#my brain does not work clearly enough for this

[comicaurora]

How do you manage to motivate yourself when you're feeling tired or depressed?

Usually I try to give myself time to rest until those feelings lessen, since they're generally symptomatic of having pushed too hard, but on occasions where tiredness seems to be getting a little too cozy with depression, there's a few things I do.

I've observed in myself a habit of sort of… waiting in a holding pattern for something to push me into action. "Something" isn't defined clearly, but it becomes a real problem on depressed or low-executive-function days. This might just BE what low executive function feels like, tbh; like there's some invisible trigger and I can't Do The Thing until something trips it. When I notice I'm stuck in a holding pattern, I have a few tricks to snap myself out of it:

Flip a coin. Heads I get up and Do The Thing, tails I don't. The simple act of challenging myself is enough to motivate me sometimes, regardless of the outcome, but sometimes this makes me realize that I am legitimately tired, so I stay put and recharge a little until I want to flip for it again.

Set a five- or ten-minute timer and do whatever I need to do until the timer runs out. An artificial deadline can bypass the holding pattern. Sometimes this gives me momentum, and when the timer runs out I keep going. Sometimes this does NOT build momentum, and I crash after the timer runs out - but I crash with five more minutes of progress done. Any progress is better than no progress.

Assume Direct Control. This one only works sometimes, but sometimes it's as simple as breaking down a list of individual units of tangible progress - Get Off Of Bed, Put On Pants, Plug In Tablet, Etc Etc - and just grab the manual controls in my brain and make myself do each thing in turn. Sometimes I'll assume direct control to make myself take a Stupid Mental Health Walk, which has thus far worked every time to improve my mood and energy even though when I am in a Low Mood the last thing I want to do is subject myself to the mortifying ordeal of wearing pants and dealing with people.

I also find that sometimes it's helpful to pull the thread of what you're waiting for. Sometimes I'll realize I've locked myself into a weird paralysis because I've accidentally made something a prerequisite for other tasks. For example, I might realize I'm feeling weirdly frozen and uncomfortable because I haven't taken out the trash, and I've told myself I can't do X Y and Z until the trash is taken out, but I don't want to take out the trash, so I've locked X Y and Z behind Unpleasant Task in a subconscious attempt to motivate myself to Do The Task but instead I've just dramatically reduced the number of things I feel I can do. Often just noticing this pattern is enough to break out of it.

I also find that sometimes the invisible trigger I'm waiting for is just waiting to want to do something. That is unfortunately a trap. There are many things you can enjoy or benefit from without wanting to do them beforehand, because the thought of it is unpleasant or scary or anxiety-inducing or otherwise loaded down with what-ifs and caveats. I will never WANT to have a doctor's appointment, but I feel very good AFTER arranging and going to one. I very rarely WANT to exercise, but after the fact I feel very rewarded and more confident in my abilities. I've only WANTED to go on like a third of the walks I've taken this year, but every single one of them has been pleasant and beneficial to my mental health. Sometimes you just gotta say "I don't WANT to do it, but I'll be glad I did it" and manually pilot yourself into Doing It.

[discountsoysauce]

Because I am notoriously awful at actually writing the things I'm thinking about, here is a list of ideas I have but probably won't get around to writing any time soon

[littlestarking]

i got my academic record today and all my elementary school report cards are making me wonder why i wasn't diagnosed earlier

[luxraydyne]

wait, dude, wait. aini was supposed to be cosmic horror??

girl, seriously? i dunnooooo i’m not really feeling it fellas

[lyrefromthesea]

Male pillars x Reader - sitting on their lap

author's note: I'm strictly against any kind of sexual interactions with minors. That's why I will either exclude Muichiro from such fics of or portray a wholesome interaction instead.

pairing: Tengen x reader, Obanai x reader, Rengoku x reader, Sanemi x reader, Giyuu x reader, Muichiro x reader, Gyomei x reader

content warning: suggestive words and actions

Tengen:

"excuse me? I'm married!" he dramatically exclaimed, looking down at you. the man was already trying to refrain from smiling, watching you turn your head towards him.

"i'm sure Hinatsuru, Makio and Suma will forgive me." you answered, showing him your hand. he smirked at the all too familiar ring. he was glad he had married you.

"just playin', i could never disappoint the flamboyant person i married!" he laughed, clearly proud of himself. when you cocked your eyebrow at him, he let out a dramatic gasp, pulling you closer.

"are you trying to say i'm not the most perfect husband you could imagine?" he asked, displaying a huge amount of shock. you knew he was just making fun, especially when he pressed your back against his chest, bringing his lips to your ear.

"you were saying entirely different things yesterday." he said, watching you shudder at his words. you slapped his knee, scolding him for saying such things outside.

"come on, you know you love it!"

Obanai:

he freezes, his brain nearly malfunctioning. it's not like you've never sat on his lap before, but you usually gave him a warning first - asked for his approval.

"[name]? what's-" he asked, surprised when your arms wrapped around his neck, barely giving Kaburamaru time to slither away. words got stuck in his throat, feeling your lips against his mask - right above his own.

"nothing. i was just feeling affectionate." you answered, shifting to wrap your arms around his torso. he looked down at you, letting out a quiet yelp when your hips moved a bit too much on his lap.

"oh..?" you looked at him, a smile slowly forming on your lips. a blush made his way towards his cheeks, luckily covered by his mask. at least he felt lucky, you would've liked to see him blush.

"it looks like you're feeling affectionate too, Obanai." you chuckled, purposely drawing light circles with your hips. of course you had noticed the growing bulge in his pants, his hands now holding yours.

"don't tease me, [name].."

Rengoku:

"little flame! how was your day?" he enthusiastically asked, his arms wrapping around your torso. he pulled you closer, placing his chin on your shoulder.

"it was okay, i missed you." you answered, leaning against his chest. he smiled at you, enjoying the way your bodies were pressed together so gently.

"we can't have that, little flame! how about we go eat later?" he asked, holding you a bit closer. you chuckled at his words, he really loved taking you to new places - especially restaurants.

"i'd like that. let's go eat something later."

Sanemi:

"and what the hell are you doing?" Sanemi asked, feeling you make yourself comfortable on his lap.

he had cleaned his sword moments prior, hearing the door open - it was you. you moved towards him without warning, getting between him and his sword.

"getting your attention." you answered, moving even closer. don't think he didn't notice the way you purposely squished your chest against his own.

"yeah? didn't I give ya enough attention, sweetheart?" he teased, watching you pout in response. you had been alone for far too long, you finally wanted to spend time with him.

"you've been working on your sword for two hours now.." you complained. he placed it down, knowing that you were right. he just felt like the proper care could safe his ass one day, though a shiny sword probably wasn't that important.

"fine, ya win. this was getting uncomfortable anyways." he answered, almost making you question what he meant until he pressed his hips against yours more. oh, now you could feel it too.

"does that mean you want my attention as well-" you asked playfully, getting cut off by his lips pressing against yours before you could finished talking.

Giyuu:

"is everything alright?" his voice broke the silence, you've been sitting on his lap for almost 5 minutes now, not saying a single word. he was confused, not sure if you were fine or needed help.

"Giyuu, attention?" you asked, feeling him relax under you. he had been tense, thinking you could've been hurt somewhere. your words instantly calmed him down, his lips pressing against yours gently.

he didn't expect you to turn his soft kiss into something more passionate. his hands slowly came to hold your hips, tongues swishing against each other.

you broke the kiss, panting against his lips. he pressed his forehead against yours, pulling you a bit closer, only to have your hips start grinding slightly.

"l- love.. t- that's not.." he muttered, his cheeks visibly growing more red. hands squeezing your hips more, trying to create more friction. he could only moan when you finally started grinding against him properly.

"i.. i need to go on a mission later.." he panted against your lips, but he didn't object when you kissed him again, your hand wandering to his belt.

Muichiro:

"Muichiro! i finally caught up to you.." you heaved, letting yourself fall onto his lap. you had been running for nearly twenty minutes now, watching the boy leave his estate without food. being the good friend you were, you ran after him.

"[name]? what are you doing here..?" he asked, letting you lean against him. your cheeks were flushed from running. it would've been different if you also were a hashira, but you still had much to learn.

"you.. you forget your food, Mui.." you panted, reaching into your pocket. he looked rather surprised when he saw the small box of food he usually brought with him.

"thank you..! i've completely forgotten." he laughed, eventually coaxing a smile out of you. you gave him the box, seeing his eyes lit up at the promise of food.

he wanted to dive right in before he had a quiet growl come from your stomach, making your cheeks flush. "do you want some?" he asked, watching you shake your head.

"i brought my own!" you countered, grabbing into your back once more. silence filled the room when you noticed you had only brought his food.

his arm wrapped around your torso, forcing you to stay on his lap a while longer. "let's share." he said, offering you some of his food. you knew he wouldn't let you go until you have had a healthy portion.

Gyomei:

"welcome back." the giant said, feeling you plop onto his lap, nuzzling against his chest. you let out a tired hum, feeling a large hand soothingly rub over your arm.

"is there something wrong? you're more quiet than usual." he asked, gently bringing your head closer with his hand - allowing you to be closer to him. you could hear the gentle rhythm of his heartbeat.

your day had been stressful, but he somehow always managed to calm you down. his warmth. his voice. his actions. they put your mind at ease.

"i know it's ridiculous, but i've felt really stressed out lately. i just want a break.." you muttered, closing your eyes. you were trying to focus on his heartbeat and ignore everything else around you.

"it's not ridiculous, you deserve a break. perhaps a visit to the hot spring would help calm you down?" he offered, feeling you nod against his chest. you felt warm hands rub over your thighs, his head now closer to yours.

"and i could pamper you a bit more after that.." he muttered against your ear, your eyes opening again. the warmth pooling in your gut could probably rival the hot spring's temperature

[thoughtfulseason]

yesterday coach brought up two of my insecurities/traumas from school which made cry when i got home and today i feel like my writing’s not enough 😩 pls treat me nicer

[tasteleeknow]

RASPBERRY PIE

minors dni. minho x fem!reader. 4k words content warnings. pet names (sweetheart, angel). mutual pining. sweet/shy reader. perv!minho. corruption kink. food play. dirty talk. oral (m rec.). soft!dom minho.

you bake your quiet neighbour a warm raspberry pie.

He's pretty sure he's utterly fucked from the jump – he finds himself attached so early he almost convinces himself you're a witch in disguise; that maybe he'd moved in next door to a creature designed to trap men like him. A siren, maybe. The sweetness was an act; all the soft tones and doe eyed looks were just a trick to lure him down beneath the waves.

He was determined not to drown.

And then you show up with the pie, a little flushed from working around a hot oven. It'd been 6 months – 6 months since he'd moved in, and as he opens the door to find you in an apron with little pink stains, a feeling of approaching and inevitable doom settles in his chest. Finally, you'd come to take him.

"Hi," you greet with a shy smile. "My friend brought me over far too many berries yesterday so..." you look down at the golden pie, carefully decorated and clearly still warm, "...well I made this. For you."

If he was wise, he'd politely decline, close the door, and never be faced with the reality of the sweet little siren in his apartment, offerings of temptation and all.

"For me?"

You look up at him through long lashes. "Do you like pie?" you ask. It's the way you say it, like if he doesn't you might genuinely hurt inside – like with a simple rejection of your offering, he had the ability to snuff out some little candle alight inside you.

"I like pie," he says.

Then you smile. Like it's the best news you've heard in weeks. "Oh, good."

He steps aside, his body betraying him. The siren enters with her warm pie and soft smiles – and he knows, unequivocally, that he's fucked.

He keeps his distance as you comfortably navigate to the kitchen to find a place for your offering. The apartments were all pretty much identical as far as he knew. The two on this floor, his and yours, were mirrored. He imagines that just on the other side of your joining wall, you took the same steps he did he each morning, in parallel.

You fiddle a little with the delicately placed raspberries atop the pie as he approaches from the other side of the island. You wear a tiny silver ring on one finger, much like one he wears on his own. He'd spotted it before, during short interactions in the elevator. He suppresses the urge to comment on it now, to ask if it meant anything to you.

He doesn't need to know you. He couldn't afford to. He was finding himself attached enough without it.

Then you pluck one little berry up in your fingers and bring it to your lips. He watches you. He watches you and he knows that he's walked willingly into a trap.

"Sweet?"

You look up. "Hm? Oh." You nod. "They're lovely. My friend gets them from this farm near his parent's place."

Friend. His. He sits in the feeling that stirs in his chest for a quiet moment. It's a rotten feeling. He doesn't like it at all.

"He brings them often?" he finds himself asking.

"Not at all. He just happened to come by after being there for a weekend. He doesn't go there often, I don't think." Your accompanying smile is almost enough to snuff out the rotten feeling before he has time to digest it. Almost.

Then he considers that this might not be the only pie. You may have made this other guy a pie just like it... maybe it was bigger, maybe you'd used the sweetest berries in his pie.

He kicks a cat toy across the floor as he stuffs his hands in his pockets, a little embarrassed by his own internal monologue. Witchcraft, turning his brain into mush.

"You have a pretty view."

He looks up to find you brushing your hands down your apron and rounding the kitchen island. You seem drawn to his floor to ceiling windows, a little moth to the light.

He follows.

"Mine isn't nearly this nice," you continue once he's standing beside you. "All I get is the construction site and a concrete wall." Then you close your eyes, head tilting back a little to let the sun's afternoon rays bathe your face. "Don't get the sun like this, either," you add, a little dreaminess leaking into your already sweet voice.

Oh, he's fucked.

"You like it?"

You blink up at him, eyes adjusting to the light again. "Hm?"

"I mean if you really like it, you're welcome over anytime, whenever." He wonders if this is part of your spell work, making him say stupid shit. Maybe he'd be better off if you were casting spells on him, if he had a reasonable excuse for being so fucking braindead. "For the sun," he adds, like it makes it better.

A small breath of laughter slips from your pretty lips. "It does get a little gloomy over there, on my side of the wall."

It was hard to imagine anywhere you were being gloomy.

"I should go," you continue after a short moment of comfortable silence, each of you basking in the sunlight. He really should appreciate that more, he notes. Then he considers the fact he'll associate this little patch of warmth with you each time he attempts such a thing.

"Sure," he says, following you from a safe distance to the door. "Thank you. For the pie."

"You're welcome."

Everything is fine. He's alone and he survived the encounter. Then he's faced with the pie. He stares down at it, warm and made with careful hands.

He plucks a berry off the top. He thinks of the berry you'd eaten in the same way.

Everything is fine.

He hesitates as he goes to pluck a second berry. Instead of lifting one from the crust, he presses the tip of his finger a little against the surface. Warm. He breaks through. His finger is coated in syrupy, red filling when he pulls it free. It's sugary sweet when he sucks it clean.

Shame. That's what he feels next. Because sweet gestures of neighbourly kindness should not trigger the kind of thoughts creeping their way into his head.

He wonders if the little siren's cunt is as warm and sweet as the little offering she brought him. He considers doing the right thing, having a cold shower and sitting in the morning sun with a slice of pie.

But apparently, today, and the day before, and every day for the past 6 months, Minho was not wise and he wasn't very good. Because he let the thoughts of his sweet little neighbour stew for months, and this is where it'd led him.

He stands there, one palm pressed flat on the kitchen counter, the other buried in his sweatpants, and he thinks of the sweet little siren with her sweet offerings, and he imagines sinking his hard cock into her warm, sweet cunt.

—

It's hard not to deflate entirely as you close your apartment door behind you. You'd expected too much from a single pie, you suppose. It would entirely out of character for him to ask you to stay for a slice, to take the opportunity to finally have a conversation longer than an elevator ride.

You sigh, dropping your forehead against the cool surface of the door. It helps a little. You're overheated, both from the cooking, the warm sun, and the heat that had bubbled up from the inside as the pretty - yet frustratingly reserved - man next door had watched you move about his space.

You hadn't lied, his apartment was far nicer than yours. You could imagine basking in that patch of sun any chance you had. You wonder if he does the same, if he sits there after a shower, chest bare and hair still a little damp - letting the sun warm his skin.

You leap back as a knock on the door jolts you out of your daydream. Sighing, you press your palm to your forehead - head thoroughly rattled - as you pull the door open.

Oh.

"Hi," Minho says casually. He's a little flushed compared to when you'd left him minutes earlier. He shouldn't be. There were no stairs between your apartments.

"Hello, again."

He glances over your shoulder, getting a clear view of your empty living room. "It is darker in here," he says, still casual.

"Oh. Mm, yeah. I miss your sun already."

His eyes fix back on you. Then he pulls his lip between his teeth slightly. He has something to say... something he won't say.

"Why'd you make me the pie?" he asks.

You blink. "I... had a lot of berries from-"

"Your friend. I know."

You're officially confused. His eyes drop down your dirty apron before returning to your face. "You only made one?"

"Is it bad?" you question.

He pushes some hair away from his eyes. "No," he says quickly. "No, it's... nice." His eyes sweep down your body again. "Sweet," he adds.

"I only made one."

His eyes jump to yours before a brief look of confusion flashes across his pretty face. He seems to remember his own question soon enough. "You didn't want to give it to," he gestures vaguely behind you, "your friend?"

"No," you answer simply. This entire interaction was drifting into territory you weren't sure you were ready for. If his questions got any more interrogative, you might find yourself wondering how to answer them in any other way than 'Oh, the pie? I baked it for you because I have a huge, embarrassing crush on you, even if you've seemed intent on not knowing me.'

"He doesn't like pies?" he asks.

You can't help following the path of his fingers as he fiddles with the chain hanging around his neck. They brush his skin as he strokes the metal back and forth.

"I... don't understand what you're asking me," you say as you pull your eyes from his neck. "Is something wrong?"

He readjusts his position in the doorway, pressing his hand to the frame and freeing you from the constant distraction at his neck. He leans over you a little like this.

God, he's pretty.

"You a witch?" he asks.

"I'm sorry?"

"Did you put something in it?" he continues, still leaning well and truly into your space. "Something to make me-" he cuts himself off, brows furrowing.

"Are you asking me if I poisoned the pie?"

His voice drops, like someone might overhear, despite you both being entirely alone on this floor of the building. "I'm trying to figure out why all I can fucking think about is how you might taste on my tongue."

Your head rushes, all the heat returning. Then your eyes drop to the floor.

"Look at me, sweetheart."

You don't. His shoes are safer. He was flirting. More than flirting. He wanted you.

His fingers guide your chin up, it doesn't take much, a nudge. "I'll leave if you want," he says. "Never mention it again. Just tell me what you want."

"Did you like it?" you find yourself whispering. "The pie."

His lips crack into a lopsided smile. It's tiny, but it's a smile. "Loved it, sweetheart. Sent me to heaven."

"Would you... would you like to come in?"

He nods.

You go to turn, to let him follow you. But then, instead, you take his hand and lead him in. He's warm. You imagine all the sun he gets over there must've absorbed deep inside him over time. Maybe he could leave some of it behind here for you - that heat might leak from him if your kept him here long enough.

He follows where you lead, his hand still grasped firmly in your own. You're not sure why you lead him to the sofa. You aren't sure what you're expecting next. It's why you find yourself simply standing beside the piece of furniture waiting for him to say something – to let go of your hand maybe.

Instead, his thumb begins brushing over your skin. He's quiet, seemingly unhurried to break the tension building.

"I asked my friend to bring the berries," you confess quietly, eyes focused on your interwined hands. Confessions were always so much easier with your eyes downwards. "I wanted to make something for you... specifically."

"Why's that?"

His thumb continues against your skin. He doesn't make you look at him like he had before.

"Because I... wanted you to - I wanted your attention."

You can hear the smile in his voice when he speaks, "So you baked me a pie?"

"I'm good at baking."

"You are," he agrees. Then his other hand reaches for the hem of your apron. He rubs it between his fingers a little. "Messy though."

You look down at the patterned splotches, pink on white. Then he releases your hand, taking that warmth with him. He only allows you a few seconds to miss it though. That same hand snakes around the back of your neck, skin on skin.

Your eyes are drawn to his without thought.

"Are you always messy?" he asks.

You nod, chewing on your lip a little.

He seems pleased with your answer, a small hum escaping his throat. "I like messy," he says, sounding a little far away. "Do you like messy, sweetheart?"

Your eyes drop to his lips, a little stained from your pie filling. "Yeah," you breathe.

He tugs you towards him before your have time to suck in another breath, attaching himself to you like he's starved. You can't help gasping a little into his mouth as he presses you into him with a hand to your back.

Holy fuck. Surely you'd wake up slumped against the door any second. Maybe someone hadn't just knocked on the door. Someone had opened it and knocked you out and you were dreaming about your pretty, brown eyed neighbour.

He groans a little before taking your lip between his teeth. No. No you were definitely awake. "So sweet," he mumbles as he releases you, his breath ghosting over your wet lips. "Can I have you?"

–

It's hard to keep his head on straight as you look up at him with those big sweet eyes. Can I have you? His stomach rolls as he waits for you to say yes. Please say yes. 6 months of denial and he was desperate.

You'd made that sweet little gift for him. Just for him. His little siren.

Then you're pressing against his chest, forcing him down onto the sofa. He looks up at you, at the stained apron and the hair sticking a little to your temples from the time spent making his pie.

Then you lower yourself to your knees.

Oh, fuck.

Your hands only have to brush his legs for him to get the hint. He spreads them, allowing you to shuffle closer to him – settling between his thighs.

Then you look up at him. "Can I taste you?"

He's keeping you. His head drops back as he collects himself. Then, "You want my cock in your pretty little mouth?"

You nod, fingers pressing lightly into his thighs.

Minutes ago he was fucking himself into his own hand imagining how warm you'd feel around him. Now you're between his legs, lips wet, asking to taste him.

He's careful to keep his eyes on you as he frees himself, intent on catching each and every reaction you make – he's keeping it all.

You're a little hesitant as you reach for him. "You're good, sweetheart," he encourages. "Touch me however you like."

It seems to be all you need. In the next second your soft little hand is wrapping around his length. His head drops back again as his eyes close.

It's a mistake, closing his eyes. He's not prepared when your wet lips press to the tip of him, soft and warm. He groans, hand automatically making a home in your hair. He needs grounding. He needs –

Your lips wrap around him. His little siren was sucking his dick into her sweet little mouth. His hips jump a little. "Oh fuck, that's right. You're all warm for me."

You hum a little around him. Then, you take him deeper. Hot little tongue dancing over his sensitive skin.

"Good girl," he groans. "Take it for me, sweetheart." He resists the urge to spill himself right here, right against your tongue. "Hm? You taking it for me?"

His hips jump again as he fucks himself into your hot mouth, wet and sweet and just for him. You'd wanted his attention. You'd come for him. Just him.

"You mine?" he gasps as he forces his head up to look at you. "You gonna let me fuck you?"

Your lips pull off him slowly, a little suction at his tip sending his head spinning. "Do you want to?" you ask, lips swollen.

He leans forward enough to begin lifting you, encouraging you to climb into his lap. Each hand rests at your hips as you settle yourself there, his leaking cock pressed between you.

"So bad," he answers.

You shift a little in his lap. He imagines you squirming on his cock.

"Me too," you confess. It's quiet, like it's bad.

Sweet siren.

"Sit on me," he instructs. "Want you to bounce on me, sweetheart."

You eyelashes flutter as you blink a few times, processing, deciding. Then you shift, reaching up under your dress and tugging your underwear down.

Something in his stomach stirs when he realises you were leaving the rest on, apron and all.

You grasp him in a soft hand, guiding him beneath your clothes – then you sink down. He's transfixed by the little sound that escapes your lips as you take him in. That, and the way your cunt feels squeezing around him. He might have to keep you for fucking ever.

Hot and sweet and wet and better than he'd imagined as he'd fucked himself against his counter minutes earlier. Better than any of the scenarios he'd dreamed up over the months he'd spent thinking of his sweet little neighbour.

You fall into him with a sigh once you're full seated, cock buried deep.

"Doing so well," he says, hand squeezing a little at the back of your neck.

You mumble something into his neck in response. He can't quite make it out, but he swears, it almost sounds like a tiny 'thank you'. He has to keep himself from filling you at the thought of it.

His hands return to your hips. You must take it as a prompt because you lean back from him enough to begin lifting yourself off him and dropping again.

It's slow at first, a little swivel in your hips, grinding yourself down into him.

The apron prevents him from seeing how his cock looks slipping in and out of your little cunt. He hasn't even seen it, that sweet little hole between your legs.

Instead, he feels.

–

It makes sense that a man as pretty as him would have the prettiest cock. One you wanted to taste. One that would have you slippery and ready to take him.

There's this vein that throbs in his neck each time he drops his head back with a groan. His neck. God you want to lean forward and bite into it. But he might not be into that. Next time, you think. Or the time after that.

God you hope there's a next time.

His fingers dig into your hip as you sink all the way down again. It feels a little like he's resisting, holding back.

"Minho?"

His head lifts, eyes a little glassy as he blinks at you. "Hm?"

"You can fuck me," you tell him. "However you want. I want you to fuck me."

He blinks again. His fingers dig into your skin harder.

"Tell me when you wanna stop. Just tell me," he says.

You nod. Then he's leaning forward and tugging you against him. His lips press to your skin just at the crook of your neck.

Then you're falling. He falls over you. Then he lets go. He presses you into the couch cushions as he drives into you, hair falling over his face. He's even pretty like this, with parted lips and brows slightly furrowed.

Your skin slaps together as he fucks himself into you. Messy, he'd said. He liked messy.

That's what he gets as he continutes to drive into you, as you begin to drip around him, as he fucks that wetness into you and over your thighs and then the sounds it all makes.... messy.

"Wanna fill you," he mutters. "God, I wanna fill you so bad. Wanna fuck my cum into your sweet cunt."

You squeeze your eyes shut as he continues, overwhelmed.

"You can take it for me, angel. I know you can. Sweet little thing made just for me. I knew it." He's muttering so much you're hardly sure he even knows what he's saying. His fingers are almost painful as they dig into your skin, like he can't hold onto you hard enough.

"Fill me," you gasp.

He eyes lift from where you join together to lock on your face. "Yeah?" he asks, a slight croakiness breaking his words up a little. "I'll make you all warm and sticky inside, hm? Just like your pretty little pie? That sound nice?"

Oh god. There was something inside you, something made for this – for him. You knew this was going to ruin you forever.

"Please."

He falls over you, then he bites. He bites into you as he floods you full.

[satowooo]

kiss it better

Suguru always hated it when you break up with him when you're having a mental breakdown. So what's he gonna do to make his baby feel better?

contents. slight academic rivals to lovers (barely mentioned), suguru x reader, eventual smut, fluff, cowgirl, bottom suguru, slapping, rough sex, pet names, degration, not proofread.

Do what you gotta do, keep me up all night.

your relationship with suguru became on and off ever since you two started dating. he could vaguely remember why, but he knows one thing.

your relationship with him started off as enemies. he remembers how you were always so angry at him, your bratiness showing every time he was a step further than you in academics.

being a straight A student is something that he likes to brag about, knowing that you're right there to keep him on his toes because you're just as smart as him. he knows how you tire yourself to study every night and day, sleeping and almost living in the library whenever an exam week is coming, never going out of your room and not eating until you understood and memorized all your notes, and how you'd never talk to him the whole time you're busy studying. and what does he hates the most? you breaking up with him for it.

you're a top student, but you're always in second place because he beats you to it. it never fails to make you upset, but you don't really blame suguru for being good at what he does. rather, you blame yourself for not studying enough as if your brain is already not about to explode for every information that you try to force into your brain.

and suguru hates it enough that you have to break up with him just for you to torture yourself in the confines of your room with all the papers and academic works controlling over your body and mind. he hates it everytime because he knows how hard you are being to yourself.

“baby, i’m coming inside, okay?” suguru called outside your door after knocking several times. he didn't wait for another answer as he twists the knob, pushing the door open.

“suguru, no-”

he heard your sniffles. and his heart ache at the sight before him.

you were sitting at your study desk. papers scattered around in a mess, some of it drenched in your tears. your eyes reddened, and you looked at him in frustration as you stood up.

“i told you to leave me alone, suguru.” you said, wiping your tear stained cheek.

he looks over at your bed, to the crumpled sheets, feathers flying around from your pillow, knowing that you probably had been punching it in your frustration. he sighs and walks over to you, immediately cupping your cheeks to look you in the eyes.

“you think breaking up with me would solve the problem?” he whispers softly, kissing your eyes, your tears.

you looked away, tilting your head to the side so as to not look at him. “it's for the better. you're only distracting me from my studies.”

he closed his eyes tightly, before holding your jaw so you could face him properly. your hands clutched his shirt at the proximity between you. “i’m distracting you?” your words sting, his heart clenching at the way you're trying so hard to push him away. but he wouldn't have all that. “come on. i know you're mad. punish me then.”

“suguru-”

“i always tell you that i’m here to help. but you're too hard headed to ask for it.” his tone was firm, his eyes turning dark at the way you tried to get away from his grasp. he lets out an exasperated breath before loosening his grip from you. “don't hurt yourself, baby. hurt me instead.”

“suguru, you don't understand. i am angry, fine, i admit.” the grip you had on his shirt tightened, a shaky breath escaping from your lip as tears started to form on your eyes again. “i don’t want to take it out on you when i’m clearly a mess, suguru. you don't get it because you're always too good and i’m not enough. i can't be enough for you if i’m like this-”

once again, suguru cut you off. your words flying off his ear as he interrupted you with a fierce kiss. his tongue darting out for entrance and you didn't push him away. your words muffled from the way he pressed his lips, making you shut up and revel onto your desires as your lips parted, your tongue delving out to taste him.

all your worries easily slipped away. his thumb swiftly wiping the tear that escaped your eyes while not breaking the kiss. he pulled away for a moment before capturing it once again, this time gentler than the first.

to suguru, it was always the same words no matter how much he reassured you. so what's he going to do? make you feel like the queen you deserved to be.

“come on, princess. just like that.” he grunted, his hand gripping on your hips as he slammed you down on his cock. “come on, tell me how mad you are right now. let me hear you.”

“f-fuck you, suguru…” you gasps, your hips rocking back and forth deliciously on his shaft. your teeth were clenched in frustration, your anger still brewing inside your heart by the way he had you easily straddling him.

“that's it, baby. let it out, let it all out on me.” he coos, gently running his fingers on your spine. the action sent shivers all over your body, your thrust rapidly increasing by each second. “you're so mad, aren't you? you don't like it when i'm doing good?”

"s-stop... ahh..." you huffed, face flushed as your pussy clenched around him. your hips were beginning to ache for how harsh you were slamming against his lap. and he had that annoying look on his face that got you riled up.

you know exactly what he's trying to do. suguru wants a reaction. for you to let it out on him. to be mad at him instead of being mad at yourself.

he gripped your ass firmly, a knowing smirk etched on his lip. “do i make you cry, princess? because i’m better? in studies… and even in fucking you?”

that definitely strikes a nerve right there. your pace increasing, your nails digging on his shoulder from how hard you're holding onto him. “shut up… sh-shut up…”

“that all you got?” he said darkly, sweat forming in his forehead. he gave your ass a firm squeeze before landing a smack, making you jolt in pleasure. “you're so fucking pathetic, princess. you're really crying over that? you look so fucking dumb with my cock inside-”

a harsh slap on his cheek echoed all over the room. your breathing coming in short gasps, while suguru was smiling. he was fucking smiling.

the slap reddened his cheek but it didn't even look like it hurt him. he huffed and squeezed your hip. suguru was drowned in pure bliss as he groaned, your hips thrusting so harshly, squeezing his cock like there's no tomorrow.

“fuck, baby…” he growled, the sting of your slap erotic and pleasurable that it got him ramming his hip upward. you could see the veins on his neck popping out, his eyes darkening as his fingers found your breasts. “fuck y-yeah… do that again, hm? show me how much you fucking hate me…”

you moaned, your back arching and body pressing against his chest. his lips latched on your nipple, while his other hand found your clit. he rubbed circles against it, making you cry and scratch your nails on his chest.

“you’re so worked up for all your studies, and for what?” he sneered, chuckling darkly at you. you bit your lip as another slap went across his cheek, feeling all the anger forcing its way to give him what he wants. you knew damn well that suguru was enjoying on riling you up, coaxing you to take it out on him by saying those words that he knew would gain the right reaction that he needs.

“fuck you, sugu… f-fuck you…”

“doing so well for me, baby.” he leaned forward to capture your lips, his lips grazing your earlobe. “you can do more than that, don't you?”

your thrusts became more erratic as his voice rang over your ears. you grabbed a handful of his hair, tugging it down so he could look at you. your face was a mix of both anger and pleasure, a sight that made suguru feel more aroused. he groaned as your hand flew over on his cheek again, his eyes glistening with lust.

“ohh, f-fuck!” the thumb on your clit increased its pace, as slaps after slaps on his face kept coming, eager to erase that stupid grin on his lips.

suguru grunted, his moans getting louder each second that it syncs with your sounds. your hand traveled up his throat, pressing on gently enough to restrict his breathing.

he let out a strangled laugh causing you to land another slap on his face. he can't believe that he felt so fucked out, enjoying the pleasure and roughness that you were giving him. the angered look on your face made his cock twitch inside you.

your hips thrusts up and down. up and down. unrelenting. it became frantic as his cock hit your right spots, driving you wild in ecstasy.

he could feel your pussy clenching around his cock, your thrusts became more urgent, your gripped on his neck beginning to tighten. his eyes were tied shut, suguru’s chest heaving as your wetness engulfed his cock.

“i’m cumming, baby. f-fuck, you gon’ cum, princess? you're doing so good- f-fucking hell…”

he hears your whines. his name rolling out of your tongue in desperation to reach your high. he bucked his hips, thrusting forward to meet yours, pistoning in and out furiously as the pleasure built up.

“suguru! ahh! hhk-” your hips shattered, your body convulsing with your orgasm reaching its peak. suguru let out a growl in pleasure, his hands squeezing your ass firmly. his own orgasm quickly approached, hot semen spurting right inside your sweet hole.

he breathes heavily, thrusting his cum right inside you slowly, making sure that nothing would come to waste. your hands released his neck, seeing how it turned red by the way you gripped so harshly. even his face was all flushed from all the slapping you did, with a small bruise forming on his temple, but suguru had a grin on his face.

his hair disheveled, chest heaving as you both catch your breaths. “still mad, baby?”

you shake your head, looking at him apologetically. “not anymore. i’m sorry, did i hit you too hard?”

suguru chuckled, his eyes half-lidded from the pleasure you just gave him. he took your hand in his, kissing your palm softly. “i fucking loved it, baby.”

he looks at you lovingly. suguru has already memorized you like the back of his hands, from your body to your heart and beneath your soul. and he'll do anything to make you feel better, to make you feel loved and cared for. he adores you so much that he wouldn't allow letting your insecurities pull you down.

suguru holds your hips, rocking yourself gently on his cock. your eyes rolling back, a soft moan escaping from your lips. he smiled, resting his head on the crook of your neck. “you're enough, baby. always remember that, okay?” he looked up at you before placing a kiss on your forehead. you basked into the aftermath of your lovemaking, your head falling on his chest as you nodded at his words. “don't ever doubt your abilities. failure is inevitable, it's a part of ourselves that symbolizes the efforts we do for trying.” suguru whispers, gently placing kisses all over your face. “and i love you for all your flaws and failures. don't ever think that you're not enough for me.”

🙂‍↕️ i genuinely want to make an academic rivals to lovers fic/series with suguru

[thebestsetter]

Isagi loves your thighs. And even though he isn't the type of guy to answer "personality" when asked "Boobs, thighs or ass?", he doesn't want to outright say how attracted he feels to them, mainly because he doesn't want you to think he only cares about your body (even though you know he doesn't).

So, imagine how heavenly it felt the first time he got to sleep on your lap. He remembers it as if it happened yesterday.

He had come home after a tough day of practice, in which his coach seemed even more angry than usual and just determined to make the whole team's day a living hell. Everything in him was aching, from his back to his feet, and he could swear he had a fever or something, because his head was starting to throb too. All Isagi wanted to do was get home and lay down, even if it means sleeping without showering (which shows just how tired he was).

"Honey? You're home!" he heard you saying from the kitchen "Welcome home!"

He tried to answer your sweet voice welcoming him home. He really did. But his mouth just wouldn't answer his brain's commands. So, he was just standing, staring at you with his mouth wide open, looking like an idiot.

"Isagi? Are you feeling alright?"

He couldn't even register what he was doing, but the next thing he knew, he walked closer to you. His body was just moving on it's own, as if being as close to you as possible was as natural for him as breathing.

"Sweetie, you're starting to scare me. Do you need to go to the doctor? Did something happen today at practice?"

He couldn't resist the urge to hug you anymore, even though he was trying to restrain himself because he was still stinky from practice and he knew just how much you hated it when he hugged or kissed you without showering first. He couldn't explain it, but you looked so huggable at the moment! He took a step closer, hugging you tight and burying his face in the crook of your neck, innaling deeply and letting out a satisfied sigh. One of his hands was travelling your waist while the other was playing with the hem of your shirt.

"Yoichi!" you exclaimed, voice worried yet still not loud enough to make his head ache even more (he doesn't even think your voice will ever be capable of doing him any harm) "You're burning up! You have a fever! I can't believe it, I told you to take better care of yourself!"

Ah. So he was right. He had a fever. That's why training was so hard today.

"Hm" he muttered, still with his head in your neck. He closed his eyes, enjoying the moment you both were having.

"Stay at the couch, I'll go grab some medicine at the bathroom."

"Noooo, don't leave me here" he said, clearly affected by his sickness. It looks like his mouth finally started to work again. "I don't want to be away from youuuu"

"Yoichi, my honey, you're clearly not thinking straight right now. But I won't go away! I'll be back in like 30 seconds. Sit on the couch and count, I swear it won't take long"

He sighed, but complied anyway, sitting at the couch and waiting (im)patiently.

You were right, because in almost no time you came back with pills and a cup of water. If there was a sport where the champion had to be the person who brought a glass of water and medicine to their sick boyfriend the fastest, you would win, Isagi thought (and that thought made him strangely proud).

"Here. Drink it up" he obeyed

"Everything hurts"

"I know it does, love. What you need right now is sleep. Come here" you said, patting your lap. If Yoichi was in his right mind, he would've blushed hard and maybe even denied at first, but he wasn't. He just wanted to rest, and he always dreamed about laying in your lap. So, he quickly grasped the opportunity.

And boy was it as good as he imagined it would be. Even better, actually. Your thighs were fluffier than any other pillows he had ever used before, and he felt like he could hibernate there. And as if it couldn't get any better, you started playing with his hair. He was in heaven. He couldn't even fell the pain anymore, and he was sure it wasn't just the medicine doings.

"I love your thighs" he admitted, a honesty he wouldn't have when he was healthy, which made you chuckle "And I love you too. Thank you." He kissed the inner part of your thigh to show you just how serious he was about it

"I love you too, Yoichi. Now, rest. We don't want the best striker of the world to be sick all week, do we?"

"If it means getting to lay on your lap everyday, I would be sick my whole life"

"You're silly"

"And you're the love of my life"

"Good night, Isagi"

"Good night, my love"

Masterlist

[yanderemommabean]

Have Yandere alphas Suku and Yuuji with omega reader Smut

(Reader has pussy but this has They them pronouns used! Some dirty talk, pussy slapping, and some forced orgasms and dubcon themes! All characters depicted are 18 and up! I hope you enjoy!)

Honestly, you have  no idea how things got this bad. First you were all having a nice little chit chat after a nice swim in the pool, then the next thing you know, you’re being held against Sukunas chest, arms to your sides, as Yuuji taunts and teases. 

Sukunas massive cock was spearing you open, eyes rolling back as every thrust was calculated and aimed to make your brain melt with pleasure, all while the other two act more or less unphased as they begin asking lewd questions. 

Your voice hiccups, trying to speak, but your face is so red as Sukuna pounds away even harder, biting and kissing along your neck to coax out more of those addictive little noises. You really had no idea how much these two craved you, how they wanted to breed you full over and over again, mark you as only theirs. It’s a good thing they’re getting started with that very lesson today and every day that follows. 

While Sukuna is usually the mean one, Yuuji is just being cruel, coming up to whisper in your ear as he teases your clit and feels you twitching and throbbing. “What if I used my tongue? Hmm? Would your perfect little pussy like that, Y/N? “ 

You can only yelp, wincing in pain mixed with burning pleasure when Yuujis hand comes smacking down again and making you see blinding white. “I said- would your greedy, slutty cunt want my lips on it? Hmm? Think if I tongue fuck you with Sukuna balls deep you can squirt for us?” 

You’re  just gasping for breath, brain malfunctioning as your cunt spasms and clenches, making Sukuna groan and purr in delight as he begins to drag out his strokes. “Oh ho ho, they want it baby brother. I can feel them squeezing me for all I’ve got. “

You whimper, pathetic and fed up, eyes slamming shut as your face burns a deep scarlet. You aren’t a whore! You aren’t! Not...Not like THAT anyway- 

"N-Not..not a-" you try  to protest, but it's cut off when Yuuji's tongue curls inside of you, slipping between Sukunas cock and your fluttering walls as you gasp and feel that burning coil tightening once again. There’s no way-no! That’s so-

Your brain malfunctions, feeling Yuuji's tongue swipe around in circles as Sukuna’s cock buries itself to the hilt, stretching you out and stuffing you like you crave. By the second, you can feel your resolve and composure melting away. 

"Mm hmm. Not a whore? Not a slut? Says the one creaming on our cocks and begging to be eaten out until they cry'' Yuuji snickers, using two fingers to stroke over Your clit a few times before he once again brings the palm of his hand down. 

"Now answer us. Answer ME. Do you want my mouth on your tasty little snatch? Or do I need to discipline you some more?". 

The heat in Yuujis words, the way Sukuna bit into your skin and rolled his hips so sinfully slow, staving off your orgasm once again. It's not fair- You aren't even given a real choice! You either agree or are punished until you say yes! 

Why does that turn you on so much?! 

"Y-Yes!" You more or less yelp, tensing up, feeling your breath being punched out of you almost when Sukunas hands come up to play with your nipples, that devilish smirk on his features as he meets Yuuji's eyes. "You heard them, Brat. Get to work. I want them covering my cock in their juices''.

Yuuji wastes no time, a drawn out groan passing his lips as he swirled his tongue around Your clit. He could never get enough of this, the taste, the way You moan and throw your head back, how you feebly try to push him away despite clearly enjoying it. It was so cute how you tried to deny yourself the pleasure the brothers could bring. 

“Love your sounds baby” Sukuna pants, looking down to see how Your stomach gains a slight bump with every roll of his hips. “Gonna make you so pretty, so round and full of pups. Fuck, you’re gonna be so full-”. 

“Pups?!” You whimper, trying to crawl away at that but being held down even tighter, your body forced to take the onslaught of pleasure as those filthy words make your stomach flutter. “W-We can’t! No! We-” You’re cut off, moaning deep and guttural as Yuuji's fingers are added, pressed directly inside of you. 

It’s too much, it’s too good, you can’t help yourself,  starting to have hiccuped breaths as Sukuna holds your hips firm. “We can. We’re going to. And you’re going to take it like a good little Omega.” 

The dam breaks. Sukunas thrusts, Yuuji’s mouth, the possessive and dirty words being growled into your ear- You come undone, pleasure so intense you have tears down your cheeks as you climax, slick spurting from your spasming cunt and covering Yuujis face. 

Yuuji is ravenous after that, pure alpha instinct taking over as he drinks in everything you have to give. Oh there’s no way in hell he’s ever passing on this experience ever again. He’ll tie You down and tongue fuck you that way if he must- 

Yuuji just snarls, holding your legs apart as his tongue drags over his slick covered lips. "Fuck! I want to see you knock them up- Quit moving! You're gonna stay right here and get that pretty pussy bred  deep ".

You can only mewl, your eyes rolling back as drool slightly dribbles from your lips, cunt clenching down /again/ and spasming as Yuuji holds your legs apart, watching as Sukuna breeds you possessively, like a beast staking a claim. 

And really, Sukuna is. To think You could ever have anyone else, it made both men incredibly, unstably jealous. 

"Fuck! Take it! Take it!" Sukuna nearly roars, being cruel like Yuuji as his fingers rub vicious circles around your sensitive clit, balls tightening and drawing up as his thrusts become more deep and greedy. “I'm gonna cum-Shit! Knocking you up, gonna breed you so fucking good-” 

His teeth latch onto Your throat, biting down aggressively as his cum spills into that warm, tight cunt, his cock pulsing and twitching with every rope he releases. 

Fuck.

He's ruined.  Nothing else could ever be as addictive as your soft, warm, tight cunt drinking all Sukuna has to give. 

"Fuck, just like that Y/N. You're doing so good. Gonna have that baby in you in no time, make you so round and soft and ours "

You take as many deep breaths as you can, chest heaving as sweat begins to cool on your skin. Words sound like water, everything is spinning, and all you can manage to make is soft little whines as Sukuna slowly slips out and watches as his cum leaks from your abused hole. 

Yuuji just smiles, pressing Your legs towards your chest as he presses his face closer to the mess, dragging his tongue up and down the cum covered folds, all while You hiss between your teeth and try to hide your face. 

“Mmm. It’s a shame your pussy hasn’t learned to hold onto every ounce of our cum…Guess we’ll have to train it then” 

-Mommabean (Hope you liked! Feel free to tell me your thoughts!)

[dumplingsjinson]

List of random dialogue prompts 

“I was never a morning person, but then I started waking up to your face and you know… Maybe mornings aren’t that bad, after all.” 

“Why are you mad?” “I’m not mad, I just think you can choose better people to kiss.” 

“I fucking hate you.” “No you don’t. Take that back right now.” 

“You know I’d do anything to have you stay by my side, right? Anything.”  

“Oh, fuck. Do that again.” 

“You look stupid as all hell right now.”

“I want to believe you, but I don’t know if I can.” 

“You’ve given me so many reasons to walk away.” “Then why don’t you walk away? It’s not like I’m keeping you hostage here.” “You still don’t get it, do you? It’s because I love you.” 

“…Damn it all to hell, if I don’t get to have you tonight then I’m never going to be able to have you.” 

“Let me call you mine, just for tonight.”

“I think you and I make an amazingly stupid pair.” “I know! Our two brain cells combined together make for quality entertainment and a unique kind of stupidity.” 

“I’m going to have so much fun with you.”

“Oh God, yes, right there— oh my God, just like that, please don’t stop.” “…Can you stop that? You’re making it sound like we’re in a porno and now I’m highly uncomfortable.” 

“Bet you they don’t make you sound like that, do they?” 

“Fuck, you’re such a wreck, and because of me, too.” 

“Can you stop moaning? I’m trying to help you relax but you’re making it hard for me to concentrate.” “Sorry, your hands just work a little too good.” “I’m going to pay for a masseuse next time if you keep doing this.” 

“You are driving me insane and I’m this close to losing my shit because of you.”

“Is hating me your only personality trait?”

“Never scare me like that again!” 

“Oh, don’t worry. I have every plan to make you submit to me.”

“I’m not even gonna lie, I’m just so fucking obsessed with you.” 

“That could be us.” “That is us.”

“Was it worth it?”

“Don’t worry, I’ve got you— slow down, you’ll get what you want soon enough.”

“I want you to remember every single second of this.” 

“Bet you they can’t make you feel the way I do.” “Bet’s on.” “Wait, what? That was not my intention—”

“Hm, but I think I like having you spread out like this. Such a gorgeous sight.” 

“Come and get your fix.”

“…You’re an addiction I never want to quit.” 

“I had nothing to live for, but then you came into my life. So thank you.” 

“Why’d you— why’d you do that?” “B-Because I promised you I’d do anything to keep you safe.” 

“I swear if we get caught then I’m actually going to kill you.” 

“You think I wanted this to happen?!”

“Just when I was about to give up…”

“I trusted you with my life.” “Well, I’m sorry but you’re clearly very gullible.”

“Look me in the eyes and tell me you don’t feel the same as I do, then I’ll leave you alone.” 

“You know, maybe you should bet on something else the next time instead of betting on someone’s fucking feelings.” 

“You’re such a dork.” “Yeah, no wonder you’re so in love with me.”

“Does me doing all these things not account for anything?” “I never asked you to do those things for me, though, did I?”

“You nearly foiled our plan, you idiot!”

“I… I think I’m happy.” “You think? So you’re not one hundred percent certain?”

“Who’s laughing now?” “…Clearly not you. You’re crying, dear God.” 

“I’m tired of being on the sidelines.” 

“You actually came back.”

“Christ on a fucking bike, I could kiss you right now.”

“That was a bold move.”

“We’re going to be late, all because you couldn’t stop scrolling through that damn phone of yours while taking your damn sweet time to shit!” 

“Kinda sucks that I can only have you like this.” 

“I fell in love, so hard, and so fast, but a part of me knew it wasn’t going to last.” 

“Your heart’s always on your sleeve.” “Only around you, because you’re the only one who knows me so well. Too well, in fact.”  

(pt. 2) | (pt. 3)

[bluejutdae]

“Oh, let there be hotel complaints” | Chan x you

warnings: nsfw, D/s dynamics, face and pussy slapping, overstimulation, mention of safewords, Daddy kink.

This is just Chan brain rot and my mind gently suggested me the image of first time inexperienced Dom Chan who wants to try some BDSM but he’s too scared to hurt you so he decides he’a going to try on himself all that he’s gonna do to you…

Title from Dinner & Diatribes by Hozier

Chan has had plenty of vanilla sex, but then you introduced him to BDSM, and especially the concepts of Doms and Subs, and something switched in him. He started reading online forums and blogs. And when the topic arose again, he clearly told you he’s interested, but he won’t do it yet. Because the thing is: despite how hard even just reading stuff about it makes him, he has no experience, and he won’t risk hurting you.

So, he does what any good Dom should do in his eyes, he tries things on himself.

One day you turn home to find his face red and a bit swollen, but when you ask about it, he just distracts you with filthy kisses. What you don’t know is that he slapped and slapped and slapped himself until he deemed he had found the right strength to use.

Another day he disappears for the whole afternoon and, when you see him in the living room, he looks flushed and a little exhausted, but giddy. Just like Changbin when he maxes out at the gym and he’s incredibly tired but proud of himself. What you don’t know is that he spent the afternoon edging himself with a vibrator on his shaft and his tip and, after hours of denying himself, he came and proceeded to overstimulate himself, because it’s only logical to pair up the two experiences, right?

What you noticed though, is that there’s a change in him. He’s more assertive with you on some days, makes sure you eat and doesn’t let you go to sleep if you haven’t removed your makeup. Pushes you to sleep more when he knows you have had a bad day at work, and every time you comply and thank him for taking care of you, he kisses a little filthier, holds you a little firmer.

It’s months later when he asks if you can try something kinkier. You’re excited and happy and you start to mentally prepare yourself to be a good teacher without forgetting this is about pleasure. But then Chan shows you exactly how deep the still water runs deep.

“You’re gonna sit there” he says and he’s so commanding yet sexy you melt instantly. “And we’re gonna have a quick talk. Nothing too extreme is going to happen today, but I need to establish some rules”. You nod in response, and he looks at you with his arms crossed and an eyebrow raised. “You’re gonna use your pretty words, baby girl.” That’s it. Not a suggestion, not an option, a rule. Fuck, you knew he would be good at this.

“I understand.”

He’s quick with the rules: you must verbally answer, you’re gonna use the traffic light system for now, you must use the safe word if you need to, and the moment you think something’s wrong he’s gonna stop. You also must ask for what you want, not just take it.

Not too long later you’re on the bed, shirt previously discarded and clad only in your panties. And Chan is completely dressed, hovering over you. He’s been kissing you deeply and touching you just enough to make you want so much more. You’re embarrassingly wet and you’re sure you’ll have to throw away your panties. He’s holding your crossed arms at the wrists and, in doing so, he’s holding you down. You try to buck and raise your ass to relieve some of the dull aching you’re feeling in your core. “C’mon Channie, touch me.”

“But I am touching you…” he replies with a smirk on his lips. His free hand caresses your face, and he tests the gives of your lower lip with his thumb. When you suck on it, though, he takes it away and shakes his head. “What did I say?” You are lost, what happened? Did he say something?

“You’re just a cockhungry whore, uh? You can’t even wait for me to give you something, you’re so greedy you just want to take and take.”

Oh.

The realization in your face makes Chan smile. “There it is… tell me what you did wrong, and I might consider going easy on you.”

“I didn’t ask to suck your thumb-” he knows there’s something you want to add, he knows about your Daddy kink. And it turns him so fucking on, but he’s not gonna press about it. He considers your words and considers just letting it slide, but there’s flames licking at his insides.

“Too bad you didn’t ask, uh?”

Sudden, sharp pain irradiates on your left cheek and it’s less the pain and more the surprise that makes you gasp and, less than a second later, moan. Chan wants to apologize, years of conditioning making him feel guilty and mean and abusive, but he can’t deny what he feels.

He grabs your face, fingers splayed where he slapped mere seconds ago, wet thumb digging into the opposite cheek and kisses you messy and filthy, sucking your tongue in his mouth. Chan removes the last piece of clothing you have on and sits on his knees, with his thighs slightly spread apart. He holds your legs open with firm hands, one on your calf and the other clamped around your knee. He’s just… staring at your pussy. You try to squirm away and close your legs, but his eyes are suddenly on you. There’s a warning in his face that accompanies a displeased sound. “Sorry, sorry, I’m sorry” you blurt out trying to repair something before you do too much damage. You can feel wetness dripping down your folds, and Chan can too. “You’re so wet. Fuck, you love being on display for me…” He has never felt this. There’s a power rush, a shiver starting from his spine and moving towards opposite endings: towards his brain, making him lose words and making him want to act up, want to deliciously destroy you, making a mess of you and then put you back together; and on the other ending, traveling south towards his cock and balls. He’s been ready to cum the moment he sat you down and you agreed to do this.

“Love, are you just going to stare at me?” You ask when you grow too impatient to keep sitting still, a bit embarrassed too by his too focused staring. He shakes his head, and there is a quiet chuckle that can be heard in the room. His lips raise in a slow smirk, like he’s just been made aware of a secret, and you didn’t. And maybe he did.

Chan made plans for tonight. Plural. You told him you like not knowing everything in advance, so he planned different plans based on your responses to his actions. It was harder than organizing recording sessions. But since he saw your reactions earlier, he decides to stick to a precise plan. So, he acts in it.

Quickly and hard he delivers a slap on your inner thigh, the pain is a delicious sensation, hot and cold at the same time. A moment later the skin reddens to show Chan’s handprint and if possible, his cock gets ever harder. It twitches a little from where it’s hidden, head flushed and red, slowly but constantly leaking precum, forming a wet stain on his slacks .

“Fuck Chan!” You cry to his direction, eyes closed shut and brows knit in pleasure. You can feel heat where he hit you, and you want to press your fingers into it, wanting to feel the warmth and the pain and the pleasure. The moment you are ready to ask him for something, he delivers another slap in the same place. This time, though, Chan doesn’t let you breathe it out, doesn’t let you take your time to recover from it, no. He rakes his nails on your hot skin, watches as the skin quickly goes from red to white and to an even redder red where he scratched you. Digs his digits into your skin and revels in your gasps, feeling hot and ready to lose control, if a wind would blow in the room, he would cum in an instant. He’s ready for your next moan, your next gasp, but you’re quiet and your legs are trembling, and he’s scared he’s gone too far. He’s on the verge of apologizing, carrying you to the bathroom for a warm bath and cuddles and more apologies when he realizes he read you wrong. He didn’t give you too much, he gave you exactly what you needed, because -unbelievably so, for him- you’re coming. Clit untouched and your sopping hole twitching and throbbing around nothing, but you’re clearly coming. This is a different one, though. You’ve never been quiet while having an orgasm, but watching you with more attention calms him down, you look fine. He kisses you from your thigh to your cheekbone, stopping to nibble at your nipples, tongue lapping at your skin and sucking quick marks on you. “My pretty slut” a kiss on the nose, “you’re so greedy” a kiss on the right cheek, “your little pussy came untouched” a kiss on the forehead, “now I must give it some attention” a kiss on your chin. “Tell me your color?” He adds, tone sweeter and a hand caressing your face like you’re made of the finest glass.

“Green”. A smile appears on his face and he manhandles you to straddle his slacks covered thigh. Your wetness is seeping through the fabric, you squirm and he can see you’re embarrassed. “I told you I was gonna give it some attention. I want my baby girl to feel good.” He grabs you by your hips and forces you to move and grind your pussy on the fabric of his slacks. One of his hands sneaks into your hair and he pulls, stopping you from hiding into his neck. “No hiding. And stop hiding all your pretty sounds from me.”

The pleasure mixed with the overstimulation are overwhelming, and Chan’s new role is playing a big role in the moment and your arousal. His fingers are probably going to leave bruises in your skin, and you can’t wait to stand in front of a mirror to see them. Chan hands guide you back and forth and soon you’re clenching around nothing, “m’close Channie”, too desperate to control your movements.

“It’s okay, my baby. Just ask for it.” His hard cock is begging to be touched, still in the confines of his underwear and trousers. Yet, he has never been this hard and close to coming untouched. Your moans, the redness on your cheeks, the sweat matting your hair to your forehead and your incessant moans and cries of pleasure are making him lose his mind.

“Please Channie, can I cum?” You pant. “Let me cum, Daddy.” The last word is whispered, muffled into his shoulder but he hears it anyway. And he understands why you like it, the name giving him power, giving him a specific role, giving him the chance to give you exactly what you need.

“Then cum for Daddy.”

He watches you as cum, hands guiding your movements and his muscles flexing to give you as much pleasure as he can. He loves you like this, unabashed and free, vulnerable just for him.

But having you moaning and screaming his name is not enough. He doesn’t stop when you try to take a moment to collect yourself, he fixes his hold on your hips and forces your movements again. Back and forth, back and forth, again and again and it doesn’t matter how loud you whine, it doesn't matter your overstimulation, what matters now is making you cum another time. Anytime he pushes you towards him, he also pushes you down, setting an unforgiving pace that is torture on your sensitive clit. He’s relentless, but after just a few minutes you’re both rewarded with your legs clamping down on his thigh as you cum again. Unbelievably so, watching your second orgasm triggers his own orgasm and he moans your name loudly. He kisses you, messy and hungry, lips demanding and tongue insistent, claiming even your breath.

You’re gripping his shirt so hard, your fingers hurt. He delicately lays you down onto the bed and kisses you softly. As soon as his breathing comes back to normal, his worries come back too.

“Are you okay, baby? Did I hurt you? Was it too much? What do yo-“ you interrupt him with silly, quick kisses, trying to diminish his worries.

“I am more than okay.” A kiss. “I feel perfect.” A kiss. “You were perfect.” A kiss. “You’re always perfect, love.” A kiss. “I love you.” A kiss.

You kiss some more and he insists on showering together so he can take care of you and make sure you drink water and eat some fruit and chocolate. He tells you all about trying on himself what he did to you, and you’ve never loved him more.

[matchingbatbites]

I've been thinking about this post by @foulwitchknight for like three days nonstop, so thanks for the brain worms.

It's after dark when the knocking starts on the trailer door, the sound frantic enough to make Eddie anxious as he pulls himself up off the couch and goes to answer.

He isn't expecting to find Steve on the other side, but his surprise at seeing his boyfriend is squashed when the scent of distress hits him, acrid and bitter on the back of his tongue.

Eddie barely gets out a "Baby?" before Steve is babbling, clearly distraught about something.

"I didn't know, Eddie, I swear. I didn't have anything to do with this and it's- My dad, he just fucking does this shit without even talking to me about it and-"

"Stevie, sweetheart," Eddie cuts in as he reaches out to grab Steve's biceps, trying to ground him a bit. "What are you talking about, baby? What's going on?"

Steve whines, low and forlorn, and offers something to Eddie. The newspaper is crumpled from the iron grip Steve had on it, but Eddie takes it and smooths it out a bit. He scans the page, trying to figure out what could have Steve so worked up, and then he sees it.

Richard and Catherine Harrington are proud to announce the engagement of their son, Steven, to Jack Wright, son of Donald and Linda Wright.

There's more after it, something about honor and business, but Eddie doesn't care about the details. He just looks up at Steve with a soft "Is this real?"

Steve nods even as he shrinks in on himself and mutters a broken "I didn't know," and Eddie can't help it. He grabs Steve again and pulls him inside, into the tightest hug he can manage while he kicks the door shut behind them.

Somehow he gets them back to his room and on the bed, needing to hide his Omega away in his den, needing to keep him safe.

"I don't want him, Eddie," Steve mutters into his collar, his own grip on the Alpha nearly crushing - but Eddie wouldn't have it any other way. "Want you, just you."

Eddie presses his face into Steve's hair, breathing in his marzipan scent, sweet once again now that the burnt edge to it has faded. "I know, sweetheart. We'll figure something out, I promise."

Nails dig into Eddie's back through his thin t-shirt, and then Steve is pulling back just enough to look Eddie in the face. "Give me your bite."

"Steve-"

"Please, Eddie. We were already planning on it, and- I don't want them to even have a chance to take me away from you. You're my Alpha, and I want to be your mate more than anything in the world. Just- please."

Eddie's heart swells and all he can do is nod before swooping in and kissing Steve, hard and desperate. The Omega responds so beautifully under Eddie's touch, and it takes no time for them to strip off their clothes, no time for them to touch and push and press until Eddie is joined with his beautiful mate-to-be.

He can't help the way he rambles as they move together, a litany of "Gonna bite you, baby. Gonna mate you, pup you, give you anything and everything you want."

Steve whines and squeezes where their hands are laced together in the bedding beside his head, a low mantra of "Please please please," falling from his lips.

They hit their climax together and Eddie sinks his teeth into the meat of Steve's neck, into the mating gland that rests under the skin. He groans at the taste of copper and almond that floods his senses, and barely registers the pinch of a bite on his own neck.

Eddie weeps as the bond snaps into place, and Steve isn't any better, fat tears falling down his face as they lay there and bask in the feeling of completion. Of knowing that they belong to each other, that nothing and no one can ever separate them.

They wake up early the next morning and take their time packing Eddie's things, trying to stall until Wayne arrives home from his shift. The man knows something's up the second he steps into the trailer, and it's a long, tearful goodbye full of promises to call and visit before they're climbing into Eddie's van.

They're on the road when Eddie reaches over to take Steve's hand in his own and squeezes it gently. "Hey. I love you," he says, sparing a glance over at his Omega, his mate, his Stevie.

He gets a gentle smile and a soft "I love you too," in return, and that's really all Eddie needs.

[miley1442111]

confession- s.reid

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a/n: THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH FOR 1K I LOVE Y'ALL, also my lc is over!!!! expect more stories more frequenrly and I'll finally get around to clearly m y drafts and finishing my TTPD series! also working on finishing my spencer reid series so yay!

summary: spencer's birthday was supposed to be fun for him and his girlfriend, what happens when his mentor (his girlfriends father) shows up at his door?

pairing: spencer reid x fem! gideon! reader

warnings: complicated family relationships, heavy making out, suggestive mentions, that's all

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“Spence-” you whispered into his mouth. God, this felt good. After not seeing you for 3 whole days, here you were making out on his couch like you two were hormonal teenagers.

He didn’t exactly mind though, and it seemed you didn’t either. Plus, you being here and the birthday gift you gave him (a doctor who box set and a blowjob) made this his best birthday yet. 

“So pretty,” he whispered against your lips as your hands messed up his perfectly styled hair. 

You took his glasses off his face and kissed him harder again, his moaning becoming unbearably hot. 

An ice bucket would’ve been an easier way to crush Spencer’s libido, but the loud ring of the doorbell brought you both out of the heated moment, and actually made you jump off his lap. You scrambled to pull your cardigan over yourself, and Spencer groaned out in frustration, the blood running back to his brain. 

“Coming!” He called as you dressed yourself. He grabbed his glasses, tried to straighten out his hair, and prepared himself to mentally curse whoever this was. It was 11pm, it was a weeknight, you two had already gotten your delivery order, and no one was supposed to come over. 

Who the fuck was at his door then?

Jason. Jason Gideon was standing at his door, and his soul left his body. 

He let out an involuntary scream which made you and Jason scream back. All were small, but distinct sounds, and Jason’s interest was piqued. 

“You have someone here?” He whispered. 

“J-just my girlfriend,” Spencer admitted. He’d never told anyone who his girlfriend was, especially not that she was his mentor’s daughter. “You can come in if you want?”

“Oh, I can finally meet the woman behind Doctor Reid-”

“No! S-she’s sick right now,” he squeaked. “She’s just… resting up.”

You had sprinted into the bedroom when you heard your dad’s voice and thank god you had, or else you would’ve been caught. 

“Wow, love really does defy all odds, you don’t even touch us when we’ve been fully sanitised,” Jason laughed. 

“ ‘We’, who’s ‘we’?”

“The rest of the team,” he nodded. “They’re coming up after me.”

“W-why?” Spencer picked at his nails as Jason smiled at him. 

“It’s your birthday Spencer, we wanted to throw a party,” he chuckled. 

“But it’s 11pm at night?”

“And we have another case,” Jason sighed. “So grab your bag and we’ll have the party on the plane.”

“Oh,” Spencer deflated. He promised he’d spend the next few days with you. You’d taken time off work and everything. And he had to leave, again. “I-is there anyway I could… stay?” 

“Pardon?” Jason stopped in his tracks. 

“It’s just… I kind of promised my girlfriend that I would be here for the next few days since it’s my birthday and-”

“Spencer, it’s fine,” you promised, coming out of his bedroom. You did it without thinking, and now you’re faced with the impending wrath of your father. 

He looked between the two of you, then where you held Spencer’s hand in comfort as you waited for his reaction. 

“You’re dating my daughter, Spencer?” He asked, a certain anger in his tone. 

“Dad, please just-”

“And you didn’t think to tell me it was you who’s keeping my best agent from me?” He turned to you and you rolled your eyes. 

“Spencer is allowed to have a personal life, dad,” you argued as Spencer got increasingly red. 

“And what? You’re the personal life he needs?” He snapped and your face fell. 

“I know you don’t think I’m doing enough with my life dad, but I’m allowed to be happy with my boyfriend. Sorry that pisses you off so much,” you snapped back, anger boiling through you. You’d only really known your dad for the last two years. He’s reached out after your mom died. They’d been broken up for over 20 years. “If you didn’t want a kid, which you clearly don’t, you shouldn’t have reached out when my mom died. I was doing just fine on my own.”

His face twisted into a mix of shame and embarrassment. He didn’t want to make you feel small, he just wanted the best for both of you. “Y/n-”

“You have a case. Go on your case,” you spat, then turned to Spencer. “I’ll text you later.”

“Ok,” he rushed out, then ran off to grab his go-bag and be out of his apartment and out between you two. His girlfriend or his mentor, he was hoping you two wouldn’t make him choose because he knew Jason wouldn’t like his choice. 

Jason held out a hand to stop him. “Stay,” he sighed. “Take care of her.”

And with that your dad left his apartment. 

And with that the first few tears fell. 

“Baby,” he whispered, pulling you in. His heart ached for you. You’d grown up with a horrible family, and you’d begged someone to take you out of it, hoping that your father would show up one day. He didn’t. Not until the funeral. 

“I’m sorry I'm crying on your birthday,” you whimpered, trying to stop. 

“Please don’t apologise, he was being an asshole,” he held you tighter, praying the pain in his chest would go away. 

“I don’t know what to do,” you sobbed. “I know I’m not enough- for both of you, and I just… I keep trying but nothing is ever good enough and I’m so sorry Spencer, I really am, I really am trying-”

“You’re more than enough for me. I love you. I adore you,” he reassured you and your heart stopped. 

Well, that was a first. 

“You love me?” You asked, staring up at him.

“Of course I love you,” he nodded, a wonky smile on his face.

“I love you too,” you whispered and his smile turned into a full-on grin. 

“Well, that’s good,” he leant down so that you two were face to face. “Because-”

You cut him off with a kiss. You could taste the saltiness of your tears and you were sure he could too. But you didn’t care.

You loved him. He loved you. 

That would be enough for the both of you. Your dad was a jerk. 

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criminal minds masterlist :)

navigation for my blog :) (criminal minds, marvel, top gun, challengers, the bear, the hunger games, obx+)

cm taglist

@khxna

[bombuni]

private lessons

summary: Professor Jeong is kind enough to help you with your assignments after-hours. genre/pairing: professor!yunho x student!reader, college au, smut wc: 1.8k warnings: SMUT MDNI, meandom!yunho, sub!fem!reader, risqué topic but they are both of age consenting adults, monster cock jeong yunho agenda, lil degradation, the use of ‘slut’, creampie bom note: bad day today and my brain went uooghhhh professor yunho backshots and it cheered me up so maybe this will cheer u up too

Professor Jeong is the kindest man you’ve met.

He’s quick to answer your questions and complement your work. He greets you every morning with a kind smile and a wave of his hand, glasses slipping down his nose as he scutters around with piles of papers in his gentle hands. He watches you a lot. It’s often you look up during a lesson and find that he’s already looking at you with a feeling you can’t quite name. You chalk it up to him keeping an eye on his star pupil.

It’s the beginning of the semester and you’re not sure how, but you’re already struggling. Professor Jeong, amazingly enough, immediately took notice of your slipping grades and offered extra help before you could even ask. Graciously, you accepted his invitation to discuss your latest assignment with him in his office. You don’t think much of it. Him personally inviting you to his office hours is completely normal.

Right?

His office smells like a coffee shop, oddly enough. It’s a cramped space with piles of papers everywhere, but you spot his brown head of hair behind his computer and knock on your way in.

He seems to light up at the sight of you, leaning back and stretching in his chair, “Good to see you, miss,” God, his white button-up shirt is impossibly tight, “I was hoping you’d show up. Most of my students bail.”

You shyly giggle at the boyish smile he gives you, “Well, I’m not like the rest of your students, Professor,” his veiny hands come up to fiddle with his tie, “And ‘miss’ makes me feel old.”

He chuckles quietly as he organizes the mess on his desk and beckons you to sit, “Well, I’ll refrain from calling you ‘miss’ if you call me Yunho instead. We’re practically the same age anyways. Deal?”

Yunho’s rolling the sleeves of his shirt up as he speaks to you, and it causes you to malfunction. All you can do is stare hungrily and unabashedly at his pale skin.

“Deal.”

Tongue poking his cheek, you watch as his eyes run over you. The smile he holds on his face is deceivingly sweet. He’s holding back from saying something, just barely, and you want to unravel whatever thread makes the thoughts in his head. You want to unravel the threads in his clothes the longer he watches you like prey too, but that’s neither here nor there.

Yunho seems to swallow his words for a moment, adam’s apple bobbing as he pretends to gather all of the necessary materials. In reality, he’s attempting to gather all the strength he has to ignore the purposeful cleavage you’re showing. He knows it’s inappropriate to glance, but is it really his fault when you’re so clearly putting on a show for him?

He looks at you over his glasses, eyebrows raised and smile cheeky, “Don’t you get cold?”

You feign innocence, etching confusion on your face and leaning in just close enough so he’ll catch a whiff of your vanilla scented perfume, “What ever do you mean, Yunho?”

A puff of air escapes his nostrils in disbelief. You’re very aware of what you’re doing to him. He removes his thin-wired glasses, soft eyes turning intimidating once you’re meeting them with zero layers. He tilts his head at you questioningly, slender hand cupping his chin in mock thought. Everything he does is unwittingly graceful, elegance in his nature.

“Did you really come here for help on your essay?” He asks tauntingly and softly.

You mirror him, “Don’t act like you don’t stare at me during lectures,”

He chuckles at you and leans back in his chair, “I don’t. Is that what you think?”

The pout on your face is enticingly cute, “Don’t lie, Yunho.”

“Are you calling your professor a liar?” He raises a brow at you and you shrink in your seat.

Yunho continues as he leans on his desk, eyes focused on you and glancing down every once in a while, “I stare because you’re a slut, sweetheart. You let everyone on campus see you like that?”

A blush blooms bright on your cheeks now and Yunho lets out a mocking giggle. He’s unfortunately got you pegged. In truth, you only revealed skin on days you knew you’d see Yunho. You’ve been preparing and fantasizing about him using you like his own fuck toy ever since the first day he stepped into the lecture hall. Now that it’s happening though, you fear you’re in over your own head.

You look down under his scrutinizing gaze, “N-no. Just you, I only dress like this for you.”

He hums, standing from his desk and walking over to your side. Even the sound of his footsteps is intimidating, echoing in the reaches of your mind and igniting a fire in your gut. You feel a warm hand on your chin, his slender fingers sending sparks where they touch your skin. He lifts your head to face him and you listen on instinct.

He wears a smirk now. Like he’s a mastermind who’s trapped you, “Prove it to me, sweetheart.”

You sit there frozen for a second, only staring up at Yunho as your brain fries. He tsk’s at you as he leads your hands towards his belt buckle. Once you understand and start unbuckling his belt, he smiles and pats your head. It only makes your mouth water more.

The cock that greets you when you finally unzip Yunho is comedically big. You look up at him with nervous doe eyes and he feels himself get harder. He runs a comforting hand through your hair, throbbing and hissing when he feels you lick a long stripe along the length of him. You keep teasing him like this, licking what you can and keeping your lips on his leaking tip before he decides he’s had enough.

He places both of his hands on the sides of your head, holding you on his cock, “Sluts don’t get to tease,” he forces you an inch down him, the wetness of your mouth clouding whatever resolve and restraint he has, “You just suck my cock. Got it, pretty girl?”

He feels you nod through the cock stuffed in your mouth. Yunho guides your mouth along as you try to take all of him in, tears welling in your eyes with every inch you take. Watching you struggle to take him has his mouth hanging open, beads of sweat falling from his forehead. It takes all he has not to fuck your pretty mouth stupid.

You get as far as you think you’ll be able to before you push off of him, leaving kisses on his pink cock and trailing saliva strings. Yunho slaps his cock tip on your tongue when you open your mouth upon request, feeling his ego swell when you obey to his every command. His very best student.

Yunho leans down to kiss you, messily and provocatively. He refuses to let you get any air, stealing any that you have as he holds you to his lips. He tastes himself on your tongue when he makes his way into your mouth, your body limp against him as you let him do what he wants.

He pants into your mouth, “We’re gonna train that pussy next,”

You whine and hold his wrists, still drowning in everything that is Yunho, “Y-yunho, what if someone walks in…?”

He separates from you, once again bringing a hand to your chin to force your attention on him, “Now the little sluts worried?” He pulls you up by your shoulders, turning you around and folding you onto his desk instantaneously, “I think you’d love it if someone walked in on your Professor stuffing you with his cock.”

You shake your head, denying the idea even though you can feel yourself dripping at the thought of someone seeing you like this. Yunho brings a hand down and under your skirt, rubbing your slit through your damp panties. Your pretty white panties, he finds as he lifts your skirt over your ass.

His voice sends chills down your spine as he leans in and whispers in your ear, putting all of his weight onto your back, “Don’t you feel yourself, princess? I’m gonna destroy this little pussy whether someone watches or not,”

He slides his cock along your panties, patience disappearing as slender fingers slide under the fabric to pull them aside. You feel him at your entrance, his precum and your slick mixing as he attempts to bottom out. The stretch is unbelievable, but for once you feel like you’ve had your fill. He has you breaking down, moaning, and toppling the stacks of papers on his desk when he’s not even fully in.

The metal desk is cold under your cheek and your fingertips, “‘S so big, Yunho,”

He chuckles at how broken you sound, “You can take it, sweetheart. Isn’t this what you came to my office for?”

“Y-yes! Yes!” He slides fully in, groaning at the way you suck him in and mold yourself around him. You’re leaking all over him. He pushes his bangs out of his face, sweat clinging to his skin as he holds your hips. Yunho waits for you to settle before finally moving. When he does, it feels like every nerve in your body has collected in your pussy. He raises your sensitivity to its maximum, the lewd sounds of your pussy squelching around him filling his office.

He sets a quick pace, rhythmically slamming his hips into yours and moaning into your ear with every thrust, “You’re so tight for me, princess, fuck, you’re gonna drain me.”

His balls slap against your skin, pounding you over and over unforgivingly into his desk. He’s lost all sense of restraint. Yunho’s hips begin to stutter inside of you as his moans grow whinier, his forearm wrapping around the front of you. He holds you tightly against him before thrusting one last time and making sure to cum deep inside you. He jolts every couple of seconds, gently fucking his cum back inside of you. Yunho likes the feeling of marking you.

The cramped room is searingly hot now and smells of sex. You try to gather your bearings on Yunho’s desk, next to a printed copy of your own essay and his forgotten cup of coffee. You’ll be surprised if someone didn’t hear the two of you fucking like rabbits.

Yunho lifts himself off of you, letting your panties cover your pussy again. His cum and your slick mix again and a part of you is disgustingly proud to walk around like this, secretly knowing you belong to him.

He’s buckling his belt again, smiling like a shy love struck boy with red cheeks and sweaty forehead, “Same time next week?”

[trappolia]

FINGERS TWISTED BEHIND MY BACK (DON'T LET IT BE YOU I LACK) ── aventurine x gn!reader, 862

aventurine hates fighting with you.

he does not even remember it—not clearly, at least. through the memories mudded by the buzz of soulglad and whatever alcoholic beverages he'd guzzled down the night before, the exact expression of your face when he stumbled back into your hotel room is a blur (a pretty blur, he is quite sure, though no doubt a disappointed one) and the sentences you'd spat out at him were jumbled into words that grate in his eardrums when he tries to recall what exactly was said. aventurine tries to echo it to himself, but even the incoherence sounds bitter on his tongue, and all that comes out an indistinct, asthmatic gasp that he's quite sure is some sort of equivalent of his heart aching. or breaking. somewhere in between, perhaps.

he rolls over in your bed, damp from the shower and tears. aventurine is thankful veritas hasn't stormed in to nag at him; he would not be able to stomach being seen like this by anyone else but you: his sweet safe haven, his little eden. you've gone now, stormed off somewhere to cool off. aventurine leaves you be (even if he spent the first two hours alone relentlessly spamming your phone with messages, pleas to come back and return) but he is still alone.

the thought occurred to him somewhere between hour three and hour five, that you'd never come back. aventurine doesn't let it linger. his stomach roils, mouth tasting of bitter alcohol and sweet dreams where you are still there and he'd never upset you.

the hours he spends there without you are hellish, a parody of a bleak, grief-stricken painting of some woman whose husband has gone out to fight in an intergalactic war—draped over the bed, numb and miserable to everything but the thought of you he has to conjure every now and then to keep himself sane. the air is cold and never seems to adjust, even though the reverie's rooms are specifically designed to tailor to the guest's tastes. they clearly did not consider the factor that is a hopeless, lovesick man suffering from withdrawal.

the door creaks open.

aventurine darts up in his your bed, instantly whipping myself up into such a nervous, edgy frenzy that he almost forgets how to breathe. his lungs shudder, the cogs in his brain turning the wrong way, and nothing is working fast enough, right enough as he stumbles to his feet, nearly tripping over the carpet as he finds you toeing off your shoes at the door, so pretty it hurts.

"welcome home," aventurine manages to choke out, still tripped-out and dizzy, heart pounding loud in his fingertips and ears. he watches you glance up at him, your eyes meeting his own for the first time in hours that feel like centuries, and the burden on his lungs alleviates—just a little bit.

"…aventurine," you sigh in this throaty, broken voice that cuts right at his chest. he winces as if he's been struck, eyes flitting to the dizzying pattern of the carpet in effort to hide the glossiness of his irises.

he hears your feet padding across the room to him, the footfalls soft and slow and not at all violent, though he cannot help but fear. there can always be a finality to the softest, gentlest of mercies. not that aventurine has ever experienced it before, but he knows it is possible with you: you who holds his heart in your hands, and you may very well tear it apart if you so wished.

aventurine will let you, if that is what you want.

but instead he swallows, too loudly; finds his fingers instinctively twisting behind his back. "are you going?"

"i just arrived," you whisper, endlessly gentle, endlessly soft—forgiving.

"i know," his voice breaks, and you reach out to touch him—palm against cheek, thumb brushing over the slope of his cheekbone. something cold and damp trails over the flesh of his face, fair marble streaked with a single rivulet of a tear. he does not tell you why he wants to cry. you know anyway.

aventurine thinks pretending would be easier with you, but here in this room, at the end of the day when everyone else has escaped into their own dreamscape, he is tired of saccharine sweet lies, the twisting webs that he pulls around without even understanding the final result it will conjure. it is easier, he thinks, to let you keep his heart and do with it as you wish—and aventurine can only hope that you will be merciful.

are you going? the second set of three words, that single question that he truly wants to ask is caught in his throat, because you may hold aventurine's heart in your palms, but if you will not use your own bloody fingers to pry it open, he must do it for you—and he can't. not for this, at least.

but you know anyway. of course you do.

will you stay?

"i'm right here," you murmur, sweet and godly against his lips, swallowing the sob that he almost lets out. "i'm staying right here."

© trappolia 2024