#square filled: clothes sharing

[textmel8r]

[ DRABBLE ] 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐀𝐑 𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘 ! ( eleventh installment ) in which you find toji fushiguro’s number off a sugar baby site .

୨୧˚ part; one. two. three. four. five. six. seven. eight. nine. ten. eleven.

୨୧˚ incl; toji fushiguro

୨୧˚ cw; sugar mommy! reader , sugar baby! toji , profanity , prostitution , bisexual! toji , smut , spit , gunplay

୨୧˚ an; if there are plot holes, no there aren’t. i just wanted an excuse to write toji suckin on some gun🧌

୨୧˚ join my discord server ! we share headcanons, fanfic recs, color roles, and more drooling emoji

His hair is wet, sopping and adhering to the canvas of his forehead. Back at the hotel, Toji set the record for the world’s shortest shower, forsaking even a once-over with a towel in favor of slipping his clothes right back on. He doesn’t even recall the shitty excuse he tossed at his one night stand, not bothering to stay long enough to hear her response. Quickness was of the utmost importance, the man told himself to justify blowing through four separate red lights. 

Oh, the irony. Because now, Toji stands before the grand entrance of your extravagant abode with a palm flat against the column of wall beside the door as he staves off constant hitch wracking his lungs. Unhurried, stagnant, moving as though he was thawing out frozen limbs. The last half hour having been spent on nothing but hastiness, it is at this time when all of these troubles and concerns fight their way to the front end of Toji’s mind. 

The most prominent question: why?

Why did you ask him here? What use could you possibly get out of his shriveled husk?

Toji knows where your spare key is. Beneath the clay pot, the one flourishing with a bouquet of pastel Hydrangea flowers. Glaringly obvious to any happening stranger—Toji had barked at you endlessly to swap its hiding spot for one a little less in plain-fucking-sight, and everytime you told him you’d get to it. And you never did. Idiot woman. He steals a glance to the pot once more and notices the flowers’ stems have a lot more limpness in them than he remembers. Wilted. Poor little things.

Toji knows where your spare key is. He knocks anyway. The side of his fist pounding poplar wood once, twice, three times, and then he takes a step back. Blunted thumbnails pick at the callouses welded into the inside of his knuckles. 

He can’t even blink before the door peels ajar. Fast, like you’d been waiting nearby for him. 

The permanent slouch in his spine corrects itself when Toji stiffens. Shoulders squared, thick fingers curled into iron fists against his thighs. And like the colossal moron he is, Toji doesn’t speak. He just looks at you, standing there in the openness between door and frame. A downy robe obscures you in its rouge silk, cascading down just barely passing the center of your thigh. Your thigh… Toji observes more carefully, noting the bulky extremity protruding out from the side of your shapely leg. A boxy bulge sheathed under a reddish robe; the man scoffs. 

 “Thank you for coming,” you break the silence first, offering all-too polite benediction. Almost robotic, like you’d recited it from a script you memorized. 

“Yeah,” Toji replies, curt.

Mores standing, more silence. Melodic chirps from the crickets fill the chasms of dead air. 

Then finally, finally, you make a move. Toeing the door wider with a bare foot, stepping back to accommodate his bulky constitution. “Come inside.” It is a quiet command, the last words you speak before pivoting on a heel and heading deeper into your home. Toji acts on the instruction, plodding in your trail. He kicks the door shut with the outsole of his muddy boot. 

“Sorry,” there goes your second apology of the night, “I know it’s late.”

He doesn’t acknowledge it, doesn't care much for these pointless I’m sorry’s right now. You’ve guided Toji into the living room—back toward him, shifting weight between legs, plucking at the stitches along the seam of your garb. Toji stands merely ten paces behind, awkward in the way he is uncertain of what to do. What to say. Existing here, in your presence, in your house… it all felt so disgustingly unnatural now. He should've never come back to this place. God, he should’ve never done a lot of things.

“Why am I here?” Toji asks bluntly. Cutting to the chase, because the suspense of anticipating the worst has his stomach coiling in sharp knots. He’s waiting for a fleet of officers to come barrelling down your staircase, ready to gun him down where he stands. Or, alternatively and arguably more dread-inducing, you’ve corralled him here so you can collect proper reparations for all the anguish he’s put you through. Both would be thoroughly deserved.

A glance is thrown from over your shoulder. “I have something for you. Please, sit.” 

“Okay.”

Toji settles on the sofa while you pad upstairs. He never cared much for your couch, its expensive leather was stiff and unforgivingly uncomfortable. Like it was brand new. Like you never had time to sit in it with the schedule you worked. That was the setting for the rest of the room, as well—unlived in in appearance, cold and empty. 

Footsteps thud. He turns his head and watches you curiously as you reemerge from the second level of the house. A ball of worn fabric swaddles your fist.

Toji sits up a little, looking up to where you stand before him with the puzzling bundle of textile. “Is that my..?”

“Your shirt,” you finish for him, tossing the thing into Toji’s chest, to which it hits before tumbling limply into his lap. Not for a second does he bother sparing a glimpse to the useless shirt; still, he commits to your eyes, hoping that you can decipher the inquisitiveness in his. 

Gravelly and mystified, “what?”

“You left your shirt here the last time—”

“What?” A decrepit, holey tee shirt cannot be the reason why he’s sitting on your couch right now. In a bone-crushing clutch, the shirt sits braving force from Toji’s iron fist. He holds it with such conviction that his fingers activate a tremble.

You’re not stupid. You’re the most intelligent, most sagacious woman—person—he knows. So it really fucking irks him when you continue to play oblivious. 

“What do you mean, what?”

“I’m not here right now because of a dumb shirt.”

Your lips smack together pensively, looking fixedly at the drab, eggshell walls. To the porcelain tiles now scuffed from being grazed on by two bespattered tactical boots. To your own feet, to the perturbed curl of your toes. To anywhere besides him. Never had you avoided looking at Toji so unmitigatedly, as if locking eyes for even a split second would cause worldwide devastation.

He reflects upon the night you’d thrown him out, discarding him back to the streets where he belonged. “‘Get the fuck out of my home’, she says,” Toji mumbles a recitement of your own words, struggling to keep the muzzle on his distaste. Elbows on his knees, head in his hand, he taps his index to his lip in thought. “You hate me, and then suddenly you like me enough to return my damn shirt… What kind of game are you playing? Just fucking cut it out and be blunt about what you want from me because I’ve had a really shit day and I’m not in the mood to be cute for you, Y/n.”

You bear his outburst in stride, pulling a face of forlorn at his apparent exhaustion. You don’t shout back at him, nor do you comment on his attitude that you’d surely never let slide in the past. 

“Okay.” 

On tiptoes, you shuffle closer to fit between Toji’s spread thighs. There is a streak of hesitation that perpetually hugs around your body, he realizes, because every which way you turn oozes trepidation in its slow tempo. Jitters teeter down your person, oscillations so tangible that it sways your hair. “You’re shakin’,” Toji annotates, tilting his chin back to gaze up at you. Shaking like a leaf, in fact, and he wonders where all your composure has fled to. “Why’re—”

“I need to…” You take a pause to swallow down the thick ball of uneasiness clogging your esophagus. A sheen glints along your forehead, cheeks, neckline; fucking sweat. “I have to confirm something.”

You are off. This whole situation is off, and Toji can’t pin a point on any of it until…

Slowly, clumsily, your hand glides down the elegant curve of your oblique, toward the ponderous bulk against your thigh. With the brain of a seasoned assassin, Toji pieces the puzzle together with time to spare. Time he could’ve spent lunging at you, pinning you to the floor beneath his body weight, subduing your wrists in the cuffs of his own fingers. But he doesn’t. Be it a product of his own stupidity, his lackluster will to live, or maybe even his inextinguishable urge to devote his trust to you, Toji lets you draw open the curtain of your robe and pull your concealed gun on him. 

With heavy puffs of breathing, you direct the barrel of your handgun toward the centerpoint of his chest. It wobbles in a hybrid of uncertainty and inexperience, and there’s a cold, metallic rattle discernible the whole time. Toji admires the gun—it’s a small thing, some flavor of a colt pistol with a cask forged from iron. It looks weighty and misplaced in the palms of your delicate hands. 

“Nice piece,” he allots useless, apathetic praise. 

Evidently, you aren’t in the mood to reciprocate his quips. “Be serious.”

“I am.”

There is something picturesque about you in this context, it overpowers the innate fear he should be feeling right now. You tower before him like a deus ex machina, his own personal angel of death, granting him divine reprieve from this remarkably bleak concept of life. Toji wants to kneel, call you beautiful, and kiss your feet in appreciation.

“I wasn’t lying when I told you I liked you.” Those words contradict the finger you hold against the trigger. You shake your head, contracting the muscles in your jaw. “Was it just a version of you that I fell for?”

Toji concedes. “Yeah.”

“Do I even know you?”

His thick eyebrows furrow at the question. Do I even know you? “There’s so much I haven’t told you yet.”

You sneer, “you mean, so much you’ve lied abou—”

“No.” Toji holds up his hand, a pardon to interrupt. Because he has never spewed untruths in lieu of keeping his double life a secret. He never lied about his job, his addictions, his mental instability—there were no flimsy excuses, Toji had simply pretended his weaknesses did not exist. You made him forget they were even there in the first place. “No, I didn’t lie. Not once.”

“Then what purpose did you have for me at all?” Wetness glistened over rounded eyes, and wistful tears began to collect along your lash line. Toji watches a bead of sadness break loose, hanging from a cluster of eyelashes. Looking up to the ceiling, you attempt to blink it away. “I just… Fuck. I promised myself I wouldn’t sleep with you—wouldn’t get attached—but you… Why did you lay with me?”

The gun still aims to his heart. “I wanted to.”

“I feel like my head is spinning,” you weep, sniffling in the air. So utterly hopeless. “I feel like I don’t know you at all. Or your intentions.” You were a woman of prowess and authority, a real powerhouse in the sense that you always seemed to just know. Knowing what, knowing why, knowing how; he was so strangely drawn to that superlative superpower, finding your wisdom one of the most alluring things in the world. So perhaps that’s why Toji feels worse than cow shit right now, subjected to the awful sight of your realization that you truly don’t know who he is. The reigns were relinquished from your hands. “I’m scared, Toji.”

“Of me?” A stupid question he already knows good and well the answer to, but he asks anyway.

You whimper out your answer with a dejected nod. “Yes.”

The sorrow that oozes from your stare physically hurts, something akin to watching an eclipse with naked eyes, so Toji fixates on the handgun instead. The metallic shine indicates that it was recently purchased and most likely never used. You must’ve bought the thing specifically for this purpose.

“Are you going to kill me, Y/n?”

There’s no response. It aggravates him. 

“Are you?” Toji asks once more, projecting a rougher tone. Digging for an answer. 

Through tears, you whimper out a little reply, a question to his question. “Will you stop me?”

No. No, he fucking won’t. He sees through your plan; you’re waiting for him to lash out, to fight for his life. You want him to give you a reason to pull the trigger and prove your theories right—theories that he’s nothing more than a dangerous, vindictive animal hell bent on satiating his bloodlust. But Toji isn’t much of anything other than a torpid waste of oxygen. He won’t combat fate, he won’t put his hands on you even in the face of death. Toji takes your shaking wrist into his hand, keeping every last movement slow and sticky. You flinch away upon contact, but the look in his eyes was nothing if not assuaging, so you let yourself be handled. He draws you near, close enough to press the end of the barrel directly against his head. “Aim here,” he instructs with a lulling timbre, and fixes the thing to rest harshly on his temple. “It’ll be quicker. Less blood.”

Horrified, “what are you doing?”

“I ain’t gonna get violent with you.” Toji feels ready. This is okay, to die in a room as pretty as this one, facing a sorry sight as pretty as you. It’ll be a hassle to clean up for you, but you’re sharp as a knife. You’ll figure it out. His other hand, the one not attached to your forearm, rises to touch at your hip. Massaging over the thick robe, holding the dip of your waist with a vice grip. “If this is what I gotta do to prove myself, then fine. I’m ready, so take the safety off and put a bullet in my brain already.”

“N-no…”

“Yes.” He jimmies your arm, coaxing you to shoot. “Fucking do it, I know you can.”

“No!” You roar in his face, lips reeled back in a desperate snarl. “No, you made your point!” A knee sinks into the space of cushion between Toji’s legs, a hand clawing at his forearm. “Stop it, enough already!”

Toji is bemused by your fanfare of emotion. He barely winces as you work hard to pry your wrist from his handhold, scratching overgrown and timeworn acrylics into the tough flesh of his arm. “I can’t keep up with you, woman.” He tuts, observing the struggle. “Y’kick me out, then you call me back. Don’t talk to me for months, but you’re paying my rent. Pull a gun on me, then start crying when I give you a push.” Reaching up, Toji finds the warmth of your neck, cupping his palm to it. Sliding up and up, pushing your jaw with thick fingers because he needs you to stop focusing on the gun and start focusing on him. Your head is steered by his ginger hand, forcing your guys’ eyes to bridge. “You had me fooled. Here I thought you were more mature than whatever-the-fuck this is.”

“You want to talk about maturity?” Like a coin, the doleful effusion you bled was flipped into bewildered agitation. Fire ignites underneath your tongue and Toji braces for its heat.

“Yeah, sure,” ever the impudent asshole, “let’s talk.”

You give him a funny look. A you have a lot of fucking nerve look. “It’s because of your immaturity that we’re here right now!” Getting closer, your other leg fits across the opposite side of his, effectively perching yourself over his thick thigh. Toji grunts under the force in which you sit down. “You and your stupid flirtations. You made me believe that we could have…” Breaking off into a frustrated groan, you shook your head. “How selfish can you be, Toji? To pursue me when you know damn well what you’ve done is unforgivable.”

The tip of his tongue finds his molars, and he looks away for a moment to analyze your question. A moment that is cut entirely too short when you return the favor of maneuvering his head. “No, you need to look at me, too.”

There isn’t any elaborate reasoning he can present to you on a silver dish. When it comes down to the brass tacks of it all, that was just it: Toji is selfish. The only taste of love Toji had ever gotten was when he was young and dumb in his early twenties, spontaneously marrying the first woman who convinced him that he was worthy of tenderness. God, she was gentle with him, seizing his heart in her hands with so much caution and kindness that it made him physically ill. When she passed, he was positive that his heart had been buried alongside her deep in the Earth. That warmth never returned, not once in the years following when he’d find himself falling into strangers’ beds for a quick living. And he’d curse himself, reliving memories of her every night before sleep. So young and dumb, far too much so to appreciate what he had; what he’d never get again. 

But then you came along. 

Man, what a plot twist you were.

“You make me feel things.” What the fuck is he even saying? ‘You make me feel things’? That explanation was about as insightful as a child would be. Toji has never so directly spoken about his feelings before, this is challenging. 

Non-judgemental, you heed his message and urge him to continue. “Good things or bad things?”

“Uh,” Toji thinks for a second, “nostalgic things? I… Haven’t felt like this in a long time.”

“Felt like what?”

There comes a pregnant pause, and Toji takes this time to peer up at you. You sit tall on his leg, head at a tilt while you wait patiently for him to select a word. An attribute that you shock into his system every time you enter the vicinity. It’s a shitty, embarrassing answer, but he spits it out anyway. “Loved.” Using your quiet to his advantage, Toji prattles on. “Or somethin’ like that. I’m a fucking moron though, for thinking I could keep secrets. Selfish is a good way to put it.”

“You’ve killed people for money. You are the epitome of the word selfish.”

“That shit’s behind me.”

You reel, leaning back in his lap to gauge Toji’s expression. “Really?” It’s asked with skepticism, and Toji’s eye twitches.

“What, you think I’m bullshitting?” His hand involuntarily squeezes your wrist, a futile attempt to communicate his sincerity through touch. “No, I haven’t taken a job since last I left your place. I quit.”

This discovery retires some of that scorn. With a weaker voice than before, “officially?”

Toji gives you a subtle nod. “As much as you want to believe I liked dropping bodies, I really, really didn’t.”

There is a hint of a smile, just barely curling at the corner of your lip, before it droops back down into the biggest frown he’s seen you wear all night. “But then wait a second… Where have you been getting your income from? I stopped issuing checks when we—” You stop yourself from saying it. 

“Ah, I’ve just been,” shit, what a dilemma. “Getting some sugar.” It comes out with an awkward chuckle. It’s not a complete lie, sugar baby-ing and prostituting—it was all sex work nevertheless. He isn’t fond of the whorish implication, but you know him. You’ve seen him at his sluttiest, and you weren't disgusted.

“You’ve been having sex?” You veer in toward him. There is no shock or discomfort lacing your words—you know him—only bona fide earnestness. 

“Yeah.” Toji feels compelled to say sorry, but he doesn’t. “I needed the cash.” He doesn’t care to rally the question back at you, doesn’t care to know if you’ve fucked anyone else.

It’s subtle, but he can feel the pity radiating off you, seeping into his pores and burrowing under flesh. You look at him the same way you’d look at a scraped-up mutt abandoned on the side of the highway. He fucking despises that look from anyone else, but from you? It’s not so bad. If anything, it’s maybe even a bit soothing, the way you can console him with just your eyes. 

“Toji, let go of my arm.”

He does as told, dripping your wrist. The handgun falls to the couch, neglected, but Toji doesn’t get the chance to watch it because you’re shrouding the view. A buxom body nestles against the convex of Toji’s ample chest, two arms coil around his thick neck, fingers scritching over his scalp. You’re hugging him.

“Is this okay?” You must’ve felt him stiffen under the weight of your affections, perhaps you took it as a sign of discomfort. But that’s not it at all; the hesitation was a byproduct of Toji’s emotional stoicism. A defense mechanism he’s built for himself, successful in warding off contingence. Sex was okay. Sex was gritty and rugged and crude, enough to make him forget he was being touched at all. But this? Fucking hugging? 

How childish was he for submitting to something so teenage? This was the equivalent of popping a boner from hand holding.

And still… “I like it.” Once again, he lets you tear down his walls. Succumbing to you felt organic, almost as if Toji could just close his eyes and let muscle memory guide his limbs to their place. A heavy head knocks forward, plummeting in the valley between your breasts that have been exposed by the plunging neckline of your robe. Unbeknownst to you, the knot holding it closed had untied itself somewhere in the haste, and it has become more of a loose garnish to your body clad in nothing more than a matching set of dark, rebellious little underwear. Strong arms return the gesture, squeezing you to him so tightly that you must let out an audible oomph as your lungs constrict.

“I like it…” Toji repeats under his breath, nosing a path up to your clavicle. On you, notes of that saccharine, peachy body wash he’d once massaged into your skin. He takes self-indulgent whiffs, closing his eyes to hyperfixate on his sense of smell. “I like you.”

Totally abrupt, no sensibility in the manner, Toji blurts it out. Those three bedeviled words he swore to condemn to the pit of his guts, never to be released aloud. His conscience dictates his actions now, apparently, because the man has no longer any will to swallow his sentiments. After all the terrible, traumatizing shit he’s dragged you through, it’s the least he can offer. You’ve been deserving of those three words for a while now, Toji just never knew how to give them to you. As it turns out, it’s a lot simpler than his imaginations led him to believe. 

“You’ve never told me that before.”

He holds you impossibly tighter, hands flat and feeling the landscape of your back. “You knew, though.”

The hand in Toji’s dampened hair clenches when he ghosts his lips over that throbbing neck vein. “Still, you could have said it sooner.”

“I’m sorry.” He kisses you there, then kisses you again. Slow and tantalizing, just the way you liked. “Sorry for being awful.”

Teeth peek out and catch your skin. 

“I don’t—” you stop to gasp, cradling Toji’s head and holding him deep into the crib of your neck. “Think you’re awful.”

“Mm.” Blindly, he gropes the cushion beside his thigh, feeling for the discarded gun. Toji taps the cool metal against the chub of your cheek, attentive to the trigger—he never goes near it. Catching you in a lidded staring contest, “you use this on good guys, then?”

You pull a grimace. “I don’t use it at all.”

Toji is thoroughly amused. “You were gonna use it on me,” he chuckles quietly, so close to your pretty face that the point of his nose brushes yours. “Or were you just tryin’ to give me a scare?”

“I…” You trail off into brief thought. “I was afraid. I’m only a normal woman, Toji, it’s not everyday I find myself in the presence of a criminal.”

Again, he laughs, thumb sweeping back drapery that shades your thigh. You make no efforts to halt him, instead just following his line of sight all the way down to the black, leathery holster strapped high upon your thigh. Something about it is so enticing, the way fat pudges out along the sides of the tight strip. Like a garter belt, but a thousand times sexier. “‘Normal’ my ass.” Toji plucks the thing, gauging its limitation to stretch, before releasing it to snap back into place and choke your squishy thigh once more. You yelp, smacking his bicep.

“That hurt, asshole.”

“Sorry,” Toji apologizes loosely. He shakes the gun, hearing its rattle. “So this was a test, then.” There is no quizzical lilt, because there is no question about it. It was a test of trust. The weapon was a mere instigator, a tool to coax Toji into showing his ‘truest colors’; unmasking his supposed violent tendencies. All that trust you placed in Toji’s basket must’ve vanished on that rainy night, in the wake of his confession to murder. All that trust… It soured into bitter doubt. 

“A very idiotic, very flawed test,” you sigh, on the cusp of a humorless smirk. “You passed, by the way.”

“I don’t feel like I did. You thought that I would’ve hurt you.”

“I was just preparing for the worst case scenario.” 

The way in which he surveyed you was kindred to the nature of religion. Gritty fingertips explored your Holy face, and Toji worshiped every feature. Could you truly not see how sacred you are to him? Toji doesn’t caress the faces of his quick fucks, and he certainly wouldn’t surrender his life to them. 

“Put that thought out of your brain. Right now. I will never put my hands on you.”

You look flushed. Your cheek kindles warmth beneath his hand. “I want to kiss you.”

Toji’s instantaneous submission was laughable. Jaw unhinging, scarred lips parting wide, tongue twitching with anticipation. He opens his mouth for you and waits.

His face gets clamped in between two tenacious hands. Nails dig into Toji’s face as he’s yanked in to meet you in a teeth-clanking lip lock. It feels like a breath of fresh air, to kiss you like this again. Suddenly, he forgets what those strangers’ genitals tasted like. He forgets the taste of coke dripping down the back of his throat after snorting his fifth line in one night. Forgets the taste of soupy, liquor-flavored bile. All Toji knows is you and your nectarous little mouth. Your honeyed tongue is a tyrant in his mouth, dominating every wet corner, branding your essence into his taste buds. 

“I missed you,” Toji laments into your lips. He grapples with your hips, manhandling them into a constant gyration deep onto the crux of his lap. “I missed us.”

“I can tell,” you mumble and give a sharp grind against him. Against the prominent tent beaming up from the crotch of his pants, and he shudders. Then, you look at him stone cold sober from lust and ask him foolishly, “do you want to have sex right now?”

A nasally exhale huffs out, because you have to be joking with him. “My cock’s hard, ain’t it?” 

You’re a beacon of po-faced prudishness, all the while he pants for more. “Your erection is a given, considering the position we’re in,” close-grained and consolidated in intimacy. You tap Toji’s forehead, “how do you feel up here? I’d like to know.”

Such shitty pillow talk, but even still, Toji felt rosy. It made him feel acknowledged; recognized as more than just a dick to bounce on. Fuck, you’re really turning him on with that corny, mushy bullshit. “I’m good,” he tells you honestly. “I want you.”

I want to be inside of you.

“And you’ll let me know if that feeling changes?”

He groans against your cheek, “Jesus, yes, just fuckin’ touch me.”

“Ask me appropriately.”

Here he goes, sounding like a little bitch again. “Please, m-ma’am… Take it out.” Another memory to add to his internal cringe compilation.

Satisfied, you sit up on your haunches. “Lift your ass.” He does so, and accepts your help to shimmy the waistband of those constricting pants down to quarter thigh. Just low enough to make a spectacle of the hard rod straining against the thin material of his snug boxer briefs; gray and breathable and damp with his pre-ejaculant.

“Shit.” Toji huffs, giving a weak jerk when your hands begin the delicate procedure of feeding his slippery appendage through the piss hole at the front of his ruined underwear. He watches you pull him out with grace—he’s privy to the consideration you show to his most sensitive spots when you handle him like this. He thinks it’s endearing.

There his dick stands, tall and proud in the valley where both pairs of hips meet flush with one another. Toji looks down at the pinkish thing, watches the way it drifts back to hit his navel, falling under its own mass. “Rub me,” Toji whispers with his forehead pressed against the shelf of your shoulder, gazing down under heavy lids to watch his own dick drool spittle into his tee shirt. A hand precipitously hangs below his chin, fingers and palm working with each other to create a makeshift bowl. Assuming to catch something. 

“Spit, Toji.”

A second hand strokes the back of his skull, and the gesture emmenates patience. There’s only a split second of hesitation before he grants your vulgar request. Toji swishes his tongue around, collecting every ounce of saliva that coats the inner seams of his sticky mouth before opening up. The wet muscle unfurls, and a waterslide of spit cascades down into the palm of your awaiting hand. He’s rewarded for his efforts—good job, Toji—before you get down to business. 

His spit is cold when it smears along his tip. Toji bites his lip, sinks his digits deep into the meat of your ass, and fixates on keeping a composed breathing pattern because fuck, your hand was magical. You jerk him off leisurely, maintaining languid strokes that squeeze tighter near the peak of his length. “This alright?” You coo next to Toji’s ear, keeping your free hand busy playing with his raven locks. 

Toji makes a pitiful, throaty noise in response. “Do it faster.”

“No.”

He grits his teeth. “Unfair…” Toji’s hands tremble. To combat this, he begins grabbing at the robe still hugging over you, shielding that sexy body from his perverted glare. You make no indications that he should stop, so he doesn’t. Shucking off that expensive, red cape down your perfect shoulders, splitting the front open right down the middle. It’s a black, lacy little number, and the cups of your darling bralette plead transparency.

Toji pulls the thing up without dawdling, sighing blithely at the heavenly prospect of your perfect breasts bared and ready to be taken by his mouth. “God.” He captures your tit in one hand, squeezing it, playing with its weight. Your latter breast gets swiftly tucked between his lips, subjected to enthusiastic teasing from Toji’s tongue. He’s teething, rolling your budding nipple between rows of ivory fangs like he’s trying for milk. 

“You’re so hungry for it.”

“You've been depriving me of this,” Toji emphasizes his point with a long, keen lick to your cleavage. “An’ you expect me not to be starving.”

You pull him off your chest by the scruff of his neck, hoisting Toji’s heavy head up at your face level. Saliva moistens his lips, and you take your time swiping up his spit with your deft thumb pad. “Shall we get on with it, then?” Condescension and sympathy duel each other when you speak to him, like he is the unreasonable one for becoming a frenzied mess of sensuality. 

Toji is about to answer when it catches his eye. The glinting iron barrel, taunting him. It sits once more at the side of his thigh, untouched and forgotten. Begging to be used.

“I want you to fuck me.” There’s a brief intermission of silence while he collects the weapon, grabbing it by the cask and offering you its handle. You’re inquisitive, staring at the thing with uncertainty, so Toji lays his motives out across the table. “Hold this on me while you do it.”

You chortle, expecting his laugh to come next. But it never does, so you stop and raise a brow. “Come again?”

“You went through the trouble of buying this just for me, yeah?” It was obvious to anyone with two working eyes that you had no experience maintaining firearms. The gun was spotless, brand-spanking-new, and never had you mentioned to Toji that you keep something so dangerous in your home. So yeah, you can try to deny it all you want, but he knows that the only reason you now own a pistol is in case you needed to pop a cap in his brain. “Now I’m asking you to use it.”

“Toji,” you sweatdrop, “I don’t think…”

He takes your hand in his and presses the grip of the gun into your palm before securing your fingers around its silicon. Wide eyes look at him with pure solicitousness. “It’s okay.” Just like before, he steers you into position. “Jus’ keep your arm up like this. Hold it to my head. Yeah, perfect.”

“This is sick, even for you.” Despite your words, you don’t sound too dismayed. 

“Been rocking a half chub the second you pointed it at me.” 

“Filthy.”

Toji hums offhandedly, peeking down at your panty-clad pussy. Your undies were cute, he thinks, teasing the tiny ribbon bow perched on the waistband with a feather-light fingertip. Twin ebony fibers crafted the panties, just as chiffon as the bra. “Gets me off,” he shrugs, hooking his index beneath the gusset and dragging it to the side where it’ll stay in the crease of your thigh. Toji can feel the blaze of your core grate against his hand. You’re turned on. He looks back at you. “Putting my life in your hands.”

You’re shifting, stretching up a little higher to accommodate his cock. One of your knees props up at a right angle, the other remains firmly planted into the couch. “You’re so insane.” Ruddiness blooms along Toji’s neck when you hawk a wad of spit into your hand and bring it down to rub yourself. Lubricating yourself for him, moaning for him, fuck. He’s holding himself too. 

“Aintcha feelin’ powerful, though?” Toji challenges haughtily, slapping his swollen tip against your pubic bone. In response, he feels the barrel of the handgun sink a little rougher into the thin skin on his temple, and it makes him chuckle out loud. “Makes you wanna give it to me harder, don’t it?”

Tacky, spit-soaked fingers catch the angle of his running jaw with a grip so taut, it squishes his cheeks and forces his lips into a reluctant pout. “What am I going to do with that mouth?” You glower, and his mind races with a catalog of hundreds of different risque solutions to propose. However, he doesn’t get one out before your next order: “Put it in.”

And he does right away. A concoction of spit, semen, and cunt juice made the insertion process quick and painless. Without delay, your hips crash down into his lap, and it draws a paltry cheep past his clenched teeth. Fronts stick together thanks to the bone-crushing bear hug he ensnares you in. You give in, throwing your arms over his broad shoulders to attune to the sudden adjacency. He can feel a hard, steely nozzle trace around the circumference of his skull, ending at the base behind his head. 

And that’s how you two sit for a while; inside one another, breathing humid puffs of carbon dioxide into each other’s necks. 

“I’m… Gonna move now.”

“Please,” Toji murmurs.

 Hands walk down your spine, finding purchase on the malleable globes of your ass. Toji kneads like it’s dough; grabbing, pulling, grinding you back and forth. This is how sex should feel, you’ve made him come to realize. Equal parts raw and nasty in perfect tandem with intimacy and comfort. Hell, you have a fucking gun trained at his cerebellum, and even with that unusual addition, this is the safest sex he’s had in months. 

You are an expert in the ways of motion, methodically pirouetting those godsent curves in the most salacious degrees. “Oh God, don’t fucking stop,” Toji pleads, lapping against the slope of your neck. It’s killing him, the way you’re fucking his body deep into the couch like you owned it. It’s physically strenuous to keep his teeth at bay. “Don’t you fucking stop.”

The gun clinks against his head, the thud echoing in his mushy brain. “Hey,” you manage to pant out between short grunts. “No marks, y-you know that.”

Oh. Right. Stupid fucking professional job bullshit…

In the throes of Toji’s desire to swallow you whole, your warning goes in one ear and flies right out the other. “It’ll be fine,” he hushes you, skimming his sharp canines up your throat. 

“Toji.”

“How about here, then?” Before you could say ‘knife’, the tip of a tongue prodded into your ear. Swiveling around, collecting your flavor. Even here, you tasted clean. Like soapy chemicals, but not unpleasant. 

“Toji!”

You’ve stopped fucking him. Toji blinks, and suddenly, he’s being pushed into the back of the sofa by a hand in the center of his pectorals. It takes a second to catch his breath, but when he does, “what?”

Gawking, you palm your ear and cast a horrified look. “You can’t lick there! That’s dirty!”

“But I felt your pussy squeeze when I slid my tongue in—” He hacks around the foreign object. Did you just…?

“Your fucking mouth.” The barrel now lodges in his mouth, pressing back against Toji’s tongue hard enough to trigger salivary glands. It’s obvious that his nonchalance had rendered you harebrained, but thrusting the gun between his jaws like that was the last thing Toji expected you to do. It appeared that the surprise of it all was mutual—you, too, ogle your hand that holds the firearm. “Oh my—Toji, I’m sorry I didn’t—”

With haste, you move to reel back. But Toji’s reflexes are military grade, so he’s able to snag your wrist and hold you there. The shock subsided, and in its wake was the most intense form of pleasure he’d ever felt. Has there ever been a more pure forgery of submission than this? Choking on the loaded gun of your lover, hinging on each breath, wondering if your next will be your last. The whole concept is giving him a headrush far greater than any drug could. So Toji holds you in place, muffling out his pleas through the metal. Staring at you down his nose, eyes teeming with his adoration. 

I want it. And he means it. 

Thank God you’re not one of those dumb bimbo bitches he normally fucks with. You understand the message conveyed in his eyes. You see it. You’re not dense, you know what he wants, and you’ll give it to him. “Tap my leg if you need a break.” He won’t. 

The humping of his sore cock resumes, and any crumb of fortitude left within him curled up and wilted like the Hydrangeas on your front doorstep. He wilts too, collapsing back into the couch while you use his erection. 

You mewl contentedly, bracing yourself with a gentle touch to his pec. A stark contrast to the way your latter hand thrusted the piece in and out of Toji’s willing mouth. He’s not averse to something long and stiff down his throat—desperate times called for desperate measures, and if he had to suck a few cocks to cover the bills, then that’s exactly what he was gonna do. Though this was more enjoyable by miles, he thinks offhandedly while he stifles his gags. There’s no musty stench burning up his nasal cavity, no foul taste of unwashed skin. And a potential bullet was much more appetizing than the inevitable gluey spunk guaranteed at the end of every hummer. Spit bubbles up into a foamy mess at the corners of his lips as he sucks the gun. Sucks it like it’s attached to you, like you’ll be able to feel the way he coils his experienced tongue around the metallic muzzle.

“You’re really i-into that..” Awe infuses each shaky syllable, and Toji hopes maybe in some twisted rhyme or reason, he’s impressed you. Once more, he tries to talk back, but the barrier between his teeth results in utter incoherence. 

Orgasm was near shortly after, and the only warning Toji can supply is a broken half-cry, half-cough. His body began to jerk and twitch in strange ways. Like his right thigh, now sporting an uncontrollable tremble. Or his eyes rolling skyward. “You want to cum?” You asked softly despite your own impending climax, and you stroke the clenching muscles in his abdomen. 

“Nngh.” Fucking pathetic, but it’s the best he can do.

The muzzle clips the back of his throat, and tears spring into Toji’s trundling eyes. Everything gets brighter, and atmospheric sounds jumbled together into deadened white noise. Very distantly, weight lifts from his legs, and that’s when he can’t stop from diving over the edge of his orgasm.

Toji shakes, then shakes some more. Oh, his mouth is empty. When did that happen? Everything is wet and thick and syrupy. The brightness starts to fade, but even still, he has to cover his sensitive eyes with a forearm while he gasps his way back to reality. “Fu… F-fu… Ck…” You have diluted him down to nothing but a babbling idiot. Jesus Christ.

“—ji… Toji!”

Hazily, he peeks down from underneath his arm. You’re massaging soothing circles into his restless thighs that have still yet to calm down. But you’re doing it all with a quiet grin. “There he is.” 

I’m happy.

I’m happy.

Because you remind me that I can have good things.

There is your beautiful face, shining at the end of his orgasmic rainbow. Ready to clean up his mess, ready to talk him into slumber, ready to hold and caress under a shared blanket. Maybe he can deserve this—you—if he works hard enough.

Summoning whatever remained of his stamina, Toji lurches off the couch’s back to meet you into a sweet kiss. A simple kiss, devoid of any spit swapping; just his lips to yours.

“Here I am.”

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tags . • @4imhry @sugurubabe @mastermasterlist1p1 @mikisspeak @fluttershyfangs @iluv-ace @bratbby333 @mizzfizz @sserafin @wo-ming-bai @maexc @r0semultiverse @r0ckst4rjk @aesukuni @taelattecookie @purple-obsidian @hqtoge @khaothick @saintkaylaa @ya9amicide @crayzyaarna @saiki-enthusiast @haesify @nyamocka @sixxze @lifesucksweswallow @darkstarlight82 @megumisdivinedogs @celestialol @yunho-leeknow @ghostfacefricker6969 @aizawa19 @lupicalbestwolf @nymphsdomain @makuzume @killerkinnie @haesify @svnkenlily @bimbobunnii @ssc7514 @megumisfoot @swoozleee

[waxskies]

SDV Bachelor Kinks ~ 18+ Content

Shane | Clothing Fetish

❣ nothing silences the storm inside Shane’s clouded mind more than seeing you in a sexy outfit.

❣ the sight of you has him flustered and pink, heartbeat pounding in his ears. and when his thick, hardened hands bundle a fistful of silk, satin, velvet, or leather—his dick aches.

❣ trembling, his stocky fingers feel the lace on top of your breasts. he breathes heavy while his hands explore the slutty outfit you put on just for him.

❣ he struggles to keep it together whenever he sees the way spandex accentuates every curve of your body. his hard cock twitches and drools in his pants all because of you, and your willingness to indulge his clothing fetish.

❣ the thought of you picking out an outfit for him to fuck you in makes him so hard, it’s almost painful.

❣ it’s impossible for his insecurities to tell him your love for him is a joke when you’re wearing the sheer, black thigh highs he loves so much, and you’re wearing them because he loves them.

❣ Shane has you on all fours. his fingers hooked on the white thong he’s pushed aside to fuck his wanting wet dick inside your slick warm cunt. he looks down at the nylon stockings squeezing your thighs and tightens his belly, determined not to cum. not yet.

❣ “so hot,” he groans between hefty breaths and the sound of his flushed skin colliding with yours echoes. “did you wear that for me, baby?”

❣ a series of lingering whimpers is your only response.

❣ “this what you wanted?” his voice shakes.

❣ “mhmm,” you manage to hum. hearing you shoves Shane past the edge, and he pulls his dick out of your pussy to press the head of his gushing cock against your black, nylon thigh highs. his sticky cum drips on your stockings.

Harvey | Public Sex

❣ the thrill of being caught silences Harvey’s anxious thoughts while his dick urges him to focus on the present moment.

❣ sitting next to Harvey on a fuzzy red fleece blanket under a black sky, you watched the stars flicker above you. the moon’s silver glare filled your empty wine glass, and the sweet smell of grenache and grass filled your nose.

❣ Harvey took the stemmed glass from you and set it aside before placing his hand on your thigh. his grip tightened and the hem of your dress lifted.

❣ you peered down at the back of his hand where jutted veins grew at his wrist like vines surging toward his knuckles.

❣ you traced his bumpy veins with your fingertips and Harvey leaned to kiss you with his seashell-pink lips. the palm of his hand sank into the fat of your thigh, and his touch evoked a prickle of warmth. it tingled inside you; spilling across your body. he parted his lips further, and the square-cut of his bottom lip dropped so his satin tongue could taste you.

❣ his sweet, wine-stained breath filled your lungs until the kiss ended. his half-lidded umber eyes gazed at you, gleaming with lust. the pressure of his large hand on your thigh lifted and Harvey tilted his body forward to hold your wrist. he tugged at it, beckoning you.

❣ you straddled his lap and Harvey circled your arms around his neck, tufts of his auburn hair filled the gaps of your fingers. you leaned into him, your breasts kneaded his chest and his velvet lips sealed yours so the two of you could share a single breath.

❣ he stuffed his hand between the heat of your bodies and unclasped his belt. the sound of his zipper sent you into a state of ruin, pining for him.

❣ while he eased the tip of his cock inside you, he leaned his forehead against yours.

❣ Harvey plunged his dick further inside your wet aching pussy and you moaned.

❣ his breath shuddered, and his shaking hands took his sienna tie from around his neck and stuffed it in your mouth to muffle your moans.

❣ “quiet dear,” Harvey grunted while fucking you.

Elliott | Bondage

❣ Elliott’s shamrock-green eyes washed over your body and waves of devotion flooded his senses.

❣ he admired the trail of rose petals he had adorned you with. from your neck to your belly button, he had kissed you, and sealed each kiss with a velvet petal.

❣ the green in his longing stare was a stark contrast to the thick, braided red ropes tying your hands and feet to his bed. a detail that had not been missed by Elliott’s keen sensibilities.

❣ tying you up like this was the only way he could make you understand how you made him feel.

❣ the vulnerability you felt being naked and admired.

❣ the excitement and fear of being bound by passion.  

❣ even the deep wrenching desire and anticipation you felt, he too had felt time and time again.

❣ he needed you to know—to understand—in the way only you could.

❣ Elliott stood on his knees between your sprawled legs.

❣ legs bound by the red rope that symbolized the fire you had cast inside him.

❣ two of his fingers sank into your wet cunt and your hips pushed toward his hand.  

❣ he closed his eyes, desperate to fully relish the sounds you made for him. careful to not let a single moment of pleasure escape him.   

Alex | Breeding

❣ Alex’s cock drilled into your dripping pussy. his hands strangled your hips while he railed you from behind with your body bent, torso lying against the kitchen table.

❣ you eyed your discarded wedding dress on the floor, a reminder there was nothing pure about Alex’s sexual appetite.

❣ this was not what you had expected from a man who saved himself for marriage, but you supposed it was the universe’s way of getting back at you for lying to him by telling him you were a virgin.

❣ he definitely made your pussy feel like a virgin cunt being fucked senseless for the first time. you had already cum three times. Alex two.

❣ your thighs were drenched with his seed, some of which had seeped down to your calf.

❣ Alex tried his best to scoop up his cum with the head of his cock and shove it back into your pussy, but you were too wet.

❣ it only fueled him to drive his dick deeper inside you and cum as much as he could. your slick cunt made it all the more possible for Alex to bury his cock into the farthest reaches of your pussy.

❣ but Alex still wanted more.

❣ he wanted to fuck you the way Yoba had intended: raw and filled to the absolute brim with his seed.

❣ “Alex,” you cried, your eyes wet and your pussy sore.

❣ “oh baby, just one more, please baby, please,” he’d beg as he continued to drill into you, “you take it so good.”

Sam | Praise

❣ your family was visiting, and it was the first time you truly hated how quiet farm life could be. at night, every sound was amplified by the silence, making it impossible for you and Sam to fool around without the entire house knowing.

❣ especially because Sam’s loud. he’d promised to be quiet, but you knew he couldn’t manage it.

❣ and there was no way you’d get anything past Jodi’s watchful eyes, so Sam’s place was a no-go. you had condemned yourself to three weeks of celibacy for the duration of their visit and were a little more than confused when Sam woke you up at two in the morning, throwing rocks at your bedroom window.

❣ “where are we going?” you asked him for the second time. he held your hand while marching in front of you.

❣ “you’ll see,” he said.

❣ “Sam,” you whined, but he ignored you. dragging you farther into the night until the two of you were standing behind the nauseatingly blue joja mart, in front of the back entrance.

❣ with one hand still holding yours, Sam shoved the other into his pocket and pulled out a key.

❣ grinning wide, he opened the door and pulled you inside. both your shoes squeaked across the clinically blue tiles and Sam turned on the florescent lights. his torso leaning against your back. you turned around to face him.

❣ “really?” you laughed, and Sam grabbed the elastic waistline of your pajama pants and pulled you into him.

❣ “yup,” Sam’s voice lowered, and he tilted his head forward to kiss you. his soft pink lips gripped yours and the week of suppressed urges caught up to you. causing a fit of longing to bounce through your body.

❣ “cameras?” you pulled away from him and asked.

❣ “Morris is too cheap,” he shrugged and sunk his hands past the waistline of your pants. your skin warm to the touch. he slipped his palms under your underwear and grabbed your ass to push your hips into his. you felt his semi-hard cock poking you through his sweatpants. and the open space made your cheeks burn hot with shame.

❣ “privacy?” you said, turning your head to look around at the eerily empty store. as if the place wasn’t creepy enough during the day. Sam groaned, impatient and horny and you glared at him. he chuckled and smiled, playing it off. the last thing he wanted was to annoy you when he was so close to getting what he wanted.

❣ “yeah…i was going to say, we can go…,” Sam said, his eyes desperate and darting, “there.” he pulled one of his hands out of your underwear and pointed to a closet. you squinted your eyes at him as the realization he had dragged you out in the dead of night to fuck you inside the joja mart fully registered.

❣ “ok,” you said, and Sam’s blue eyes lit up like a winter star tree. one of his hands was still shoved inside your pants and cradling your ass, he gave it a quick squeeze before letting go and leading you over to the closet.

❣ with his arm stretched across your shoulders, he opened the closet door. he slipped his arm downward to press the palm of his hand against your back, guiding you inside while he turned on the light. it was small and nearly full of metal shelves piled with cardboard boxes. he shut the door and leaned against the wall, holding out his arms.

❣ “baby,” he cried, stretching out his arms and squeezing the air between you. the desperation in his voice matched the pained expression on his face.

❣ “oh, Sam.” you moved toward him, and the sound of your voice fizzed in his mind, frying his thoughts. his arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you closer, while one of your hands held his face and cradled his cheek and the other stroked the feathery blonde hair at the nape of his neck. Sam sighed and leaned further into the wall, holding you tighter. your body between his legs as he held you close.

❣ close was never close enough for Sam, even when the two of you were completely naked and pressed together, he wanted more. you couldn’t imagine how awful the past week had been for him.

❣ “i did good?” he leaned his forehead on yours. the tip of his nose brushed against the bridge of yours. you bit down on your bottom lip and smiled, and Sam’s eyes danced. his warm breath touched your mouth.

❣ “so good,” you whispered, and a short whine pressed against Sam’s throat.

❣ “how good?” he begged. you kissed him and he buried his hands underneath your shirt, pawing at the clasps of your bra. but before he could get them apart, you dropped down to your knees in front of him. Sam gasped and your fingers curled and hooked onto the waistband of his sweatpants.

❣ “this good.” you looked up at his face. strings of blonde hanging down and framing his cheekbones. his eyes glazed and his heart thrumming. eagerness singed and stirred inside him, filling his cock from base to tip. your bent fingers and pulled his pants down.

❣ the tight tent his dick had pitched stood out, the head of his cock directly in front of your mouth. your mouth watered as you eyed it. you lifted your hand and massaged his length from the confines of its cloth prison. Sam responded with a loud moan and leaned his head against the wall.

❣ “i missed this so much,” he whined while you bullied the tip of his clothed cock with your thumb.

❣ you opened your mouth and pressed your tongue against his tip, closing it to suck on his dick for a moment before pulling away. Sam nearly sobbed and you watched as a patch of precum spread across the navy-blue cotton. 

❣ “you taste so sweet babe,” you hummed while pressing your hand against his thigh. you slithered your hand up his thigh, past his boxers and cupped his balls in the palm of your hand to massage them gently.

❣ “mphm,” Sam groaned, thrusting his hips, pushing himself further into your hand. desperate for more. “please, please, please,” he babbled.

❣ “anything for you,” you spoke softly while you took your hand out of his boxers and started to pull them down. inch-by-inch you peeled them away from his skin while Sam writhed and whined.

❣ “i deserve it?” Sam asked while his pink cock sprang to freedom.

❣ “so much.” you circled your fingers around his shaft. “you’re such a good boy.”

❣ you wet your lips while staring directly into his wide, blue eyes. “and good boys deserve rewards.”

❣ you led with your tongue first, guiding his cock down your throat. Sam whimpered, his legs already shaking.

Sebastian | Free Use

❣ Sebastian watched the end of your skirt wave. hypnotized by its movements while you picked at book after book, pulling their spines to the edge of the dusty bookshelf before shoving them back into their designated spots.

❣ your skirt slapped against your thighs, and a nearly audible groan weighed against his Adam’s apple. he knew you weren’t wearing anything under your skirt. and the only thing keeping his greedy eyes from seeing the image of your bare ass was a strong gust of wind.

❣ you wore nothing underneath because it’s the way Sebastian liked things. you did it because when you confronted him about the agonizing dry spell you endured when the two of you started dating, he struggled to explain his fear that—even now—you would reject him.

❣ the broken chords cracking in his voice were what kept you from telling him how ridiculous he was. so instead you had promised to be ready for him whenever he wanted.

❣ what you weren’t expecting was for Sebastian to bury his cock inside you every second the two of you were alone. both a fortunate and unfortunate side effect of the agreement the two of you had made.

❣ Sebastian curled his fingers and held his hand out underneath the bottom of your flittering skirt. he drummed his fingertips against the inside of the hem, lifting the fabric far enough away to catch a glimpse of the curve at the bottom of your ass.

❣ with his stare fixed on your creamy thighs prettily pressed, all he could think about was spreading your legs so he could stuff his face between your thighs.

❣ you continued to thumb through literature, knowing if you indulged every horny gesture Sebastian made, nothing would ever get done.

❣ Sebastian wondered if he got on his knees and plunged his tongue in your pussy if you’d yelp. would it be loud enough to get Gunther’s attention? would Gunther understand that Sebastian desperately needed to taste his girlfriend’s cute cunt? even in the middle of the afternoon inside the town’s library. the thought of it was making Sebastian’s pants become unbearably tight.

❣ suddenly a pair of footsteps robbed Sebastian of his midday fantasy. a current of shame rushed through him, and he moved away from your behind to pretend the colored book spines wasting away on wooden shelves were more interesting than your beautiful ass.

❣ “hey there,” Gunther called from the end of the aisle where the footsteps had stopped.

❣ “hey,” Sebastian responded, playing the part of casual library enjoyer instead of horny pervert.

❣ “going to grab a lunch, think you two will be ok, alone?”

❣ Sebastian’s heartbeat quickened.

❣ “yes, sir." Sebastian’s mouth widened into a mischievous smile.

❣ “well alright then,” Gunther spoke, then left.

❣ Sebastian peered over at you, nose in some book, unbothered. unaware of the excitement stirring inside your boyfriend. once he heard the library door click shut and the rattle of Gunther’s cowboy boots disappear, Sebastian wasted no time.

❣ you did yelp.

❣ surprised by Sebastian’s warm tongue. the noise only encouraged him, both of his hands holding you in place for him to do what he wanted.

❣ because you were his, and why shouldn’t he be able to do what he wants with you.

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

You Already Said Yes

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~900

Warnings: mostly fluff

Summary: Spencer comes home to find your wedding ring on his office desk, and his thoughts run wild.

Square Filled: sharing clothes (2022) for @cmbingo​

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

All Spencer wants to do is be with his wife and watch Disney movies all night long. He’s had such a stressful week at work, and it doesn’t help that inside his bag is a shit ton of paperwork he needs to get done before Monday.

You’re not there to greet him when he first walks in, but he doesn’t stress about it. When you’re home alone, you like to put your headphones on and clean the entire apartment. Based on how much he can see his reflection in the glass window, you’ve already done the living room. He doesn’t bother calling out your name in case you can’t hear him.

He drops his keys by the door and heads to his office so he can leave all his work stuff behind. He’s looking forward to the weekend even though he has a mountain of work to do. With you by his side, he knows he can get through it.

He sets his bag on his desk when he notices something shimmering in the light. Your diamond wedding ring that he spent months picking out is sitting on top of his laptop. His heart begins to race at the reasons why it’s there. He doesn’t want to jump to conclusions, but his mind can’t help but go there.

He picks the ring up and falls onto his chair in stunned silence. When he first met you, you were the shy girl trying not to get in everyone’s way at the BAU. You never wanted to be an active agent, but you did want to work with computers. You learned what Penelope was doing, and you wanted to help others using your own set of skills.

Penelope was planning on leaving anyway, so you’re the one who was going to fill her shoes. Anything the team needed, you were there to give it to them. After you had gotten comfortable, you and Spencer became the new Derek and Penelope. You’d flirt with him shamelessly to get him to blush or smile, and he’d give you compliments that would make your heart flutter.

Before you knew it, he asked you out. You two dated for three years before he asked you to marry him, and you became the happiest woman on Earth. Marrying Spencer was the missing puzzle piece in your life. After that, everything fell into place as easily as it could. He was the answer to everything…

At least, that’s what he thought.

Seeing your ring on his laptop makes nasty thoughts run through his head. Are you leaving him? Do you want a divorce? Do you still love him? What did he do wrong to provoke this kind of behavior?

His anxiety levels are rising with every passing second, but then five minutes later, you walk in with determination on your face. You don’t address him right away, but you look through the things on his shelf. He can do nothing but stare at you in hopes you put him out of his misery.

“Hey,” he finally says.

“Hi,” you say distractedly.

He is too scared to say anything that he doesn’t notice you’re wearing his clothes. He’s told you plenty of times that he loves it when you wear his clothes. You look much better in them than he does. If you’re here to tell him you don’t love him, then why are you wearing his hoodie?

You move from his shelves to his desk. You lift up everything and search through the drawers before cursing at yourself.

“What are you looking for?” When you don’t give him a response, he reaches out to barely touch your hand. “Baby, what are you looking for?”

“My ring,” you sigh. “I’ve checked the entire house, and I can’t find it anywhere. I am freaking out, and this is the last place I’m checking.”

Spencer reaches out to you and pulls you into his lap, and you look at him for the first time since entering his office.

“I’m sure it will turn up sooner or later.”

“How are you not freaking out? You spent so much money on it, and I love it so much. I can’t fathom the idea of never seeing it again.”

“How did you lose it?”

“I was cleaning in here, and I took it off because I was dunking my hands in water. I didn’t want to have it accidentally slip off without me noticing. Now, I can’t find it,” you sigh sadly. “I’m so sorry.”

To say Spencer is relieved is an understatement. You don’t want to leave him. You just misplaced the ring.

“I think I found it.”

Spencer reaches into his pocket and pulls out the ring he placed there earlier.

“Where did you find it?” you gasp.

“It was on my desk.”

“Why weren't you freaking out?”

“I did at first because I thought I did something wrong that would make you want to leave me. Then, you walked in wearing my hoodie looking for it.”

You lean in and kiss him passionately, and thread your fingers through his curly hair. He holds you close to him, afraid you’ll leave if he lets go.

“I would never leave you, Spencer. Not like that, anyway,” you joke.

Spencer holds the ring up proudly, and smiles as if he were proposing to you the first time.

“Will you marry me?”

“Can I think about it?” you joke some more.

“No.” He slides the ring on your finger as if it were the first time. “You already said yes.”

“You’re damn right I did,” you say with a loving smile.

x

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[f1angelz]

𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒅𝒊𝒔𝒆 — charles leclerc x f!reader

summary: the F1 off season has begun and Charles has gone off to New York along with his fellow drivers to enjoy their break. Little did he know, he would encounter a familiar face.

content warnings: slight angst? (during flashbacks)

this fic is inspired by chase atlantic’s song, paradise. go give it a listen while reading!

── .✦

Flashing lights, big signs, and the night life— the city that never sleeps.

It’s the off season, which meant that drivers finally get to unwind and reset before the new season begun.

Charles, along with several other drivers, decided to come back to New York to enjoy its amenities once again like they did a few years back.

He was a bit hesitant at first, knowing that he had to leave his dog Leo, but his brother Arthur offered to take care of him for the mean time.

And now Charles is in his shared hotel room with Pierre, both resting as they waited for the night to come. Lando was going to DJ at some club tonight, and obviously they wanted to come and support him.

Night quickly came and Pierre woke up from his nap. Upon checking his phone, it was already 9 pm. He leaves bed and looks at Charles who has also fallen asleep. “Mate, it’s already 9. We have to get there at 10.” He gives Charles a small nudge on the shoulder, before going to the bathroom to change his clothes.

Charles groans, “Do we really have to go?”

“Do you want Lando to kick your ass?” Pierre shouts from the bathroom, his mouth filled with toothpaste.

Pierre exits the bathroom in his changed clothes, which meant it was Charles’ turn to go.

Danny and Lando were waiting for both of them, since they rented a limo for all their destinations in New York. Eventually, they were now complete and left for the club.

They arrived after around an hour later and line was already crazy long, but they were able to skip the wait since they were with Lando, who was the main act for the night.

The loud beats and dancing lazers welcomed them— Charles squinted, unable to adjust his eyesight immediately. The four of them made their way through the crowd, but Lando parted ways and went to the stage side, since his set was next.

The rest on the other hand, snaked their way out of the crowd and finally found the bar to get their ‘pre-game’ drinks.

Charles hasn’t gone clubbing in a hot minute, probably because ever since Leo came into his life it’s all that he’s been busy about aside from racing.

But it’s good to unwind your gears for a moment, right? It’s the main reason why they went on this boys trip.

All three of them suddenly turned their attention when Lando’s name was introduced by hypeman, making the crowd go wild.

Lando’s set began and the three of them made their way to the dance floor, but a security member was quick to pull them away from the crowd and towards the DJ’s booth.

To say the least, three of them were shocked. But Lando gave them a smug smirk, “See, told you that I’d make this night fun.” and he did.

The crowd grew larger and by the minute, alcohol was slowly taking its effect. Not a single thought was going into Charles’ head, it was like his body had a mind of its own. The adrenaline was rushing to his whole body, his view of the crowd hyping him up even more.

But not until he saw a familiar figure among the crowd.

That hair, those eyes, and those lips.

Charles practically froze, processing what he saw. Did he see things right? Or was it the alcohol?

—

“I swear, one day I’ll be working in New York pursuing my dreams of becoming an author.” Y/N proclaims, biting on her croissant as she watched the sun slowly rise.

“And when that happens, your face will be all over those fancy LED screens in Times Square.” Charles presses a kiss on her forehead.

“You’ll be there for me, right?” She looks up at him, waiting for an answer.

“You know I will, chérie.”

—

Pierre looked over to Charles, realizing that he stopped dancing and had a frozen look on his face. He nudged his shoulder, “Comment ça va?”

Charles jolted, snapping out of his flashback. “Yeah.”

He wished that it was the alcohol.

The rest of the night was a blur, and Charles woke up that afternoon with the worst hangover possible. He slowly peeled his eyes open and the light pooled his eyes, causing him to groan.

Pierre turns to his direction, “Afternoon to you, mate.”

Charles sits up slowly, “What time is it?”

“It’s 3 PM.” Pierre answers.

He groans and buries his face in his hands, taking a deep break before standing up slowly. Unable to keep his balance, he holds onto the wall for support.

“How’d we get home?” Charles asked, watching his footsteps as he made his way to the bathroom.

“We called an Uber. You were so wasted last night, mate. You were drinking uncontrollably and talking about this girl. We didn’t understand who you were talking about, but you mentioned a name.” Pierre said while he filled up a glass with water, then handing it to Charles.

Charles, who was sipping from his glass, almost spat it out. “A name?”

“Yeah, I don’t remember what it was.”

Charles sighed.

He had an idea whose name he probably mentioned.

Charles shrugged and entered the bathroom to take a shower, getting rid of the remnants of the alcoholic scent that stuck to his skin.

Trying to puzzle the pieces of last night’s incident, something urged him to leave and find what would make his mind at ease.

Charles quickly changes his clothes and grabs his phone, coat, and wallet.

“I’m going out, mate. I’ll be back in a few hours. Maybe before dinner.”

Before Pierre could say anything, Charles was already out the door.

As soon as he left the hotel, he didn’t know where to go. He didn’t know how where he was going to look for this peace he needed.

But one thing is for sure— it was bugging him, like a broken record.

So he walked around Times Square for a few minutes to see where his feet would lead him, looking at the different flashing billboards.

One billboard caught his eye.

He stopped his footsteps and saw the same girl from last night.

The same girl.

—

“Y/N, I’m sorry please. Forgive me.” Charles begged, clinging onto her arm. “Don’t leave me, please.”

“You always say sorry, Charles. But you never really are.” Y/N forcibly tries to pull him away from her arm, carrying her suitcase towards the door.

“Chèrie, please, I’ll do better.”

“God knows that I’ve been patient, and all you’ve done is hurt me over and over again. Charles, I’m so, so tired. Let me go.” She clicks open the door knob of Charles’ apartment, taking a step outside.

Charles cried, still trying to get a hold of her.

“Please.. Please, Y/N.” He sobbed.

“Goodbye, Charles.” She walked away and closed the door, leaving him devastated.

—

It was her, Y/N, on the billboard— advertising her book signing event for her New York Times best selling book which happened to be on the same day.

Charles quickly took a picture of the address and called for a cab, telling the driver the destination.

He didn’t know what to feel, or what to do.

But he needed to see her, even just a glimpse.

Charles arrived at the event and fell in line, despite it reaching almost the end of the block.

He checked his phone for the time, 4:15 PM. The signing starts at 4:30.

He waited for a while, nervous about their possible encounter.

A sudden commotion was heard from near the entrance, a limousine pulled up to the front and body guards were surrounding the vehicle.

A man opened the door and revealed a woman, dressed in heels and a pair of beige slacks along with a white button down polo.

It really was her.

Charles really couldn’t believe his eyes. The girl who once aspired to become a best-selling author, was now already one. All of their memories together in the past all flashed before him.

And she walks down,

I noticed that she does it for real now

Y/N waved at her fans and greeted some of them, walking along the barricaded line and taking some pictures.

He was nervous, was she even going to recognize him?

When she got to where Charles was, they immediately locked eyes.

She remembered who he was— and like Charles, all her memories came flashing back.

“Charl—“ Before she could even finish his name, a fan pulled her to take a picture. But she looked back at Charles once more, confirming if it really was him.

And she talks loud,

She’s telling me what I wanna hear now

Is it real now?

How do I know for sure?

Needless to say, Charles was speechless— and Y/N was too.

── .✦

[ohwowimlonley]

poly!marauders x drunk!reader at a party and reader needy but they don’t want to help reader because they don’t want to do anything when reader basically unconscious of what’s happening because reader is drunk. So they try to explain to reader that they will gladly take care of them after they get better and go to bed. Thank you!

Small psa to all the people that have requested recently - im trying to get through all of them but some i want to write longer fics for and some im keeping in my inbox for blurbs! <3

—

You reach out for them blindly, fingers groping at dead air as you murmer their names. You’re strapped into the back passenger seat of James’ car on the way home from girls night. It’s safe to say that even three hours with Lily and Marlene drinking wine and gossiping about your boys had caused the three of you to go through maybe five bottles of wine between the three of you. Lily had called the boys to pick you up when it got too late, leading to them all but carrying you out to the car while you try to grab at them.

“Siri,” you muster up your sweetest voice, but it’s tinged with a slur and you can’t quite pinpoint where he is when you open your eyes to gaze at him. He makes a small sound from next to you, and his fingers finally brush yours, “you’re so pretty, d’you know that?”

“Oh yeah?” You can hear the grin in his voice, along with the other boys chuckles from the front seats. You squeeze his fingers and follow the line of his arm until you get to his jeans.

“Mhm,” you nod, clenching your fingers around his thigh and fumbling your way towards his crotch, “I tell the girls all about it, like how good you make me feel,”

“Alright, enough,” Remus calls from the passenger seat, leaning back to grip your arm and remove it from Sirius’ crotch. He shushes your whines at the loss lf contact, and fends you off as you lean forward and try to wrap your arm around his chest, “sit back, love, you know that’s not safe in a moving car,”

“But daddy,” you keen, tugging against your seatbelt and pouting around at your boyfriends as they gently keep you from touching them. As your last resort, you turn to James, “Jamsie, you’ll make me feel good, won’t you?”

“I’m sorry, sweetness,” he makes the briefest glimpse of eye contact with you as his head whips back to look through the rear window to check his clearance as he reverses into your driveway.

You don’t exactly remember the next five minutes of your life, it’s mostly a flurry of opening doors and light switches flicking before you’re sat squarely on your shared bed by Remus. The others aren’t far behind him, shutting the door behind them and busying themselves with clinking a glass of water onto the bedside table and finding pyjamas out for the four of you.

Your eyes brighten as James begins removing your dress, and you surge forward and plant a firm kiss on his plush lips. He indulges you for a brief moment before pulling away and tugging your clothes off, only to replace it with one of his tshirts.

“Jamesie,” you whine, wide eyes filling with tears as he moves away from you to begin changing himself, “why won’t you fuck me?”

“Oh, sweetness,” Remus turns in his spot as a tear dribbles down your cheek. He pulls the boys over to you and all of a sudden you’re crowded by your boyfriends.

“Baby,” Sirius takes your hand and crouches down to your level, “you know we love you, and we love makin’ you feel good, but you’ve had way too much to drink tonight,”

“No I haven’t,” you insist.

“Yes you have,” Remus does the same thing as your curly-haired boyfriend, bringing your fist up to smooth a kiss there, “how much wine did you drink with Lily and Marls? You know red is your weakness,”

“But- but that doesn’t mean anything, you can still fuck me,” you grip their hands tighter, nodding at your own words.

“No, baby, not when you’ve been drinking,” James, as always, has the most gentle voice of the three of them, “you’re not in your right mind when you’re drinking, right? You might say yes to something you might regret,”

“But we’ve had sex loads,” you complain, “and I’ve never regretted it before!”

“That’s not the point, sweetness,” Remus interjects, “look, why don’t we go to bed, and when we wake up, I promise we’ll make it up to you, okay?”

“But-“

“No buts,” Sirius extends back to his full height and presses a kiss to your forehead, “go to bed now, okay?”

“And drink some water before you fall asleep,” James reminds you, reaching over and handing you the glass as you resign yourself to silence, pouting to yourself.

“Will you at least kiss me?” Immidietly, you’re overwhelmed with kisses all over your face, causing you to giggle drunkenly at their affection.

[dear-tortured-adam]

𝐚 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐦 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐡𝐮𝐫𝐭 𝐦𝐞 (𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮)

eden here had some major solomon brainrot out of nowhere. title credits to my homie @/ilsefieldtrip

You wished you could've predicted everything.

The little splatter of droplets against the cement synced perfectly with the sound of your shoes splashing across tiny puddles. Your grip on Solomon's turtleneck tightened, ducking your head beneath his cape.

The sorcerer must've felt your nails digging into the black fabric, as his eyes looked down towards you. "Shhh, we'll be fine," he whispered, pulling you closer towards his chest. "Almost there."

The rain continued on, each drop stinging like tiny needles against your skin. Breath hitching; the cold biting wind whipped around as you both ran. The world blurred into a smear of gray and shadow, only there were sounds the pounding of your hearts against the deafening 'splash' of downpour.

He kept a firm grip on your hand, searching for any sign of shade. Cover. Shelter. Anything to secure the both of you. The road beneath you was slick with mud and water, threatening to betray your footing with every step. Solomon wouldn’t let that happen — not now.

How long had it been? It felt like forever. Finding a place for refuge was difficult enough, yet to do it under the harsh Devildom conditions? Only a miracle would grant you leverage to not get sick.

But moments are unpredictable, much like the weather.

Just minutes ago you both were taking a leisurely stroll out in the city square. Then, you were looking through windows as one or the other shared their latest rants or what-ifs. Even the weather wanted to gossip, yet the couldn't hold their excitement any longer.

You felt his breath hitch. Only ever getting a glimpse of the cherry red aluminum roof, but in fleeting seconds you were both in safety. While a waiting shed is not the most optimal place, it was better than nothing. You carefully peeked out of his cloak, feeling his hands wrap the fabric around your body.

Solomon was shivering. The only reassurance was a small, weak smile. "I told you," he said with a tiny smirk.

Yet that didn't attempt to hide how breathless he felt. The white-haired man pants, hands on his knees, before collapsing down on one of the red chairs. Utterly Drenched.

You felt bad, but you also couldn't ignore the gush of wind pressing against your skin. Although, it doesn't take a genius to look at yourself. Your clothes, while crinkled and shriveled up from the constant running, were still dry. In fact, you never felt more than an ounce of water touch anywhere near you: skin, fabric, hair, accessories. . .

Until then. His clothes clung to his body, his hair and skin dripping wet as droplets sink towards the white tiles. Small shaky breathes escape his lips; a moment to pause. His shoes were stained by the mud, and you could see the drops form small puddles beneath his chair.

He did, didn't he?

You frowned, sitting beside him as you drape his cloak over his shoulders. He was baffled, grey eyes widened at your action. "What are you doing? Hey, you should put it back," he said.

But as soon as Solomon tried to wrap the cloth around you, you gripped his wrist. "You need it more."

He wanted to protest, but he knew how stubborn you got. That pout on your face signifies that you aren't backing down. Solomon sighs, before giving a small chuckle. "Alright, if that's what you want."

You smiled in victory as you sat together. Beneath a shared roof, gazing back at the rain. The subtle smell of dew filled the air, as the clattering down of water against metal filled the otherwise silence. Once was a foe to your walking journey had turned into an almost endearing sight. While annoying in the past, you felt calmer.

With a deep breath, you rest you head against Solomon's shoulder. The wizard shifts his position, humming along with a hand on your arm.

"When will this end?" you asked, looking up at him with those eyes he'll forever get lost in.

He shook his head, looking back at the rain. "I don't know."

You only huffed in response. Rain never went away, a melodrama of emotions. The intensity, direction, sounds: all would think that rain was a frightening sight. But at the end of it all, even if it coated the both of you a near trip to illness — you couldn't deny how. . .

You asked again, your fingers intertwining with his. "Can we stay like this?" you said, eyes still on the rain.

You may not know what Solomon was doing, yet the faint kiss he gave your knuckles sent a serene wave of comfort throughout your system. He cooed, his free hand gently caressing your cheek.

"Of course."

Perhaps there was something beautiful with the unknown.

written by dear-tortured-adam | dividers by cafekitsune

[deanbrainrotwritings]

— mon cœur s’ouvre à ta voix

SUMMARY : aka. part II of mattel. finally, in the privacy of your home, you find the willpower to make the afternoon all about dean (as you’d originally hoped) when he tries to distract you from your plans. 

PAIRING : dean winchester x fem!reader

CHARACTERS : none

WARNINGS/TAGS : explicit(18+), 0.5 mL of angst, pure filth mostly, fluffy as well tho, edging, switches all around, body appreciation as subtext lmao, fingering, overstimulation, unprotected piv (I’m scared of germs, you should be too), rough sex, biting, scratching?, oral (m. receiving), begging, squirting, idk hot and sweaty and wet sex honestly cause why the heck not?! 

WORD COUNT : 5.0k

A/N :  the title is from a muse song. this fills the biting square for my @jacklesversebingo card. Inspired by Bullet for My Valentine’s Scream Aim Fire album. Also by the reel on instagram for “riding” tips 🤣

DEAN’S POV 

When you playfully made your way into the house, he allowed his previous insecurity to grip his heart so it clenched while his stomach sank unpleasantly. 

You seemed far too happy, excited even, for him to be ruining your mood. 

But all he could think of was this morning when he was rushing you to get dressed. When he got to the wardrobe, he froze as his mind instantly scanned through the shirts he knew you both had inside, either folded nearly in stacks or hanging on the sturdy metal bar inside. 

Truth was, part of him felt guilty and his stomach sank every time he saw some old shirts of his you’d stolen years back. He typically found it hot when you wore them, but sometimes the way they fit on you made him feel self conscious about his weight. Especially when he could tell when you wore his newer clothes because of how much bigger it fit on your body. 

You’ve never made any comments about his body or his weight or the amount of food he eats or the lack of activity he engages in now. But he knows. Sam teases him about it, he laughs wryly, but Sam doesn’t seem to notice that those comments make him uncomfortable. Sure, back then it didn’t matter what Sam said about the food he ate because he didn’t notice the change in his body. He was constantly hunting or going hungry for large periods of time when they were stuck far away from society and only relied on snacks to stave off their hunger…

He decided to slip on last night’s clothes, hoping to hide his body from himself, from you, from his brother. From anyone who knew him when he was fit and toned and hard… God… he should’ve listened when those chicks told him he had a “dad-bod”.

He had no idea why he couldn’t stop spiralling now. 

When he got to the entrance of the house, he shut the door behind him and locked it, taking a deep breath as his dick began to soften due to his sour mood. He found your ankle boots next to the entrance and quickly discarded his own shoes and placed them next to yours.

His mind went back to anything that would indicate that you had noticed or even hated his body. Even though he had nothing negative to think back to, he felt awful. Suddenly, he could feel every inch of extra skin and he squirmed uncomfortably. 

He saw your discarded dress in the hallway and he found that he couldn’t help smiling.

He could spend all his life wondering why or how you still found him attractive, but that would be a shameful amount of time wasted. You were so beautiful and you were right here ready for him, loving him in more ways and more intensely than he thought he deserved. 

So he decided to just appreciate that you liked, no, loved him at all and quickly washed his hands with soap in the bathroom before entering your shared bedroom where you were laying like a model on the bed. 

Your face was turned to the window, to the drawn curtains and the sunlight that glided over your smooth skin. Your arm was raised above your head, in the pillows, and your body was covered in the red lingerie set that had caught his attention at the sex shop. To see it on your body was driving him insane. 

He noticed the shaky expansion and deflation of your ribcage with each breath you took. Your knees were bent, feet flat on the bed, thighs pressed together tightly, and then you turned to face him. Your lashes fluttered and you smiled when you saw him standing there, dumbstruck and in awe.

You spoke his name like a siren and he moved to get closer to you, the tension your sensuality began filling the room aroused him. His heart was pounding excitedly in his chest, and while some of the blood flooded up to his face the way it always did, most of it ran down south. And your voice did nothing but intensify how horny and desperate he was starting to feel all over again.

He stood at the foot of the bed and smirked down at you and you parted your thighs just to watch him curiously from between your legs with your brow raised expectantly.

He lifted only one knee onto the bed and reached for your hip to drag you all the way down. Your laughter filled him with delight, but when he slid his hand down your side to get a good look at you with your hair haloed around your head on the sheets, your seductive gaze seized him and his heart nearly stopped from how fast it was beating. You bit your lip in anticipation and reached for his shirt, quietly urging him to remove it.

“Please,” you murmured. He pulled the t-shirt over his head and threw it to the side. Hoping to be ignored, he leaned over you, his warm breath fanned over your neck and he relished the quiet gasp you released before he even pressed his lips softly to your pulse.

Your hands instantly threaded through his hair and he let you guide him off your skin, where he could feel the heavy thud of your heartbeat. You whispered his name against his lips like a prayer and he closed the distance between the two of you like a merciful god responding to your silent plea with tenderness. 

You were quick to bite his lips when he refused to give you anything more than an innocent kiss. He smirked against your mouth, inhaling sharply at your enthusiasm. Your tongue pushed past the playfully-stubborn lock of his lips and the sound you made once you tasted him made his cock twitch inside his sweat pants.

You became more impatient, he could barely catch up with you. His mind was dazed from your kiss alone, but your hands made a mess in his hair, tugging with desperation, eliciting deep moans from him. Your hips rolled upwards, your hands released their tight grip on his hair so you could dig your fingernails into his bare shoulders, needing—more than anything—to find friction. He groaned into your mouth and moved away panting, his lips swollen and tingling from your greedy mouth.

He took your hands far gentler than you’d handled him and pinned them above your head, his hand easily locked around your wrists and you bit your lip. You leered up at him when he placed himself closer between your legs.

“Is there something you need, sweetheart?” He teased, placing his hand flat on your stomach, nearly covering the entirety of the surface.

“Dean,” you whined, laughing breathily, “don’t do this.” He frowned dramatically at your refusal—playfulness guiding his actions—and tested your resolve by pressing his thumb against your clit over the wet lace of your new underwear. Your instant gasp at the softest touch thrilled him.

“Already so wet for me,” he murmured, a furious heat rushing up his face.

“Yeah, you didn’t feel that in the car?” 

He leaned over you again, nipped at your breast above the cup of your lace bra in retaliation, and slowly began to pull your underwear down your legs. He felt your hands twist in his grasp when he brought his lips around your nipple over the scratchy lace, you squirmed beneath him, impatiently attempting to kick your underwear off with his help.

“Need you so bad,” you whispered without being prompted to say anything. He smiled against your chest and threw your underwear away from your body with a snap of his wrist. 

“Oh, baby, I know,” he whispered empathetically, his eyes deeply gazing into yours as he slid his hand up the front of your body to pull down the cups of your bra so your breasts spilled out. 

He knew you saw that he wasn’t going to give you what you wanted instantly. Your knees pressed into his sides, your back arched when he breathed against your hardened nipple, and you struggled against his grip on your hands. You never asked him to stop, you only begged for more, so he wrapped his lips around your nipple and played with the other until you were moaning wantonly and begging shamelessly for him to fuck you.

“Please, tell me… you’ll let me cum,” you gasped, watching him intently as he detached his puffy lips from your now-slick and sensitive nipples. 

“Of course,” he murmured and pushed a finger inside you. You gasped, his lips touched yours, and he began curling his finger inside you, relishing in the feeling of it slipping into you without resistance.

He could feel the spread of your legs, the impatient wiggle of your hips, the pulse of your core around his fingers whenever he brushed over your g-spot. His cock ached as you panted and murmured his name in a quiet plea, your breathlessness made his stomach clench and he was enthralled by the sight of you, flushed and needy—all for him. 

He released your wrists to palm himself over his sweatpants, groaning and grateful that there was nothing underneath stopping him from feeling some pleasure as he admired you. He just couldn’t help himself with your shameless responsiveness. Your hands flew to his wrist and he looked down to watch your frantic grip near where his glistening finger was emerging from your warmth. You were something else entirely today. He closed his eyes momentarily, revelling in the image of you that remained behind his lids as he rubbed at his cock, and added a second finger inside you to scissor you open carefully when his eyes fluttered open once more.

He regarded you as you panted, your lips parted and your eyes closed. He bit his lip, parted your folds and flicked your slippery clit with his thumb watching your body arch and your hips buck. 

"That's it, you’re such a good girl," he praised, his voice husky.

His eyes flickered up to your face, but you were already watching him with your brows drawn together in concentration and your lips parted to release every tender moan that he pulled out of you. His heart lurched at your flushed state and you bit your lip hard, struggling to catch your breath. Your wide eyes swallowed him whole and then they fluttered shut for a moment; he knew what was coming.

Your walls spasmed around his fingers and your body shook when your orgasm finally vibrated through you. “Dean… fuck-fuck-fuck… fuck,” you implored, somehow becoming more wet around his fingers. Your hands moved up to his forearm, your fingertips traced the way his muscles flexed as he brushed against your g-spot repetitively, and you shuddered as you kept his unmoving fingers inside you after the most intense part of your orgasm passed.

“Fuck… so needy today,” he said with hushed astonishment. He looked between your legs with a lewd curiosity to watch your pussy flutter around his fingers. He chewed on his lip and experimentally continued to slowly rub at your clit until it became too much for you. Your pussy clamped down tightly around him and you started to guide his wrist away from you so his fingers slipped out, too.

While you caught your breath, he played with your sticky release and sucked his two fingers clean of the drying slick. Your tired eyes landed on him and you still smiled, maybe he could call your huff a laugh with the way your shoulders shook. 

“Do you want me to fuck you, too, now?” He uttered quietly, mostly to tease you. Still, as he waited for you to answer, he pulled down his grey sweats and stepped out of them swiftly. He moved back between your legs before he could miss a single second of your blissful glow and waited with a patient smile as you ogled him as shamelessly as he was doing to you.

"Please, Dean," you moaned, arms thrown up with your hair to grab the sheets hard. He smirked at you and you lifted your hips invitingly, causing his cock to twitch against your thigh. He cussed impatiently as he grabbed your hip over the red garter belt and teased your swollen clit with his cock, mostly enjoying the way your slick felt along the length of him. “Please… fuck me already. I need it, Dean,” you whimpered impatiently, pressing your ankles against the back of his thighs so he could give you what you wanted.

He considered continuing the torture, but decided against it, pleased by the desperation contorting your beautiful features the longer he played with you. 

"Okay,” he hummed and slammed his cock into you, his fingers digging into your hips on both sides now. Your gasp made his head light, his cock throbbed inside you, and he pulled out slowly to feel every inch of you before shoving himself back in with a satisfied groan. Your pussy pulsed to adjust to him, but you were still slick inside from your orgasm, and every thrust felt deliciously smooth. 

He watched you grip the sheets in tighter fists to brace yourself against the ruthless snap of his hips. His eyes trailed down, noticing the faster rise and fall of your chest as your lascivious eyes drifted lower, slowly moving down his chest and his stomach, and finally down to where his cock was ramming inside of you. His fingers pressed deeper into your hips, moulding your flesh like clay, struggling to keep his orgasm at bay.

He brought one of his hands away from your hip, reaching over to your sensitive clit, and stroked around it lazily—hoping to bring you to the edge of your second orgasm. When your body spasmed and you whimpered a plea, he knew he could get you there again. 

“Please,” you gasped, pulling hard at the sheets.

“Anything for you," he promised breathily, continuing to fuck into you as he circled your clit faster. Each snap of his hips made you moan, and you squirmed restlessly—sensitive and overstimulated from his touch, but somehow needing more. 

He leaned over you to kiss you deeply and you gripped his arms instinctively after releasing the sheets as he caged you in with his arms and swallowed your sounds with his fierce kiss. Your nails dug into the taut flesh of his arms and his stomach flipped at your desperate attempts to restrain yourself. He smirked against your mouth, his thrusts became slow and shallow. You kissed him back firmly, breathing unevenly against his lips when he parted to breathe, meeting his thrusts as best as you could, uselessly trying to gain control.

He buried his face near the crook of your neck, breathing heavily and moaning softly in your ear. He groaned your name at the instantaneous clench of your walls at his closeness. You sighed his name, hands flexing on his arm before your nails bit back down on his flesh again, sending electric pleasure through his body. Dean bit down hard on your shoulder, muffling his heated groans against your soft flesh. You moaned in surprise and your pussy squeezed around his cock again. 

"Gonna come again, sweetheart?" He teased, licking at the bite mark and began rubbing relentlessly at your clit. He heard the hitch in your breath and moved his mouth further over your shoulder to bite down on you again. 

He loved your reaction to it.

“Wait!” You begged suddenly, comically—as if you’d just remembered you left the stove on. Your hand locked around his wrist to stop him from stimulating your clit. Your legs came loose from his waist. Sudden concern possessed him to pull out of your wet heat with a whimper that made him turn scarlet red, but a warning tingle flared up his spine at the loss of your body’s heat. 

He felt deceived by the grin on your face, but you began to climb up the bed with a devious glint in your eyes that made him grin as playfully as you were. 

"Sweetheart, please, let me fuck you," he laughed breathily, crawling up the bed after you. You chuckled and threw the pillows out of the way.

"Who’s needy now?" you taunted, grabbing his shoulders to make him take your spot on the bed before he could settle between your legs again. 

He lifted a brow, unaware of your intentions, and huffed indifferently—defiant, but he still obeyed and sat against the headboard. You circled your arms around his neck after climbing into his lap to give him a kiss while his hands played thoughtlessly with the lace of the garter belt on your hips. 

You weaved your fingers through his hair, sending shivers along his body, and tugged gently at the strands in your grasp to part from his mouth. He bit his lip, watching you through heavy eyes clouded with lust. Your playful smile made him smile reflexively, and then you disappeared to mouth kisses along his jawline and neck. His eyes fluttered shut and his head leaned back—gently hitting the wall—giving you more flushed skin to kiss. He moaned quietly as you licked and kissed at the vein carrying his pulse and your hips rolled forward instinctively at the sound.

Your mouth moved lower down his chest with hot and wet kisses that made his skin tingle with fervour to feel you closer. Your weight shifting off his lap made his eyes open slowly, and was greeted with the pretence of your innocent gaze before you wrapped your hand around the base of his dick. His heart skipped a beat, his cock jerked in your grasp, waiting in anticipation before you squeezed and slowly slid your hand up from the base to the tip. Your eyes flickered down just as a drop of precum leaked out of the tip.

Your satisfied hum flustered him, but he was used to it. Used to the way you licked your kiss-swollen lips at the mere sight of his leaking dick when you got your hands on him, readying him for your mouth or your pussy. To him it felt more like you wanted him at your mercy, throbbing red and hot before you finally gave him the mercy of pleasure and release.

“Shit,” he hissed, watching you pump his cock once, twice, and a third time, using every drop of his precum to languidly slide your hand along his length. “Please.” His hips rose from the bed and your response was a gentle laugh that made heat flare up his face. The pace of your hand remained infuriatingly slow and your tight grip drew thick droplets of precum so he almost felt as wet as you were. 

You had him just like you wanted, throbbing and red from your teasing hands, brushing the pads of your fingers to massage every sensitive area you could find on his dick. After uselessly begging for you to go faster, after pleading for release, you kissed your way down his soft stomach. He held his breath, watching intently as your mouth drew nearer to his cock. 

He squirmed when you breathed against him, your lips curved to a smirk, but his mouth was open, panting heavily and waiting hopelessly for the touch of your lips against his length. 

“Hot,” you whispered against his dick, and slowly, delicately licked the leaking tip with your hand wrapped loosely at the base. He sighed breathily and grunted shortly after you swirled your tongue around the tip to swipe away precum. Before he could form the words in his mind, your whole mouth engulfed his cock. 

You moved your head down and his hands found the soft strands of your hair, gripping tightly in surprise, then to guide the speed himself. Groans tumbled from his lips and he shoved away all his embarrassment when your humming vibrated through his cock and made him whimper. You swallowed, your throat tightened around him and he hissed a curse, pushing your head down and pulling your hair up faster. 

He dared to look down at you, through the haze of lust, the sight of you in tears with your reddened cheeks, and redder lips made his cock throb in your mouth. 

“Holy fuck,” he moaned, pulling you up by your hair to let his cock fall from your mouth. A string of saliva and precum connected your mouth to the tip as you sniffled and blinked away tears. “I need you. Get up here, sweetheart,” he begged hoarsely, unravelling his fingers from your hair to guide you up with his hand on your jaw. 

You licked your lips, released your firm grip on his dick, and allowed him to wipe your tears away as you moved back up his body with your knees on either side of his waist. 

He eagerly pulled you in for a kiss, his enthusiasm seeping through the passion of his kiss. He momentarily allowed himself to get lost, to gratefully lick the taste of himself from your mouth, and let his hands wander to pull the cups of your bra back down. Your tits spilled out of the lace and he thoroughly pinched and plucked at your nipples until he felt you take hold of his cock again and stroked him a few times. 

He drew back from the kiss breathlessly, watched you line his dick up with your pussy before carefully sinking down on him completely. His eyes fluttered shut, his hands fell to your waist, and a growly sound rumbled through his chest. 

“Mmm, fuck,” you moaned against his lips, trailing your hands from his wrists to forearms. Your forehead dropped to his gingerly as you raised yourself up so just the tip remained inside you, then slid back down gradually. His grip on your waist became stronger when you broke away from him to enjoy the sensation of having him inside you. “Ah, fuck…” you murmured, grinding down on him to push his cock as far as it could go into you. 

He choked on a moan, on the breath that was cut off by the feeling of you rolling your hips down on him leisurely. He squirmed beneath you, watching you get lost in the torturous pace you found pleasure in. Your head lolled back and your hair gracefully followed the movement shortly after. Susurrations of his name bled from between your lips. Your hands were secured tightly on his arms, pulling him closer to you. 

Pleasure rippled through him. 

He leaned forward to suck marks and press open-mouthed kisses over your breasts. Your hands abandoned his arms to bury your fingers in his hair instead, arching your back to push your chest closer to his mouth. You shuddered as his breath cooled your fiery skin and tugged at his hair, undulating your hips against his. 

He moved his mouth up your chest to bite at your neck. His teeth sank gently into your tender flesh, grazing along the thudding vein, and his tongue tasted the salty tang of your sweat. Your pussy squeezed around him in delight and he moaned against your throat, exasperatedly digging his fingers into your waist. 

"Please… move," he whispered gravelly, trying to take control of the way you moved by sliding his palms down to your hips and holding on tight.

“I am,” came your breathy response. The amusement in your voice made him whine. 

“N… not like that.” His voice was rough and you bit your lip at his frustration. 

Straight away, you finally lifted yourself up his cock, unhurriedly making him feel every bit of the heat and wetness that coated him. You dropped back down at the same frustratingly slow speed. His eyes fluttered shut, his brows pinched together, and he licked his lips before biting down on it. Again, you rose from his lap and steadily sat back down. Your breath tickled his jaw, “like that?” 

Your voice made his stomach flutter.

“Faster,” he begged, his throaty voice revealing his impatience with your drawn-out riding. You nipped at his jaw and only barely picked up the pace. His eyes fluttered open when you cupped his red cheeks, staring at his contorted face. “Please,” he mumbled, pressing his fingers into your hips. 

You laughed breathlessly and dipped down to kiss him, but he knew that was you denying him. Your teeth sank into his lip and he growled at you, throbbing and achingly close to finishing. If only you’d speed up, he could finally get there. 

You sucked at his lip before pushing your tongue into his hot mouth, inhaling each other’s breaths. His head felt light again and his stomach tightened, brimming with bliss, but you ignored his sobbing pleas by silencing them with your tongue, and continued to languidly ride his cock. 

But he’d had enough. 

He flattened his feet on the bed and snapped his hips upwards before you could even process or halt what he was doing. You cried out in surprise and uselessly attempted to hold onto his shoulders as he ruthlessly shoved his dick upwards into your pussy. He slammed you down with his bruising grip on your hips, moving you down on him faster, and obscene sounds began to burst from his lips. 

You inhaled sharply, clasping onto his broad shoulders to no avail until you defeatedly collapsed on him so he could have complete control of the rhythm. He still had enough awareness outside his pleasure to grin to himself as you moaned and gasped his name into his ear. You clamped down around his dick and began to meet his thrusts as he’d been doing for you. 

"You fuckin’ tease," he panted each word between heavy breaths, whenever your hips met his. Even nestled into you as deep as he could be, he yearned to be closer to you, so he tangled his fingers in your hair and crashed your lips down with his, sure—now—that you wouldn’t change the pace he’d set. Your teeth clashed with his, but he couldn’t care less as his cock pulsed inside you, overflowing with pleasure. "I'm so fuckin’ close, baby," he gasped gruffly into your mouth.  

“Please… come, Dean,” you breathed out your plea and he released a low moan, your words making something warm bloom in his chest. Heat trickled down his body and he couldn’t stop the bubbling of his orgasm, especially not with you kissing him so intensely. 

 "Shit- oh, fuck-" he gasped against your lips. You moaned pridefully when he stilled, his entire body tense beneath you, and he held his breath for a short second before he came inside you whispering expletives and your name. You trembled above him shortly after he’d spilled himself into you and he hooked his blunt nails into your hips so harshly he imagined he might break your skin and draw blood. 

He pressed his forehead against your shoulder and loosed his grip on your hips when you finally stopped riding him after you came for a second time, but still sat on his softening dick after pulling every last drop from his throbbing cock. 

READER’S POV

“I love you,” Dean breathed against your mouth, gently brushing his thumbs over the raw flesh of your hips. 

“Mmm, I love you, too,” you promised quietly, carefully lifting your tender pussy from his dick. Dean hissed softly as your pussy fluttered over him and then he melted into the bed, slowly allowing himself to relax after you’d edged him for… well, who actually knows how long?

"What’s with you today, sweetheart?” He asked, his voice still pleasantly husky. 

You tried not to think about it as you sat by his knees, but your cunt still longed for him. “What do you mean?”

He opened his eyes and gave you a look. He looked so fucked out and it made you unreasonably arrogant. Your eyes flickered from his dishevelled hair, his red cheeks, swollen lips, and scratched torso. You blushed and shrugged after stealing a glance at his soft cock coated in your cum and his own. 

You could act nonchalant all you wanted, but your pussy clenched around nothing just at the sight of him. You could feel his release dripping out of you and you rubbed your thighs together. He was still watching you, but you didn’t care what he was able to see. 

“Please, come back here,” he mumbled lazily. 

You moved to his side and rested your cheek on his shoulder. You had a few moments of peace before his hand ghosted above your thigh and sneaked between your legs. You sat up straight and lifted a brow at him.

Dean smirked and rolled his eyes. “Oh, come on, you’re telling me you don’t want more?”

You grabbed his face after staring at him with narrowed eyes and kissed him roughly to shut him up, but he turned to face you and kissed you back just as fiercely. He pushed against your body so you laid on the bed once more and his hand found your slick cunt again.

This time, three fingers pushed into you and he used his other hand to rub furiously at your clit. You whimpered against his mouth, overstimulated, and he pulled away panting. “Come on, baby, give me another one. I know you want it.”

“Fuck,” you sobbed, your body trembling in protest. 

He was right, you could still feel the faint embers of your arousal and he was reigniting them faster than you were able to make your body process. Somehow your orgasm was building up for a third time, feeling less intense but completely fulfilling.

“That’s my girl,” he murmured and before you knew what was happening, you squirted around his fingers and onto the sheets. Dean chuckled and drew out your orgasm as long as you could bear by still stroking on your clit after pulling his fingers out of you.

You could finally say you felt so much more relief, but you were half embarrassed by the gush of your orgasm. Dean was more than pleased by it. He licked his fingers clean of your release and then lowered his mouth down to your pussy with a moan to lick you thoroughly before kissing his way back up your body.

That mouth of his glistened and captivated your attention as he licked them. He pecked your lips and mumbled against your mouth, “I’m so glad I married you.”

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[vampirestookmydoubts]

can i request a bridgerton sister one with violet bridgerton! maybe we're the sister is dying or i'll? prompt #24 "You're too good for this world." and #38 - "Hey. Hey! What did I just say? Keep your eyes open!”

A/N: thank you for the request! absolutely love writing for bridgerton, especially because I'm currently rewatching every season! I was in a writers slump forever, hope you like it!

Characters: bridgerton!sister, Violet Bridgerton, Bridgerton siblings

Warnings: life-threatening illness

In the heart of Grosvenor Square, the Bridgerton household, usually bustling with laughter and lively conversations, was subdued. The shadows seemed longer, the rooms quieter. You, one of the youngest Bridgerton, laid in your bed, your face pale and body weak from a relentless illness that had struck you with cruel suddenness mere days ago. The entire family was ensnared in a web of fear and hope, each of them dealing with the anguish in their own way.

Your mother, Violet sat by your bedside, caring for you the way only a loving mother could.

She had not left your side for days, her eyes red-rimmed from sleepless nights filled with fear and silent prayers. Her hands, usually steady and composed, trembled as she applied a cool cloth to your feverish forehead. You sighed in relief as it soothed your headache and fever for a moment.

"You're too good for this world," Violet whispered, her voice cracking under the weight of her emotions as she caressed your cheek. Tears welled in her eyes, but she blinked them back, determined to stay strong. "My darling girl, you must fight. We all need you."

Your eyes fluttered open, your gaze still unfocused but filled with a flicker of recognition at the sight of your mother. "Mama," you murmured, your voice a faint whisper.

"Shh, save your strength," Violet replied, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face. "You will get through this. The best doctors are tending to you, and your brothers and sisters are all praying for you."

As if on cue, Anthony, the eldest of your siblings, entered the room. His usual stoic demeanor was replaced by a mask of worry, his eyes revealing the depth of his concern. He walked around your bed, taking the opposite side from your mother and squeezed your hand gently.

"Hey, Y/N," he said softly, his voice uncharacteristically tender. "How are you feeling today? Kate told the servants to prepare a special tea for you.” You turned your head to look at him, answering him by squeezing his hand back. “You're a fighter. You've always been. Remember when you climbed that tree and refused to come down until you saw the sunset? You were only five, and you had more determination than any of us."

You managed a weak smile, the memory flickering faintly in the back of your dazed mind. "I remember," you whispered.

"That's the spirit," Anthony encouraged with a bright smile. "Hold on to that. For all of us."

Hours turned into days as the Bridgerton siblings took turns at your bedside, each sharing stories, memories, and words of encouragement. Benedict brought his sketchbook and regaled you with tales of his latest artistic adventures. Colin read aloud from your favorite books, his voice a soothing balm in all this craze. Daphne and Eloise sat close, holding your hands while sharing stories of Daphne’s children and the happenings at the latest ball.

Francesca and even your youngest siblings Gregory, and Hyacinth, did their best to bring cheer to the somber room. They sang songs, recited poems, and brought in fresh flowers from the garden, filling the air with a sweet fragrance and brightening your mood.

But as the days wore on, your condition seemed to worsen albeit the frequent visits from doctors and drinking all the special teas your sister-in-law had prepared.

It became harder for you to breathe, your moments of consciousness seemingly more fleeting than before.

One evening, as a storm raged outside and the rain was drumming against the windows of your bedroom, Violet noticed your faint breathing and your eyes beginning to close. Panic surged through your mother abruptly, and she leaned closer to you, her voice urgent.

"Hey. Hey! What did I just say? Keep your eyes open!" She gently shook your shoulders, her voice cracking with desperation. "Please, Y/N. Stay with me."

Your eyes fluttered open once more, the effort exhausting you more than you thought.

"I'm so tired, Mama," you whispered, tears slipping down your pale cheeks in desperation. Closing your eyes, just for a moment to forget your aching body and dazed mind, seemed way too tempting. Why wouldn’t she let you have that moment of rest?

"I know, my love. I know," Violet said, her own tears finally breaking free. Softly cradling you in her arms, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "But you have to stay with us. You have to keep fighting."

The room was silent except for the sound of your labored breathing and the quiet sobs of your mother. In that moment, it felt as if time had stopped, the world outside the walls of the Bridgerton home ceasing to exist.

That day as night gave way to dawn and the storm passed, a change seemed to come over you. Although your breath was still shallow, it seemed to become steadier every passing hour. Your fever began to break, and a hint of color returned to your pale cheeks. Violet watched with bated breath, hope blossoming in her heart. "You're doing it, my love. You're coming back to us," she whispered, her voice filled with a mixture of relief and wonder.

Your eyes met your mother's, a faint but unmistakable spark of life coming back to you. "I'm trying, Mama."

"And you're succeeding," Violet replied, tears of relief streaming down her face. "You're succeeding, my love."

Violet knew the road to recovery would be long, but in that moment, she dared to hope again.

[ahqkas]

Theodore with a partner that’s has sensitive skin. Like if a strong perfume had hit their skin immediately they need to wash whatever essence it is or else they break out and start to itch. Maybe Theodore always has a handkerchief in case something like this happens.

HARRY POTTER MASTERLIST!

© ahqkas — all rights reserved. even when credited, these works are prohibited to be reposted, translated or modified

THEODORE NOTT HAD ALWAYS BEEN ATTENTIVE, ESPECIALLY WHEN IT CAME TO YOU. from the moment he learned about your sensitive skin, he made it a priority to ensure your comfort and well-being. he carried a handkerchief with him at all times, a simple white square of cloth, always neatly folded in his pocket and ready for use.

one breezy afternoon, you and theodore strolled through the bustling corridors of hogwarts. the faint scent of blooming plants from the greenhouse wafted through the air, mingling with the various perfumes and colognes worn by students. you had grown accustomed to avoiding certain areas, knowing that a stray whiff of the wrong scent could send your skin into a fit of irritation. but despite your precautions, the unpredictable nature of shared spaces meant that accidents could still happen.

as you passed a group of giggling girls from ravenclaw, their strongly smelling perfume hit you like a wall of bricks. you felt it immediately — the prickling sensation spreading across your skin, the creeping itch that threatened to turn into a full-blown rash. your hand instinctively went to your neck, rubbing at the spot where the scent seemed to cling.

theo, the perfect boyfriend he was, noticed your discomfort right away. he had a keen eye for your subtle reactions, having memorized every inch of your body and its language. without a word, he gently took your hand and led you to a quieter corner of the hallway, away from the thick of the crowd.

"hang on," his eyes said, though he spoke no words aloud. he reached into the pocket of his robes and pulled out the handkerchief, its fabric soft and familiar. theo always made sure to wash it with unscented soap, knowing how even the mildest fragrance could trigger a reaction.

you watched as he moistened the cloth with a quick, precise spell that conjured a small stream of water. he dabbed it carefully against your neck, the coolness of the water providing instant relief. his touch was gentle, his movements deliberate and soothing. you closed your eyes, taking a deep breath as the irritation began to fade.

theodore's expression was one of concentration, his brows furrowed slightly, creating those pretty lines between them as he tended to you. he took great care in making sure that every trace of the irritating perfume was wiped away, his concern for you evident in every gesture he made. the usual confidence he carried softened into a tender protectiveness, one that made your heart swell with affection towards the slytherin boy.

"there, that should help," even his touch seemed to soften as he finished, tucking the damp handkerchief back into his pocket.

you opened your eyes, meeting his gaze. "thank you, theo," you said softly, your voice filled with gratitude. his small acts of kindness always left you feeling cherished and understood.

"always," he responded, a small with reassuring smile dancing on his face as he pressed a chaste kiss to your forehead, his hand tangling into your hair on the back of your head to keep you as close to him as possible.

[snixkers]

Femininomenon

Pairing: Emily Prentiss × Fem!Reader

For: Anonymous Request, meant to fill the bed-sharing square for @cmkinkbingo2024

EXPLICIT CONTENT, SMUT

Content Warning: One bed, wet dream, reader is kinda a perv but not creepy, afab anatomy, scissoring

Summary: A shared bed with Emily leads to a good night's sleep.

Author's Note: I literally love Emily. My inbox is full of stuff for her. Trying desperately to reach my bingo, so check out the squares!!!

Feedback is always welcome!

Requests are OPEN!

Stupid Louisiana. Stupid budget cuts. And stupid one-bed motels that the team was forced to use.

The whole state was hot, but it seemed like you'd somehow landed yourselves in the center of the fire. The air itself was muggy and damp, causing sweat to drench everyone just from walking around.

The team had bickered and fought over who had to take the room with one bed, and although you were secretly not disappointed in the slightest, it was forced upon you and Emily.

The two of you settled into your room, tossing your things onto the ground and setting out what you'd need. Emily got to take the first shower since she carried your things, and you could only hope that it was a decent temperature.

After she finished up, you swapped out, turning on the faucet and letting the cool water run over your skin. When you came out, Emily was sitting on her side of the bed, reading a book. You couldn't help but stare at the sight of her in her pajamas. It wasn't like she had shown up in lingerie, but it was just so... domestic.

You crawled into bed with her, and she turned off the light, setting her book down so the two of you could actually get to sleep on time for your early meeting the next morning. A few minutes of tossing and turning later, you found yourself drifting off to sleep. But not for long.

Emily rolled on top of you, tracing her fingers down the side of your neck. You leaned into her touch as she tugged at the collar of your shirt, exposing more skin. The delicious sensation of her nails on you quickly coupled with her lips, making you shiver. You leaned forward, kissing her and pulling her closer.

She looked down, tugging off her shirt and freeing her breasts for you to shamelessly oogle. You mirrored her actions, tearing off your own shirt with unfiltered enthusiasm. Emily palmed your breasts, tweaking a nipple gently while licking around the other one.

Her touch was electric, and the heat between your thighs was intense. You lifted up your hips, kicking off your shorts. Good thing she wasn't in a teasing mood. She reciprocated, shimmying out of her own shorts and dropping them at the foot of the bed. Strangely enough, you didn't feel too exposed. Emily's gaze traveled over your body, heating you from the inside.

She leans down, her forearms boxing your face in as she kisses you, this time with more passion. At the same time, her thug slipped between your legs, creating delicious friction. You lifted your thigh, bringing it to her waiting heat as she had with you.

The two of you leaned into each other, enjoying the sensations it provided. The stimulation was enough to have you both moaning and kissing each other as you moved leisurely. In fact, you were just about to tell her to go faster when she opened her mouth and said, "Beep. Beep. Beep."

You startled awake quickly at that, reaching over and slamming your alarm clock off. You barely had time to mourn your dream before you realized that the subject was in the room with you. She waved as she headed into the bathroom, leaving you to recover in peace. Your clothes were quickly changed and plans were made to ignore what just happened, but you missed the knowing smirk on her face.

[darlingbabyboo]

"M-maybe! "

The captains of Toman aren't subtle, not in the slightest!

Mikey and subtlety should never be in the same sentence unless not is in between them. He doesn't mind that at all. He's so in love with you and everyone should know it, including you! Whether you like him back or not, Mikey's throwing you his heart. He has heart eyes when you're around, always giving you his jacket (and making sure you know how good you look), and even shares his snacks. Mikey loves you so much and when makes those (♥_♥) eyes, how could you not love him back???

Draken is rough with his love and everyone knows it. He grew up in a brothel, give him a break, the only thing that he was taught about love is what not to do (consent king 👑). Everyone can see how hard he tries though, he's giving you flowers (even if he thinks flowers are a bit ridiculous), walking you home, making sure that other guys know to back off (I mean, he's over 6 feet and knows how to fight, no one wants to square up with him). His priorities are 1) you to be safe and 2) you to be living your best life. Draken doesn't do the romance thing, but he loves you from his head to his toes (and that's a lot of love for someone so tall 🩷)

Mitsuya is the exact opposite of Draken. Just because he knows how to fight, doesn't mean that he has to bring it to you. He cares about you so much and wants you to live your best life in luxury. Clothes made for a queen, spending the spare money he has on taking you to your favourite places, always paying attention to your smallest needs. He doesn't want to see a chip on your fingers or a heavy sigh leave your lips. He doesn't care about how obvious he is. All he knows is that you're a goddess, and he's gonna treat you like one.

Baji is crazy, and has a bit of an eccentric way of expressing his love. One day, he's setting fire to a guys car because he looked at you funny, then he's filling your apartment with roses because he was looking through a most romantic gestures list. Baji has a rough and soft side. It's a bit of a ride for you when Baji's in love with you, but would you want him any other way. What other guy is going to give you chocolates after beating the shit out of someone.

Smiley might also have a smile on his face, but that doesn't mean he's happy. With you though, you're gonna see his all new attitude. He's not putting any death threats, not cracking his knuckles, not starting any fights (okay, maybe a little, but that's only to defend you). Smiley prefers simple gestures to big romantic ones but, hey! What makes someone feel more loved than a home cooked meal and a warm atmosphere.

Mucho is a traditional fool 🙄. Bet the bitch even calls it "courting". He might be a little stubborn with how he decides to approach you (will not take you out until " courting" is over) but it can be a bit heartwarming. He definitely treats you right though and that's what matters.

Note: so sorry if Mucho's is bland. I don't really get him 🥲

[cheolism]

picture of innocence

✧ seungcheol x afab reader

✧ summary: you were the picture of innocence to seungcheol, and when you walked around in that robe he just can't help but to try and ruin that picture.

✧ wc is approx 2.6k

✧ warnings: corruption kink, innocence kink. sex without protection, clothed sex. dom! seungcheol. vulgar language, dirty talk. pet names (baby girl, princess, baby). oral sex (seungcheol giving), cumming inside. innocent reader, dirty-minded and possessive seungcheol.

Seungcheol loved how innocent you were. 

He loved how when you saw stray casts you dropped to your knees, singing out cute little words of praise and beckoning them. He loved watching you giggle with delight at the aquarium as you pet the stingrays, encouraging him to join you. Seungcheol loved it when you came running to him, a random flower in your hand and presenting it to him. 

He loved how you chewed at your lip, unaware of how he watched your tongue run over the corners of your mouth. He loved it when you laced your arm through his and hung onto him, the sense of pride that flooded his heart after. He loved watching you absentmindedly lick at your ice cream spoon, unaware of how he imagined your tongue running over his dick, savoring it like you did the ice cream. 

He loved watching you leave the bathroom wearing that stupid robe he got you for Christmas. 

It came to the back of your knees, brightly colored pink with orange tabby cats printed on it. It had fluff around the collar, which despite how tightly you had tied the robe strings around your waist, gaped. Seungcheol could see the expanse of your collar, the sweet valley between your breasts and the beginning of the gentle curve of a breast. 

You pranced over to him, grinning brightly and oblivious to how his eyes were caught on that space revealed by your robe. You reached out and ran your fingers through his long strands, tilting his head and pressing your lips to his temple. 

“Love you,” you murmured, eyes shining as you pulled away. 

Yes, Seungcheol loved how innocent you were. How you were completely, utterly ignorant to how he looked at you. How his mind filled with images of him shoving the hem of your robe up, fingers burying themselves into your pussy as he fucked you over the couch. 

“Love you, too,” Seungcheol returned. 

He watched as you pulled away, satisfied. You turned your back to him and left for your shared bedroom. The robe did nothing to hide your curves; the shape of your hips. The strings of your robes were tightly wound around his waist, revealing the smallness of it. The fabric of the robe clung to your ass, hugging it, and Seungcheol wished it was his hands so tightly pressed against your ass and not the robe. 

Seungcheol was up and moving from the couch, not really knowing what he was doing. He couldn’t really think, not with his dick swelling against his sweats. 

You were laying on your stomach on the bed, staring at your screen. Your feet dangled off of the bed. The robe was in disarray around your middle, and Seungcheol knew for a fact that if he were to turn you over it would reveal all of you. 

He squared himself to the bed, hands settling on your ankles. You startled, turning and giving him a smile. “Hi, Cheolie!”

“Hi, princess,” he murmured. You tried to turn in his hold, but he tightened his hold on your ankles. “Stay still, baby.”

You tilted your head. 

You had no idea. 

Seungcheol adjusted his grip on your ankles, and then he was yanking you down the bed. You let out a loud breath of laughter as he moved you until your as was on the edge of the bed. “Seungcheol! What are you doing?”

He pressed himself closer, hands settling on your lower hips. Your robe had ridden up, the hem of it hugging the swell of your ass. One shoulder had completely fallen, revealing half of your back to him. Seungcheol’s dick seemed to throb, and he couldn’t help but press forward and grind his dick against your clothed ass. 

“Cheol!” You gasped, eyes wide. You looked like a deer caught in headlights, as if you didn’t expect this. 

Seungcheol couldn’t help the little smirk on his face. He flipped up the skirt of your robe, revealing the swell of your ass. You protested, a little pout on your face. “Be serious, Princess. You knew this was going to happen as soon as you put that little robe on.”

“Seung --”

He pinched the fat of your ass, drawing out a little cry. “You can’t just go around taunting me like this and expect me not to do nothing. Now you’re going to sit here and take it like the good girl you are. Aren’t you, Princess?”

Then his hands -- his large hands that you constantly fawned over -- went to your thighs, his fingers digging in. He pried them apart, revealing the little heaven that laid between your legs. 

A sigh left you, and you relaxed in his hold. You moved your thighs to his will, resting your head against the bed. 

Seungcheol went to his knees, dragging his hands down your skin. The inside of your thighs was warm, and when he brushed his fingers against your pussy he couldn’t help the little groan that escaped him from how hot it felt. He lowered his face, pressing his lips against the inside of your thigh. 

“Cheol,” You sighed. 

Seungcheol began pressing kisses to your thighs, alternating between them both. He couldn’t help but nibble against one, drawing a low groan out of you. He grinned against your skin at the noise. He then stuck his tongue out, running it down the inside of your thigh, breathing in the sweetness of your cunt and the scent of your body wash. 

“Seungcheol.”

“Tell me what you want, Babygirl,” he commanded. His voice was deep, coming from his stomach. Seungcheol’s dick still throbbed, angry that he wasn’t shoving it inside of you already. “Use your words.”

“Please,” you gasped. You twisted against the bed. “Can you please -- can you please use your tongue on me? Please?”

Again, Seungcheol loved how innocent you were. How even with him on his knees for you, breathing in the scent of your pussy, innocence and purity dripped from you. 

It always made him feel powerful when you were like this. It made him feel like the strongest man in the world when you were in awe over his muscles; when you so sweetly begged for him.

He settled both of his hands on the insides of your thighs, opening up your lips and presenting your cunt. Seungcheol couldn’t help but appreciate it for a moment, how it glistened and gaped, how both your mouth and cunt seemed to beg for him. 

Then Seungcheol pressed his tongue down on your clit; you squealed. He dragged it up the length of your pussy, collecting juices. When you struggled against him, pleasure sending your body quivering, Seungcheol grabbed the flesh of your thighs and pinched it. 

“Be good or I’ll make you take my cock dry,” he ordered. 

Another gush of fluids left you, a little high-pitched noise escaping your mouth. “Seungcheol, please. I’ll be good.”

“I know you will, Princess.” He ducked down to your cunt once again. He pressed his tongue to your cunt, licking and tasting. Seungcheol ignored your clit, dipping his tongue in and out of your hole, devouring you whole. 

He ate you the only way he knew how to: earnestly. Seungcheol worked his mouth against you quickly, kissing and tonguing your cunt like he would your mouth. You were whining, shifting constantly, trying to grind back on him. 

Eating your pussy, to Seungcheol, was second only to fucking you open. He loved using his fingers in you, loved stretching you out and watching you face contort in ecstasy. But there was something about making you whine and cry with just his mouth, feeling your juices collect and drip down his chin, smear against his cheeks. 

“Ch --” You struggled to speak, canting your hips back against him. Seungcheol didn’t relent his pace, slurping loudly against you. “Ch -- Cheol!”

He hummed against you. Seungcheol shifted before thrusting his tongue deep inside of you, trying to curling it and collecting. 

“Gotta talk to me,” He murmured, mouth brushing against your pussy. “Gotta use your words for me to know what you want, babygirl.”

He knew what you wanted. Seungcheol always knew. He prided himself on knowing what you wanted before you did. He loved being able to provide for you, whether it be pressing a bottle of water into your hands on a hot day or wrapping his arms around you after a bad dream. 

“Touch me? Please, Seungcheol, touch me.”

Seungcheol hummed again. “Already touching you, baby.” You let out a high whine. “Come on, babygirl. Gotta use your words.”

You whispered something into the blankets. Seungcheol pretended not to hear. “Gotta speak up, babygirl.”

“My clit!” You cried out, voice strained. Your pussy fluttered, clenching. “Please, Seungcheol!”

Seungcheol grinned against your cunt, breathing in your smell. Then he was shifting, one hand moving to open your pussy lips and the other resting on the outside of your pussy. He wiggled his finger against your lip, the very tip of it brushing against your clit. 

You let out a sob. “Seungcheol! Cheol, please, please, please --”

He reattached his mouth to your hole, tongue plunging into you. Seungcheol’s thumb went under your hood, pressing meanly against your clit. You shuddered against him, hips careering back and pressing into him. 

Seungcheol worked his thumb boldly against your clit, rubbing fast and hard, tongue continuing to gather your juices. You were frantically moving your hips, loud noises in the approximation of words escaping you and filling the bedroom. 

Your voice broke, a loud gasp leaving you. Juices gushed out of your pussy, staining his lower face. Seungcheol continued to work you, thumb and tongue relentless. He didn’t stop until you were straining against him, orgasm over and trying to pull away. 

Seungcheol pressed a kiss to your pussy, trailing his lips from your drenched core to your thighs. He stood, hands running up your thighs and smoothing over your ass. He pushed your robe from where it fell, revealing your ass once again. “How was that, babygirl?”

“Good,” you hummed, voice soft. You wiggled, turning your head to look at him out of the corner of your eye. Tears stained your face, eyes red. Still you gave him a shy smile. “Always so good to me, Cheol.”

Seungcheol smoothed his hands over your ass again. “You were so good too, baby. Are you going to keep being good and let me fuck that soaking pussy of yours?”

You nodded. Seungcheol squeezed your ass one last time. Then he settled his hands on your hips, guiding you to turn around. You obediently followed him, letting Seungcheol maneuver you. 

As he had thought, your robe had become undone. The strings of it were loose, revealing your breasts and throat. Your robe was somewhat closed around your middle, but barely. 

Carelessly, Seungcheol reached down and tugged one of your robe strings. He pulled it loose, opening your robe further and revealing your torso. 

You shifted against the bed, hands clenching. Seungcheol couldn’t help the dark chuckle that escaped him. “You embarrassed, baby? Embarrassed about me seeing you naked? Even though I’ve fucked you a hundred times before?”

You breathed out his name breathlessly. Seungcheol pulled you back down the bed, your legs wrapping around his middle. He shoved down his sweats, letting them gather around his knees. His cock immediately slapped against his stomach, furious and red. 

Seungcheol’s hand went to his dick, thumb rubbing against his head and gathering the leaking precum. “You embarrassed, baby, even though I know you dream of my cock when you’re asleep? Even though I’ve fucked your pussy raw before?”

“Please,” You asked, voice sweet and eyes wide. 

He tugged at his cock a handful of times. “God. Should keep you here like this all the time. Keep you wet and open for me, for my cock.”

‘Cheol,” You were pleading. It was sweeter than any honey. “Please, just put it in.”

“Put it in?” Seungcheol smirked, lips twisting. “Want me to stuff your pussy with my cock? Want me to fill your dripping cunt?”

You were nodding frantically, eyes wide and mouth parted. Seungcheol pressed forward, tugging at his dick and pressing the head against your cunt. “You sure, babygirl? Sure you want me to fill your cunt with my dick? Want to feel my dick stretching you out?”

His name was pouring from your lips like a prayer. You were begging, and he couldn’t help the little thrill that that gave him. Knowing that you, beautiful, sweet you, were begging for him to fuck you and fill you, for him to defile you. 

Slowly, Seungcheol began to feed his cock into your pussy. His hands went to your hips, eyes watching as your pussy eagerly took him. You were clenching around him, pussy beating like a heart, ready to milk him. 

He took a few moments for you to adjust to his length. Seungcheol watched your chest heave, eyes shut. 

You bucked your hips against him. Seungcheol took it as the signal it was, his hands gripping your hips and fingers digging in. He withdrew his cock from your pussy, until just the head rested in your hole. Then Seungcheol snapped his hips forward, driving his cock in and sheathing it all at once. 

“Seungcheol!” You cried out, back arching. Your hands scrambled against the bed, collecting the blankets and sheets, trying to grab hold of something. 

“That’s it,” he murmured. He kept his grip on you, the bed creaking as he kept bringing your hips to meet his, snapping into you. 

You took all of his cock like a good girl, pussy clenching around him. Seungcheol shifted, moving to prop one hand against the bed, pushing your leg up higher and letting him reach deeper in you. Your moans were loud, joining his pants as he drove into you, cockhead bruising your g-spot. 

Seungcheol felt the tension in him rising, balls tightening. He reached down and began rubbing at your clit at the same pace as his thrusts, unforgivable. “Gonna cum for me, pretty girl? Gonna soak my cock? Be a good girl and cum for me, and I’ll fill you up. Will fill you up and fuck my cum into you.”

You began sobbing, thrashing on the bed. He pressed down on you, using his weight to keep you from moving too much. Seungcheol watched as tears began to leak from your eyes, mouth going wide as an orgasm ripped through you. 

He continued to fuck you through it, refusing to slow his pace. The sound of his hips slapping against you nearly drowned out your little cries of over stimulation, the soft little mewls escaping your lips and imprinting on his mind. 

Seungcheol thrusted thrice more, and then he was bearing down on you and fill you with as much of his cock as possible. You panted in his ear as Seungcheol filled you with his cum, cock pulsing and your pussy eagerly drinking. 

He didn’t move once finished, keeping you plugged. Eventually Seungcheol gently guided your leg down, letting your body relax. When he withdrew from your cunt, his cum flooded out and leaked from your pussy, mixing with your juices. 

Seungcheol watched as you reached down, tentatively prodding at your hole. He felt bad at the wince that overtook you, but then you scooped up the mixture of his cum and your fluids, bringing it up to your mouth and tasting it. 

Later, after Seungcheol fucked you once more on the bed, in the shower and then on the counter in the bathroom, you would whine and pout at how sore you were. You’d stick out your lip at Seungcheol, calling him a brute, painting yourself as a picture of innocence. 

He’d attend to you, dutiful as ever. He’d get you water and a heating pad, setting it on your lower back. Seungcheol would press kisses to your hair, brushing his fingers over the bruises he left on your neck from his mouth. He’d apologize, believing in your innocence, oblivious as you applauded yourself on a well-executed plan.

[sooguru]

INTOXICATE ME NOW ?!

⌗synopsis ⸝⸝ 𝜗𝜚 ── when your ex bf suguru refuses to let you forget him — twt link drabble !

⌗cw ⸝⸝ 𝜗𝜚 ── DARK CONTENT. toxic relationship. , killing mentions , insane ex! boyfriend suguru , slapping , hate sex , pervert , spitting , degrading , spanking , choking , dacryphilia , daddy kink and physical violence. — not proofread !

─── ⋆⋅ 𝜗𝜚 DESTRUCTIVE is a word that could describe the relationship you and suguru shared. geto suguru was a man you still struggled to figure out; you thought you had, but he made sure to remind you that he was still an enigma in your pretty little head. the first few months were the best of your life. he was attentive and caring, always spoiling you with gifts and sweet seductive words that would send you straight into his bed, legs spread ready to receive the best dick of your life.

however, he got “bored”. that boredom led to him being distant, cold. it led him to other girl’s houses. led him to being annoyed with everything you did. when you both had sex, he wasn’t there. using you to get himself off, not caring wether you enjoyed it or not. he wouldn’t respond to your texts, leaving you on delivered for weeks. the final straw that broke the camels back was when he stood you up at a restaurant he agreed to take you on a date at. getting all dolled up for him. only for him to not show.

eventually you had to take matters into your own hands. if he couldn’t care about you, then you’d make him think that he was in the very back of your mind. so you did exactly that, moving from man to man. business associates of his, old friends, fellow rich men like himself. you didn’t care. it was all for something. a purpose. his attention, it’s all you craved. it all set off a web of insanity to unravel around you. it started off with small things. being watched, stalked..then it was your used panties going missing, or finding random..semen laying on your clothes. then the sick..sick, death threats. he wasn’t well, you already knew that, however even you didn’t expect him to go so far as to killing off every man you had slept with.

you had his attention now, what were you going to do with it? you couldn’t run. he was always watching. you couldn’t tell the police, not when he worked so closely with them, connections everywhere. perhaps your plan worked far too well. that was all made clear today. your door wide open, roses trickling from the doorstep, leading you into your living area, the large window panels leering over the city, the sky dark, the lights of the hustle and bustle down below bright and blinding.

“suguru,”

you whisper, spotting the long awaited man standing by the window, staring at the city, the trail of roses ending at him. he slowly turned around, a wry smile on his lips, sharp purple eyes gleaming at you.

“my love.”

your feet whisked you away, standing right in front of the dangerous man you so badly longed for, his cologne filling your senses, the same one that made your blood run hot with pleasure, the same one that left you in a frenzy when he’d take you on the bed. the same cologne that your body had been craving, a divine drug that left you with paralysing withdrawals. maybe that’s why you couldn’t help yourself. lips smashing against each other, hands desperately gripping where they could, bodied pressing against each other in a rush of passion. one which quickly ended as you punched him square in the jaw.

“you..you don’t get to leave me ‘n come back like shit’s sweet!..”

his hand grabbed the back of your head, slamming it into the glass, pressing up against you from behind, lips grazing your shoulder.

“stupid bitch.”

he muttered lowly, rubbing his jaw, flipping you around and slamming your body back into the window just to make you hurt, our lips crashing back against each other, quickly removing each others clothes.

“you’re insane..”

“if i’m insane then you’re maniacal”

before you could create a witty retort, his hand was wrapped around your throat, gripping it tightly, clearly pissed as he gritted his teeth, face inches from yours.

“fucking whore.”

he spat, the gloopy wad settling on your cheek before you recieved a harsh slap, only proving to rub the spit into your skin further, red hot pain searing through your cheek, the sting only going straight to your cunt, leaking down your legs, moaning as he threw you around like a ragdoll, face pressed against the cool of the window, his belt buckle being undone from behind you.

“wanted my attention baby? miss me?”

you bobbed your head, tears rolling down your cheeks, staining the supple flesh with salty black streaks, eagerly licked up by your deranged ex, his hand slapping your cheek lightly, mouth opening off instinct, moaning as he landed the salty spit on your tongue, groaning as he watched you swallow it.

“daddy makin’ you cry sweet girl?”

he was enjoying it. grinning as he pulled you back into his erection, rubbing his cock against your ass, pre-cum dripping onto your back. his hand landed on your ass roughly, yanking your head back, scowling at you.

“i asked you a fucking question bitch.”

your eyes were glazed over with lust, bottom lip stuck between your teeth as you nodded slowly, more tears flowing from your eyes, happy that you finally had his affections, his attention.

“yes daddy”

you practically moaned out as he flipped you around, holding you up against the window panel, cock hard and ready at your leaking entrance. he scoffed, shaking his head in disgust at how wet you were, chubby folds glistening with your sweet slick, drooling pussy begging to be filled with some cock.

“you’re a disgusting slut. who knows how many men have been here.”

he landed another slap to your teary face, slamming into you at the same time, hand intertwining with yours, foreheads pressed against each other as he wrecked your pussy. cock ramming into your inviting cunt with a sick depravity that only the two of you could muster.

“i love you daddy”

your cries of disgusting obsession and his groans of sick toxicity filled the room, lips moving against each other, as if catching up for missed time. your legs still wrapped around his waist tightly, even though his fat tip was currently bullying your cervix, the pain and pleasure of it threatening to send you overboard, eyes rolling back, drool seeping past your parted lips, hair a complete mess, all thanks to him. body littered in bruises and bites, his way of marking his teritory, stopping others from even looking at what was his.

“missed my pussy.”

he grunted, teeth entrapping your ear, biting it hard, drawing blood from the puncture, a sharp cry being drawn out from your plump lips, his tongue lapping at the crimson liquid, your gummy walls quivering around his thick cock, desperate for release, all his sweet torture only making you crave for more.

“d-daddy mmhg! p-please- fuck!”

his hand landed on your ass, making sure he left a red hand print on the soft flesh, roughly pulling out and flipping you around again, lifting your hips, pressing your body into the window, fucking into you with renewed vigour.

“i said to fuckin’ hold it bitch”

he groaned, fingers now on your sweet bud, torturing you further as his cock ruined your poor pussy, stretching her out to the point you felt like you’d be split in half. hands desperately clawing at the windows, your body banging against them, whiny sobs filling the room, sure to be heard by anyone nearby.

“i love you dollface”

he cooed in your ear, kissing you softly, a harsh contrast to the way he was abusing your swollen, sticky pussy. your hand wrapped around his neck from behind, tongues rubbing against each other.

“cum f’me, daddy wants it pretty”

he whispered, smiling as you nodded, using his kisses to muffle your screams, juices flooding out of you, squirting all over his throbbing dick, hearing it drip onto the ground, some running down his thighs and yours, but he didn’t stop thrusting. chasing his impending orgasm, soon intertwining his fingers with yours, burying his head in the crook of your neck, biting it as he moaned lowly, pumping out a hot sticky load into your awaiting cunt, letting him fill where he belonged. in you, with you, you and only you. he was yours and you was his, till death did you part.

“i love you too daddy”

[teddynivvy]

☀︎ before the sun. prologue.

pairing: jschlatt x she/her reader.

warnings: mention of infidelity. reader is mid-twenties.

a/n: welcome to the prologue of my first multi-chapter fic for schlatt <3 ty to my wonderful discord fam for all the inspiration and help as usual. i love u all so bad.

summary: fresh off of a breakup with the man you thought you were going to marry, your parents invite you on their annual trip to maui, hawaii. they've also invited their friends, which unbeknownst to you, have their son tagging along. it's embarrassing enough to be tagging along with your parents on vacation, but now you have to deal with another stranger on the trip.

“It’s going to be a great trip this year, sweetie,” your mom reassures you, packing yet another brightly coloured swimsuit cover-up in her suitcase. “The weather in Maui has been gorgeous, best it’s been in years.”

You sighed as you looked down at your mom’s bag, not listening to much of what she was saying. Sure, a week long trip to Hawaii was nothing to shake a stick at - and given your parents’ luxury preferences, you knew it would be a fun-filled week with a ton of drinking, eating, and hopefully, something to heavily distract you from the heaviness you felt deep in your heart.

Your long-term boyfriend, who you had imagined you were going to spend the rest of your life with, sat you down at your shared dinner table about a month ago. His hands clasped in his lap, recounting a drunken night of stupidity that ended in him sleeping with another woman. You felt hot tears brim your eyes as you yelled and screamed at him, cursing him and slamming the door behind you. Needless to say, that was the end of that. 5 years down the drain, starting back at square one, single and living with your parents in your mid-twenties.

“What time are we leaving again?”

Your dad chimed in, seemingly out of nowhere. “9 AM. Sharp. Don’t sleep in, or we’ll leave without’cha!”

You cracked a soft smile as your dad pulled you into a side hug, pulling out some of his own clothes to begin packing.

“When are Dan and Sarah coming in, do you know?”

“I think their flight is a little later, and it’s outta JFK, so who knows. They invited their son to come along too, I think he’s about your age.”

You rolled your eyes at the implication - that not only were you saddled on vacation with your parents, but now you had to entertain their friend’s son too? They were also notoriously unreliable narrators. You had no idea whether you’d be babysitting a kid for a week, or if this “son” of theirs was going to be 10 years older than you.

“Cool,” you deadpanned, moving back into your bedroom. Clothes from your recent move were strewn about your bedroom floor, along with knick-knacks and photos from your old apartment. Framed pictures of you and your ex, which made tears well up in your eyes as you put them back in the box, face down. 

You started to throw clothes in the bottom of your bag, not being able to focus on what to even bring. A summer dress or two, t-shirts and shorts, your toothbrush. It all seemed so mundane now. Not falling asleep next to someone, waking up to them, or feeling particularly interested in anything at all. The whole world felt black and white.

“Don’t forget your bathing suit hon!”

Who forgets their bathing suit on a vacation?

“Got it, mom.”

This was going to be an extremely long week. 

[queen-of-the-avengers]

After So Long

Pairing: Mafia!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.7k

Warnings: angst

Summary: You're forced to go back to the one place you tried to hard to get away from. You're forced to contront the memories you left behind.

Between Love and Hate Masterlist

Squares Filled: protection (2023) for @buckybarnesbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

Then

It seemed like wherever Bucky went, Steve and Sam followed. You thought it’d be nice to go shopping at your local mall with Bucky since he’d been so busy with work. You put on something cute to wear and did your hair only to feel like you’re being followed the whole time. You tried to ignore them but it was hard when you saw their black clothes in every corner.

“Does this look cute?” you asked and held up a shirt.

“On me or you?” Bucky joked.

“Ha-ha, very funny. Wait, it might look good on you.”

Bucky smiled and took the shirt while you moved to a different section of the store, the dresses. He didn’t mind holding the things you wanted to get. He’d do it forever if he knew this made you happy. It does. You liked shopping. Just not with grown men following you.

“Do they have to be here?” you sighed as you looked at the dresses.

“It’s a precaution, pisică.”

You liked the little nicknames he gave you, especially in his native tongue, Romanian.

“Because of your job?” Bucky nodded. “When are you gonna tell me what you do?”

“I’d rather stay in our little bubble a little while longer, if possible.”

“Fine, but you will have to tell me eventually.” Bucky didn’t respond to that. Once you were done with the dresses, you moved to the jewelry section. The prices in this store were outrageous and you turned to Bucky with a frown. “Are you sure we should keep shopping here? I’ve already spent enough of your money.”

“Pisică, I make more money in an hour than the one hundred grand you’re going to spend.”

“You’re spoiling me,” you grinned.

Bucky pulled you into him and placed his hands on your ass, not caring if anyone saw.

“You’re my girl. Of course, I will.”

He leaned down and kissed you and your heart swelled in happiness.

Now

You always knew Bucky would find you but you didn’t know when or where it’d happen. He truly didn’t know where you were for the first six months you were gone. After you enrolled in college, he found you. In order to apply for it, you had to use your real name which Sam caught when he was looking for you online.

Despite what you may think of him, he really does love you. He just has a weird way of showing it.

Bucky has left his men behind where you crashed your car at while his driver takes you to one of his mansions. You’ve been to almost all of them because he used to take you all around the country for the hell of it. You have a room in every single one of them.

“Pisică--”

“Don’t call me that,” you snap and look at him.

“It took a long time to find you. I thought you had dropped off the face of the Earth.”

“Bite me.”

“Don’t tempt me,” he smirks. He loses it when he thinks about what to ask next. “Why did you run?”

You look at him with wide eyes and a parted mouth. “Did you really just ask me that? You’re a murderer.”

“Well, that depends on how to look at it.”

“There’s no looking at it differently. You kill people. That’s murder.”

Bucky decides to change the topic because he’s not gonna get far with you accusing him of things he’s done.

“Remember how we met?” It’s incredible how this man can jump from one topic to the next. “I do. I even remember the kiss we shared. Care to hear it from my perspective?”

“Not really?”

He tells you the story anyway as if you weren't there to begin with.

Bucky met up with several potential business partners that he thought would benefit him and his company. He’s one of the biggest mafia bosses this country has ever seen and having allies is much better than having enemies. He controls the weapons market, the communication sector, and most of the casinos across the country. These men would give him access to most of the drug trading posts if they’d only get their heads out of their asses and agree to his terms.

He doesn’t let the storm outside prevent him from doing business which is why he took this little meeting to one of the most expensive and high-end restaurants in town. The owner knows him and always gives him a good deal.

“Ma’am! You can’t just run in here!”

Bucky looks up and locks eyes with the most gorgeous woman he has ever seen before. Granted, she’s soaking wet from the rain outside. She looks fearful as if she’s running from someone. For some reason, Bucky would kill anyone who ever made her feel unsafe, and he doesn’t even know her.

She looks back outside and runs further into the restaurant, ignoring the calls from the hostess. She runs right over to him and interrupts the meeting he carefully set up without a care in the world. There’s panic in her eyes. She’s afraid. If only she knew who he was.

“I’m so sorry. Please play along.”

A man comes into the restaurant just as soaked as she is but Bucky doesn’t have time to react. She sits on his lap and kisses him desperately. He wraps an arm around her waist to keep her from falling off his lap and kisses her back. She is getting his nice suit wet but he doesn’t care. This kiss not only screams ‘I’m desperate’ but it screams ‘I need help’. The men Bucky is with chuckle but he tunes them out.

“Sir!”

Bucky can only assume the man had left the restaurant. His mysterious lover tries to pull away from him but he pulls her in closer and continues to kiss her. Only when he is satisfied does he finally let her go. She turns to check that the man isn’t there anymore and visually relaxes.

“I am so sorry.”

“Ex-boyfriend?”

“Yeah. He wouldn’t let me leave and I only managed to get away from him.” something comes over her face and she backs away in embarrassment. “God, that was so rude of me. I don’t know you. Thank you for that. Again, I’m really sorry I interrupted your dinner.”

She leaves the table and checks to make sure her ex isn’t outside looking for her. Once she feels she’s safe, she runs back outside into the pouring rain. Bucky clears his throat and takes out his phone so he can call one of his trusted men. He has Sam working on something in another state so Steve is who he calls.

“Boss?”

“Did you see her run out?”

“Yes.”

“Follow her. Find out about the boyfriend.”

“Yes, sir.”

Bucky gets off the phone and returns to his meeting like nothing happened.

“You came in there dripping wet. You came over to me and kissed me. Do you remember that kiss? How desperate you were for it?” During his storytelling, Bucky pulled you closer to him and slid his hand in your hair. His hand is so big that he can cup the side of your head and still run his thumb over your bottom lip. “Do you remember the taste of my lips on yours?”

“I will never kiss you again much less do anything more than that.”

You push him away and he smirks in amusement. He keeps his hands to himself for the rest of the ride. His mansion is like the one in New York just with more acres. He has the ultimate dream house fit with anything you can think of. Pools, spas, theaters, sports courts, and a ton more.

You dread coming back here not because it reminds you of Bucky but because it reminds you of the good times you had with him. The times from before you knew what he did for work.

You’re escorted inside his mansion and taken to a room with Steve. It’s like you’re being placed on time out because Steve stands by the door as if he isn’t allowed to let you leave.

“Ai grijă la ea, e foarte drăguță, dar e o fire plină de luptă. Ea nu iese din casă.”

Watch out for her, she’s real pretty but she’s a feisty one. She doesn’t leave the house.

Bucky keeps eye contact with you the whole time before leaving the room. Your blood boils.

“Ești un laș care se ascunde în spatele unei armate de oameni!”

You’re a coward who hides behind an army of men!

Bucky doesn’t bat an eye at your words. He’s the one who taught you Romanian, now you’re using it against him.

“I’m leaving,” you say to Steve and storm to the door.

Steve lets you out of the room knowing there are guards posted at every door to prevent you from leaving the mansion. Sam stands at the front door so he must be done cleaning the crash of your car. 

“Sorry, you can’t leave. Bosses’ order,” Sam says and stops you from leaving.

Instead of standing here arguing with him, you figured you get this over with. Your room hasn’t been touched since you left, and you can only assume your other rooms in the other mansions haven’t been touched either. This room is filled with so many good memories of you and Bucky. You hate that you’re looking at them now with such disdain.

Bucky was never one for pictures so the ones he did take were inappropriate to post anywhere. He thought it was funny to print them out and frame them for your room to always remind you who you belong to. Maybe you still do. Maybe you don’t. You’re not sure of how you feel anymore.

It hurts to look at them because you still love him. You’re so damn in love with him and it hurts because you thought you’d never love a murderer.

Bucky returns to the house hours later, well into the night. He finds you asleep in your own bed with dried tears on your cheeks. He looks at the pictures on the dresser and yanks his tie off angrily. He makes sure to be quiet as he walks over to you.

“I love you so much,” he whispers.

He kisses your forehead before leaving your room. God, he wishes things were different. He hates seeing you in pain.

x

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[janesgms]

Plutonian Women

(and unraveling their destiny)

This post can be quite messy because I only wanted to share my thoughts on this topic. Do not take all of this as my absolute truth because these are things that I've thought for quite a while seeing it in my life and personally too.

Something I've realized lately is that Plutonian Women go through unique situations that set them apart from other people. And in this case, I'm refering to women only and not men because this is based on my experience, and you all know that energies manifest differently according to the gender so I'm not gonna afirm this also apply to men when I haven't seen it in my world, also, as we are tired of seeing, women are treated differently from men in our society so we cope with things differently.

Firstly, I wanted to talk about placements that make a woman Plutonian in my opinion (when I say "Plutonian", I mean someone who is heavily affected by Pluto in their natal chart), but you can relate to this post whether you have some of these aspects or not, so share your experiences with me, I'd love to know!

🔮 1H/5H/8H/10H Pluto.

🔮 0° Pluto.

🔮 Pluto in water degrees (bonus points if there are aspected placements who are also in water degrees).

🔮 Pluto aspecting big 6 (specially harsh aspects: conjunction, opposition, square, contra-parallel / also specially the luminaries - sun, moon - and mars).

🔮 Pluto in the same personal planets/asc.

🔮 Pluto aspects to outer planets in case it's also aspecting big 6.

🔮 I think Pluto aspect BM Lilith/Chiron can also play a part in this.

🔮 Scorpio Pluto if it's conjuncting or heavily aspecting other placements.

What distincts a Plutonian Woman from the rest is their gravitational energy that pulls you in like a black hole, and as intensely as one. Their eyes hold a shadow of their past traumas and occasions but with a touch of mystery that makes you wonder what they went through in their lives. Their stare is heavy and filled with emotions (let's not forget Pluto still rules a water sign).

I don't like to condemn people for their placements, but I think Plutonian Women came to this life to suffer a lot before gaining what they want and deserve, and this seemingly infinite cycle of pain will only end when they learn how to cope healthily with things of life. One of the reasons why they go through so much is their way of seeing and feeling. Plutonian Women feel things in almost a transcendental way, they feel intensely and with this, they can put themselves through "unnecessary" situations when not careful. They're also prone to self destructive behavior, their heart usually puts a dark veil in their thoughts when their emotions come crashing in like a hurricane. Their pain is the embodiment of "female rage", when they cry hard, it's a mix of anger, sadness, sorrow and everything that they were holding back from a while - because they do hold emotions - but they can't run away from their deepest parts, and one day everything overflows and they can finally reborn from that suffering; the music "Pretty When You Cry" describes them perfectly, because they're indeed pretty when they cry and crying frees them in a way, and a lot of people actually like to seem them suffer? Plutonian Women attract questionable men or women (romantically), because they're almost like a beautiful show to watch, and these men/women like them best when they're falling apart, but manipulation can arise and fool them (they should be careful with 12H synastry specifically, the apparently good ones can actually be the wolf in sheep's clothes).

But back to the way Plutonian Women perceive the world, they are actually fragile at heart, but they try to hide it at all costs, they have a pure heart who could be derranged due to childhood/romantic/any other issues but who has no bad intentions most of the times. I think of them as victims of situations they have no control of since young.

However, to be more positive, I'd like to say that this is not a death sentence at all. Indeed, death is the right word to describe Plutonian Women because they die all the time (figuratively speaking, but literal death can be very present in their life too) and they are reborn as better people. Unfortunately, justice or karma is not much on their side because the world can be a place very unfair most of the times, but I think this is due the fact that they souldn't focus on revenge or negative thoughts, even though they can do it a lot as a way of thinking as a "justice". But the message they should learn is that they should focus on getting better, prettier, wiser, smarter instead of losing energy thinking on lower vibrational people.

The truth is that Plutonian Women are the defintion of a a Phoenix, if you do them wrong, you can be sure that they will gain their dignity back and get back stronger than ever, even with a "fragile" heart as I said, they have a malicious mind that protects this side of them; and also, once they apparently heal their deepest and oldest wounds, it gets harder and harder to break their shell, but if you were capable of doing so, just know that you opened all of them and made the Plutonian suffer all again and go to hell and back.

Overall, the word that describes them best is "raw" because this is what they truly are (in the best way possible lol). Due to this, they can attract a lot of hate - similar to lilith women and specially if they are also lilith "dominant" - from people who don't understand their beauty or actions, because their beauty is truly sharp, hypnotizing, dark and undescribable, furthermore, their actions are particularly unique and most of the times hide their intentions, they never do something significant without thinking first. They ultimstely search for what's beyond the surface, when in love, they wanna know your soul and more, they despise flings, they wanna get to know the depths of their s/o's being, they love hard but also get heartbroken hard when it happens. Academically, they like to be strategic and hardworking when they see it's worth the work, they can be perfectionist because they're hard on themselves most of the times. So, afterall, what's their destiny? Their destiny is to feel accepted and comfortable in their own skin, to get over their traumas and allowing themselves to be better, to let go of toxic people and surroundings, to not engage in toxic relationships anymore, to free themselves from karmic debts and to be finally happy.

Plutonian Women probably feel a deep connection with spirituality, astrology, pstchology, crying, darkness, mystery, the unknown, black/red/purple/dark blue, sad and profound songs, the night, dark places in general, mourning, wakes, death celebrations, soul level bonds and conversations.

Plutonian Women are masterpieces who deserve more from the world and people, they've gone through a lot and they should be 100% respected, sending a lot of love to all of you ❤️‍🔥

Hey guyssss, I missed posting actual posts here but I wasn't feeling inspired lately. But I'm back!!! I hope you guys understand my point of view and I typed this with all my heart because I was based on my personal experiences and people around me's experiences. I was thinking in also making a post about Lilith Women since I also have a lot to say about that either ! Thanks for the support and see you later or sooner 💋 Also in case you noticed I didn't focused in scorpio placements here because I think they work differently (I just don't know how to explain this difference tbh, so I focused on actual Pluto)