#prone restraint

[neuroclastic]

Livestreaming Tuesday, January 3 with Stacia Langley, Max Benson’s Mother

On Tuesday, January 3, Stacia Langley will join NeuroClastic for a live interview to talk about the death of her son, Max, who was killed by his teachers in an illegal prone restraint that lasted almost 2 hours.

In 2018, shortly after he turned 13 years of age, Max Benson was killed when his teachers held him in an illegal prone restraint for nearly two hours. On Tuesday, January 3, at 5pm Eastern, 2pm Pacific, 10pm UK time, Neuroclastic will stream live with Max’s mother, Stacia Langley, to talk about the ongoing efforts to obtain justice for Max and to ensure this never happens to another child. You…

[ofdinosanddais1]

Sia's Music movie: *shows a deadly restraint as a way to help autistic people who need compression*

Service dogs, weighted blankets, weighted stuffed animals, etc.: "Am I a joke to you?"

[themetalvirus]

little guy collection

[shadowcat222]

I literally can't make a bully that's just a bully... Crescent and Bluff my beloved..

[trans-leek-cookie]

(ID in alt text but also I'm bad at describing expression sorry)

I think this is how my bank looks at me giving 25$ like. 50 times to random ppl online. After having a credit card for probably <90 days

[yourtamaki]

rip my ribcage open (devour what’s truly yours)

zoro x f!reader

word count: 2.1k

warnings: tummy-pusher zoro, squirting, oral (f!receiving), overstimulation, prone bone, chokehold, slight breath play, creampie, violent imagery, religious imagery, bit of aftercare.

zoro thinks you might be trying to say his name.

he’s knelt between your legs, sitting back on his haunches and rocking his hips just enough to fuck you with the fat tip of his cock. there’s a rhythm to the unsteady rise and fall of your chest. short inhale, long exhale, the same way you always sigh his name when he’s reduced you to this.

tears dotting your lashes, drool seeping from the corner of your mouth, hips bucking mindlessly trying to get him to slip in deeper.

fuck, you’re hungry for it.

zoro is not a man of many indulgences. he doesn’t allow himself to be. having too many vices can only lead to a weak mind and an even weaker will. he eats but he does not savour, he sleeps but he does not dream.

but he’d be a shit swordsman if he didn’t understand the balance in all things. denying himself all of life’s comforts would make for a rigid spirit, brittle and easily broken. so he’ll sip on some sake and enjoy its fire in his belly, he’ll nap on sunny’s deck so when he wakes, it’s to the sight of his crew set to the backdrop of the setting sun. and when the sun dips below the horizon, there’s nothing to stop him from finding you in the dark and pulling you into a hungry kiss.

that balance is what makes nights like these all the better. knowing that having you like this, spread open and vulnerable, is good for him. that you’re making him a better man, a stronger man, just by letting him take you apart and make a mess out of you. there’s no need to resist the temptation now of bending low to press his lips to your trembling ones in a slow, ravenous kiss.

you taste like need and the sweetest of sins and he licks at the roof of your mouth, knowing he’s damned himself long ago to crave you for as long as he lives.

"if you want something, you have to ask,” he says, pulling back and idly groping at your tits, pinching your nipple when you don’t answer. you throw your head back at the sudden sensation and a wild heat blooms in his chest at the sight, scorching his ribs. how easily you bare your neck for him. how thoughtlessly.

"please, zoro, please. want you deeper, i wanna feel you here,” you take his hands, sliding them down your body until they come to rest on your lower stomach. irritation, sharp and sudden, cuts through his haze.

“don’t fucking beg,” he says, low and even, “you don’t have to beg. ever.”

it’s so far beneath you to plead, he has to swallow down the growl building in the back of his throat. zoro would topple empires for you, would cut the very moon in half if you asked, and you think you have to beg him for anything?

he doesn’t wait for you to nod before he starts pushing in. it doesn’t matter if you understand yet or not, he’ll fuck it into you until you do.

there’s a moment after he’s bottomed out inside you where neither of you move a muscle. he grits his teeth from the effort of holding on to the frayed rope that is his restraint and letting you get used to the wide stretch of him. ages pass before you reach up, slowly as if to not startle the beast above you, and cup his face in your soft palm. you stroke your thumb across his cheek, just on the edge of his scar. your touch is warm and gentle and cracks something inside him wide open.

the rope slip from his fingers. he lets it.

there’s no warning, no build-up before he’s pressing both palms down on your stomach and fucking into you. you reach up to hold on to any part of him, settling around his neck, a balm on his flushed skin even as your nails dig and bite into him.

“you feel that? hmm?” his smile feels jagged and sharp, more demon than man but you only moan at the sight of it, “you feel me in there?”

it’s a strange sensation, feeling himself carve a space inside you, the push and pull. it’s filthy and more intimate than it has any right to be and he fucking loves it.

“fuck, feel you i feel—” a rough thrust cuts you off and when you catch your breath, you’re still rambling, “—so good, you’re so good.”

zoro’s been called many things in his life but good isn’t one of them. it’s never bothered him before. good men don’t claw their way up in the world and leave a trail of slaughter in their wake. good men don’t scream at the heavens and demand to be heard.

zoro is not a good man. but he can be good. to you. for you.

“breathe, baby,” he says, “don’t forget to breathe.”

he presses down a bit harder and your reaction is instantaneous, legs kicking out, the tears that have been threatening to spill over since he stuffed a pillow under your hips finally sliding down your cheeks. you take him so beautifully and something barbed wraps around his heart and squeezes at the sight, shredding him to bloody pieces.

he knows you’re close before your eyes start to flutter, can feel it building like a storm inside you and chases your pleasure with reckless abandon.

“zoro.”

short inhale, long exhale. his name a sigh on your parted lips as you clench tight around him and cum. he doesn’t stop moving for a second, doesn’t let up the pressure even as he feels you gush all over him, soaking his cock, his thighs, his stomach. his strokes stay sure and steady as he fucks you through your high.

you shudder beneath him before relaxing back into the bed and he slows to a stop to let you catch your breath. it hurts to look at you, all divine and fucked out. it’s a sight too holy for a hellbound man like him to behold but he drinks it in anyway, burns it into his mind. 

what’s one more sin to a demon?

zoro slips out of you with a hiss through gritted teeth, taking a moment to admire the creamy ring around his base, your arousal and cum still dripping off him. you’ve marked him as yours and yours alone without even trying and his cock twitches at the thought.

“no why?” you whine as he pulls back further, “give it back.”

“turn over,” even as he speaks, he’s manhandling you until you’re laid out on your stomach, hips propped up with the pillow he takes care to push under you. zoro kisses down your spine before settling between your spread legs and greeting your cunt with a broad stroke of his tongue, “i ever tell you that you taste good like this?”

“like- mmm fuck,” you say, all breathy as he circles around your swollen clit, “like what?”

“stretched out,” he murmurs, “open.” 

you’re past the point of words as he grabs two handfuls of your ass, spreads your sticky lips open with his thumbs and buries his tongue inside you. he savours the sweet little gasps you let you like the finest sake, groaning into your pussy as you start to rock your hips and grind your clit against him. he can’t catch a full breath, thinks he might be suffocating, and moans a bit louder.

a swarm of words bubble up hot and fast in his lungs, taking up space where breath once lived. half-formed thoughts try and fail to take shape in his mouth, weighing down the tongue that makes you writhe in the sheets. 

he can’t bring himself to speak but if he could, he’d show you. zoro wants to crack his ribs open so you can see the bloody wreckage you’ve caused, let you crawl in and keep you safe next to the heart that’s always, always, been yours. he’d probably burst into flames with so much goodness inside him but that’s alright. at least he’d keep you warm.

the words stay trapped where they are though and all he can do is all he’s ever known how to. he goes to work. zoro is singleminded in his task, fingers digging into the fat of your ass to keep you still while he devours you whole and it doesn’t take long before he’s pushing you off the edge he never let you stray too far away from.

he laps at your folds until you start to squirm away, crawling up the bed and away from him. he lets you put a bit of distance between you, lulls his prey into thinking it’s escaped before he pounces. between one breath and the next, zoro’s on you, draped along your back, licking at the sweat that beads down the nape of your neck. you arch into him, pushing back against the hardness digging into your ass before he rests his weight down on you, forcing you flat on your front.

“where do you want me, baby?” he asks, kissing behind your ear, “tell me where you want me.”

in this moment and in all others, zoro would do anything you told him to. you could make him hump you like an animal until he cums and lick your skin clean or stand across the room and jack off by himself with nothing but the lingering taste of your pussy to help him get off. he’d do it and he’d do it without an ounce of shame.

“want you inside,” you slur, “wanna be full.”

his entire being in the palm of your hands and you choose to be merciful.

“you sure?” he lifts up off you just enough to get a hand around his base and nudge his tip against your clit, “not too sensitive?”

“yeah, pl- i can take it.”

his grin is all teeth when he hears you correct yourself, “that’s my fucking girl. stay still, baby. let me take care of you.”

you’re soft and slick from his spit and two orgasms and when he bottoms out all at once, it’s with a low groan in your ear that echoes behind your breathy moan. sinking back inside you feels like rapture, like something he’s done nothing to deserve but basks in anyway with an endless greed.

he wraps his arms around you, one across your front groping at your chest while the other hooks around to put you in a headlock, keeping you pressed flush to him as he starts to rock into you. zoro is quiet in his worship, purposeful, and you’re nearly as quiet in receiving it, the room filled only by your soaked cunt and ragged breathing. though you don’t say anything, he can hear you loud and clear.

short inhale, long exhale.

a holy call he’s helpless to answer.

zoro fucks you to the rhythm of his name, short, devastating thrusts with his whole weight thrown behind him. he wants to live in this moment, could spend the rest of his days with his cock dragging along your walls slow and sure, relishing the way you tighten like a vice around him every time he flexes and cuts your air off mid-gasp.

but he swore an oath at your altar and zoro has always been a man of his words.

he cums with a sigh of your name, spilling inside you for what feels like ages before he collapses over you boneless and spent, his softening cock keeping you plugged nice and full just like you asked so sweetly for.

“you okay?” he asks, pulling out as gently as he can and helping you roll over when your trembling arms make it clear you can’t do it on your own.

“mhmm,” you pull yourself up until you’re nose to nose with him. zoro holds still as you scatter kisses across his face like stardust. his temple, his scar, the corner of his mouth. there’s no order, no pattern he can discern to the affection you bestow but he accepts it the way all blessings should be received. with silent gratitude.

“nothing hurts?” 

“no. but you’re carrying me to the bath.”

“okay.”

you tuck yourself into his side, reaching up to idly roll his earrings between your fingers, “and washing my hair.”

“okay.”

“and i’m gonna wash your hair.”

“okay.”

“say something else.”

he thinks for a moment, thinks of all he could never put to words and lets them stay as thoughts. instead, he meets your eyes and settles on a simple truth, “you’re beautiful.”

a smile, radiant and bright, breaks across your face. what happens, he wonders, when a demon is the cause of something as divine as your smile? it’s a question he doesn’t mind spending his life searching the answer to. 

dedicated to: mah wife @katslutski and the loml @saotoru

[delirious-donna]

tw: female reader, suggestive, yearning, reader is adored, could be considered somno but reader wakes up before anything starts, implied pussy eating, he just loves you so so much

The bed was pleasantly warm, so comforting against your spine. Soft sheets cradled your form as if trying to lull you into slumber, whilst the book you held slipped between your fingers as tiredness pressed against your eyes.

The spotlight from the bedside lamp painted the most magical shadows against the wall, the conjurations seeming to dance from the gentle fairy lights that twinkled around the room's edges. It was like a fairytale landscape but you fought the sleep that tried to tease you into surrender as if it were a dragon to be slain.

You waited, not sure how much longer it would be before you could be reunited with your lover. It felt too empty in here without him, his presence such a welcome and soothing one that you missed it all the more when he was gone.

Thoughts of the man you loved were the last ones you could recall before sleep pressed you deep into the mattress.

You were so cute, sweeter than the sugary candies he sometimes indulged in, and he was dying for a taste.

The sight of you prone on your squishy bed, chest rising and falling gently whilst you slumbered was just what he needed after the tediousness of the day. The veil of fatigue lifted enough to know that he wouldn’t be ready for sleep until he had you in his arms, his lips on every inch of your glowing sleep-soaked skin.

He padded silently towards the bed and knelt carefully so as not to disturb his sleeping angel.

For a long moment he admired your adorable pyjamas with the white fluffy bunny print–his personal favourites–with a lazy smile curling his lips at how the shorts bunched around your plush thighs. It was like he could already feel your softness beneath his touch, and he swiped his tongue across his teeth at the thought.

Slowly, like a stealthy animal, he crawled towards you. He watched through hooded eyes as he kissed up your smooth calf, enjoying the slight squirm of your hips when he reached the inside of your knee.

You smelled of your favourite body wash and he inhaled deeply until only you filled his head. He palmed you through the thin barrier of your pyjama shorts, instantly feeling your warmth and wishing to nuzzle against you.

It strained his dick to almost pain. The restraint of his pants uncomfortably tight, length throbbing with the close proximity to your pretty little pussy. His pretty little pussy… fuck.

Carnal thoughts of tasting your unique essence on his tongue, your thighs pressing against his ears and the hands that would switch between caressing and tugging on his hair, filled his mind. It made him crazy with need for you, and only you.

Deft fingers curled around the flimsy waistband, tugging the shorts down your legs until they flew into an unknown corner of the darkened room. Groans of you waking roused him enough to stare into that sleepy face that made him want to present you with his heart on a gilded platter.

“Baby?”

“Mhm, it’s me. I missed you,” he assured whilst his fingers tangled with your own, shifting your hands into the messy strands of his hair before pulling away to trace the glistening pussy lips that he was desperate to taste.

You blinked rapidly at familiar eyes glazed with desire, and it was enough to twist your stomach into knots. The swell of emotions that he evoked in you was so powerful that you could sense the slick building with every second that passed.

His lips were feverish, a contradiction to the usual cool sweep of his mouth, as they pressed against your skin. His dexterous hand snaked between your thighs only for you to press them tightly together in a mixture of embarrassment and seeking out that much-needed friction.

You let out a whimper as he sucked bruises of possession into your flesh, almost crying out aloud in simple ecstasy when he spoke once more.

“Now spread your legs and try to tell me about your day.”

Kuroo, Bokuto, Daichi, Suna, Osamu, Kakashi*, Obito, Kiba, Nanami, Gojo, Choso, Erwin, Levi, Reiner, Kunikida, Fuzukawa, Chuuya, Aizawa, Keigo, Sebastian, Hanma, Zhongli, Wriothesley, Kaeya + your fave that fits the story!

*I’m including Kakashi even though he doesn’t like sweets!

[nightcolorz]

we don’t give devils minion era Daniel enough credit bcus imagine ur boyfriend (who can kill you) has the emotional volatility of an ultra mentally ill teenager and u fight constantly and not only is this bitch prone to tantrum style throwing and breaking things when he’s angry, he can also *read your mind* and 100% is going to call u out and break down cry and scream etc over something you DIDN’T EVEN SAY OUT LOUD 😭😭 like omfg Daniel can have the most restraint in the world during an argument and his uncontrollable stream of consciousness is still going to get him in deep shit, it’s a miracle he fared as well as he did actually

[zebulontheplanet]

Sometimes yes, people with meltdowns do need to be retrained. Sometimes yes, they can seriously hurt themselves. Yes, there is nuance. Restraint can be seriously harmful, but restraint can mean the difference between injuring yourself severely, and someone else hurting you from the restraint.

I’m an autistic person that has violent meltdowns with self injurious behaviors. And yes, this does mean that sometimes I need to be restrained.

I think that in the autism community, there’s a lot of people saying “never restrain!! Never do that!!” And they forget about people like me, who WILL hurt themselves severely if they are not restrained. Does this mean that I allow random people to restrain me during meltdowns? Absolutely fucking not. My caregiver is the ONLY person I trust to restrain me during meltdowns. Why? Because they know how to do it in a way that won’t hurt me, or lead to me hurting them.

I feel like within the autism community, there’s so many people telling us what we can and cannot do. And what our caregivers can and cannot do. YES! Restraint can be life threatening and harmful, but I am prone to hurting myself. To giving myself a head injury, to self harming. It is far more safer for me to be restrained correctly from my caregiver.

Please remember that those of us with higher support needs and more violent meltdowns, do sometimes need to be restrained. However, it’s important to remember anatomy. When my caregiver became my caregiver, that’s one of the first things we talked about, and we came to an agreement and I talked to them about the CORRECT way to restrain me during meltdowns.

Please remember those of us who do need restrained, and please remember those of us that this is the safest option for us.

[nakahras]

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི heartbeat • osamu dazai

synopsis • a one time thing then becomes a sometimes thing and that becomes something entirely different when dazai is officially pardoned from his long list of crimes. his timing is impeccable considering it’s a special day for him.

warning • intentional lower case, fem!reader, cursing, use of pet name “bella”, oral (m -> f), fingering, dry humping, dazai cums in his pants womp womp

wc • 3.7k

a/n • happy late bday to the stinky!!!!!!! bday or not it’s my job to embarrass this man ^.^

it started as a one time thing, a mistake the two of you made one drunken night when dazai was a whole bottle in and you a few shots in. he used to have no problem drinking alone but that night, for some odd reason, he sought you out — he was craving your company in his intoxicated haze. with your usual restraint heavily impaired, nothing stopped you from spending the night sitting on top of dazai and making his eyes roll to the back of his head.

it was supposed to be a one time thing but isn’t that how these types of things always start?

the second time it happened was the very next day. something in dazai had clearly been stirred because he would not stop bothering you all day. usually he’d pick a time of day and use it to poke fun at you but eventually your indifference would make him grow bored and he moves on to the next person closest to him (i.e kunikida). however, he was persistent the next day and a lot more touchy. worst of all? everyone noticed. you were mortified when atsushi of all people leaned over the desk across from you and asked “did something happen” the pause to look between the two of you for dramatic effect was really the nail in the coffin, “…between you two?”

you wanted to throw up. curse atsushi and his weretiger animal instincts. you wanted to be careful. you continued to shut down the not-so-subtle advances from the brunette. but your composure was thinning — that paired with the images of the previous night’s activities flitting across your mind, was enough to cut your thread of restraint. of course dazai was so bothered he couldn’t make it back to the dorms. he had you in the electrical room that kunikida was prone to lock him in when the detective was being especially annoying. 

it happened again and again and again. and then several more times after that. you had a sort of schedule almost. a tell when dazai was going to visit you after work.

it was never more than sex.

and that’s what you’re trying to remind yourself of as you prepare to face dazai for the first time after being in prison for months then being pardoned for his crimes after assisting in bringing down fyodor dostoevsky and the decay of angels. you’re uncharacteristically nervous to see him. the freshly freed man has been in yokohama for a week now, you saw him on his second day here for a welcome back party the agency threw for him. 

he was… distant. 

that was the best way you could think to put it. he was seemingly normal with everyone else but with you, it was as if whatever you’d been doing before the doa incident had never taken place. it was unsettling to say the least.

or, at least it was unsettling, until today.

dazai “the best detective of all time” osamu: i’m coming over in five minutes. got anything strong?

you roll your eyes at the contact name that dazai had clearly entered himself, regardless of that, you let a fond and somewhat relieved smile tug at your lips.

you: you insult me. i always have your favorite stocked

dazai “the best detective of all time” osamu: a woman after my own heart (♡ヮ♡)

you don’t bother with a response. instead you ignore the odd ache in your chest and pull down a bottle of liquor that you normally would never touch but the nagging feeling in your gut needs to go. you pull out two shot glasses and pour some of the alcohol in each one. you don’t wait for the brunette and throw your head back to toss the amber liquid down to the back of your throat. you make sure to swallow it all in one go, hoping the after taste isn’t too strong. 

you refill the glass and you’re getting ready to take another shot when the doorbell rings.

what the fuck?

dazai never uses the bell? he doesn’t even knock most of the time, he just barges right in. you cautiously toe your way to the front door and lean up to peer through the peephole. you’re met with a mess of burnt caramel tresses. you’re quick to lean back and open the door. 

dazai’s attention clearly wandered while he had been waiting but the second you open the door he perks up and swivels around to present you with a singular yellow iris flower. you wonder where he found the gorgeous flower, they were hard to find this late in june, just barely no longer in bloom. 

the former fugitive thrusts the flower forward in your direction, his face is the perfect picture of composed, eyes lidded and smile relaxed. the way his free hand twitches at his side gives him away though. you make sure your eyes don’t linger on it for too long, dazai would know and would sink back into himself. instead you flit your gaze back to the flower and let a your mouth curve up in a shining smile.

“this wasn’t easy to come by, bella, but the search was worth it now that i get to see that stunning smile of yours.” the brunette bows in a way that’s reminiscent of a young lord courting a young lady.

you scrunch your nose in amusement and take the flower. your giddiness overtakes you and you’re quick to bring the beautiful plant up to your nose and breathe in. the smell is refreshing, what a flower should smell like in its prime. this iris is truly the perfect pick.

you look back up to dazai only to find him observing you with an unfamiliar gleam in his curious eyes. “thank you for the flower. i was surprised when you rang the doorbell, y’know? anyways, come in, your favorite is on the counter in the kitchen.”

the detective wastes no time in shuffling in. he toes his shoes off quickly and tosses his jacket on top of them, majority of it laying crumpled on the floor. dazai’s nose finds the amber liquor before his eyes do. he looks at the poured shot glass almost apologetically. you watch him do so and furrow your brow in confusion. 

you don’t linger on dazai’s strange behavior for long or the fact that he was in such a rush to get over here that he forgot to put his vest on and match his socks. you focus on opening your cabinet for your thin vase made for a single flower you totally didn’t steal from an event the ada hosted. you struggle for a moment before dazai’s chest is lightly grazing your back and he’s reaching above you to grab the object for the iris. 

the detective keeps you trapped between the counter and his body as he reaches over and fills the vase with some water. once he’s done and straightens himself, dazai plucks the flowers from your hold and plops it into the water. he scoots it as far away as possible before spinning you around. 

dazai brings his hand up and wraps it around the back of your head, fingers gentle as he runs them through your hair then he pushes your head into his chest and reaches up with his other arm — softly murmuring, “watch your head…” 

his voice trails off, like he’s not sure whether he should continue as he closes the cabinet doors above you. when he’s done, his fingers wrap around your hair and he tugs lightly to get you to look up at him. your breath hitches when his eyes catch the light, golden hour. the warm lighting turning his usual dark irises into a shining bronze. they’re beautiful, he’s beautiful as your eyes trace every feature on his face. 

dazai looks tired, you can tell by the way his skin is dull and in the bags that sit under his eyes and in the way his eyelids droop just a little bit lower than they normally do. despite his exhaustion, he still shines in the sunlight painted across his features. 

then he whispers out your given name, as if breathing it is all he knows.

the thing he was scared to utter, because dazai is dazai and you now know what that means. he’s terrified of rejection, specifically yours. so, instead of telling him — you’ve never really been good with words — you show dazai how willing you are to reassure him that rejection from you will never happen.

you search his eyes for a moment, looking for any hesitancy on his part. you don’t find any. you reach up and gingerly cup the brunettes cheeks. his reaction is instantaneous as he melts into your touch like a man starved. his fingers in your hair tighten and you let out a short noise, something caught between a whimper and a gasp. 

the noise you make is all the confirmation dazai needs to slip from your grip, he leans in to slot his lips with yours in a deep and fervent kiss.

you let out another noise, this time a hum of approval. your hovering arms rest on the detectives shoulders and you wrap them around his neck. with your new leverage you draw dazai even closer to you. your chests are pressed together as you breathe each other in. your senses are suddenly flooded by him and a welcome chill rolls through your body when he nips at your bottom lip.

his movements are slow, a stark difference from the usual desperation he displays when the two of you initiate sex. his tongue dances along your lips, silently pleading for entrance. you part your lips with ease and even let out a soft hum of appreciation. dazai explores your mouth like he’s discovering something entirely new for the very first time. his tongue goes from entangling with your own to scraping the back of your teeth then flattening against the roof of your mouth. you feel as if he’s devouring you, taking his time and not leaving a single centimeter untouched. 

while dazai’s mouth has you preoccupied, his hands roam freely, sliding across every curve until they land on your ass. again, he’s taking his time. it’s almost excruciating how slowly he’s taking things, but you have no say in the matter when your mind is this foggy. his guidance is welcome even though the pace isn’t quite to your liking.

dazai’s lithe fingers gently massage the swell of your ass, eliciting another whimper from you that he swallows up with a smile tugging at his lips. directly following that he steals your breath when he takes hold of the back of your thigh and hoists you up onto the counter with surprising ease. you distantly think, once again, how it feels like the man is trying his best to devour you. your hold around him tightens but you part from him, a string of spit following you. you’re panting, trying to collect the air you lost, the air that was taken from you by the brunette standing before you with a lopsided smile and gleaming eyes.

“…osamu…” you imagine the way you said his name just now sounds eerily familiar to the way he said yours.

dazai lets out a groan and dips his head down to nuzzle your neck. his fingers are now biting into your hips and teasing the hem of your tank top. his mouth trails along your jawline then he begins leaving sloppy kisses down the expanse of your neck. you push your chest into his and rake your fingers slowly up his clothed back.

you're desperate and it’s showing — it’s contagious even. dazai can only take so much. he’s waited too long to have you wrapped around him in the most intimate of ways. 

his fingers finally find their way under your shirt as he all but whines, “been waiting for this since i was taken, wanted you s’bad when i was gone.” 

you lean back and stare at him for a moment before trailing your fingers under the collar of his shirt and along the string of his bolo tie. you expertly loosen it along with the buttons of his shirt, which you also untuck from his trousers. you leave everything hanging on him for now while your lidded eyes stay trained on his face as you trail your hands down your body to where dazai’s hands rest on your now exposed hips. you want to see the reaction on his face as you guide his hands up, to expose more of your torso.

it’s your turn to guide him to your chest, letting him hold your breasts. his breath hitches and eyes flutter when you still. his fingers twitch and he watches you closely as he gives you a cautionary squeeze, testing out the waters. you hum in appreciation and give him a short nod. dazai is slow, again, it’s almost frustrating. you let out a huff but he’s far too focused on your tits to notice your ire. 

you stew in your frustration for a moment before a wild grin spreads across your face. you think you’ve figured out how to make the surprisingly patient man crack. you push your chest further into his hold and he thinks nothing of it, that is until you lift your shirt the rest of the way off and drop it on the floor. the brunette’s eyes flit from your chest to your face. he raises a brow curiously as you reach over and pull the bolo tie off his neck and pull it over your head, letting the accessory rest in between the valley of your breasts.

“i missed you too.”  

dazais eyes roll to the back of his head as he abandons your chest and takes hold of your face. “you’ll be the reason for my demise, bella.”

the detective gives you no room to rebuttal because in the next instant he’s crashing his lips to yours, his patience clearly thinned out. you smile triumphantly and reach out to slide his shirt off his torso and both of you let it fall to the ground. you trail your fingers down his abdomen. following the bumps of his bandages and leaving a wake of goosebumps on his exposed skin. when you make it to his pants you waste no time in unbuckling his belt and undoing his pants button. 

while you’re busy with your own endeavor, dazai is conjuring up a plan of his own. his hands trail down your thighs squeezing at the plushness of them. just as you’re about to unzip the brunette’s pants and let them drop to the floor to join the rest of your clothing, dazai slips from your grip as he drops to his knees. and how are you supposed to complain when he looks so good looking up at you through his lashes sitting pretty between your thighs? 

the answer is you don’t.

your hands quickly find his hair and your fingers tangle with the soft tresses. he leaves a trail of kisses up each of your thighs. once he’s satisfied with his work his fingers curl into the band of your shorts and looks up at you expectantly.

”off…” it’s a soft demand, but a demand all the same. 

you lift your hips and dazai all but tears the small article of clothing from your legs. he let’s out the most pathetic whimper when he notices two things. the first being that you weren't wearing any underwear. the second was just how wet you already were. it’s a clear testament to how worked up you must be and something in dazai’s chest swells as he realizes you must have been just as frustrated as he was. 

“no panties all because of me? how pretty. somehow your prettier than i remember, absolutely divine to a man that’s been starving for months.” 

your thighs lightly squeeze his head and you let out a frustrated groan. “osamu, please, would you just shut up and-“

your sentence is cut off by dazai practically shoving his face into your cunt and attaching his lips to your clit. it’s tactless but the way he sucks harshly has you seeing stars. your head lulls back and you let out embarrassing little pants. your fingers in his hair tug and scratch against his scalp, which earns a shameless moan from below you.

dazai is still watching you through his lashes. he can feel himself hardening in his pants, his hips twitching as they threaten to start thrusting and humping the air desperately. he ignores the desperate need to be inside of you and focuses on your pleasure. the detective brings his hand up to your mouth and taps your bottom lip with his middle and ring fingers. you’re happy to comply and open your mouth to welcome the two digits, wrapping your lips around his slender and long fingers and sucking on them with a smile.

dazai can feel the way he leaks into his pants at the view before him. it’s embarrassing how easily he’s getting off to you getting off on his mouth. pathetic even. only you could do this to him, no one else has ever drawn this kind of reaction out of the ex port mafia executive. once you're done swirling your tongue around his fingers, he pulls them from your mouth and guides them to your entrance. 

without giving it a second thought he pushes both digits into you with ease. 

your own fingers tug harshly at dazai’s hair and you let out a string of moans. “fu- ‘samu ‘s too much… oh my god- gonna cum already.”

dazai stills, for both your sakes because he thinks the knot in his own stomach is far too tight to just be desire. he was gonna cum. he was going to cum untouched. but he can’t just leave you hanging like this. your release versus his embarrassment. it’s an easy decision. dazai continues the suction he had on your clit and he pulls his fingers out of you almost all of the way and slides them right back in. 

you’re babbling incoherently, you can’t hold your head up, can’t see the way dazai is desperately bucking hips humping the air as he chases the minimal friction his underwear brings him. 

all it takes is two more thrusts of dazais fingers and you’re done for, cumming on his fingers, his mouth, his tongue. dazai is a messy eater, he’s slurping up your juices, everything that's drooling out of you is caught by his tongue. your vision is white and ears are ringing so you miss the way dazai starts cursing to himself. his mouth is still lapping at you but his hand has disappeared. 

you look down to see him using the same hand to pump his cock but by the time you register it, he’s already cumming, making an absolute mess of his pants and your kitchen floor. dazai’s whole body is twitching, but once he’s done he slumps over and rests his head on your thigh. his face is flushed, a telltale sign that he did, in fact, just cum.

you blink, trying to find your bearings and come to terms with whatever the fuck it was that just happened. “did you just-“

“shut up- no! i didn’t- no- shut up!” dazai whines as he shoves his face into your thighs and you can feel the heat radiating off his face.

you let out a snort and stroke his now sweaty hair. “osamu, it’s fine. it’s been a while. plus we both know, with that freak stamina of yours, you’ll be ready to go again in 10 minutes max.”

dazai rolls his head on your thigh so he can pout at you. you let out a small giggle at how cute he is. your hand drops to caress his cheek. 

“c’mere…” 

dazai shakes his head defiantly at your request. “no. i’m a mess. i need a towel to clean up first.”

you sigh at his dramatics but scoot over to jump off the counter. you walk a few paces forward to your small kitchen table where your paper towels sit. you pad on over and hand him the roll. dazai lets out a weak ‘thanks’ as you walk to the fridge and pull something out: a small container with a single cupcake in it. you pop the lid open and stick a birthday candle in it. you snatch your lighter and flick it on to light the candle.

walking back over to dazai, who’s shifted to sit against the cabinets and grumbling to himself about how he’ll show you how long he can really last, you're careful to make sure the candle doesn’t go out. you slink down against the cabinets and wait for dazai to stop cleaning himself and notice you.

with a huff dazai kicks his pants off, sitting only in his underwear. he looks over at you with a perplexed look, staring between you and the cupcake in your hands.

“what… what’s that for?” his face looks strangely innocent, he’s genuinely confused. 

you smile softly at him, hoping it’s enough to reassure him. “happy birthday, osamu.”

”how…??” he’s so stunned he can’t even speak.

you suppose this reaction is to be expected. until his arrest, you had no knowledge of when his birthday was. but since becoming public enemy number 1 a lot of his personal information had been shared to the public. his birthday being apart of that. you don’t feel like ruining the mood and explaining all that to him right now.

so instead of explaining, you simply move the cupcake towards him. “would you stop being difficult and just blow out your candle to make a wish?”

dazai gives you a scorned look but listens to you anyways. he seems to take the wishing part seriously as he contemplates something. his eyes flicker to you for a moment before he leans in and blows out the candle.

[tadpolesonalgae]

Bloodlust.[*]

Azriel x reader

a/n: thank you, anon <3, I had a lot of fun writing this 😌

warnings: smut, spitting, hate-sex, slight power imbalance?

word count: 4,170

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“Where’s your report?”

“I thought you were doing it.”

The look Azriel gives you is filled with enough ire to have a hint of satisfaction sparking in your chest, the hollow beneath his dark brows deepening as his classical features twist into an expression of silent hatred.

“You have thirty minutes to get it written up and on my desk,” he says shortly, words icy and clipped in the exact way that has irritation scratching at the back of your mind. “That’s completely unreasonable,” you reply bluntly. “Besides,” you say, holding his dark gaze, “I thought you were my superior. I was just there to offer assistance, so there’s no need for me to submit a formal report.”

“My desk. Half an hour,” he repeats coldly, his tone blunt and unforgiving. “Not a minute later.”

Then he turns, closing the door with enough force it creates a distinct hissing noise on the way shut, leaving you to struggle with the deadline.

————

Twenty-nine minutes later you deliver three forceful knocks to his door, blood hot as it boils in your veins, report still stuck to your clipboard which is in turn tucked beneath your arm.

“Enter,” he calls, and a muscle in your jaw ticks at the tone. Curt and demanding. Still, you step inside, allowing the door to click shut, dropping the clipboard on his desk on top of a file he was writing in, hopefully smudging the ink as the board clatters upon the surface. “Good enough?” You nearly spit, but manage to tone down the venom just enough.

Thunder claps from outside as your eyes meet, and he picks the report up, leaning back in his chair as he begins to read through the hurried scrawl. You bite down a snappy remark, hands clasped behind your back in proper fashion as you’re forced to wait for him to complete his review. You get the distinct impression he’s taking his time.

His dark eyes pause a third of the way down the page, brows narrowing before dragging his gaze to yours. “The disposal was rushed and excessively violent. Diplomacy would have been preferable, and much more suitable?” He reads aloud, voice rough and gravelly with barely restrained ire.

“You asked for my report,” you counter lowly, unable to help the disagreeable twist of your features as you glare at him. “Diplomacy did not guarantee the mission’s success. It would have been a waste of time,” he replies.

“That’s just like you to rush into violence,” you hiss, nails digging into the skin of your wrist with the amount of restraint you’re using to keep from doing something you’ll regret. “You resort to slaughter at the slightest inconvenience,” you seethe, nails piercing the skin. “Fucking Illyrian,” you spit.

Ire blazes behind his eyes, reflecting the hatred burning in your own gaze.

Not breaking eye-contact, he reaches for a blank sheet of paper and places it before him on the desk, jabbing his finger once down atop the page. “Rewrite it. Now.”

A startled laugh barks from your throat as you stare at him in disbelief. “You can’t be serious.”

“I won’t repeat myself.”

You stare at him longer, furious indignation boiling your blood, able to feel as your temper begins to bubble over with blatant provocation. “You’re a spiteful piece of shit,” you seethe lowly but he doesn’t buckle beneath your rage. You wouldn’t hate him as much as you do if you could so easily get the better of him. “You just want me to write a report in your favour. You can’t stand that you might have made the wrong call.”

“It was the right call,” he replies harshly, a hiss in his voice, “your lack of experience is limiting your understanding. I knew you weren’t fit for this mission—I’ll have you moved to a more suitable position.”

“You’re the one in the wrong position,” you spit, stalking forward so you’re right before his desk. “You’re too prone to excessive violence. You needlessly took a life that could have been saved. It would have been of no consequence to us if he lived.”

“His existence would have only perpetuated the problem,” Azriel repeats lowly, his own temper beginning to show as he stands from his desk, palms flattening across its surface as he leans forward. “Purge from the roots, or it will only return. Now write the report.”

Gritting your teeth any tighter would have surely caused one to crack beneath the pressure, and you can perfectly imagine how it would feel to launch yourself across the desk and wrap your hands around his throat. To squeeze until he’s thrashing beneath you, that indomitable figure writhing beneath you as you begin to pry the life from his body…to set him alight and watch him scream.

You ease out a breath, soothed by the surprisingly violent imagery. You aren’t one to generally resort to that kind of solution, but with him it seems almost irresistible…the call of violence, how good it would feel to watch blood bead on his skin.

Frustration slightly abated, you drag the paper from beneath his hold. “Give me the clipboard.”

“You’ll complete it here, where I can see you,” he replies icily.

“Fine. Give me the clipboard,” you bite out, rage already rising again.

“You don’t need it. You’ll write it here,” he says, gesturing to the desk.

A tinge of red creeps into your vision, and it takes all your discipline not to reach for the blades tucked beneath your clothes. Stiff with rage, you drag the paper to the side of his desk, walking around to his side as you take a pen from the pot, making a point of reaching through his personal space. Then, as you’re retracting, you decide you’ve had enough of restraining yourself. “Illyrian scum,” you hiss out, gaze piercing into him as your hand tightens around the pen, clutching it as though it were a blade.

His pupils narrow into slits and his fingers crush at the soft skin of your throat. Your entire body contracts beneath the brutal touch, the tip of steel already poised to slice into leather and cut through his blackened heart. Stalemate.

“You’re a fucking piece of work,” he snarls out gutturally, expression twisted into picturesque wrath, ignoring the stinging pain as you slide the blade deeper, sharp enough to pierce the leather with ease, poised to cut into flesh. He seems to remember himself, hold lightening only marginally…enough you have to pull back on the blade or else he’ll be justified in his hostility.

“Infighting is forbidden,” you manage to get out, making sure to keep the steel close enough to his flesh he knows you won’t hesitate anymore. “You broke a rule, Spymaster.”

“And what will you do?” He asks, cruel mirth glittering in his dark hazel eyes. “Will you try for diplomacy now?” He hisses, squeezing the sides of your throat painfully.

“Why would I bother with a brute?” You rasp back, neither of you bothering to conceal the venom in your voices. “Clear aggression is the only language you’ll understand, so I’ll just have to act in a way that’ll get through that thick skull of yours.”

“Brandishing a weapon against me is enough to have you permanently removed from your position,” he hisses down at you.

“Fine,” you breathe, coming to the same conclusion as he has for the expulsion of rage that’s been building up inside of you. “Hand-to-hand combat it is.”

His hand releases your throat at the same time the blade falls from your fingertips, his grip sliding to the nape of your neck as your arms snake over his shoulders, nails raking through his hair as you’re magnetically snatched against one another, hardly a breath of air to be found between your bodies as you’re crushed against one another. Teeth flash as canines scrape, but his fingers dig into the tendon at your neck, forcing you to seize as he pries you apart with his tongue and mouth. Your lip curls in a snarl as he pushes into you, able to see how his wings have instinctively flared at his back, shadows writhing and deepening with unsuppressed fury.

Without giving him a chance to defend your arms surge further down his back, nails brandished as they scratch across the intimate skin of his wings, slicing the leathery surface jaggedly. He recoils, a vicious snarl cutting through the room that has satisfaction blazing across your chest. Rage bleeds across his features and his hand returns to your throat, shoving you down onto his desk, papers flying as ink spills across the surface, pens clattering as they drop to the floor. Your hands fly to his wrist, scratching at his scarred knuckles but his mouth has already descended over yours again and you move to grip at his hair, silky and soft beneath your violent touch. Heat swarms your skin as his shadows pin you down, writhing pleasantly across your body in a way that has your insides fluttering.

Azriel again pries your lips apart, tongue sweeping in as his mouth slants invasively over your own, flicking and stroking while his fingers hold your jaw in a vice-like grip. A strange feeling skitters beneath your skin, and you wrap your legs around his hips, minimising the space between your bodies as he presses flush against your centre.

You can feel him.

Oh Gods, you can feel him completely.

Your mouth parts as you push against him, tongue sweeping across his own, the kisses hot and wet as each of you refuse to lighten your grip on the other and your thighs squeeze him closer, determined you won’t be losing this battle.

Azriel pulls away abruptly, and you look up at him, watching keenly for any move he’ll make, aware what kind of beast you’re taunting. “Keep still,” he commands roughly, voice like gravel as his shadows swarm your body, and you snarl as the hand that was pinning your throat to the desk drops to the hem of your shirt. Before you have a chance to counter he’s lowered to your neck, hair having fallen back onto the surface so he has plenty of room as his shadows shove your face to the side.

You inhale sharply as his teeth graze the sensitive expanse, grip tugging on his hair to get him closer, eager to have him working his mouth over the intimate area. “Hurry up,” you hiss, eager to be rid of the burning heat as soon as possible.

“I’ll go at whatever pace I like,” he replies darkly before sinking his teeth into your shoulder, biting down hard enough to leave more than just a mark in his wake. A noise of pleasure seeks to slip from your mouth as he palms at your breast, thumb grazing across your nipple as he targets a spot just beneath your ear, kissing down your neck as he makes his way to your collar bones, littering your skin with deep bite marks that will surely remain for days, even with accelerated healing.

“You’re an arrogant prick, you know that,” you pant, putting as much venom into your voice as you can manage, thighs tightening around his hips so you can feel him more acutely, the thick length of him rubbing over your centre. “And you’re turned on by that?” He counters sharply with a hungry glint in his eyes.

Heat flushes your skin as you make to deny his claim, but his shadows have been untying the laces of your trousers making it easy for him to roughly grip the waistband and shove the material away, dragging it over your thighs and off past your ankles, leaving you with only your underwear to conceal your lower half. “Slow down,” you snarl, searching for a way to regain control of the situation. You hate that he’s the one in charge.

Azriel grips the underside of your thighs, guiding them to wrap snugly around his hips again as his hand slips beneath your shirt again, settling over your breast, fingers skimming your nipple tauntingly. “Hurry up. Slow down. Which one is it?” He goads, something that looks too close to male satisfaction passing through his expression for you to stand. Your lip curls and before you can second-guess yourself you’ve spat at him.

He freezes for a moment, motion halting and you find yourself holding your breath, keeping entirely still beneath him. Waiting for the storm to break.

Fury engulfs his eyes, features twisting in a snarl as he grips your jaw, fingers squeezing at the muscle as he forces your mouth open, spitting down between your lips. Your eyes widen as arousal flutters violently in your lower abdomen, unable to help the way your hips buck as you swallow. Sadism glints in his hazel eyes, his own arousal beginning to filter through into your lungs but to your surprise you don’t hate it.

“Like that?” He croons lowly, leaning over you while still gripping your jaw, eyes dark and dangerous yet there’s an unmistakable heat that he’s not quite able to entirely suppress. Rage pierces through your mind and your palm smacks across his cheek, nails catching on his brow and temple as you snarl lowly. “Try that again,” you hiss in warning, “I’m not against walking out right now if you pull something like that again.”

“Don’t dish it out if you can’t take it,” he replies icily, syllables dragging from his throat.

“Prick,” you snarl.

“Brat,” he bites back.

You make to smack him again but his shadows snare your wrists faster than you can blink, slamming them painfully back onto the table, the impact ringing through your bones but you refuse to show your wince. You open your mouth to hiss something at him—what, you haven’t yet decided—but the intention dissolves on your tongue as you feel him cup you through your underwear. Heat unravels in your lower stomach, liquefying into a torrent as arousal breaks all at once across your skin and you find yourself breathless. Cruel, dark hazel eyes pierce into yours, watching intently as he rests the heal of him palm over the apex of your thighs, his middle finger running tauntingly over your entrance, applying a light pressure to the dip between your legs.

Male satisfaction is written across his features but you find you can’t think of anything to knock it away: your hands are pinned, your legs slung over his hips, and you’re in no state to control the small amount of magic you possess. Azriel’s mouth remains in a loathsome cut, but you can still make out that heat in his gaze, the slight ember that’s the cause of this whole mess—you wonder how clearly it’s showing in your own eyes.

“Nothing to say?” He asks lowly over your mouth, silky hair brushing against your brow like a tender caress—the gentlest touch either of your will ever share between one another, and entirely unintended. “Don’t worry,” he rasps coldly, thumbing your underwear out of the way and your lips part on a sharp inhale as you feel his cock slide through the wetness that’s coalesced between your thighs. “I’ll make sure to fuck the brat out of you.”

“At least my negative traits can be removed,” you manage to hiss out ruefully, wishing to be able to rake your nails across his skin somehow. “There’s no changing what you are.”

You don’t need to remind him of your earlier comment. He’s been hearing the words repeat through his mind since you spat them out: Illyrian scum.

Icy fury glitters in his gaze, fingertips biting bruises into your hips as he lines himself up and swiftly pushes in, the entrance made almost effortless by how wet you are; you’re somewhat relieved when he makes no comment about it.

Your spine arches helplessly, lips parting as he pushes in, filling you up in a way you hadn’t anticipated or even considered. Satisfying the ache that had been thrumming between your legs, giving you something long and thick to squeeze. Your only saving grace is that he seems to be as breathless as you are, brow lowered to the top of your sternum, lips grazing between your breasts as his hands remain firmly on your hips. From another angle you’d think it looked reverent, but then you’d also look in the heights of pleasure, and no matter how Azriel might be able to make you feel physically, there’s no removing the guttural hatred that burns between you.

“Move,” you whisper, panting softly. “Move.”

His wings twitch almost imperceptibly at his back, then he’s dragging himself upright, pulling away from you to stand to his full height as he looms above. You swallow thickly, having enough sense to squeeze your thighs around his hips, legs locking as you urge him to move; to give more. “Hold still,” he breathes, and your muscles instinctively relax, giving him room to shift.

“So you can follow orders,” he muses lowly, holding you tight as he draws back.

“Fuck o—” you begin to say, but he rolls his hips firmly to yours and your head tips back onto his desk, falling to the side as his cock rubs so delightfully against you, pleasure brimming at your edges from being so full, so spread out. He doesn’t give you time to recover. After another firm roll of his hips, as if testing you out, he finds his rhythm instinctively. Hard, punishing movements that allow him to pound into you, shoving the breath from your lungs as he repeatedly slams into you.

Your spine arches, writhing on his desk as you tug at the shadowy constraints, desperate noises being forced from your chest as his cock drives into you over and over again, thoughts practically falling out of your mind as it turns to mush beneath the utterly overwhelming onslaught of pleasure. Your eyes squeeze shut, blocking him out so you can concentrate only on the purest part of the sensations, zero in on the flutter of arousal between your legs, the rightness of being so full up, of having him pressed so tight between your thighs.

You allow yourself to fall deeply into the pleasure, allow yourself to be washed away entirely, submerged in the heated waters as you keep just enough of a hold on him to prevent your legs from falling off the desk. A moan slips from between your lips as your control begins to disintegrate, content to bask in the pleasure and forget who’s providing it. Azriel doesn’t make it that easy, though.

“Things would be so much better if you just learned to shut up and take it sooner,” he mutters down at you, shadows crawling leisurely over your body, pushing the fabric of your top up over your chest so their master can watch as your figure moves with each of his thrusts. Pleasure blossoms as his darkness teases the sensitive peaks of your breasts, pinching and playing with your nipples, and you try to dig your nails into your palm, teeth pushing into your lower lip to keep the noises from becoming louder.

“You’re so well-behaved now,” he muses lowly, and even if his expression wouldn’t show his pleasure, you can hear it the rich timbre of his voice, the satisfaction he’s feeling at getting you to shut up. “So docile,” he taunts, and your eyes snap open to shoot him a furious glare for trying to disrupt your pleasure. For succeeding. But no sooner than you open your eyes, his thumb presses over your clit and any resistance is utterly obliterated.

Azriel hadn’t anticipated how it would feel however, how your body would respond to the intimate kind of stimulation he was subjecting you to, and is unable to bite down on the rough groan that drags viscerally from his chest as you tighten around him, as if trying to pull him deeper so he’ll never leave.

The both of you are near your breaking point though neither wants to admit it. But the signs are there. Your panting breaths, the gleam on his skin, the heat to your cheeks, the tension in his body—it’s all there for the other to read. He rubs against a spot and despite subduing your reaction he somehow knows where to aim, targeting it repeatedly as his thumb soothes over your clit, the pad sliding effortlessly over top from the slick that’s coating the both of you. It’s so much that your discipline slips for a moment. “Azriel…”

It’s softer than a breath, quieter than a whisper, but he hears it. Of course he hears it. And he finds that he likes the way you moan his name. Especially while getting to take his tension out on you so roughly. It’s probably more satisfying than any method he could have thought up on his own.

His grip tightens on your hips, angling them slightly upright as he leans over you. “Say that again,” he commands quietly, but firmly. An intensity in his demand that has your throat rolling. You don’t want to, but you can feel his concentration piercing down on you, the intensity of his focus weighing so heavily that you feel like your skin is prickling.

“Piss off,” you manage to get out, but you can feel how swiftly release is gathering, how close you are to that wonderful high that will knock you clean from your feet.

For a moment he continues with his punishing movements, but it seems like he’s committed now. You hadn’t fully understood what it would mean to have his entire attention upon you, but when he roughly rips you from his desk, jerking you up against his chest as he turns the two of you around so your back is shoved up against his wall, you feel the consequences dawn on you.

From this position you’re forced so much closer, the physical intimacy catching you off guard as your breasts press flush to his chest, staring into cold hazel eyes that can be no more than a few inches from your own, able to feel each puff of breath that’s expelled from his body as it brushes over your lips. He takes up all of your vision, wings flared slightly at his back as shadows crawl up your body, pinching at your nipples, pressing against your clit as his hips buck roughly to your own and you feel yourself unravel.

The orgasm pulses through your body once, before crashing down on you in its entirety, and your mouth parts in silent ecstasy.

His hand slides through your hair, your own having found their place on his shoulders, and he angles your head so you’re forced to look at him. “Say it,” he murmurs, lips brushing over yours, and your world is thawed enough that you yield.

“Az…riel…”

A heavy sigh warms your mouth, then his teeth grit, head dropping to your shoulder as you feel him find his release. Your hips buck, hands grappling to reach over his shoulders, pulling him into you as the waves of pleasure continue to pulse through your body, muscles turning custard-like beneath the overpowering sensations. Reaching weakly over his back, you have enough energy to lightly skim the pads of your fingers over the ridges of his wings, and if it wasn’t for his proximity to you, you’re almost certain you would have missed the soft moan that involuntary parts from his lips. He tenses briefly, the only sign that he was caught off guard before his teeth settle over your shoulder, biting lightly at the side of your throat.

Breaths pant between you as you ride out the aftershocks, basking in the waning pleasure for a few moments longer before your hold relaxes on him, and he steps back, hands still keeping your hips pinned to the wall despite your feet now being on the ground.

You bite back a hiss as his cock leaves you feeling slightly cold and empty, but you’d rather take a near-lethal dose of faebane than tell him that. His gaze meets yours and for a second you’re unsure what you could possibly say to one another. But his expression remains cold, your own features shifting habitually towards neutrality.

“You have until tomorrow morning to redo the report,” he mutters, already having his clothes back in place as his shadows push your trousers to your stomach, and your hands wrap around the bundle of fabric.

“Want me to write a report on this, too?” You reply, relieved that the heat is beginning to cool, sensing you’re back in control of yourself.

His brow narrows, the hollow beneath darkening with loathing. “You’re more trouble that you’re worth,” he mutters, stepping back to give you space.

You meet his icy gaze, a sharp glint in your own as victory sparks darkly across your chest.

“Liar.”

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az taglist: @azrielshadows1nger @jurdanpotter @positivewitch @nightcourt-daydreaming @assassinsblade @marvelouslovely-barnes @v3lv3tf0x @kalulakunundrum @vellichor01 @throneofsmut @vickykazuya @starlitlakes

[merakiui]

Kink and orgasm for the eels, please🌷

>:) many thoughts for those two.......

(nsfw asks)

kink — what are their kinks? do they have a primary kink? are there any kinks they’d be interested in trying? are there any kinks they don’t like or aren’t interested in trying?

I like to imagine both eels operate under the notion that they'll try everything at least once, especially kinks that they've never even heard of (like the ones that are most common amongst land-dwellers and may be impossible to achieve or unheard of in the sea). It's mostly a curiosity and a source of entertainment.

For Jade, I think he adores shibari and bondage. Anything that involves a level of clinical patience (which Jade definitely has). There's something beautiful in having you tied up with all kinds of pretty rope patterns. Even better if he has you squirming while you're bound, entirely at his mercy hehe. Of course it goes without saying he's a feet guy. I feel like the trio admire feet and legs to an extent, but Jade's more unhinged about it than Floyd and Azul are. <3 humiliation is another big one. Jade is a Freak (affectionate) and he loves it whenever you insult him or talk down to him or humiliate him in any way. Please bully him! orz

Also,,,, he'd love to try knife play at some point. Perhaps he'd even be willing to try bottoming just to know what it feels like. Something something reverse predator-prey play, in which Jade plays the prey role. Jade's mostly flexible when it comes to trying new things, but he (like Floyd) will be firm in the things he isn't interested in. I feel like he'd love to enjoy food play, but with his voracious appetite it's difficult to not just devour all of the food decorating your body and so for that reason it isn't a favored kink of his. He'll still be willing to do it with you if you ever wish for it, though. Jade will never say no to two of his favorite things: you and food.

He wouldn't be outright open with kinks he thinks are too extreme or dangerous (by human standards,, but also he isn't an easily read book), but if you're willing to try them (and genuinely trust him and yourself) he wouldn't be opposed.

For Floyd,,,, what hasn't he tried? Floyd never truly settles on any go-to kinks just because his tastes are prone to change, and he enjoys doing new and exciting things in the bedroom. But if you pay close attention you'll notice a pattern. If you're smaller than him, he loves the size difference and uses that to his advantage. Sometimes he likes it when you play more dominating roles in bed; other times he has you lie back and he'll do all of the work. Floyd isn't picky.

A big lover of oral sex and cunnilingus. That tongue of his works wonders. He loves being between your thighs. Loves having you sit on his face. Loves licking your tears away. I think he's the twin with the bigger breeding kink. It doesn't matter if you can't get pregnant; Floyd just loves the idea of starting a family with you, and it's mer instincts that compel him to cum inside every time. Depending on his mood, he'll cum anywhere on your body, but nothing can beat doing it inside.

As much as he wants to like it, he just can't get into choking you. >_< he doesn't like the idea of hurting his shrimpy, even though he knows it can be okay if it's done safely and correctly. He can't bring himself to inflict lots of pain, even if said pain might be hypothetical or it's more psychological than anything. Now if you wanted to choke him..... say less because he is SO READY. He also doesn't like to be on the receiving end of restraints. Maybe he'll try it once or twice if he loves you (and he does, wholeheartedly), but he'll squirm a lot. The last time you gagged him he chewed through the leather. T_T Floyd has to be patient if he wants the pleasure you've promised him, and you always provide. <3

He wants to try it all, so please experiment with him!!

orgasm — how would their partner(s) know if they orgasm? what is their orgasm reaction like? are they sensitive after having an orgasm? what is the most effective way to get them to quickly orgasm?

Jade isn't very loud unless he wants to be and then he might consider exaggerating it for the sake of his own entertainment. I do think his voice goes up ever so slightly in pitch and he sounds just a little more breathless. Jade's brain turns to mush when he cums and so he's dazed and silly in the aftermath. The façade falls away and he's just Jade, sweet and clingy and soft. It took him some time to get accustomed to the sensations of sex in his human form. Perhaps he's just a little more sensitive in mer form than he is in human form, especially when it's breeding season.

I like to imagine Floyd has a tendency to bury his face in the crook of your neck or in your chest (anywhere that's warm, where he can hear and taste your heartbeat) when he cums. Sometimes he's a gasping, panting mess and other times he'll grunt or moan lowly. It really depends. Floyd loves to lose himself in sex with you. In the aftermath, though, he's quiet and more subdued, choosing to bask in the silence with you as both of you come down from your highs. He clings as he usually does, but his recovery time is notably fast. Within minutes, he's up and ready to fetch whatever it is you might need. He's far more sensitive in mer form than he is in human form. Floyd thinks the sensations are duller in human form.

[oikasugayama]

what about a bsd chart for falling in love?

i can't help falling in love with you

Dazai is prone to falling in love at first sight. He sees a pretty girl, or a handsome guy, and does everything in his power to get their attention. It's different when you come along, though. You fly under his radar for a while; it's not that you're not his type, it's that he doesn't realize it at first. As he gets to know you he realizes more and more how much he likes talking to you; how attractive he thinks you are; how much he relishes in your attention. You know his reputation and try to steer clear of his charms, but you're not entirely successful. You vow not to tell him, though, because you don't want to get your heart broken. That makes the surprise of his confession all the more potent. It's proper, it's sincere, and it's real.

Akutagawa is more surprised than you are when he confesses. Love isn't something he thought he'd have the pleasure of experiencing. His life has been difficult, its been deadly, and its been dark, but meeting Atsushi made him more thoughtful and less violent, and then when he met you he felt like he was experiencing something brand new. It was exciting. It was confusing. It was beautiful. You liked him as well, of course, but you vowed not to tell him because you didn't think he had romantic interests and you didn't want to make him pull away from the little friendship you had developed. His confession is a pleasant surprise.

Poe falls in love easily. All it takes is someone being nice to him and showing interest in his writing, and he's done for. For you to regularly read his stories and genuinely praise and critique them, and for you to enjoy spending time with him even if it's spent doing nothing--it means the world to him. He confesses to you via poetry. He writes you a lovely dramatic poem about a lonely man who meets a person who brightens his world. It's obvious it's about you--his nervousness and shaking hands gives it away. You're so excited. You liked him too, a lot, but weren't sure if you should tell him yet. You're glad he took the decision out of your hands.

Nikolai and Fyodor are similar when it comes to love. They are best friends, after all (according to Nikolai anyway). They have a philosophy that some think is... wrong or outdated, but it works for them when they want to get you. It goes like this: they see you, they want you, they get you. Literally. Either of them would lure you in and capture you. He'll explain his grand love for you, and even if you escape, he'll find you again and again. He'll wear you down until you love him or it kills you. Whichever comes first.

Sigma, having only recently become a person, doesn't know what extreme emotions feel like. When he starts to fall in love with you, he thinks he's sick or dying because of the way his heart rate increases, and the way he gets shaky and nervous when you come around. He thinks you may be using an ability on him. He doesn't confront you right away, because he really doesn't want to think you'd hurt him--he really, really likes you otherwise. You're so kind and thoughtful and helpful. You don't use him and leave him like others in his life. Once he finally realizes that he's in love with you, it weighs heavily on his mind and stays there. Should he tell you? Do you feel the same? He needs to think on it a while longer...

Oda falls in love with someone very sweet and gentle. The world is a disturbing place with awful things happening every day, and you aren't nearly as aware of that as he is, and he wants to keep it that way. He wants to protect you. To take care of you. To provide for you. He knows he wont be able to do these things without connecting you to the dark part of the world that he works in, so he refrains from confessing. It's the best way to keep you safe. When you confess to him, though, he doesn't have the self-restraint to deny you. He warns you of the dangers, but tells you he wants out, and he'll get out for you. He makes a plan and you're part of it.

Atsushi having had such a dark and violent childhood is a late bloomer when it comes to love. All the other kids in the orphanage were basically his siblings, and he went straight to the ADA after leaving there, so until you come along he's never really had a crush on any real life person. He's thought people were pretty, sure, but that feeling was nothing compared to how his heart races and his knees wobble and his mouth wont cooperate with his brain any time you're around. It becomes extremely obvious to everyone that he has feelings for you, including you after a certain point, and you just think he's so damn sweet. You ask him out finally when you realize he likely wont ever be brave enough to ask you first. He nearly faints he's so excited, and nervous, when you bring it up.

Junichiro falls for someone soft and sweet and nervous after his previous relationship ends. He liked dating people bolder than him, but after a certain point it became too exhausting keeping up with that type of person please for the love of god don't tell everyone you're his sister like Naomi did. When he starts to fall for you, he's very upfront. He tells you he thinks he's falling, and you tell him back. He says he'll keep you updated after he has more time to think about it, and you say the same. You end up spending more and more time together, slowly creating an orbit around the two of you, making a space in your lives for each other. It happens so gradually and so on-pace with one another that it feels completely natural being with him.

Bram may not be the first to fall in love, but he does tell you he intends to court you before you ever reveal your feelings to him. He thinks you're pretty, and he likes when you're around, and you seem to like coming around since you're with him a lot, so he very casually tells you he would like to court you and you very happily accept his offer. He very, very quickly realizes you're something precious and special when he starts thinking about you romantically, and not long after beginning to date he tells you his feelings are very deep. It's a shock but a definite win for you.

Tachihara definitely thinks you're hot and he can tell that you like him--those Hunting Dog instincts and modifications are pretty handy--but he doesn't consider his own feelings for a long time. He leads you on, in fact, giving you attention to make you fawn over him, and then he acts cool like nothing happened, brushing you off and not making plans with you. When you try to move on, stop giving him attention, try to find someone else who's interested in you, he notices, and he hates it. It occurs to him then that he's jealous and he realizes aw fuck, I've gotta tell them how I feel.

Mushitaro is so prim and proper and charismatic--it's hard not to fall for him. You're friends for a long time without thinking much of him, but eventually one day you just realize and it starts bugging you. You may try to distance yourself to see if the feelings will go away, but they wont. While you're distant he misses you desperately and starts to puzzle together his own feelings. Eventually he comes to your house and confesses on your doorstep, saying he misses you and he cares about you so much and he at least needs to know why you're ignoring him. It feels dramatic and straight out of a rom-com.

Ranpo, as I've said before, knows as soon as you do, maybe even sooner, that you have feelings for him. Yours definitely develop before his, but he picks up on it quickly and decides that he wants to date you to see where it goes, and he makes the decision to stay with you long-term after only a couple of dates. There's no confession on your part given that he just knows, but from him the confession is sweet while still being matter-of-fact. "I've fallen for you, as I knew I would. Let's keep dating until we're sick of each other, 'kay?"

Mori lives a double life and you have no idea. If you knew he was the head of the Port Mafia there's no fucking way in hell you ever would have talked to him or gotten to know him or fallen for him or confessed to him, but you didn't know that. To you, Mori was the handsome man in a doctor's coat who came into your store every week. He chatted with you more and more each time he came in, and finally you were brave enough to give him your number, to text him, to ask him out to coffee. He say yes every time, going along with it, and only after you'd been casually dating for some time did he tell you who he really is and well, fuck, you were just about to tell him you were in love with him, so you've both got bombs to drop tonight.

Chuuya plays it so cool that you don't assume he has any sort of romantic feeling for you, but your mind is completely hung up on him to the point of you thinking that you need to be rejected already so you can move on. You tell him as much when you confess, trying to play it off as a joke when you say "dude, I think you're really hot, can you reject me so I'll stop wondering if I have a chance?" He laughs, smirks, and says "I don't think I will, actually. I'll take you to dinner tonight instead." You're flustered, unsure if he means it or not, but oh boy does he. The date goes really well, actually, and he asks to see you again, and scolds you for thinking he was out of your league. "I'm just a guy, I'm not that special."

Kunikida may seem high-strung, and yeah, he is, but there's something about him that just does it for you. Maybe it's that he's so responsible, maybe it's that he's incredibly kind and thoughtful, or maybe it's everything. You don't know, it's hard to explain, and explain you must because when you try to confess to him he asks you why and what did he do to deserve your attention? He ponders your confession for a few hours in private before he reaches out to you. You expect to be rejected, but he accepts your offer, saying you were a shock and he's trying to have a few more unexpected experiences.

Fukuzawa likes you as a person but refuses to acknowledge you romantically given your age gap. You have to confess before he'll think about you in that way. It doesn't go smoothly--you're very quickly but politely turned down. It doesn't make your crush go away, though, and you notice that Fukuzawa seems a bit skiddish around you. When you finally get fed up and ask him why he's been acting weird ever since you asked him out, he admits that he's been thinking about you a lot and thinks that maybe he made a hasty, incorrect choice the last time you spoke about this...

Ango may not be the first to fall in love in your relationship, but once he's in love he's obsessed with you. It all starts like any office romance with a new transfer from another department. He's told you're talented and promising, but he doesn't believe it until you start actually lightening his work load and making his job easier. When you start casually calling him cute and flirting with him, he doesn't know what to think. It's unprofessional, but it's also exciting and he doesn't exactly dislike the attention. When you're off the clock and ask him out on a proper date, he says yes with only minimal hesitation. It's the best decision he's ever made.

[introloves]

bestie i can't not think abt prone bone / anal with miguel after ur whole "papi" business hELP,, , , 🤧🫡

tw mentions of blood + 'daddy'! miguel o'hara + dom! miguel o'hara + prone bone + breeding + messy sex + squirting + dirty talk + anger during sex (not towards you) + animalistic characterization of miguel + praise (good girl) + petnames (papi for miguel angel for reader) + f! reader + poc! reader coded (not explicit, anyone can read)

— word count; approx 1.3k

you're decadent, a sweetness that keeps miguel swiping a curling tongue over his lips to keep drool from dripping down onto your shoulders while he hovers over your twitching body.

clawed fingers stretched out to feel the heat of your body squirming from the promise he's given you- tasks that are hard to follow, words that burn your skin from the inside out with how good they sound spat out between fangs that grace your skin every so often.

he calls your name out softly, between the pulses of his heavy cock laid between the valley of your ass- the hand kept low keeping you from trying to swivel your hips up, wanting to feel it inside now. trying in his own way to keep restraint over his baser instincts, grinding his teeth together so hard the veins over his jaw mimic the pulses of his cock.

"'pa." you cry, sobbing sweetly into the pillow, the singular nickname sending his world upside down for just a second. shaking his head to blink away the red tinting the edge of his vision. fingers digging into you harder, indents so dangerously close to leaving rivulets of a crimson honey beneath their pressure.

but he reels back, huffing out a breath that comes from deep within his chest, choosing instead to trace his lips over your shaking shoulder. kissing the skin there before letting his heated tongue swipe that same spot.

"angel." he whispers, the word choked out behind fangs that nearly pulse, the toxin coating them painting the inside of his mouth so badly he has to swallow after speaking. he can play with you that way later, he promises.

"you don't want this?" he questions, finally letting the weight of him lesson off your body. chuckling with no humor behind the rumbles when your body nearly convulses, searching for him- head struggling to look back with round, wet eyes.

"i-i want it!" you sob, nails squeezing down the soft bedding trapped between your shaky hands.

"then you can wait." he smiles, nose nudging along the softness of your cheek, letting you know it'll all be okay.

deciding it's enough- letting you simmer and twist, letting you want him so bad its made you stupid.

he likes you like this, soft and pliant to his actions- likes the way you suck in a lungful of air when his hand leaves the pressuring hold on your lower back in favor of seeking his cock out. taking a hold of it and tracing down the path of you.

cockhead nudging your ass, teasing- watching to see how you react before reaching lower. trying not to laugh out loud with the way you relax completely when his head passes along the ring there.

shifting to let his leg help you open yours, too tight already in your own right- knowing that if your thighs were clenched together he would never be able to fit his cock inside.

and as soon as he feels the dripping heat- his own shoulders relax, eyes heavy and pulse quickening with every pass over your slit.

a resounding tackiness catching his attention with how much you've coated the tender skin there, knowing how much you've waited- not used to any of it thanks to his tendency to spoil you.

"ah, feels nice- doesn't it?" he wonders, catching your attention before finally sliding in. splitting you open, the ridge of his swollen head nearly audibly popping inside and you mewl.

shoulders slumped down onto the bed, any strength leaving your body with the push of his unwavering strength. the more his thick cock slides inside, the less you breathe, the less you think. unable to keep your limbs from moving on their own, grabbing at the bed once more when the first thrust back into you sends you reeling forward.

trying to keep any semblance of sanity gone when he keeps the pace brutal- feeling the sharpness of his claws dig into the curve of your waist, the loud impact of his body down onto your ass is sharp and embarrassing to your own ears. focusing on that instead of the wails and whimpered screams leaving your swollen lips.

"a-ah! please!" you cry, the first formed words you've been able to mutter out in minutes- and they make him smile. broken up between his thrusts that make you hiccup, but he understands them anyways.

miguel can barely think up anything before he feels the familiar tightness, the heat hugging his cock so well he swears he can feel every swollen wall clamp down harder and harder. feels like its for his own sake rather than yours, coaxing him to cum deep inside, to stay there and give you what you want.

his hand moves on its own, palm splayed to the back of your head and pushing you all the way down.

"already? you're cumming already?" he spits, lips peeled back and you catch the edge of his fang between the stars dancing along your vision.

and you try not to cry, but you can't help it- locked between the bed and his body drilling down onto your back over and over, you can do nothing more than cry and cry.

"greedy fuckin' pussy- go on then, cum for me." miguel grunts, selfish in his own right. unraveling the second he fit his fat cock inside your drooling heat, knowing he'll follow.

and there's nothing but him in the end, trying to keep yourself together while your pussy tightens up so badly you feel it deep in your tummy, resorting to let everything else go limp.

lips propped open to scream while you cum so hard your voice patters out into nothing but a high whine twisted into something that sounds like his name. feeling the heat of it start right where he's nestled deep inside and finally leaking out past the stretched hole his balls rest against, painting him and the bed in your cum.

he feels the wind knocked out from the middle of his chest when the tightness of your orgasm turns into liquid heat against him, knowing you just came so pretty, messy all for him.

"cute, you're so cute." he grunts out, breathing labored- hips knocking down against the curve of your ass once more, apologizing to you in stolen kisses to your lips while he chases his own high. using you for minutes longer, holding you down like before while his own orgasm creeps at the edge of his vision.

finally lifting himself up just an inch off you to squeeze his cock in as far as it could. swollen balls nestled right against the mess you've made and that's been displaced into a ring around the base of him.

shivering while the pulsing of his cock make's him dizzy, teeth grinding together- body taught and muscles coiled so tight the veins tracing them feel even more pronounced.

he's only satisfied when he pumps his softening cock back into you, making sure all of his heavy cum stays where it belongs. not a trace of it elsewhere.

the haze of it all finally settles, and miguel looks down at you.

a smile stretched over a face that barely does it anymore- reserved only for moments shared between the two of you like this.

watching while you shudder, any movement sending jolts up your spent cunt. choosing to let your heavy eyelids close, except for when you blink slowly and see him look down at you.

"good? you should say thank you, baby." he finally speaks, satisfied with committing your spent form to memory.

"thank you, papi." you murmur, shaky hands coming down from the perch beside your face to look for his hands.

his own already reaching up to find your wrist and turning it over to kiss the pulse there.

"good girl." he whispers, letting you fall asleep while he moves you so delicately anyone could've been convinced you were made of spun sugar.

"my good girl." miguel whispers out, knowing you couldn't hear him anymore, choosing to look after your sleeping form for a little longer.

[cloverfarm]

— bound to love you

sdv!harvey x f!reader

rated e - 1.8k

tags: request, sub!harvey & dom!reader, references to restraints, feelings, praise kink, touching, riding, PiV, creampie, implied come eating and oral, aftercare

prompt: “you keep your hands where they are or I’ll tie them up.” with f!farmer x sub!harvey from anon 💕

“Honey,” You coo, “You keep your hands right where they are-”

There’s the gentlest pressure, a reminder, before you lean. Your voice low in his ear. “Or I’ll tie them up.”

Harvey stiffens beneath you. A bitten-back groan, as he exhales a low breath. “Is that a promise?”

(Or - after a long day at the office, you help Harvey relax)

It’s doesn’t feel like much - not compared to what he does. For both you and for Pelican Town, each done so selflessly.

But secretly, you think you might just live for the moments when you can help Harvey like this.

Sometimes, after a long day of endless paperwork and appointments, he needs your hand to guide him. The lights left on in your farmhouse beckoning him safely home.

Warmth waiting for him there. A decaf cup of coffee - something he’d deny enjoying, if asked. But it’s the taste that soothes him, giving in when he knows you both have an early morning.

A supermeal plated and ready at the table, the cranberries and artichokes fresh from the farm.

He melts into your love.

But it’s the after, that you might just enjoy the most of all.

Harvey is stripped bare beneath you. Your bed is as much his as it is yours, now. Pieces of each other shuffled back and forth between the farm and his apartment, until they’re melded together in a domestic blend.

You’re nearly there. That white dress shirt of his, slid over your own shoulders. Sleeves rolled up as your hands brace against his chest.

For ten minutes now he’s waited. The throb of his heavy cock against your core, right where you’ve settled yourself on top of him.

It’s not teasing. Not some form of torture.

Your hands have been busy. Turning around earlier to face his feet, a rough groan when your weight presses into the cradle of his hips. Massaging the taut muscles in his thighs, the aches in his knees.

Flipping back to face him again - knuckles pressing into the flesh before you. Working into the stiff string of his shoulders, until the tension starts to ease.

His own hands should still be where you put them - tucked underneath his head - but they’ve always been prone to wandering.

Even after he’s handed you the reigns. Agreed to listen.

But he’s always had trouble putting himself first.

With the stretch to reach him, you let your hips roll - and that is what does him in. The slick slide of your pussy against his shaft, and without thought, his hands are moving to your thighs. His hips bucking up as warm palms smooth over your bare skin.

You click your tongue, before your fingers curl around his wrists. Realization flickers in his eyes, reflecting guiltily as you tug them back up. Pressing them into the mattress, above his head.

“Honey,” You coo, “You keep your hands right where they are-”

There’s the gentlest pressure, a reminder, before you lean. Your voice low in his ear.

“Or I’ll tie them up.”

Harvey stiffens beneath you. A bitten-back groan, as he exhales a low breath.

“Is that a promise?” His eyes are dark, voice hoarse.

You can’t help but smile, a soft kiss pressed against his cheek.

“I thought you wanted to be good for me.” With a little sigh, you start to lift off him. Testing.

“No-, No. I do.” He breathes. Fighting the urge to pin your hips against his. You catch the flex in his forearms as his hands curl into fists, keeping them where you commanded.

“Good boy.” His cheeks pinken with your praise, “You think you’re ready? You’ll keep them there?”

Harvey’s nodding. Enough that his glasses dip along the slope of his nose. Your lower lip caught against your teeth as you carefully straighten them.

You want him to get a good look, after all.

The way your fingers wrap around his base. Holding him upright against your belly, your thumb ghosting against the flushed, leaking head.

He inhales another breath. Eyes fixed on the curl of your fist. Breath held as you lift yourself up, hovering.

“Words, sweetheart.” You prompt sweetly.

“I’ll keep them-,” He begins obediently, just as you sink down on his cock, “Oh fuck-”

The words are ripped from him as his hips buck, the curse sliding through polite teeth. Caught off-guard by the sudden warmth that grips him, as his cock seats deep in your belly.

Your own moan melds with his. Unable to bite it back - not with the sweet stretch as your pussy makes room for him, filling you so perfectly.

He’s aching to touch you. Toes curling toward the end of the bed, the undulating lift of his body. Chest, hips, thighs, knees. Blown-wide eyes that round, teeth clenched beneath.

“You feel so good, baby.” You sigh, your palms resting against his chest.

Bracing yourself on him as you rise up. Feeling the slide of his cock inside you. Starting slow - an inch at a time, only to sink back down after.

Letting your hips rock against his as sparks alight inside you, a bitten-back sigh at the way your clit grinds against the coarse hairs at his base. A whispering urge inside you for more.

That silent voice has your hand slipping up. Tipping up his chin again, before the tips of two fingers tap against his mouth.

“Open for me, honey.” The words are barely past your lips before his own are parting.

Closing around your fingertips as soon as they push into him, sucking on them before you can ask. Eager, with the way he groans. The noise buzzing against the swirl of tongue, as you press down.

There’s the barest lift of his head when you slip them free, chasing after you. His sweet responsiveness makes smile, as you drag the tip of your index finger across his lower lip - leaving it glossy.

Only to then curl the tips against your clit, thighs inching wider where you straddle him.

Harvey groans at the sight, as your pace goes languid. A shallow swivel of your hips into your circling touch. Leaving him throbbing inside you.

Not enough to get him where he needs to go, but there’s nothing that could tear his eyes away.

On another night, you might drag it out. Make yourself come just like this - let him feel how you clench and gush around him, while you leave him squirming and wanting.

Or you could pull back - bring him to the edge with just your hand. Halting just as he’s on the brink. How flushed and pink his cock would get, as pretty as the heated blush dusting across his chest and cheeks right now.

Waiting until he begged.

You realize these thoughts had gotten away from you. Hips chasing the swirl of your fingers, riding him a little harder than you intended.

That you’re all but using him - bouncing on his cock, a huff of breath coming from your chest each time your hips slap against his.

Not that it’s any burden on him. A glance upwards tells you that Harvey’s hands have curled tightly around the wooden slats in your bed frame - an attempt to ground and restrain himself.

It’s cheating, you think - but you can’t help but admire the way his knuckles go white with the effort. The glaze over his eyes as his head tips back, lips parted so prettily.

Each little worry of the day slipping away, each time he’s seated deep.

“Wanna feel you come.” You sigh - and that has his eyes focusing again, dropping back down to where you take him.

The peek of his cock as you ride, shining with your desire for him. Just able to see how you’re stretched around him, and then there’s a little shake of his head, as those hazel eyes drag up to yours.

“You first, sweetheart.” He begs, “Please-”

The rhythm of your hips picks up instead, and he all but whines.

“Tonight is about you,” You remind him, trying to keep your voice level. Trying to pretend that you’re not close, yourself, “If you can listen, I’ll let you clean me up after.”

“Fuck-” Harvey breathes - his cock throbbing inside you.

It has you leaning over him. His eyes slipping down to watch the sway of your breasts. Lips parting as if he’d like to close them around the tight, pebbled peaks.

“Would you like that?” Your lips brush his then, and he moans. His hips are moving now - but you allow him meet the grind of your hips, let him fuck up into you.

Chasing the pleasure that tightens in his belly,

“You gonna let me use this sweet mouth?”

It’s murmured, right before your lips press to his. His nails scrape wood - a knee bumps into your hips as his muscles flex, stringing tight.

“Yes.” He moans into your mouth, “Use me. Honey, I’m so close. Please-”

Harvey’s begging is ragged, breath hitching. Voice pitching low and turning desperate, while his eyes screw tightly shut.

Your kisses pepper his lips, then chin. Trying to keep the same pace, though your thighs strain from the effort.

“Yeah? You gonna come?” You ask, tone honeyed. Soft and sweet and coaxing.

He nods again, face tucking against the curve of his arm. It has the hand between your thighs lifting, fingers pinching against his chin instead.

Guiding him back, with your command.

“Eyes on me, baby.”

Harvey does squirm now. You have him there, heat licking in his belly, adding to the mounting pressure.

“Now be a good boy,” You coo, “And come for me.”

He lasts two more pumps before he’s moaning, thighs going stiff as he drives up into you. Your pace slows, so you can feel the way he throbs - the warmth that floods into you as his lips part, his brow furrowing. Hips rocking jerkily against yours, as he spills deep inside you.

You name is soft on his lips as the pulse of his cock slows. A messy and needy murmur of words, as your fingers scratch gently against the hair on his chest. Drifting up to card through the curls at base of his neck.

There’s a fluttering in your chest at the way he thanks you. As if you’re truly doing something monumental for him, as he relaxes into the mattress beneath you.

It’s not. It comes naturally for you.

That urge to take care of him. Your mind already fluttering ahead, even as his hands drift down to grasp at your hips, once more.

To coax you upwards, towards his eager and waiting mouth. You had promised him, after all. And even though he’s come, he’s still eager to please.

And because he listened, you let him guide you. Thighs framing those mussed, pretty curls. A bitten-back grin at the way he groans at the sight of you - so full of his cum - just before his tongue flattens against your slit.

Your last coherent thought is about bath you’ll draw after. More glad than ever that you sprung for that upgrade Robin suggested. Your nails will scratch against his scalp as you wash his hair. Until he’s boneless, even more than he is now.

You don’t even have to think twice about it.

Because, after all…

You’ve never met anyone so easy to love.

This was a request that was submitted to @eupheme, I was so excited to give this a shot! In my head Harvey is a switch and letting him get pampered for a bit was such a treat. Thanks so much for sending this in anon!!! 💖 I like how you think!