then it was the way you circled your thumbs on his cheekbones when he brushes his lips to yours. tentatively, he curls his hands behind your waist, holding you close before you get too far.

" can i have some more?" his eyes are shimmering in mischief as ever but his skin has progressively grown warmer since you've found him.

dazai is cuddly. getting to hold you close and listen to your heartbeat? yeah, he could die happy right now

unsurprisingly, napping with him is among his favorite passing time activities.

the closest you may get to see a vulnerable side to him is if you card your fingers through his hair. admittedly, he finds it troubling how his built-up walls crumble so easily with a couple of strokes. but the only thing he can focus on now is the sensation of fingers devoid of pain carefully tend through his hair and how warm his chest feels

kisses on the forehead when you're in need of comfort ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶

✿

" i'm right here, love." when you glance up at him with red eyes and puffy cheeks he could feel his heart break right into two. even more so when your voice cracks and he tries to hide the way his face drops when it echoes in the somber ambience.

attentively, he cups your cheeks as his lips apply delicate pressure against your forehead. he sighs when he feels your trembling hands subdue and your breathing regulate; its panning against his skin rivaled any other comfort he could ever receive.

" better?" when you nod, he could feel his grin return, just a bit weaker. " today has been hard on you. get some rest."

" can you stay with me?" he already knew the answer in his head but it still makes chest swarm tremendously.

he gives your hand a gentle squeeze, lips brushing your forehead again. " of course."

he wasn't the one needing comfort and yet he still felt a deep-rooted tingle right in his chest when you hugged him closer than usual. he depised the circumstances behind it, but he couldn't deny the way it made his barren chest feel less akin to a husk when you felt so secured against him.

his hands start to comb shrough your hair, watching as the strands bend between his fingers and he ensures to provide your scalp proper attention now and again.

he wasn't sure if he'll be able to sleep, he was more concerned in making sure you did.

he blinks when you move to press your cheek against his chest, right where his heart should be. " thank you," your words were muffled against clothes, sending vibrations along his bones.

" you don't have to thank me." he places a last kiss to your forehead, the longest one of the night. his legs shift to intertwine with yours, listening keenly to the sound of your breath until it slows into an assuaging rhythm.

dazai can't recall the last time he had to take care of someone. it's made apparent as he grapples with uncertainty - almost becoming overwhelming with how powerless he felt in the situation.

though tonight, he was sure to hold you a little tighter.

✿

likewise if you kiss his scars and the skin beneath the bandages, he could feel the breath in his throat still and his heart do cartwheels. it's been so void of human touch for so long and he appreciates the care you exhibit towards something he considers to be ugly.

" all better now!" you punctuated your words with a kiss to the newly coiled cotton on his arms. dazai could do nothing but swallow hard, his "thank you" mumbled under his breath; he didn't like the pain, but it wasn't so awful when you spoiled him like this ♡

neck kisses + scattering the expanse of your throat with baby bruises you can not hide. afterwards, he traces it out with his index finger while he takes in the markings with great interest.

when it starts to fade he gladly renews them

✿

" that tickles," you murmur, voice reduced to a whisper; you couldn't trust yourself, not with dazai scattering kisses along the exposed patches of your neck. the rehearsal of which doesn't falter, even when you tug on his increasingly unruly curls.

" my apologies, 'bella," you wince as he captures a patch of your skin between his teeth. " i think i've found my favorite form of art." he has the gall to feign a tone of sympathy, lips arcuated at the growing disparity.

in addition to the nibbling, his fingers skimmed along your torso, moving in taunting lines he knew ran your sanity thin. dazai knew all the places that made you shiver, it was a piece of information that became abused with the movement of his hands in that moment.

against your rationality, you sunk into his touch, fingers twitching along his roots. it brought a simper you couldn't see but his satisfaction is made apparent when his actions grow sloppy, scattering along the expanse of your throat and meandering along your collarbone.

" you had every chance to leave," he smirks when you don't reply, content with the way your nails briefly printed on him. predictably, he gives another nibble on your skin, tugging back gently. " this might be my favorite spot."

right on the center of your unguarded throat.

" i can't hide those there."

he laughs, breath cascading skin. " that's what i want, darling." he thinks he might lose himself when you bring a particular tug in his hair, a sound akin to a grunt reverberating against your throat.

" you're being mean." dazai makes the mistake of pulling back, gracing him with your disheveled hair, reddened lips and growing streaks of red. already he finds it to be his favorite piece of jewelry.

" don't look so down," he pressed a kiss to one of the blooming blemishes, grinning as it became more pronounced. " you'll get your turn soon."

-

—CHŪYA

he takes his gloves off when he goes to touch your face. he doesn't want the sensation of skin on skin to be hamper by the piece of article.

kisses to your temples & neck are exchanges he shares on the frequent. though depending on the height difference, it may also be a gesture reserved for when you're sitting on his lap or cuddled up into him. head kisses in particular feel appropriate for anything really

as for himself, i'd say he likes to be kiss on the lips(mainly so he can distract from the growing crimson that tickles his forehead)

but it's hard with the handsome face chūya has. his growing pout tells you he's growing impatient when you favor his cheeks, but the hand gripping your sleeves are so counterproductive

" can you do it properly?" he gruffs, brows furrowing that weaken by your persistence. his skin was growing warm from the kisses you spoiled him with but it hardly compares to the proper thing on his lips, aching for the familar sensation almost painfully.

he shivers when you trail to his mouth, just shy of it and his grip tightens. " like this?"

his eyes flutter shut when you close the distance and before he could realize it, his hands began to sift through your hair. " yeah," his exhale was shaky, voice dropping to a low lilt. " don't stop that."

he sleeps with his head buried in your stomach - his nose is brushing against your abdomen with toned arms slithering around you like a form of cocoon

it reaches a peak when you brush your thumb over his scalp, and you can physically note the way the muscles in his body sink. you can't see his face, greeted instead by a cascade of reds; but his lips pull into a grin at the action

it grants you the opportunity to play with his hair. and sometimes, when he wakes up to find the claw clips and cute brooches that push his bangs aside and show off his pretty eyes, he won't be tempted to remove them right away.

✿

he wanted to roll his eyes when he saw you pull out the collection of hair clips, taunting pastels and neons gawking back at him. but he has to admit, he stopped caring the moment you started to play with his strands of hair. the locks weaved through your fingers, silky and soft stirring a form of ease that compels him to remain still. when he did move, it was only in an effort to bring himself closer, almost like snuggling(though he profusely denies it as such and regards you a scoff that doesn't compliment the rest of his actions).

had he not been treading precariously the boundaries of sleep, he may have been able to pick up on the way his heart quickened; a solace riveting up his spine and leaving in the form of a breathy sigh.

he blinks his eyes at you, nose scrunched up when you start mapping out his handsome features with your thumb. " you're getting distracted."

you acknowledge his statement with a coy grin and chūya felt his heart swell even at its simplicity. "i know." you move to press your lips to his forehead; if the smile wasn't enough to dissipate the frown on his face, that was the drug.

a flash of color peeks in the corner of his eye as you draw another clip. " i was just wondering how you would look in pigtails," you joke and chūya could feel his face twist— eye twitching at your jest.

" you're pushing your luck."

" it won't be that bad, chū."

" i could leave right now." his voice was terribly unconvincing when brooches adorned his head.

" you would have left a long time ago." you grin when he doesn't refute you. " just relax."

chūya knows he's defeated when you thumb his scalp again, eyes screwing shut involuntarily. " you're enjoying this too much," he grumbles. he tilts his head to the side, granting you access to his hair, hands falling pilant against your thigh. it bewilders him how much relief washes over him as you start to pry the strands apart again.

you know he's fallen asleep when he stopped replying to your ramblings; his words going from full sentences, to sporadic words and then slurred vowels. when you peek down, he's resting comfortably on your lap, lips slightly parted and allowing light snores to fill the silence.

chūya is far too deep in his subconscious to contemplate anything, but if he could, he thinks he might just get addicted to this.

✿

a clingy drunk. in addition, the alcohol is effective at loosening his tongue, resulting in declarations of his undying love that are muffled when he goes head first into your stomach (≧▽≦)

in lieu of that, he likes to spoon you, with himself being the big spoon. he has his head in the crook of your shoulder, and you feel his inhales and exhales against your skin.

he likes your body heat, it grounds him to earth and coaxes a soft demeanor that he fails at suppressing

thoughtful when it comes to kissing in the public eye. he isn't fond of drawing that form of attention to your relationship, but he isn't opposed to stealing a couple of kisses now and then.

it's fast, it's simple and enough to satiate you and himself. and it's enough to tell onlookers that he's your bf

it that didn't give the memo, its the gloved hand on your waist that spoke to people that you were taken.

though that doesn't stop him from tugging you closer in a spur of his protective tendencies. it's a subconscious act he does when you pass a group of people or when yokohama is notably crowded. it's not merely because he's short and is worried about losing you to the sea of wayfarers(at least thats what he tells you) - rather, it roots from a concern that's only repleted when he knows you're safe

behind close doors, however, his kisses lack patience if the way he's gripping your clothes is anything to go by. and while he demonstrates a growing restlessness, he remains pensive to his own strength and withdraws to give you proper time to catch your breath.

but he knows exactly what to do intensify each one and make your brain go hazy

cupping your cheeks, tilting your head, voice speaking in a meticulous timbre that shakes your skull. you're far too consumed in the kiss to recognize when his free hand has found its way to your back, gliding along the spine before slipping beneath the hem.

his gloves are cold against your skin, mumbling a faint 'sorry' that's nearly swallowed when he brushes his lips to yours for nth time.

the limbs explore along the dips and contours, pinching your sides and smirking into the kiss when you yelp in surprise (inwardly, his heart is beating so fast, he wonders if you could hear it when his chest is pressed against yours.)

without the gloves, his hands are a hint warmer. but even warmer are his cheeks when you press kisses to it. he knits his brows together in an attempt hide how much he likes; ultimately, he betrays himself when he pulls you closer

✿

" what the fuck are you doing," he stammers as you press a kiss to his warm cheeks. despite himself, he makes no effort to move when you brush your lips on the other - even warmer than the neighboring pair.

"kissing you," you hum. "... want me to stop?"

" no." he hates how fast the words left him and he hates how you grin at that. it was just the thing to crumble his resolve - and more specifically, it's just the thing to make him go mellow, subservient to your ministrations with his heart beating erratically - even within the scrutiny of strangers and coworkers.

" give me a warning next time." he wants to frown but the expression dies when you crane your head to make contact wherever you can reach. in reponse, an arm finds purchase on your hip, shuffling you closer until you are nuzzled up to his build.

he wasn't sure what rumors would circulate if people saw him being soft - and frankly, he couldn't bring himself to quite care much about the prospect either; inwardly, he was already missing the rehearsal of your lips on his, a desire not easily quelled and he was far more occupied with fixing that.

you let out a confused hum when he suddenly taps at your cheek indignantly. " well?" a thumb hooks beneath your chin, bringing you just shy of his mouth. "are you going to finish what you started?"

✿

when he's making kissy faces with his partner, it's nobody's business.

if you have dimples, he kisses those, each one before concluding it off with your lips

chūya just likes to be in contact with you in some way really. longing to hold your hand and scribe incoherent phrases on the palm. reflected in the way his feet nudge closer to yours and how he never fails to hold your hand beneath the table. when handing you items, he reveals a form of reluctance when he detaches away.

i really want to say he does that thing where he places his fedora over his chest when he kisses your knuckles. he tries really hard to maintain eye contact, but it falters when you send him a beam that makes his chest ache from beating so fast.

and lastly, he never leaves without getting a goodbye kiss first.

✿

" you're forgetting something." chūya vexed— furrow brows bruising his otherwise neutral expression. he hasn't moved from where he stood, silhouette stilled by the partition with nothing but the perpetual tapping of his foot to remind you of his presence. it took all of your strength to push back your laughter at his childish display.

" i am?" you question with a tilt of your head. the inquiry rewarded you with a huff from the former, lip twisting into a frown. admittedly, he looked cute when grumpy, pretty dark eyes tracking you behind colored bangs.

" my kiss?" an index finger points to his neglected lips, promptly chooses to ignore the red hue that harbored along his cheeks, tickling his forehead tauntingly.

chūya tracks your movements as you stride forward, cupping his cheeks within your palms. he resists the urge to close the distance himself - as alluring as it was - he sought out satisfaction when you comply with a genlte kiss. against his own volition, a breathy and likewise dreamy sigh leaves him, just barely audible by the exchange.

his hands sneak down to rest on your waist, twitching when you press a final peck to his cheek. promptly, you decide not to comment on the way a grin was threatening to crack on his oh so serious face.

" better?"

"very."

-

—RANPO

yk in the movies where the guy picks up the girl and spins her around when they kiss? ranpo wants you to do that with him but he's the girl.

piggyback rides ! except he's the one on your back :/ " to the detective agency, y/n!" he jabs out a lithe finger, his dimple smile steady even when you meet him with a glare over your shoulder. it makes him more eager than anything, face squishing against your cheek as he loops his legs around your waist.

" don't give me that look" he exasperates, a brow quirk at your nonverbal response. " the world's greatest detective can't be in better hands."

" you can get there yourself," you sigh, averting your gaze back in front of you. it was hard to fight against him, his persistence shaping your decision the longer he clinged to you.

" thats the boring alternative. duh," he breathes, nuzzling his cheek against your hair. " you know me better than that. besides, i like it when you hold me."

likes kissing you. he will rope up any excuse to steal a kiss. he finished a piece of paperwork? he deserves a reward. finished eating a cookie? kiss the crumbs off. you have absolutely nothing else to do? well, his lips are right there, give him a smooch <3

his kisses taste sweet, the faint traces of chocolate and jams coating his lips. it won't be too far from him to make you guess the flavor of cake he had that morning, but really you think he's just trying to pull more kisses from you. cause he is

✿

" tastes sweet." ranpo shudders when the words vibrate against his lips, cheeks deepening to a rosy hue but the playful glint in his eye ceases to falter. " banana or strawberry?" you blink, a pensive look comprising your features.

a hand cups the back of your head, bringing you close enough for your lips to hover his, still glossy in faint syrup. " nope~!" his proceeding laugh was cut short as he closed the distance again, the ache to kiss you too profound. and with you seated on his lap, he utilized the given opportunity greedily.

you resist the urge to gasp when his tongue swipes along your lower lip, with it the tinge of a fleeting flavor; you recall watching him eat something sweet and sugary in the morning.

he smiles against your mouth, savoring your reactions and attempting to draw out the kiss. " that's definitely strawberry," you contemplate.

ranpo whines when you withdraw, grip tightening against your hands in a stubborn display - it was perhaps the most desperate response you've gotten from him that evening. " are you lying?" you tease with a knowing look; you don't think you've ever seen him shake his head as vigorously as he did now.

" i think," he brushes the corners of your mouth, fingers settling against your chin. "you'll just have to kiss me until you get it right."

the possibility to ponder a response was stolen from you, swelling lips already chasing your own with renewed zeal. dumbfounded, you were naive to the abandoned slice of shortcake just a couple tables away. but by the time you discover it, your little game would be long forgotten.

✿

his childish demeanor often seeps through into his portrayal of affection, fond of sweeping you off your feet at the displays(and at times quite literally too)

it varies in forms; one day he can slump against you like a koala, grip like a vice. and the next he decides to randomly squish your cheeks and bring a kiss to your puckered lips

" ranpo-?!" you sputter, disoriented from sudden and hasty movement. you recall looking over some documents, the next you were gazing into wide green orbs and a nose bumping yours. a self-satisfied look curls on his face, relishing in the way your face fumes beneath his touch.

" surprise~"

" what was that for?"

" just wanted a kiss." he evades the hand on your cheek in favor of curling your bangs around his finger. " i'll come back for more."

he's shameless, unafraid and bold. perhaps not to a similar depth as dazai, but ranpo yields an unpredictability that easily leaves you mellowing in his ministrations

blows raspberries on your cheeks and palms just to coax a laugh from you. it's a reaction he can't help but mimic too and implores you with a "my turn!" while tapping his cheek expectantly.

has probably nibbled on your cheeks at some point too…. :/

likes to hold your hand, slipping it into space randomly and nonchalantly. he sticky like that; appearing from thin air and finding your hand trapped with his.

even better if you sit on his lap or vice versa

when you sleep, he lays on top of you because he doesn't want you to leave him alone. plus! it provides him the perfect advantage to pepper his lips on your collarbone or other patches of expose skin

goodnight kisses (and nap kisses) are a must and he turns greatly fussy when denied such "necessities" as he puts it

✿

" i'm only going to get a glass of water," you reassure him, sweeping his messy bangs aside to press a kiss to his forehead. the crease between his brows goes slack, but his grip remains fixed; it was late, and the last thing ranpo wanted was for you to leave your spot on the futon. " i promise."

his eyes surveyed your face for an inexplicable answer and the fidgeting of his fingers against your forearms tells you he's hesitant.

a silence shrouds the dorm before he speaks again, voice weakened and resigned - it almost made you want to stay in bed with him, enveloped by the unspoken words and his endless aura of affection. " okay." you trace your finger over his cheek, pallid and smooth beneath the pad - the gesture was persuasive enough for his grip to grow lax. he didn't let you get too far yet however, an outstretched pinky waiting before you. he bestows you a broaden grin when you accept it, pressing a kiss to the tip of the adjoin digits.

he doesn't leave your side even as you fix yourself a glass of water, your shared blanket haphazardly draping his shoulders and trailing behind him. he lingers by your arm even as the facet runs, interrupting his thoughts with tired green blinking in impatience. and he watches you through his bangs as you replenish your thirst, already looping your arm and guiding you back to your futon.

not a second after your head meets the pillow, ranpo wraps himself around you, dawning a smile now that you're back with him. he didn't care if his elbow was probed at an odd angle, he just wanted to be as close to you as possible.

" you can't fall asleep yet!" he whines, pulling on the sleeves of your shirt languidly. " it's only fair if you give me a kiss."

" i gave you one earlier."

his gaze shifted to a mixture of displeasure and yearning, small hands pulling eagerly on the fabrics of your clothes. his pleading green eyes made it hard to resist his demands, obscuring into a candid vulnerability you seemingly wielded over him.

" but," ranpo leans close enough for his nose to brush yours, messy fringe framing his sleepy face. his hands flex around your palms, nails scuff on the contours, voice going so low you almost didn't hear him. " i can't fall asleep without it."

✿

pinches your cheeks when in vie for your attention. in any case, he isn't against stomping his foot and whining as a last resort :<

his pout dissipates when you grant him with a collection of kisses or allow him to sit on your lap, fiddling with the ends of your hair or scribbling random phrases on your thigh that he makes you guess

i wouldn't put it against him to randomly jump into your arms or back. the questioning glances he receives hardly impedes him, instead murmuring an "i miss you," into your shoulder. he quivers in your arms when you comb your fingers through his hair, eyes squeezed shut in an air of bliss.

when it comes to deep embraces, he nestles against you akin to a cat, hands pawing wherever he can reach with greedy intent. and that cloak of his can easily encompass the pair of you, performing as a makeshift den of sorts. it feels like your enclosed own little world with him pressing kisses along your face like a butterfly

ranpo is attentive, all too familiar with your habits including the ones you don't cognitively account for. he notes the way you fidget with your fingers, and increasingly it came to be with his fingers you grew fidgety with. if you have a habit of tugging your sleeve, it's not your sleeve you're tugging on anymore but his instead.

he comes to recognize these patterns and responds in kind either with a squeeze to your clasped hand or tapping against your skin in a form of code.

has love hearts in his eyes when you offer to feed him. if he's feeling kind, he'll reciprocate the gesture, though, often at the expense of getting something he wants.

napkins are overrated, kissing off the crumbs or using his thumb are so much more favorable alternatives to him

" say ah~"

you cocked a brow as sugar became smeared on your lip - hardly helped by the titter coming from him. ranpo's persistence was tenacious and the myriad of his treats proved to be bottomless. you weren't sure how many treats you've been fed at that point but it's evident the former found enjoyment from the coddling as evidence of his dimpled smile.

ranpo offers you another confection, a velvety cookie glazed in congealed frosting. when you indulgently take a bite, the filling melts in your mouth and the taste of vanilla floods your taste buds.

" it's good right?" he gives you a smile as he observes your face, brightening when you react positively. " i got them just for you. i knew they were your favorite."

he suddenly pauses, eyes fixating toward your direction. he pays little heed to the look you send him, not when his gaze centers south; that should have been your first sign to up and leave - you want to blame his bribery of treats for your reason to stay.

" you got crumbs all over your face," he said, eyes squinting. while his tone was gentle with a trace of mirth, the way his eyelashes batted innocently at you alluded otherwise. ranpo always held a resurgent glimmer in his eyes, one that he couldn't blink away easily.

he hastily stops you before you could grab a napkin to dapple it away, residing to instead run his thumb along the corners of your mouth. the deliberate proximity catches you off guard and given how his lips shift into a faint smirk; that was exactly the reaction he was hoping to coax.

" much better," he leans back but not without pressing a peck to your nose first.

he plucks out another cookie - and much to your surprise doesn't eat it down right away. more accurately, he crudely cracks it half, revealing an abundance of sugary filling hidden within the confines. without a hint of hesitation, he dips a finger into the cream frosting and messily swatches it against his mouth.

his dimpled smile doesn't leave him for a second even as he slots in front of you directly. his pink cheeks and light stutter chipped away at his facade but his green eyes and lips pulled into a firm beam remained confident.

you almost detested the way it was infectious otherwise you would have rolled your eyes.

ranpo reached out to cup your cheeks, waiting. " it's only fair you do it back, okay?"

-

—ATSUSHI

he holds a lot of hesitation when it comes to enacting anything physical and it shows.

modest, never performing any actions without your explicit consent. even so he exercises slow movement and allows you the opportunity to withdraw if you so desire.

he follows you around a lot though, seeking comfort from being your presence

it shows in the way he inches himself closer to you when you're in the general vicinity. in the way he glances at you for confirmation before lacing fingers. in the way he scoots his chair to close just so his thigh is just slightly nudging yours.

he questions how you're able to be so composed even with something as minimal as brushing clothed skin because inwardly he's going abrack and he can't focus on anything else

" atsushi are you listening to what i'm saying?" your voice broke him from his stupor, head perking up

in the following moment he could do nothing more than let out a nervous laugh, eyes fluttering in companion of scarlet cheeks. " ye- i… erm.. can you repeat that please?"

actually him -> (〃´𓎟`〃)

his favorite physical attributes about you are your hands, i think! they're so strong, and it fits into his perfectly <3 he can spend an hour just tracing the lines along your palm and appreciating the details

as such he's a hand holder as well. he shyly links his pinky with yours before gradually lacing the rest of the digits. when he looks at the joined limbs, it's like a shot of comfort runs right through him.

✿

you often catch him peering at you in the corner of his eyes, mosaic of yellows and purples squinting in intrigue. presently, his hands go clammy, fidgeting against his pants at a random manner; it was a common gesture of his, one that didn't go by unnoticed by you.

" something wrong?" he eases up a bit at the sound of your sincere tone.

" no, not at all," he gives off a nervous laugh, hand scratching the back of his neck. too far into his nerves, he failed to to recognize how the area became chafed. " i was just wondering," he paused, lips shaped into a bashful smile. " can i… hold your hand?"

atsushi didn’t have a mirror on him but he doesn't doubt that his face can put tomatoes to shame.

fortunately, the stiffened muscles on his back go slack at the giggle you release, a nervous chuckle pouring from himself. the erratic beat of his heart meanwhile, resumed its ricochet against his sternum, blood pounding on the lobe of his ear.

"you don't have to be so hesitant about holding my hand, 'sushi." you accentuated the statement by dipping your palm to take his.

it's evident he takes your words to heart, as next time he wordlessly hooks his index finger with yours before properly weaving the rest of the appendage. it was like a perfect puzzle, he reckoned and he gave his head the faintest tilt to gaze at it.

without realizing it, he rolls his thumb over the knuckles, savoring the exchange and the sensation of your fingertips on his. you haven't even spoken a word and already, his heart fills immensely full.

and if you pay attention, you may even catch him grinning at the presumably courageous gesture he mustered himself to do. his clammy palms tell you he's nervous, but it's hard to resist him when he's genuinely trying so hard.

✿

when he does garner the confidence however, he holds his hand out for everything; helping you out of the car(princess treatment w him tbh!), guiding you to bed when you're really sleepy, or when he just needs to be in some form of contact with you. he may even take it a step and pepper some kisses on the knuckles or rub the joints

moving his hand along your back when you're having a bad day of sorts. he may even resort to drawing shapes or random designs with the back of his nail as he listens to all your troubles

whenever your face scrunches up he kisses the pinched muscle until it goes loose again.

" there's that smile." he pushes aside his diffidence for your sake, cupping your cheeks before pressing kisses along your cheeks.

for himself, he finds a sort of reprieve by lying down on your lap. the moment his head makes contact with your thighs is like instant relaxation for him.

and all he can pay attention to afterwards is the sensation tickling his ribs and the way you mindfully took his roots within your fingers.

he seeks stability in such actions; his deep exhale occupying your dorm and meandering with the dust particles that float around him. he doesn't even realize how he's nuzzling closer into your body, eyes squeezing shut when you favor his scalp for a few seconds.

if he could purr, he would

kissing the tips of your fingers and hugging you from behind ♡

its the best form of affection he could ask for when he comes home groggy and sore from work

✿

" i'm home." exhaustion claws at his voice, movements stiff and sluggish as he strips of his tie and other accessories. his eyes surveyed the area, searching until…

a pop of familiar hues sweep into his vision. it revitalizes just enough energy to sustain a pair of open eyes, belied to the fatigue housed prior.

" welcome home, 'sushi." you greet with a smile he couldn't help but mimic even as the muscles in his body disagreed with it.

your mouth moves to mumble something else, but the words become intelligible to his ears. he was more far more concerned in slumping into the crevice of your shoulder, head falling into familiar position.

" miss you," he murmurs, rubbing his cheek against you, affectionate as ever. his hands wander down to your waist, finding the hemline. perhaps his growing daze subdued his rationality, for his hands slipped beneath, pinky faintly hitting skin.

" let's go." you gently tugged on his arm, intending to guide him to your futon; you only managed a couple steps before his grip went firm. almost uncharacteristically. when you turn your head, your met with a pair of fluttering lashes gazing at you - droopy but in its reflection was an intangible touch of fondness.

" this is fine," he brushes his lips to your cheek. the gesture was sloppy but enough to rekindle a grin on your face. " just want you here."

his finger sprawled against your stomach, heart hastening when you leaned back into him. he took the opportunity to douse himself in your comfort, relishing when you brush your fingers past his ear and scratch along his head.

he feels himself sink more when your nail caught a certain spot, just lateral to his head.

if it weren't for your voice breaking the silence, he would have surely fallen asleep at that moment.

" i'm right here," you murmur. " go ahead and rest." he wasn't sure how those words could weigh heavily on him as it did and also provide him the lull to drift off to sleep. but it didn't matter. the real thing is so much better than he can ever imagine.

✿

when you cuddle together, he prefers to settle with his hand or head where your heart should be. the thumping is so reassuring, especially when his insecurities pipe up. he needs to know you're still there :(

on the days he can't sleep, he finds himself playing with your fingers: gently flexing the joints and counting the knuckles

he's docile at anything routley intimate; fuming a pair of uncomfortably hot cheeks and legs reduced to jelly. his words often come in the form of stutters and slurred syllables, the slightest of touches jolting him.

his actual kisses though are gentle and considerate, favoring areas such as your hands and cheeks.

in contrast, the drawn-out gestures are hesitant at first. when it came to the first kiss, he had to swallow down his nervousness.

" did i do okay?" he inquires, eyeing your countenance. he feels a crash of relief when a grin curves on your lips and in turn he flashes you a dazzling amiable smile.

"good." he nods at that, removing the space again with the intentions of lengthening it and making it better than the last. good was fine, but he wants perfect when it came to you

when atsushi gets a taste of what physical affection can be like; pecks at his face, squeezing your hand and spooning you close - he's hooked. and he wants more, becoming akin to an insatiable pit. and it's profound.

he yearns for more kisses and lingering embraces that set his nerves aflame. he yearns to be closer to you until it was just impossible.

it also spurs a part of him(and in consequence of his ability as well) a yearning to leave some markings along your skin. he tries to be considerate in where he places it, but he himself is awful at hiding his own blemishes.

✿

a shaky expression drops on his face, the faint pink on his cheeks deepening to a cherry blush. he wasn't familiar to having your lips press beneath his chin, outlining the thrum of his throat - you could feel it's cadence whenever he sharply exhales, in pair of his palpitating heart.

even within his daze, atsushi remained cautious to not sink his nails into your shoulders. in comparison, he fails to suppress his shudder when your lips brush against a particular spot, air knocked from his chest.

when you glance up at him, his face contorts into a form of raw desperation, tugging onto your clothes until you were just shy of his mouth. meekly, he tries to not linger his gaze on your lips as you spoke; " is this fine?"

it's like you're teasing him, puffy magenta lips gawking at him and he wants nothing more than to kiss you again.

" it is." from the corner of his eye he could make out the faint reds that probed from his clothes hemline, dotting along his collarbone like swatches of paint. he doesn't think he'll ever grow use to it, filling him with an exhilaration he reasons can't be replicated elsewhere.

" i like it actually." his eyes squeezed shut in an effort to steady the eruption of red on his cheeks but it did little to quell his racing heart when you cupped his face, pressing a kiss to his mouth.

" i'm glad, you look handsome like this."

his smile reaches his eyes. "you look pretty too." his nails dug into his palms in an effort of restraint as he returns the gesture in kind.

-

I was originally hoping to include fyodor but this was so long already. w/ him (& unfinished) it would be 8k words. I rlly want to do version for sigma and akutagawa too. ty boxing fyodor anon 4 enabling my behavior TwT

these have so much room for improvement but I've fiddled around with it sm (๑′°︿°๑). if this doesn't leave the drafts now, it never will. I'll fix mistakes laterrr

taglist; @eynnwwyjth @anqelically @seisitive @iheartpieck @seiiblue @averagebsdwatcher @solandiss @4nthonyyliving @guacamole-roll @sunnyx07

be added or removed here !

[anantaru]

DAY 13 — BITING/MARKING

kinktober 2023. — masterlist | ao3

𖧡 — including — kaveh, kazuha, cyno, venti

𖧡 — warnings — fem! reader, biting/marking, neck bites & marking you with his cum, tit play/tit sucking (cyno uses his vision on you but only a little), fingering, oral (fem! receiving), lots of cum & kind of messy (venti's part)

𖧡 — KAVEH

kaveh will leave his eyes closed before he slopes his head into your neck, and oh, who would've thought? you can feel his blonde hair lightly prod your cheeks before you breathe in the cloying fragrance he wore— such candid scent was one wefted within sumeru roses, a prairie of perfume that had wended its way through his body pressed on top of yours.

"having trouble, hm?" a low, teasing voice rattles kindly into the shell of your ears before you cling onto him, the arch of your back more defined as you sneakily grind your sensitive cunt against his exposed erection, choking out a breathy sob as kaveh kisses the stinging splotches on your neck.

it's almost too slow to your own liking, amost punishing and it drives you mad— how kaveh doesn't give your little cunt some much needed attention, but instead wholly focuses on branding his white canines on your neck and collarbones instead, because the thought of someone seeing them was absolutely intoxicating, besides, it was way easier to spot that you're taken when your neck was littered all over with hickeys.

"mhm… no trouble." the gentle, candid noises you'd make whenever he tips you into a dreamy haze, it pushes kaveh towards the edge of cumming without even being touched by you yet. and he begins to rut the mattress underneath him in a feral tempo, immediately ghosting his hands over your shaky figure before settling two digits on top of your puffy clit— his wet lips, never leaving your neck and suckling strong on the soused places before rubbing your cunt, battering his rough finger pads against the thudding nerves and awaiting your moans turning the humid air all the more sweeter.

fuck— you’re barely able to express how good he made you feel and how impossibly deep his fingers reached inside, pummeling a hot bristle on your cheeks as your hips meet his sensual touch half way, the metrical movements slurred and passionate— perfect traces setting your skin aflame.

truthfully, it’s quite the win-win situation whenever kaveh marks you up and pleasures you at the same time— for one, it’s never hidden whenever curious eyes trail along your beautiful figure. whilst, okay, maybe you will end up trying to cover it up with a large scarf or a turtleneck, but your handsome boyfriend will scoff at you, overly dramatic, a sad roll of his eyes touching up his precious face when you tell him it's very inappropriate if someone spots those hickeys on you.

𖧡 — KAZUHA

you blink down between your parted thighs, in a daze, and whine out in the most heavenly tune imaginable, in utter approval when kazuha drags the flat of his tongue inside the flesh of your folds— the wet lick on you was certainly claiming and presses the air from your aching lungs, the pink muscle expertly gyrating through your slickness as he begins to suddenly mouth away from your approaching sensation.

you sob at the loss— heaving out little why, why, why’s before becoming irritated, tilting your head in confusion as your eyes follow how kazuha laps his tongue all the way to your thighs, precisely the spot that served as a bridge to your legs and your cunt. ah, you smell so nice, quite the sweet fragrance and kazuha truly wonders what that might be, locking his soused lips around a spot before greedily suckling at the skin, the squelching noises of his mouth echoing into your thudding flesh— earning a whispery gasp from you when his palm, that was previously placed on top of your stomach, suddenly touches your clit to rub his thumb right on top.

kazuha can notice the reactions he coaxed out of you a little more precise now, how delicious and perfect you tasted and ugh, the feeling on how you tense entirely when his lips nibble and gnaw around your skin ever so slightly while his finger grow greedy in their movements, eagerly massaging two digits on your folds before prodding at your slit.

he teases, your arousal gushing out of your hole that it makes his mouth water at the sight— truly unsure what he preferred right now.

irrespective of wether it was guzzling on copious amounts of places on your thighs and mark them with bristling hickeys— so kazuha can look at them whilst fucking into you, or even afterwards when he pats the quivering skin and prances his warm palm on top.

his mind spins dizzily now— the very reason for that being when he abruptly notices how you're pushing your hips upwards into his fingers when he kindly inserts the first, long digit into your gaping hole, parting your cunt effortlessly and stuffing your arousal right back into you.

the atmosphere inside the room too, grew in hotness before coming crushing down on your fondling bodies pleasing each other, sweat forming around your forehead and right under your breasts.

ugh, how cruel, it's so hard to choose— and kazuha believes he'd never be able to pick a favorite between pleasuring your cunt or marking you up for that matter. yet of course— and such goes without saying, as long as you're wholly enjoying yourself whenever he has his hands on you— there was no reason for him to stop doing it.

𖧡 — CYNO

cyno's grip around your wrists was powerful— so dominant and compelling that it's almost bruising your tender skin, in addition was it extremely pestering how he locked your hand above your head, rendering you moveless, so he could get a pretty good look on your cute nipples perked up all nicely and ready to receive his warm mouth gushing around them.

occasionally, he decides to pinch them, eagerly listening at how you're yelping out through a rigid jaw whenever he'd add a considerable amount of electric sparks through your flesh, then bring you back to his unwavering attention on your cunt as he keeps thrusting his hips hard.

"you do like that, yeah?" he mutters and makes sure he wasn't doing anything you weren't comfortable with, and hearing him say it through a luscious, cloudy tone made you clench around his dripping shaft even harder— but the very moment he slants his head down to mouth a couple wet spots on your breasts, you're done for.

"let me do that again.." he whispers, massaging one tit before gathering some of the flesh from the other, hollowing his cheeks, sucking down, repeating himself over and over. you whine, then moan his name, your lashes sticking together due to copious amounts of globules expelling from the corners of your eyes as you wiggle your hips for more, arching your back so you could push your tit into his mouth before he stains your skin with warm, tingling spots.

you swear he wasn't done yet, cyno was a sucker for drawing your orgasm out as long as possible, the little hairs on the back of your neck standing tall when he grazes his sharp teeth over a nipple, the trace of his canines stinging yet drawing you into his touch, luring your deepest, most desperate attempts to somehow make him reconsider, and give you what you truly desired.

𖧡 — VENTI

your fingers strongly web into venti's hair as he greedily stuffs your cunt with his cock, so desperate and rough that your sore hole clenches around his entire shaft to keep him inside, the sudden constriction on your tightness throwing him out of his smooth thrusts, becoming sloppier and erratic.

although— he loves the way you pull at his hair while he fucks you silly, even lets out a breathy chuckle against your parted mouth as you pull at the roots to press his lips against yours, so you could show him what he was doing to you, and how insane it made you feel. "mhm.. venti.." you sob, whine and pitch your hips up so he could continue to greedily devour your pussy, plummet his entire shaft inside and massage the spongy insides of your cunt— like he's never touched you before and has been starved of you for what felt like a gruesome eternity.

and venti can't wait any longer, your moans absolutely wrecked his sense of self control as he pulls away from your mouth before rutting himself deeper, hiding his face in your neck to suckle at the skin and sense your upped pulse vibrate over his precious lips.

his long lashes conceal the brilliant, unique shade of his lusting eyes as he fucks you like he hates you, however, venti was utterly obsessed with everything regarding you, strongly nestled between your thighs, leaving an aftertaste of his long, pink length on your walls before he pulls himself out instantly, fisting his cock into the small tunnel of his palms feverishly— it's such a lewd sight to behold and your mouth waters right then and there, panting out sweet, little winces when he pumps two fingers back into your core.

the capture of your orgasm hits you deep inside your constricted stomach, the strong aftershocks becoming excessively noticable due to the reappearing twitches in your hips as tears began to pearl at your lashes when you cum around his digits the second he empties himself out.

on the spot, venti moves himself on top of you the way he always yearned for, the way it just had to be, his breathing low and through gritted teeth as he shoots his warm whites over your bare torso, reaching all the way to your collarbones.

you flinch at the warm feeling, your toes curling inwards as you're giving him a few more seconds to empty himself out— messy hair strands sticking on his damped forehead as he groans deeply into his chest, then huffing out an exhausted laugh right afterwards. fuck, how he immediately sets his eyes on you to watch you relish whilst being soiled and marked up by him, being fully aware that venti cannot help himself but imprint himself on you, wether it was inside or outside, the visual perception of it alone sending a new twitch straight into his groin, his lips coated of saliva as his brain feels heavy with an obsessive amount of both bliss and lust.

©2023 anantaru's kinktober do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[lazyjellyfish300]

Tell Me.

Miguel O'Hara x Fem!Reader

TW: MINORS DNI, SMUT, P IN V, CREAMPIE, PRAISE, NIPPLE PLAY, MINIMAL PLOT, YOU CRY DURING SEX

Word count: a little over 600 ish.

-------

Telling Miguel how much you love him and how much you need him while he's fucking you.

Position-wise, in missionary or in lotus. Anything where you're gazing directly at each other, eye to eye. Crimson ruby of his eyes blown wide. A most intimate portal between two souls where the love can move freely in both directions. No loud sounds escaping him so much as those soft whimpers that you find so endearing. 

"Dime(tell me)..." he implores you, his rough, sweet breaths and pants against you. The angelic face of your lover spurring you on.

Somehow, with him it just comes. The words flow seamlessly. A dam gently breaking. Ink swiftly bleeding. Hearts calmly stirring. His soul is burning. 

Words on a string tugged from the profound depths of your heart become soft whispers in his ear as his veiny cock slides in and out of you in tender love-making.

"I n-need you...in every way there is to need another person..." 

Miguel rumbles a low hiss at your words, closing his eyes as if he's in fervent prayer. "God..."

"...so fiercely, so...completely...right now...I need you physically, carnally...until the night runs out....Until you can't use me anymore. Until there's no more of your cum you can leave inside of me...."

Miguel's eyebrows knit with passion and his jaw inches open as he pants over you. "Yes..."

"I want to take you in every way...in every position..." 

Miguel groans loudly, slowing down his hips in steady rhythm with every word that tumbles from your lips, as though he were punctuating each one.

"I think about you......every day. Every. moment. Mnhhh...that I'm not with you..." 

"What do you think about me, hermosa...?" He begs. "Tell me...please..." 

"I think about your eyes...how you look when you kiss me.... I think about your arms, how you f-feel when you hold me...I think about your voice...how you sound when you fuck me..." 

"Mierda(shit)..." He lovingly presses his forehead against yours, taking your jaw in his fingers, his breaths picking up. "Don't stop..." 

"Every bit of you....every inch of you..."

"Oh my God..." He frantically litters kisses all down your neck.

"Nobody...yearns for you...as much as I do.... Miggy!" You whine and shut your eyes, clutching onto him as bury your face in his shoulder. 

"I've got you..." he murmurs, paying special attention to your breasts. He pauses his tempo as he indulges in one of his favorite parts of you, all the while he savors the way your weeping pussy hugs his cock, delaying both of your peaks so he could love you longer. 

"Baby..." 

"Relájate para mi...(Relax for me)" He ever so lightly bites your nipples. 

You deliciously arch your back, sucking in air through clenched teeth, "Ohhh I can't..." 

"You can, baby... it's alright..." he coaxes, moving up to kiss you again. "Look at how perfectly I fit inside you..." 

He slowly begins thrusting, slowly starts moving his cock inside your pussy once again. 

"You were made just for me....made only for me..." He whispers.  

He soothes you with a tender kiss. 

"Go on, cariño..." He murmurs into your mouth, his thrusts speeding up. "Let me hear you, please...I ache for you..." 

The vulnerability and rawness of this moment where your bodies are intertwined in the most intimate act revealed the profound weight of your emotions and escaped you with delicate tears cascading down your cheeks. 

Your voice rasps under the heavy weight of his body pounding you into the bed,

"I love you...so damn much...I've n-never loved anyone...like I love you..." 

After he cums inside you, his lips capture your tears as he hugs you close against his thrumming heart. He utters, 

"And I'll never stop..."

----

[trashmouth-richie]

I feel like I’m really bad at prompts so I’m just gonna go with my “do’s” from costar today…

Stomping. Instant coffee. Cold* shower.

*“Cold” autocorrected to “come” and I almost didn’t fix it, soooo…do with that what you will.

OH MY LOVE.

hoping my slutty choices for this prompt find you well.

18+, no minors, acts of sex, yay.

**peep my little hints at 90s tv and movies—there are 4 🖤

<1k

send me a prompt from this post ! (writers block is killing me !)

Cold beads of water trickle like ice down your body. Making your already pert nipples stand at attention and harden in an instant. 

Cursing the boy you’ve been best friends with since diapers, you turn the faucet off in a quickened haste— exiting the tub in an anything but graceful fashion, stubbing your toes on the way out. 

“Eddie!” your shrill voice is clouded by the throbbing in your foot and the chatter in your teeth. “Did you pay the water bill?”  

One job, the menace had one job— one duty for the small shared apartment, and it was to pay the water bill each month. 

Wrapping yourself in a threadbare towel that had once been a swim towel for an uppity family— you stomp down to his bedroom, kicking open the door with enough rage to channel Jackie Chan.

You should have knocked. Fuck, why didn’t you knock? 

Eddie was naked.

Pale-moon colored ass on display. 

Thigh muscles rippled beneath dark patchwork tattoos, arms that never looked muscly suddenly flexed tight. A veiny hand wrapped tight around a black haired pony tail. Hips, his hips were— fucking, thrusting, pounding. 

His mouth was slack, slick like an oil painting, head back and eyes rolled to squinted ivory surrounded with a colossal woodland of thick lashes.

Sweat coated his brow, dribbling down until it collected on his cupids bow, a salty pooled tease. His rougey lips were spit coated, sheer— glossy— begging for your tongue to taste them. 

Your heart thumped loudly, heat in your core on its own tempo, hot and deep. 

And then you hear it. 

A whimper. Softer than silk, low, whiny, almost sweetly pathetic in its delivery from a deep space in his throat. 

Your cheeks warm, cunt heated like a fire, sirens going off for extreme temperatures. 

Oh—fuck.

His eyes meet yours and you hold his gaze for a second. The clouded look of a man being sucked dry took over his normal instant coffee colored irises. Glaucoma esque beauty in the dark swirls, and you wet your lips at the sight of him— at Eddie Munson— resident freak of Hawkins and your best friend. 

Jesus.

Both your lips explicitly mutter words with eyes wild doe like. His going from lazy pleasure to shock. Yours were covered with your palm, the other reaching, fumbling for the door knob. 

Apologizing profusely you suddenly stammer around clearing your throat and trying to leave ASAP. 

The towel around your middle, the only thing keeping you decent, glides to the ground—falling gently like that fucking feather in opening scenes of Forest Gump. Practically in slow motion but still too quick for your blind shut eyes to catch it. 

Fuck.

Pulling with both hands on the knob your heart races to shut the door, not registering that the towel is wedged tight between the frame, making it impossible to shut. 

Shit shitshitshitshitSHIT

With a last feeble attempt of yanking your arms, the latch clicks into place and you beeline to your room with a slam of your door so hard it ricocheted off the walls, making a framed picture of you and Eddie at a Metallica concert fall to the ground, shattering the glass.

What the fuck? WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK?!

Your heart boomed in your ears, back stuck to the door like you were holding it up. It wasn’t the first time you’d seen Eddie naked, pretty sure your entire graduating class saw him naked on more than one occasion. But this?! This was so mouthwatering better than any other time. 

Goosebumps spread across your skin at the burned image of Eddie getting head on your retinas. The two of you had never crossed those lines. Each dating, fucking around it never once crossed your mind what he would be like in the sack, or what his sack would be like in your mouth. 

You’re pleased when you don’t cringe at the dirty thoughts of him— it felt like second nature, like eve seeing adam —lol okay maybe not, but still! What your mind was conjuring up was biblical. 

A giggle surpasses your lips and you wipe a line of drool from the corner of your mouth. Nerves finally settling as your realization hits— who was it?

It wasn’t Sarah, you hadn’t seen her since last fall. Eddie had said she started dating Steve—his comic book “arch nemesis” but in reality another bestie, who spent most of his time wallowing on your couch about Nancy than he did actually going on dates. 

Mary ended up being a virgin—preacher’s daughter, one of seven. He stopped seeing Clarissa after she wouldn’t stop over explaining every single minute detail of her day. Could it be the girl with the green leather jacket? Darla? Daria? 

The horny ache in your belly soured like curdled milk. 

How dare her (whoever she was!) The thought of someone other than you pulling those noises from Eddie suddenly set you on edge. Rage burned through your veins like lightning. Spidering and leeching to your skin. 

The pajamas you had taken off before your shower lay in a heap on your floor and you quickly yanked them on. Muttering to yourself about every vile thing you could imagine about whoever the lucky girl was who currently had a mouthful of your roommate. 

You needed to leave. The clouds of embarrassment eased overhead, colliding with the lightning making a storm brew deep beneath your surface and you be damned if you were going to let the rain fall whilst still in this apartment. 

Keys in your palm you throw open your bedroom door, ready to bolt through your apartment and down to your car— destination unknown. 

You nearly knock him over in your attempt to run. But you’re stopped cold by sweaty bangs, a heaving chest, and the same stupid pair of boxers that had small tears along the elastic from years of wear. 

“Sweetheart…” he coaxed, voice so sugary and laced with tiny shreds of venom it could ice a wedding cake— then strike you dead. 

You had seen plenty of Eddie today, your body screamed for you to leave, but your feet were stuck in the icing, waiting for the bomb to drop. 

Warmth from your cheeks from your shame could keep a trailer with broken windows warm in a blizzard—your stomach flipped— dropped like lead as his next words hit like a bullet. 

“We need to talk.” 

part two

steve tied up

[allfearstofallto]

Reposting in a way that's easier for everyone to see

Sub! Yandere! Scaramouche x Fem! Reader

TW: Yandere themes, Mommy kink, Breast sucking, cum eating

It's your breasts that draw him in first. His eyes can't seem to stay away from your cleavage, hence why he makes you wear everything low cut. He knows you don't produce milk, it's preposterous to even think so, seeing as you've never been with child. Yet he constantly feels the urge to squeeze them, to suck them between his lips and lay there with that soft bud in his mouth, falling asleep on your chest.

It takes a while and a little bribing before you agree to let him do so without fighting. He'll allow you to take a trip to Mondstadt for the windbloom festival, with only two guards and without him. You don't even ponder the trade for a moment before you're untying the obi to your kimono and spreading the fabric apart. It's barely a freedom, but it's better than being with him.

Scaramouche pants at the sight of your chest, your nipples pebbling from the air hitting them. It takes less than a second before he's sitting in your lap, face nestled into the warmth of your tits, suckling at your nipple. He hums. You didn't expect him to hum while doing this, but he does. Little noises of pleasure and content falling from his lips as his drool slides down the curve of your breast.

He pulls away from the bud with a pop, eyes half lidded and heavy. His cheeks are flushed, mouth agape, lips plump and moist. He opens it to say something, but catches your nipple in his lips again, starting his rhythmic sucking once once.

It's a thought that you'd never imagined would occur to you, but in this moment Scaramouche, the Fatui harbinger and man who kidnapped you from your home, was actually cute. He'd long since wrapped his arms around your waist, squeezing you to keep you from moving as he began to rut his hips messily against you. Still on his hakama shorts, his hard cock found purchase on your stomach as he fell into a tempo.

Those lazy eyes would look up at you and you'd feel your heart actually skip a beat. It was a notion that made you sick to your stomach to think about. But that didn't stop you from reaching a hand up to pet his head, your fingers tangling in those indigo locks. He flinched, then sank into this touch, practically nuzzling his head against your hand at the same time.

“Thank you…mommy,” he'll mumble with that nipple still in his saliva filled mouth, his tongue lapping at it.

You tense. Then you think. Then you don't care. It's what he wants and you do have to uphold your end of the deal. So you keep petting him, even sliding your other hand down to grip his still clothed cock. His hips move from that slow sensual pace into a quicker thrusts, panting and whining against your tits.

“Mommy!” He whimpered, “feels so good! Thank you…ah! Hah~...hnng.”

In the year you'd been Scaramouche's victim, you'd never heard him moan like this. Never seen his eyes so big and glossy. You'd never felt his need to cum so desperately before. Nimble fingers would squeeze your waist, lips still latched on to your bud for dear life.

His hips would falter for a second, a moan muffled by the flesh of your chest. His eyes rolled back into his skull as he shook through the orgasm. You could feel his cock twitching in your hand, sputtering so much cum that it'd begun to dribble through the fabric and into your palm.

As a test of how far you could truly go, you brought that palm up to his lips. He eyed it for just a moment, then licked it clean, “Did…did I do good, mommy?” He'd stutter in a voice so sweet that you didn't believe it to be his.

“You did perfect, baby,” you found yourself answering, guiding his lips back to your breast where he latched back onto your drool covered bud. You saw his eyelids grow heavier, his blinks getting slower, until those lashes shut for good and he fell asleep on your chest, mouth still suckling at your breast even as he dreamt.

[thetypingpup]

Long haired dragon Hwa balls deep in you and his hair keeps falling into his face and finally he gets fed up and, while still inside you, he leans over to the nightstand and grabs something to tie his hair back. While he's tying his hair you keep clenching around him and it's taking everything in him not to absolutely destroy you

i see this and i raise you: imagine he reaches to grab a hair tie, and his pace doesn't falter for a moment.

imagine his hips pistoning at the same intense tempo, jostling your body with every thrust, pleasure bursting from your centre over and over again. he tires of the hair falling into his face, obstructing his view of you laid out in ecstasy before him. the tickling of hair strands over his eyes is almost enough to make him lose focus, his wings twitching in frustration, so he leans over to the nightstand, reaching for something to pull it back. his hips continue to thrust, the tempo slowed only slightly, but still quick enough to take your breath away. the sight of him gathering his long dark hair, his arms flexing with the effort, is such an enticing sight that you clench around him. he growls, low in his throat, and rocks his hips into your tightening heat. loving the effect it had, you clench around him again, more deliberately this time, just to make him growl like that again. the sudden rushes of pleasure certainly effect him, but they don't throw him off his rhythm. instead, he changes the pace and starts gyrating his hips, keep himself flush against you and grinding his cock deep inside you. the head of his cock practically massages that tender point of pleasure within you and makes you tremble, and your innermost depths mold to the shape of his cock and the bulbous knot of engorged flesh at the base. breathless doesn't even begin to cover what you feel. your head spins, your body completely overwhelmed with ecstasy, and your head lolls to the side, face sinking into the pillow. you can barely keep your eyes open long enough to watch him above you, still fucking you even as his hands are occupied.

"aww, you thought that would trip me up? how cute. just wait til i get my hands free." the flash of his fangs, the sheen of moonlight over his dark horns, and the gleam of his cobalt eyes gives a dangerous edge to his vague vow, and you shudder in excited anticipation.

once his hair is pulled back, nothing obscures the intense expression of erotic determination on his face, determined to keep riding this high and bring you both to your peaks. he pins your wrists down and absolutely rails you, making you choke on your words and sob incoherently. your cries are dampened by the stone walls of your castle tower and propelled into the air through the open window. anyone below can hear you wailing in bliss, can hear his growls becoming loud, blatant snarls as he fucks you relentlessly. his knot pushes deeper and deeper, prodding at your entrance before stretching you out completely, and you scream as he fully inserts himself inside you. circling his hips, he keeps going, grinding into you as if carving out a space for himself within you, the perfect place to plant his seed. you wrap your legs around his waist, drawing him in deeper, practically daring him to cum in you and claim you already.

and with a guttural, animalistic roar, he does just that, filling you to the brim with liquid lust.

[thexsilentxwordsmith]

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!Reader

Part 3 to Mid-day Texts

Fandom: Call of Duty

Character(s): Simon Riley, Reader

Summary: After your explosive homecoming where everything seemed to fall right into place, Simon begins to get cold feet about his feelings and what they could mean for the both of you. All seems bleak until a text about someone harassing you while you're on a night out makes him come to your aid and solidifies a decision he has already made.

Word Count: 8.8 k

Warnings:

Part 1 | Part 2

Simon’s gaze lingered a few more seconds at his office's door you had just left out of with a smile pressed to his lips. You were back and even though it was such a small occurrence in the grand scheme of things, it felt like a holiday to him. He settled back into his chair at the desk to dive back into his paperwork feeling as light as air, continuously checking his watch to count down until he could finally leave and give you the text to head over so you both could pick up again where you had just left off. 

Even as the elation of knowing you were back was still at the forefront of his mind through the rest of his day, there was a dark omen gathering at the edge of his thoughts that he was not fully conscious of yet. It sat there in the shadow like the distant accumulation of clouds before a storm.

It was nothing, he tried to tell himself, but still there it lay in wait for him…until he really understood why it was there at all.

Never had you experienced such an explosive homecoming than the one Simon gave you the second you returned from your mission. All those worries you had about him finding someone else to fill his bed had been for not as the way his lips were on yours the very second you two were alone was all the proof you needed, his yearning flowing into you until you were drunk upon it. 

That night, as you lay beside him in his bed with that post-coital glow radiating off the both of you, there was a strange calmness to the room that had not been there before. For a second it almost felt like…. No you couldn’t say it, not even just in your head. That elation you felt was that of someone returning to a familiar place after a long trip, that’s all, nothing more. 

Simon’s long, thick fingers drew slow circles along the curve of your hip as you lay close while he finished off the last of his cigarette. Crushing the butt into the ashtray on the table beside the bed, he pulled you against his bare chest that was still warm and pink from the rigorous activity you both had been engaged in. Your head rested on his pectoral, your ear pressed against it so you could hear the repetitious thumping of his heartbeat. 

Listening to the calming rhythm fill your head, the only sound in the room beside your collective breathing, your eyelids began to droop and your head became more heavy as it lulled forward. Amber eyes took notice and yet Simon didn’t say a word, not yet. With a gentle touch he ran his fingertips along your spine up and down as he watched a smile just barely breach the line of your lips.

If you had been more awake you would have heard that rhythmic thumping quicken in tempo as the man who swore only a short time ago that this was nothing more than a fling was caught off guard by how perfectly you fit against him as you lay there in his arms. It was more wonderful than he could have asked for.  

Quietly Simon cleared his throat. “Ya can stay the night, if ya want,” that low, gruff voice brought you back from the brink of sleep, making you stir against his bare chest. 

You rubbed your eyes, only then realizing that you had dozed off. “Guess I’m more exhausted than I thought,” you chuckled as you stretched, hoping the increased blood flow to your limbs would rouse you.

“You’ve been gone a while and left us both high an dry; I might get a hankerin’ for a midnight snack since I’ve been starvin’ for over a fuckin’ month. Just stay.”

You chuckled soft as you nuzzled back down onto his chest, throwing your arm over top of his abdomen to secure you to him. “Fine,” you agreed, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible while your stomach did backflips; in your sleepy state you couldn’t tell if you had pulled it off or not. “But it’s only because I’m already fucking comfortable and walking all the way back to my barracks would be hell right now. Promise I’ll be sure to be gone by sunrise.”

"Sure, sure," he chuckled as he hunkered down into the bed with you wrapped in his embrace.

He should have been more than content to lay there tangled together, naked bodies pressed close after how much he had missed you, but a cold sweat spread through his limbs as the minutes passed until his whole body was engulfed. As he silently watched your breathing settle into a steady pattern, your chest rising and falling lightly, his own chest grew more and more tight with the realization of what he couldn’t deny any longer; he had broken his promise to himself. This was more than emotional words conflated in the heat of the moment as he thought the confession in his office to be.

Simon had fallen in love with you…and that terrified him. 

This wasn’t like him, he wasn’t the type to be involved with someone that way; ever the stone cold sniper, dedicated to his work, living life behind a shield of anonymity that hid his face when he wanted. Attachment wasn’t something that was supposed to happen to him, that was a dangerous game that he knew well, and yet despite all that here he lay as his heart filled to the brim with an emotion he had very little experience in. 

That fear churned around in his mind as he placed a kiss to the top of your head and turned off the light before staring up at the ceiling. In the dark the shadows danced along the surface, creating patterns out of nothing as he weighed everything in his mind.  As he drifted off into sleep, unable to hold it back any longer, he was no closer to an answer then when he started. 

When you awoke Simon was passed out beside you fast asleep. Reaching down to the floor, your fingers found your watch and you brought it to your face to check the time; it was just at sunrise and you needed to go. Silently you moved out from his side and gathered your things, redressing in the attached bathroom so you wouldn’t risk waking him. Only then did you creep back over to the bed and place a soft kiss to his cheek before leaving him to sneak back to your barracks before you were caught.

As you quietly brought the door to latch and your hand released the handle, your body shivered as you were instantly hit by an overwhelming feeling of dread. There was no reason for your heart to be pounding or your hands to suddenly go clammy, but as you made your way back you just couldn’t shake this new feeling. 

It was silly, the entire time you had spent with him nothing had felt out of place. And yet that sensation persisted, rearing its ugly head completely out of thin air.

Something had shifted as you slept, something that was there to rob you of your happy homecoming, and for the rest of the day it ate at your mind so that by the time you were finished your nerves were completely frazzled. You constantly pulled your cell phone out of your pocket to check the screen, but nothing ever appeared from Simon. There could have been any number of reasons that caused him to stay silent all damn day and if you didn’t have this sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach, you probably would have focused on that. 

Today though it only served as confirmation that something was wrong.

The moment night hit and you had a spare moment as you lay in your bunk, you finally gathered the courage to face this head on and you hurriedly wrote out a text to send.

Need some company tonight?

You sent the text and watched as it went through, but there was no quick reply, no instant confirmation that he wanted to see you as soon as you could get your ass over there. Radio silence.

Setting your phone down beside you on your bed, you tried to focus on your book to pass the time, but you could not pry your thoughts away from drifting back to your phone. It took all your will not to keep flipping the damned thing over to check the screen for what you knew would be nothing. The minutes ticked on in agonizing fashion until finally you felt your phone vibrate and you rushed to pick it up. One text glared back at you.

Bit busy tonight, maybe later alright? 

Fuck. 

It felt like you had been shot as a stinging sensation ran through your chest. Night after night you had gone over there no matter the conditions: if he was busy, if he was tired, if he was stressed. Whatever it was he still made it his mission to have you both sweating and out of breath…and now nothing. 

Days passed under the same excuse with slight variation, always that he was busy or too tired or just didn’t feel up to company. You'd repeat to yourself that this was just a dry spell and that things would pick back up soon. Then one week became two and two weeks became three and at that point you had to be honest with yourself that something had happened that caused him to back away from you. 

Had you done something in your tired state that made him push away? Came on too strong, said something out of turn? You stopped messaging him and he didn’t try to contact you outside of a few minor things here and there concerning work.

For something that was supposed to be casual, the sudden lack of it was causing you to become listless and reclusive, to the point that when off duty you would seclude yourself in your barracks. Days seemed to stretch on in endless fashion as what was once a major part of them was no longer available to you and that left you in a state of confusion. Why did it bother you so much? You knew the terms- this was just a casual thing.

And yet you knew there was more to it than that. You didn’t want to admit that you had…no, you couldn’t… but the signs were as clear as day. You had fallen for him and now you had to suffer the pain of rejection.  

Simon’s company was something you had grown accustomed to: the smell of his cigarettes at the end of the night, the weight of his hand on your bare hip as you both sat in silence coming down from that euphoric high, those random texts he’d send either asking to see you or checking in. Now all that familiarity had nowhere to go and it left you empty.

Why did you have to go and break the only rule that could ultimately destroy you? Why did you have to fall in love?

Sulking alone in your room after hours, you gave yourself a few more days to feel sorry for yourself before you had had enough. If Simon was moving on, then you needed to as well and maybe things could get back to normal. The weekend was coming up and with no new missions on the horizon you had the whole thing to yourself. So why not go out for a bit, just to clear your head?

There was a bar within a ten minute walk from the base, a small rundown hole-in-the-wall that was filled with regulars and members from the taskforce whenever they got the chance. It wasn’t much, but a change in scenery was all you needed. A little fun wouldn’t hurt, would it? Besides maybe a few drinks would help you get out of your head, at least for the night anyway. 

No sense in waiting around for a text you knew wouldn’t come.

As you walked in amidst the sound of hard rock blasting from the jukebox against the wall, you took note of a few familiar faces among the crowd. You didn’t feel up to socializing just yet, but it was nice to know that if you got the hankering for conversation later there would be someone there you sort of knew.

There were several empty seats situated around the sparsely filled bar as most were stationed in groups at the tables scattered throughout and you took your place amongst the few regulars before ordering a beer from the bartender. You’d gotten halfway through slowly sipping at your drink, messing about on your phone when a text popped up on screen and you couldn’t believe who it was from.

It was Simon.

Where are you? Went by your barracks and you weren’t there.

He was looking for you? You had not expected to hear from him at all tonight, but to see the words written out that he had come by to look for you made your heart skip a beat. It felt like being a teenager again, getting worked up for your crush to message you and you hated how quick you were to get excited to have him talk to you again after all that distance. 

You sat there with your phone in hand, debating if you even wanted to text him back yet or not. On one hand it would be nice to let him suffer for a bit, but that wouldn’t accomplish anything. This was supposed to be a casual hookup relationship and you were acting like you were dating. Simon was only acting as he would in your type of situation; why punish him for that?

At the bar. Wanted to get out.

You shot the text back and instantly another followed behind.

Are you coming back soon?

Did he need another fix, is that why he was so curious? I mean, it wasn’t entirely out of the question, though you would need to take the edge off a little more before you saw him again; you had to be sure you wouldn’t let your feelings make this complicated. You still wanted to have sex with him and that was enough…you guessed. At least it was something.

Just as you were about to text him back to let him know that you’d be back soon and ask if he wanted to meet at his, you felt the presence of someone standing at your elbow. As you turned and looked up, you found yourself face to face with a strange, greasy-haired man that you had briefly caught a glimpse of earlier sitting at the other end of the bar. 

“Well hello pretty lady,” he greeted you, his speech a little slurred. He stumbled as he came to sit in the bar stool right next to you, almost spilling his drink in your lap. “Care for some company? Name’s Dylan by the way.”

“I’m good,” you instantly shot back as your nose wrinkled and your lips contorted into a frown. “Thanks anyway.”

You turned your attention back to your phone only to be met with a hand on your arm as he began to stroke it up and down. “Come on baby, don’t be like that. You can’t be having much fun over here all by your lonesome. I’ve been told I’m pretty good at making beautiful ladies laugh.”

Quickly you snapped your arm back out of his reach. “I said I’m good,” you repeated a little more forcefully this time, hoping that the hint would be taken as you’d give him one chance to walk away with his dignity still intact if he wanted. 

“No need to get heated,” he shot back, not taking anything but the time to keep harassing you. “I just want to chat. You could at least give me a chance. Maybe you’ll enjoy yourself more than you think.”

“Doubtful,” you sneered. “Do you always corner women in bars to get them to talk to you? Seems like maybe you’re not as good a conversationalist as you think you are. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

Pushing the stool out a little you made to get up and leave, but as you stood so did Dylan and his hand was already around your wrist before you could step away. Your eyes flashed over to where the bartender should have been, but he must have popped into the back and those around you both acted as if they didn’t see a thing. Quickly you darted your eyes over to the table where the others from base had been and your heart sank as you didn’t know where they went; this might actually be a problem.

Just what you needed tonight.

Back at base something felt off about how you hadn’t answered yet, causing Simon’s pulse to quicken in his veins, almost as if he could sense through the phone the situation unfolding. He leaned against the outside wall of your barracks and took another long drag of his cigarette as he watched his phone screen closely. The way his stomach began to churn and his whole body felt tense forced him to hurriedly send a follow up text. If he looked dumb, at least his mind would be put at ease. 

You alright?

Your phone buzzed in your hand, but Dylan wouldn’t let go of your wrist even as you struggled in his grasp. Maneuvering the small rectangle in your free hand, you used your thumb as best you could to type out your message. You didn’t want Simon to worry; you’d be done with this douchebag soon enough.  

Sorry. Gotta creep that doesn’t understand no.

Give me a min, might have to get physical.

He quickly read the message the instant it pulled up on the screen and his cig slipped from his fingers as his blood ran cold. You were in trouble, that’s all he read and it was like a switch had been flipped. Instantly Simon perked up and began moving as fast as his strong legs could carry him off base and towards the bar with murder on his mind. 

Thank Christ it was just under a ten minute walk; his blood pressure was already so high he could hear his heartbeat pulsating in his ears as he spotted the front door just a few feet away. Finally reaching the door, he grabbed the handle and flung it open with force.

Roaming eyes instantly clocked your back as you stood facing a man who had his hands on you and as he came closer he made out the slurred speech of the man fixing to be on a slab in the morgue if he didn’t remove himself immediately.

“You don’t want to cause a scene do you?” Dylan smirked as you tried to rip your arm out of his grasp. “I promise I’m not all bad; I can treat you real good if you just give me the chance. Never been with a military girl before. I bet you could teach me a few things.”

Your mouth was open, the words already on your tongue when you watched as the man at your elbow stopped and his attention was drawn behind you. Then you felt it, another presence to add to the mix, except you already knew who it was before he spoke.

“Get the fuck away from ‘er,” Simon’s low growl sounded as he stalked up behind you, “or you’re gonna wish you fuckin’ had.”

The man before you looked behind you wide-eyed at the massive figure of Simon standing at your back, but he couldn’t back down, not when his ego was on the line. Somewhere in that alcohol riddled brain he came to the conclusion that if he could just get the big man to leave that you would eventually give in to him. 

Again he reached his hand out to grope your arm as you wrenched it out of the way. “Look pal,” the slimy bastard addressed him snidely, “I don’t know who the fuck you think you are, but this isn’t what it looks like so why don’t you just go along. We were just having a little fun, weren’t we baby?” 

“No, we fucking weren’t,” you hissed back as you joined Simon in glaring him down.

“Ya heard ‘er,” Simon immediately jumped to your defense, “so even though I rarely like repeatin’ myself, I’ll tell you one more time. Get. The fuck. Away. From ‘er.”

The rage in his voice made you shudder with its intensity. Though you could not see it, you knew by the way he spoke through his teeth that his jaw was clenched tight, matching what you could see which were his fists tensing so tight that it was turning his knuckles white. Shit just the aura radiating off of him was so full of wrath that there was no mistaking just how angry he was. 

The man took another swig of liquid courage before he grimaced with a shake of his head. “You think you can just waltz over and steal this sweet little thing out from under me?” he challenged, stepping in closer to you to get in Simon’s face. “I saw her first, she came here alone. So, she’s gonna be coming home with me; I can be very persuasive when I want to be.”

He reached out to you once more and actually got a bit of a substantial caress this time on your hip; instantly Simon saw nothing but red.

That was fucking it. Whatever modicum of decorum Simon possessed up until now completely flew out the window the moment that bastard had even brought up trying to get you to go home with him. And now he had watched him touch you?! If he didn’t back off now, they would be carrying him out in a body bag.

It didn’t matter anymore of who saw or heard what; if the guys back at base figured it out from the buzz of talk that would come from tonight or if it somehow got all the way back to Price tomorrow, Simon wasn’t about to let this fucking creep keep putting his filthy hands and lay claim to what belonged to him.

“She may ‘ave come here alone, but she’s wit me,” Simon again growled as his accent became more pronounced, this time with enough venom that it could have burnt a hole through the floor. “So I suggest you get your fuckin’ hand off my girl before you go home wit one fewer. Or test me and see what prize ya get. I’ve been itchin’ to try out my new Bowie knife. Supposed to be the sharpest on the market; maybe we should see how well it carves you up.”

As he spoke, his strong forearm snaked its way from behind you and wrapped itself securely around your waist so that as he took a step forward your back was right up against his chest. Through the shadow of his balaclava, those chestnut eyes glared daggers down into the man, daring him to make a move and give him a reason to commit murder, but lucky for him that Dylan’s brain finally reactivated in time. The intimidation had worked and the greasy piece of shit gave you both a nasty, agitated look before he grabbed his beer and walked off somewhere further into the opposite side of the bar.

Once he was out of sight, Simon quickly spun you around in his arms, his hands cupping around your cheeks as you came to face him. Those brown eyes softened as they shifted from anger to concern as he looked you over, checking down the line of your body for any signs that that bastard had done anything more to you that he hadn’t seen yet. “Ya alright?” he questioned. “He didn’t do anythin’ to hurt ya, did he?”

The question went right past you as your mind was reeling from the entire encounter the moment that you heard Simon’s voice behind you. You knew you had heard exactly what had been said, but was it all an act to get the man to leave?… you couldn’t be sure, but it was enough to put your mind into turmoil.

You were drawn out of your thoughts by more indistinct talking from Simon. “Hmm?” you asked as you met his eyes again. 

“I asked if ya were okay to go,” he repeated, the pad of his thumb rubbing gently over the hollow of your cheek to bring you back into the moment.

“Yeah,” you muttered with a nod of your head as Simon let you go so you could double check you had everything. You paid your tab and with his hand on the small of your back, he ushered you both out the front doors.

Once outside, the cool night air wrapped itself around you, easing that tension in your chest from the stifling atmosphere of the bar as you both began to walk back the short distance to the base in silence. So many questions you had, so much uncertainty about what had just happened, that you were so consumed with your thoughts that you hadn’t realized you were back at Simon’s room until he was opening the door and you were following him inside like a lost pup.    

He offered you a seat on the only thing he really had, his bed, and you took it just as you had done so many times it was almost like second nature to you now. Squatting down before you, he looked you over once more.

“Are ya really alright?” he asked the question again now in a more subdued setting where you could hopefully think more clearly.

“I’m fine,” you reassured him. “Annoyed, but fine.”

Why did it feel like that wasn’t the real question he was asking?

His eyes peered deep into your face a moment as if he was searching for something behind the surface, but it passed quickly and soon he stood back up to his full height and let the silence take back over. You allowed the moment to fall away as a more pressing question lingered on the tip of your tongue, gnawing at your mind until you couldn't ignore it any longer, one that you had almost forgotten all about in the chaos. 

"So, what were you doing earlier, looking for me I mean?" you asked, genuinely curious.

He cleared his throat and shifted in his stance. "It's…complicated…" he started, but something caused him to pause.

As you waited for him to reply, everything hit you all at once as if suddenly stirred by being in his room and it felt hard to breathe. It had been going so well until that second, being here surrounded in that specific familiarity again, but fuck it brought too much baggage with it. Memories aroused by the feeling of his sheets against your hand, the scent of his room, the proximity to him after all that space was overwhelming and you could feel your shoulders begin to tense. 

You had to get out and soon before you did or said something you’d regret.

“I should really go,” you said all of a sudden, just as Simon found his voice. “You can always tell me later, it's fine. We’ll need to keep our distance for a bit in case a private or someone saw what happened. Don’t want them to misconstrue what they thought was going on.”

Still and silent, Simon watched you through the mask a moment as you stood back to your feet. “Thank you though for coming to help, I really appreciate it,” the genuine sentiment prominent in your voice as you gave him a smile. Taking a few steps you moved to leave by walking past him, but his hand shot out from his side and grabbed your wrist to keep you from moving any further. 

“Don’t,” he muttered softly.

Your heart skipped a beat, you couldn’t help it.  A thousand times you’d heard him bark orders to the new recruits and this was nothing compared to that. His tone wasn’t demanding or harsh; it was soft and almost pleading. And against your mind telling you to go, you could do nothing else except stop right where you stood.

He moved his hand down to yours and kept it locked in his grasp as he reached up to his face and slid his balaclava up the back of his head until it came off of his chin, revealing those striking features that you hadn’t seen much of these days. Idly he turned your hand over in his so that the palms were touching and he could place his fingers between the spaces. You looked down at the connection and then up into his face where you were met with him staring straight back at you with such intensity it took your breath away.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized to break the silence.

You cleared your throat, desperately trying to keep your head about all this. “About tonight?” you asked, sure that was what he was referring to. “It’s fine. I’ve dealt with many creeps over my lifetime. He won’t be the last, but I’m tough. Would have handed his ass to him in a minute, even if you hadn't come to my rescue.”

Simon shook his head as he took a step closer, nearly against you now. The air around you shifted to become thick with intentions that had not yet been spoken, but were on the horizon. “No, don’t mean ‘bout what happened tonight.”

Everything stood still, even time itself within that space that existed around just the both of you. Your pounding heartbeat pulsed hard until you could hear it in your ears as he moved in completely, taking your cheek in his free hand as he leaned his head down to rest his forehead against your own. Eyes closed, you held your breath as you waited for him to speak. 

“I know you ‘eard what I said back there. Look, I tried to keep this casual like we agreed, I really fuckin’ did, luv, but watchin’ that goddamn pig put his hands on ya solidified everything for me…” he took a breath as his heart too was nearly beating out of his chest and you could feel his pulse through his hand still wrapped in yours. “I… I don’t want casual anymore.”

“What?” It felt like a dream, this couldn’t possibly be real… could it? Was he really saying what you thought he was?

A slight chuckle at your reaction, he continued. “When ya left on that mission, I thought it’d be fine; you’d return and we’d get back to what we do best: passin’ the time by in each other's company. Maybe the separation would do us some fuckin’ good, give us time to cool off. Then I spent over a month’s worth of nights without even seein’ ya once and it was fuckin’ torture. The way I missed ya was too strong for casual.”

“Then why…?” you started the confused question.

“Avoid ya?” he finished it. “I’m not the best at this shit and I panicked. For that I'm more sorry than ya know. But ya need to understand…I know I can be rough ‘round the edges; I’m the last person that deserves somethin’ as soft and gentle as you, sweetheart. Thought if I kept my distance, we could go back to just foolin’ ‘round. But I realized I don’t wanna go back; I want to try this, us, because fuck I can’t stand not havin’ ya all to myself. I want you…really, truly, only you…”

He was close, the warmth of his body as he came down from that rush of adrenaline made the air around you both heated. Moving his head until your lips were almost touching, bodies molded into the curves of one another, his fingertips brushed against your cheek as his gaze never wavered from the lower half of your face. 

"Are…are you sure?" you asked hesitantly, as if he would take it all back in an instant.

He nodded against your head. “I want us to be together. Say you'll be mine,” he whispered, hot breath so close to your mouth you could feel it tingle across the skin of your lips. "I need ta hear ya say you'll be with me.”

Your head may have been foggy by the tension flowing between your bodies, but there was nothing you were ever more sure of than this being what you wanted. Without a moment of hesitation, you gave him his answer. “Simon, you idiot,” you chided him gently, “I was already yours. You’re the only one I want to be with.”

Moist lips were already capturing your own by the time the ending sound of the last word left your mouth as if he were trying to swallow the words down so you could not take them back. Kisses like fire peppered your lips, his entire mouth enveloping your own with nose pressed into his cheek so that you could barely breathe and yet you did not try to escape.

Everywhere his fingers went as they caressed the lines of your body left trails of sensitive nerve endings bursting to life, sending waves of delicious tingles coursing through your limbs until they reached the very top of your head. Something in the way he touched you was like he was trying to take all those feelings you both knew you had for each other and capture it to hold in the palms of his hands; he could not get enough.

Whatever lingering bit of upset that still clung to you was dissipated the longer he molded your bodies together until there was nothing left. You knew the type of man Simon was, knew that raw emotion was not something he had much experience in; for him to be so vulnerable about what he wanted, he was trying to prove that he was willing to change- for you. And that was enough to make you forgive him for everything. 

"Please," he groaned into your open mouth, his hands dancing around your waist near the bottom of your shirt."I need ta be inside ya."

Your smile was on his lips. "Then what are you waiting for? Can't leave my boyfriend suffering," you replied with just as much desperation and that was all the confirmation he required.

Simon hadn't held that title in a long, long time, but something about how it sounded in your sweet voice made him feral and he was lost to anything but how you felt against him and how he would feel in you.

Grabbing the hem of your shirt with his exploring fingers, he released your mouth only long enough to rip it off over your head and toss it somewhere onto his floor. He had seen you naked dozens of times, had learned all the parts of your anatomy by touch alone, and yet here in this moment it was like seeing you for the first time again. 

"Christ, luv, you are always such a pretty sight," he said, pupils dilating as he took a lingering moment to run those rough fingers along the side of your breast all the way to your hip. "I am one lucky bastard to have such a beauty for a girlfriend."

Fuck, you both were so drunk on the other that there was only one need that desperately had to be met and that was to feel your bodies become one and solidify this relationship. This wasn't just sex, this had become something more. You were now connected and wanted to reflect that physically just as it was emotionally. Everything went quickly after that: clothes being removed in a mess of heated breath and tangled parts, until both of you stood completely bare before the other. 

He held onto you as he moved you both together closer to the bed where he sat back, pulling you into his lap onto the mattress. "I was a goddamn fuckin' fool to push away from ya like that," he said breathlessly as he helped you to situate yourself on him where he had you lean backward so that your back was pressed against his chest. "You are the only one for me, the only one that makes all this fuckin' hell worth somethin'."

His cock throbbed wildly between your thighs and up against his stomach, that aching tip with its dribble of precum begging to be allowed inside of your silky walls, but it wasn’t time for that yet. You were his focus, the one he wanted to bear penance to, and so securing you to him with a strong arm around your waist, his other hand rubbed across the length of your thigh until he decided to slip it in the crevasse between them.

"I am neva gonna let you go again, I fuckin’ swear it," his humid breath purred at your ear as he palmed your sex, catching the damp heat in his hand. “You’re mine, sweetheart. Mine.”

You opened your legs wider, until your thighs were on the outside of his. He extended his middle finger and drug it across the slit in your petals until he split them open and plunged it deep inside. You bucked in his grasp at the shock of his touch, back arching in a jolt as he ran that one finger along the length of your cunt, mouth falling agape as he found your clit and began to rub circles around the bundle. 

“Simon,” your soft voice moaned his name as your head fell back to his shoulder and he smirked as he kissed your cheek.

“I do fuckin’ love the way ya say my name, luv,” he groaned. 

It was like your lips turned sound into gold and never had a man felt more rich than he did. 

His finger locked onto your clit continued in its steady rhythm while he risked moving his hand up to massage your breast so he could stimulate the nipple till it grew hard enough that he could lightly twist it between his fingers. A gasp escaped from your mouth into the room at the multiple points of sensitivity getting his attention that it was making your thoughts hazy. “I need ya so fuckin’ bad all the time I feel like I’m constantly burnin’,” he whispered more of his yearning words into your ear. “I should have known by how much I craved ya even from the start that it was never just gonna remain casual. You and I were meant to be.”

Your body felt like it was on a cloud, so feather light with pleasure that even his words added to the euphoria.  Placing your hands on either side of your bodies onto the mattress you used the leverage to roll your hips onto his hand, grinding down in rhythm with the stroke of his finger. The heat from your body working its hardest the closer it got to its release caused sweat to bead along your forehead. 

Not wanting to leave any part of you unloved, he switched his hand to your other breast where the nipple already stood hard and raised, waiting for him as he continued his confessions. “Even after I made ya come, ya still wanted to linger around like I was somethin’ special,” his bassy voice hummed in your head, “fuck was that addictive. Whenever ya left I’d get a knot in my stomach, cause I missed ya bein’ near. All the excuses I made to keep you hangin’ ‘round just a little longer were all bullshit. I just wanted ya to stay with me.”

Your pace quickened as he spoke, breathing heavy and labourous, spurred on by the longing in his words that made you ache. To finally hear the sheer extent of his want for you, goddamn it was like a deep inhale after holding your breath for far too long; there was no hiding anymore, no more skirting around feelings that were surfacing. You could let go and experience the full capacity of everything he had to give you without fear or confusion. 

A sharp hiss of air between his lips as he rocked along with your movements, enjoying how lost you were in the depths of your oncoming release. “Fuckin’ hell, baby,” he groaned, his fingers coated in your warm juices as it nearly dripped to his palm. “Couldn’t say it before, but I can now. I am so smitten with ya I can’t see straight.”

Christ, Simon’s cock was so hard, the tip so swollen that the slightest bump from your thigh was enough that he felt like he might blow before he even got the chance to be inside you. The adrenaline from his admissions didn’t help either as skin felt like it was on fire and the way you moved over top of him had him grasping at anything to keep him sane until he could get you off once before diving in.

Your orgasm was approaching fast and your ability to think, let alone talk, was disrupted to the point that all you could do was grind harder on his hand and focus on remembering how to breathe. That pressure gathered as you rushed towards the peak, your muscles in your abdomen tightening as Simon leaned into your ear one more time to whisper the final thing that he wanted you to know about all this. 

“Ya are my addiction,” he breathed into the skin of your neck before his lips latched on to suck and bite along all that tender meat. 

And all at once it was over. The dam broke, completely exploded as the flood could not be contained a second more and as your head flew back with eyes closed you came so hard that you nearly knocked him over, but just as he had said earlier, he had you. Those fingers milked your clit through your orgasm for all it was worth, stroking out every last bit until there was nothing more for you to give him and you sank down into a puddle in his arms. 

He held you snug in his embrace as he stippled kisses along the edge of your jawline and down your neck, delicate pecks as the ecstasy played itself out. “That’s it sweetheart, ride it out. All the way for me,” he groaned his praises. “I want ya to have your fill.”

Minutes passed with all your focus put solely on steadying your erratic breathing and racing pulse, until finally you were able to collect yourself. Only then did Simon give you a gentle nudge with his hand against your ass. “Get up,” he directed as he helped you to stand, turning you around to face him before guiding you back down to kneel over his lap, that thick cock twitching between your thighs. “I need to see those pretty eyes.”

Positioning your body over top of him, Simon held your hips tightly in his grasp as he led them down over the top of his lap. The head of his cock prodded against the folds of your cunt until he was able to slip between them, that first sensation of all that warm slick coating him making his torso shudder as he drug the length through the petals. 

“Ya want this inside ya, pretty girl? Want me to fill that tight little cunt full of me?” he grunted as he continued to slather his cock in your cum. “Come on sweetheart, let me hear ya say it. I need to hear ya say it.”

Shit, the wind was knocked from your lungs, head lolling back as you felt all that delicious girth resting between your legs so close to its goal and yet still so far. You squirmed in his grip, trying to wrestle that fucking appendage inside you, but goddammit Simon had you firmly. Quickly you nodded your reply. “Please, Simon, please,” you begged, not caring how pathetic you sounded. “I need you inside me so bad. Please.”

That was the most he could tease as he was rocking dangerously close to the fucking edge and there was no way he would allow himself to come without taking you with him. Having you sit up again he aligned the tip with your entrance and as he guided your hips back down he pressed into it and in he went. He shoved your body down until you sat against his thighs so that he was buried in you to the base.

“Fuck,” he whined as abs clenched while his body convulsed so that he had to cling to you tight, fingers drilling into the muscle at your sides that would surely leave marks tomorrow. Christ you always felt like heaven. 

Your arms locked around the back of his neck to keep you from falling off, delicate whimpers dripping from your lips as his cock nestled securely inside to stretch you good and full to the brim. It pulsed and throbbed against your walls like a heartbeat deep in your core, its rhythm making your body tremble to the cadence of a dance that only you two had perfected.

“Fuckin’ hell you feel so good,” he sighed. 

More primal instinct overtook you as your mind crumbled to the euphoria of the connection of your bodies. Being on top you were in control of the pace and set it nice and easy as you rolled your hips till he loosened his grip and you could add a bit of bounce to the movement, using your knees to push off the mattress. Simon released your hips and gave you the reins to use him as you wanted, instead opting to palm as much of your ass as he could in each hand.

Massaging each cheek as he used his strength to take some of the pressure off your legs, he groaned desperately into your face, the last bit of speech he would be able to create for the moment as your body became his paradise. “That’s it, pretty girl, fuckin’ use me.”  

You ground your hips harder into his pelvis to engage your swollen clit like you couldn’t get enough of the way it felt. Your fingertips tingled with the prickling sensation of them running over the cropped bottom of Simon’s blonde locks as you rode him, every part of you from your head down to your toes in pure bliss. It was overwhelming, intense, mind-numbing, and you did not want it to stop. 

You were consumed with the pleasure of him and nothing else.

The desire to kiss again intensified, but the ecstasy running like magma through your veins left you both unable to do little else than to moan and gasp uncontrollably into each other's slack mouths, moist air being siphoned between one mouth into the other. Damp hair clung to the sides of your face and the back of your neck as the muscles in your thighs strained and flesh stuck against sweaty flesh.

Too much, too fucking much, and yet he need even more. Simon could not stand it any longer, the need to drill into you took over him and leaning himself back slightly he held your hips in place as he thrust up into you with strong snaps of his pelvis. The pressure of his cock being forced into your dripping cunt caused wet, slapping sounds to fill the space to accentuate the squeaking now emanating from the springs in his bed.

The pace was now his and by its slowly increasing speed you knew he was getting close; he only got this desperate when he was about to finish. You were right there with him, the stimulation of your clit helping to start that warm tightening in your stomach so that now you were so sensitive it would not take much more from him to send you over the edge.

More aggressively he thrust inside all the way up until he reached the base of his phallus, nearly bottoming out in you the harder he went. It was impossible not to get lost in the feeling of something so silky, so tight, so warm, not when it belonged to someone he needed like air. Goddammit he was aching to come, the struggle about to give out at any minute.

His hand pawed at your face, holding you by the cheek to prop your head up as you bobbed with his thrusts so that those amber eyes could meet yours. “Come with me baby,” he made his grunted plea, “come on, I wanna do this togetha. Are ya close?”

You nodded exaggeratedly to convey the messages since you were still not able to form words. Thrust after thrust he continued to pound into you, each one making that knot in your stomach grow stronger and stronger until finally like the flick of a switch it was over and you cried out as you came all over his cock, shuddering as the electric spark snaked its way up your spine while you sticky juices dripped down to his pelvis.

Simon, having completed his work, finally allowed himself to let go and he came with a fury and a shaky loud groan that ripped out from his chest. His body convulsed as he drained his swollen balls dry. “That’s it, that’s it sweetheart,” he repeated over and over breathlessly as you both rode out that high through to the very end. 

You fell forward into him, exhausted and satisfied while he still clung to your body so that his warm breath wafted over your shoulder as he came back down from the ecstasy. He didn't want to let you go and you were more than content to stay nestled in his arms for as long as possible just to feel him. After a moment his sweat-speckled forehead came to rest on your shoulder, his arms never loosening one bit.

“No one ever gets me like this, save for you,” he whispered into your skin before placing a kiss to seal it in. “And no one is ever gonna get the chance now cause I ain’t ever gonna let ya go.” 

Eventually his heart rate slowed enough that he could breathe normally again and as he did he eased you both down to the mattress on your sides so that his arms could stay wrapped tight. Against his chest he held you close as his fingers ran long, gentle lines along your spine and up into your hair in a tender gesture that soothed you back down into a calm.

At least your body was, but this was uncharted territory you were dealing with now that you had both made it official to one another and that brought along with it a whole slew of new dilemmas that you would face. And of course, you being the one to always be prepared, couldn’t help but bring up a few in that comfortable post-coital silence that followed.  

"You know that we are going to have to be even more careful now," you mused aloud. "What if a recruit tries to hit on me or something? What if I slip up and tell them about us?"

“Doesn’t matter what ya tell 'em. You're taken, so just tell 'em that,” he muttered sleepily as he worked those digits over your skin. 

“I don’t think Price is gonna be happy with us if and when he finds out we’re in a relationship,” you commented, still stuck on the line of thinking currently plaguing your mind. "I don't want you to get in trouble or anything, ya kn…."

His strong hands were already wrapped around your cheeks in an instant as Simon leaned into your face to peck your lips to stop you from speaking. “Stop fuckin’ worrin’, sweetheart. I don’t care,” he reassured softly. “We can figure all that shit out later. Right now, I want to lay ‘ere with my girl; fuck the rest. I'm not runnin', not anymore, so there’s plenty of time for us to work this out.”

His girl. His. Yeah, you could get used to him calling you that.

As you snuggled back down against him, you weren’t sure what this new development would bring for you both in the coming days, if it would be a struggle or not, but you knew that nothing could be as hard as not being together. Whatever it was you had to do to preserve this, you would.

Tag list: @ashcarmine @moviefreak1205 @dragonstoneshortcake

[themeeplord]

@naffeclipse‘s cryptid boys, but they're a Monster Hunter icon!

I've wanted to make another MH World style icon ever since I made my first one. But I didn't know what I wanted to turn into an icon,, until now!! Making this was so much fun!!!

I'd love making more of these! I just gotta figure out what/who I should draw next.. and also get the time to draw it... :')

(Nerdy ranting and stuff under the cut)

Ah yes, combining two of my brainrots. No one asked for this. Only my brain did. Please don’t mind me in my weird little corner.

I would love to fight them in a Monster Hunter game! They'd DEFINITELY be a powerful elder dragon of some sort! I don't know what ailments they'd inflict, definitely bleed but I don't know what else. Maybe they can make the arena pitch black and move unseen in the shadows, only giving away where they are from their glowing red eyes. Maybe they can throw sticky demon goo at you, making little puddles where you slow down or even get stuck if you get hit by one of theier projectiles directly, kinda like being stuck in tar. And while you're stuck they're getting ready to swing their giant powerful arms at you!

Hands and face are definitely weak points. Breakable horns, back and claws! I wonder what their armor and weapons would look like!! :O

I can't help but fantasize about their music too! I think making it quiet instead of large and grandiose works better for them. Something that would fit their elusiveness. Low rumbling notes with some higher notes and fast tempo bits scattered around to keep you on your toes, never knowing when and where their next attack will strike as they stalk you in the shadows.

Is it weird that in one moment I wanna cuddle this creature and in the next I wanna fight them and make armor and weapons out of their body parts kljfbvlasjkvbs