#that's why scratches himself & why he has teeth bite him

[richeeduvie]

How would lalo react if princesa started acting like him, insanely energetic n charismatic n smily 😭n he’s js like “wtf🤨”

She's drunk. A bit high. These moments make Lalo regret allowing her to smoke weed - smoke weed and drink at the same time at least.

"Hola, Nacho."

Nacho almost drops his plate. Lalo's head snaps to the kitchen from his place on the couch.

The hell?

Princesa got quiet for the last twenty minutes during their shows. They've just been watching anything and she went to go get seconds, something Lalo was proud of. Both in the fact of his food being so good and the fact that Princesa's eating well.

She scratches her the spot above her lip.

"I don't know why, it's almost one a.m and I'm not tired. Someone's rubbing off on me."

She slides closer to Nacho, leaning over the stove.

"Can you make me my plate, please?"

"...Y-yeah. Yeah, are yo-"

"Thank you, my friend. Because you are my friend, even when you don't like me som-"

"Princesa."

Lalo's suddenly in the kitchen, eyes stern. Princesa smiles bright, she's happy to see her love. Her soulmate. And he looks so handsome, a bit bigger in the belly and longer in the hair. He only needs to cut one of them.

He takes his head aback when she begins swinging his body from side to side in this sort of hug. Something he does, although...it's a lot harder for her to move him.

Lalo smooths her hair back as she looks up at him, drunkenly smiley in the yellow light. There's no nerves on her skin, nothing like a quick heartbeat or tight feeling. Lack of shame and shyness.

Like she's learning from Lalo.

Nacho tries not to stare. He hates how he has to try. But he makes Princesa's plate. Lalo watches the way he does, plates the food nicely.

He swallows as Princesa fixes his hair.

"You smell handsome."

She suddenly pulls away, even with Lalo's hand tight on her wrist. She's somehow even more smiley when she turns to Nacho.

"Nacho, what you doing?"

"Thank you, Nacho. You know how to fix a plate." She takes the plate from Nacho, who can't say...nothing. "Lalo, grab a fork. I don't want to waste."

"Princesa, you have to make your own plate. Can't have Ignacio slaving around like that. But what the hell has gotten into you?"

She shrugs and takes a bite.

"Mexican wine."

She kisses Lalo's cheek and he burns. His hands flex.

"Did I said thank you?"

Nacho leans again the cold stove. "...You did."

"Good. You're welcome."

She makes her way to the couch, laying flat across and smiles warmly at Lalo standing above her. He stares black in the dim light.

Nacho doesn't dare to find himself in the room. He rubs his face on the way to his room. Nacho. Nacho.

He takes a slow, stiff moment to sit on the couch, holding her feet in his hands and putting them on his lap. She pokes his knee with her toe.

Princesa hiccups when she sits up. She presses a piece of meat on Lalo's lips. He lets her. There's a keyword there.

"Ah, Lalo."

She sniffles and hiccups again.

"I can't let you drink again, huh, girl?"

"...We'll see if I let you."

"Excuse me-"

Lalo almost chokes on his own food. Princesa nuzzles her face into his neck. The man feels heat everywhere. It's angry, maybe - yeah...but he has to make his hand into fists, at her...at Princesa's bold behavior. Sweet girl being too sweet. It doesn't feel good on the stomach, it feels like when she's touching him and she's not shy, which Lalo guesses is now.

"Damn you."

"Please don't do that."

Princesa puts the plate down carefully onto the couch. She does sound sad, but neither of them really know if she's feigning it with his teeth and tongue. But it's Lalo, it's his girl sounding sad cause of him and he feels it on his muscle.

He sighs.

"I'm playing, Princesa. You think with the way you've been playing tonight, you would know what that would look like."

Lalo leans his head back at the feeling of a smile in his neck.

"I do."

[k-hotchoisan]

Hii Sunshine hope you doing well 🫶🏻💗If it’s convenient, can you write one where San is a black cat hybrid, in heat and needy but he is afraid to hurt y/n [my size kink is kicking in] but eventually he gets her ✨help✨??

pretty kitty 🐾

<san x fem!reader>

San is the prettiest kitty—even when he’s doing his best to hold back during his heat cycle when all he wants to do is to breed you over and over.

Genres/warnings: smut, pwp, kitty!san is in heat and he’s whiny 😫, size kink, breeding, cream pie, orgasms after orgasms, san just cannot get enough, oral (M receive), soft dom!san, biting, reader and san call each other kitty!

A/N: I’m back?????? and doing this as a little warm-up 😔 life has been overwhelming and my mental health has not been mental healthing unfortunately. I’m presenting this as my apology,, I hope everyone is doing well, and thank you for being patient with me, always <3

Word count: 2.8K

Tag list: @bro-atz @diamond-3 @mcarebearsstuff @choisansplushie @voicesinmyhead-rc @pre1ttyies @hwallazia @songmingisthighs @yeosangiess @interweab @mylovelymito @softwsan @yourlocaljonghoe @itza-meee @ywtf @jeon-ify

Something is up with Choi San. Your hybrid feline partner has been exhibiting strange behaviours for the past week or so, at least, from what you noticed. Initially, it started with him snuggling against you, which was quite the common behaviour of him, but then you swore you heard him whimper softly from time to time. Then it escalated to him latching his blunt feline teeth against your skin, nibbling and licking you sometimes, leaving marks on your skin in his wake. It would have seemed like his usual behaviour, that is, until he suddenly started pulling away so suddenly, and he would spend most of his time locked away in his room. You wonder if you should interfere, but by then he would come out like nothing happened, wearing the pretty smile he always had before pressing kisses onto your forehead.

Well, you got your answer one night.

San is curled up against you as usual, his head on your chest, his arms wrapped around your waist, his tail swishing on the couch. His ears are perked up, as he tries to concentrate on the program running on the television. 

But he can’t seem to. His eyes are gradually glazing out, his tail slowly pulling straight and his ears are slowly pointing to the front. San shuts his eyes when he feels your fingers brush against his dark locks, then scratching the back of his ears. He takes a shaky breath, biting his tongue in the process as his sensitivity climbs up in levels dangerously quick once more, evident by how much his pants are tightening at his crotch.

You feel your hybrid still and finally look down at San, wondering why he suddenly froze. Then you realise how pink his cheeks are getting.

“Sannie”, you call out. “Are you okay there?” Your hands press against his cheeks, and for a split second, you think he’s running a fever, which shoots panic right into your veins. 

San only whimpers in reply, his ears are downcast, and he presses himself against you, rubbing slightly in any feeble attempt to relieve the discomfort, and his erection makes things slowly click in your head.

“I’m fine,” is all he’s able to mutter before he bites his bottom lip, drawing blood. He attempts to pull away before his dick starts to take over his brain, but your hands force him to stay seated beside you. 

“Sannie”, you call out once more, trying to get the feline to focus. Your eyes dart to his pants, noticing the dark stain that’s beginning to pool on his pants.

“Are you in heat?”

San tries to blink away his tears, his hard cock starting to fucking hurt the more he’s just leaving it like that. He hates this funny feeling, like nothing can satisfy him no matter what he does. It’s not the first time he’s felt this way, and he hates how weird this all feels. San has always tried to be a considerate hybrid, showering you with so much love that he made it his life mission to suffocate you with it ever since you adopted him. He’s tried to suppress his ruts, deciding to take suppressants initially. It works, at least until the pharmacy had run out of stock for the month. Now, all that is flooding in his mind is how he wants you pinned under him, forced to take his cock deep in your pussy, and he’s driving him fucking nuts. He tells himself he can manage it, and he does his best, but fucking his fist can only hold him off for so long. 

And now it’s his limit. 

He knows you would say yes to help him and he detests the idea of hurting you, especially in a crazed frenzy that he’s unable to hold off and all he can think of is just holding you down and fucking you. Hard.

San breaks off eye contact, which is starting to tick you off. Your hands are now cupping his cheeks.

“I can take care of it myself”, San replies, trying to ignore the way his body feels like it’s ignited into flames whenever your touch lingers on him for a little too long. 

“But it’s not working isn’t it?” You counter, which draws a frustrated expression from San. His body is tense, and it’s taking all of his strength to not pin you down and just take you on the couch right there and then. “You know it’s okay to ask me for help right?” 

“I don’t wanna hurt you”, he mutters, his gaze dropping to the seat of the couch. 

“And I know you won’t”, you reply, closing the distance between the both of you. San’s heartbeat quickens at the proximity and your words. He’s so enamored by the fact that you trust him that much, and it’s driving him fucking insane. 

“It’s different when I’m not myself”, San attempts to counter once more, fighting with any remaining rational thought before it gets completely flushed out by his cock. 

“What makes you think I can’t take it?” You ask rhetorically, and that makes San freeze in response. He parts his lips to say something but you cut him off- 

“Come on, Sannie. You know I trust you with my body.” 

He swallows hard, the remainder of his rationale dissipating when you’re already tugging the waistband of his pants, pulling the clothing off as his red and angry cock springs out, wet and thick with slick already. 

It’s the not the first time you’re sucking him off, it’s not the first time San is gonna fuck you, but his cock just seems extra thick when he’s in heat. 

Not that you were complaining. 

Beads of perspiration trickle down San’s temples. He feels like his body is on fire right now—every area of skin your fingertips brush against is making him feel like he’s about to combust. He’s reminding himself to breathe and relax, but his heartbeat is doing otherwise. 

And when he watches you taking his full length into his mouth, he barely holds himself together, the pleasure shooting up his veins when he feels your throat close and squeeze his cock. His hands reach out to the back of your head, and he’s doing his best not to just push you down and make you choke. 

You hear his grunts slowly turn into whines, the way he gently squeezes his thighs against your head, and his toes are curled. 

“T-that’s it. Fuck. Oh fuck! Deeper, deeper. Please”, San cries, unknowingly already pushing your head further down his cock, and he barely registers you gagging. But all you’re feeling is slick lubing your cunt and butterflies in your stomach from the way San is looking so desperate just to get off.  It’s so fucking adorable.

You pull back, listening to the whines from San, watching the way the thick and white fluids bubble from his cock and leak down his shaft, while he watches you pull your shirt over your head, your tits bouncing slightly for his mouth to gape and for his eyes to fuck. You lower yourself back to his pretty dick, giving his shaft kitten licks from the bottom, San’s hands immediately tangling against your hair, pushing you impossibly close to his cock. 

A few more teasing licks later, you finally take his cock in your mouth, your tongue running up and down the thick shaft while you bobbed your head, and San is grasping at any final ounce of sanity he has left. His moans are so desperate and pretty, and you’re soaking in the way he’s so tensed up as you’re pulling his orgasm closer to the surface. His tail is coiled tight against your arm. 

“Cumming. Your mouth feels so fucking good—“, his words being cut off when his mind completely blanks out, washed in white as his cum seeps past your lips when his cock leaves your throat. 

“You’re so fucking pretty when you cum, kitty”, you tease as you wipe your lips with a piece of tissue, not realising your partner is staring down at you with glazed eyes, that he’s barely satiated. 

Before you could process anything, San’s thick arms wrap around your waist, then he fucking heaves you off the couch, and starts walking towards your shared bedroom. 

You fall onto the bed, watching your feline partner’s pupils dilate, his tail now long straight, and his ears completely perked up.

San’s lips aim for yours, his kisses sloppy and desperate, his tongue going scavenging every corner of your mouth before he grazes his fangs against your lips and pulls back. You stare back at him with confusion hinted with a strange sense of eagerness. San doesn’t fuck you during his ruts often, mostly because he opts for the suppressants, but when he does…

He pulls the remainder of your clothes off you, swallowing hard while he fucks you with his eyes, especially at the way your pussy is just dripping for him, glistening with slick under the lights. 

San leans in closer, his body weight pinning you underneath him as his cum stains your pelvic area, “No tapping out now, kitty.”

He doesn’t give you a chance to answer, because he lines his cock up with your cunt and pushes in, making you gasp at how fucking thick he is, even when he just cummed barely minutes before. 

“You gotta relax for me, babe. Fuck. You’re so fucking tight”, he hisses, feeling your cunt stretching to accommodate him. You’re in awe—the switch between being desperate and domineering when San is in heat never ceases to amaze you. But you barely have time to let your thoughts manifest because San has your legs spread wide open for him, his thrusts pushing any wandering thoughts you have out of your head. He’s filling you up so good and full that you see a slight bulge pushing against your lower abdomen. 

“S-San, you’re so fucking thick. Oh my fucking god”, you groan when you feel his cock drag against your plush walls before he plunges himself back in. It’s a tight squeeze for sure, but San isn’t relenting anytime soon, especially when the look of complete pleasure flooding his face is only making you even wetter. His eyes are growing wild. In between fucking, he’d lean in to leave pretty marks all over your neck and chest, uselessly reminding you who you really belonged to. He would whisper that you are so fucking pretty for him, covered in his pretty marks on top of completely ruining your pussy. 

The more his cock hits your sensitive spots, the more your grip on reality slowly loosens, the only things you’re soaking in are the wet sounds of his cock making a pretty mess out of your pussy and the feeling of San so thick and heavy in you that stars start to flicker beneath your eyelids whenever you shut them. 

San pulls back from your body momentarily—his cock still fitted into you—to get a better angle to fuck you in, pushing your knees closer to your chest, giving him the perfect view of your pussy completely drenched in cream and precum. And it gives him more access to hit even deeper parts of your poor cunt.

Your mind grows blank, mostly focus on trying to chase an orgasm that’s bubbling up to the surface. You watch the way San’s pretty ears are twitching, the way he clenched his teeth, his once blunt fangs now sharper the more he grows feral from fucking you. His cheeks that were once dusted pink now are flushed alongside his furrowed eyebrows. His eyes would roll back from the way your cunt squeezes him and it drives him to want to fuck you even more senseless. 

“Sannie—“, you huff, trying to tell him, “I’m cumming. Don’t stop.” San stares down at you, his eyes reflecting adoration mixed with hunger. Your breath hitches when you feel it bubble at the surface—and it feels so fucking heavenly—you jerk slightly with a broken moan, your pussy fluttering while still full with San’s cock stuffed deep inside. Your hands fist the sheets, your thighs shaking, your toes curled from how mind-blowing it feels. 

“So good. Gonna make a mess outta you”, the feline hybrid promises he presses himself against you, forcing you to hear him groan in bliss while warm cum spills and fills you up. He stills for a second or so, before he pulls out slowly, watching the way his cum slowly seeps out of your fluttering hole, and he swallows hard. 

“Need more. Not enough”, San mutters, before he pushes his cock back in, forcing his cum to leak and spill onto your inner thighs. Your eyes are watering, fingernails clawing against San’s arm which he barely registers when he fits his full cock right into you one more time. 

He grunts, voice so low right in your ears, and you can’t help but squeeze around him, on top of feeling overstimulated. 

“W-wait—“, you jump, every nerve in your body still buzzing from your high. San meets your gaze, and you feel goosebumps on your skin when you feel his tail graze against your tummy. 

“Like I said, no tapping out, not until I’ve bred you full”, San reminds you before he shifts positions—settling you on top of him. His hands shifting to squeeze your ass before he guides you to slowly sink onto his cock once more, the both you shakily exhaling, San’s cock twitching in you as he lets you adjust to him. Your cunt is wet and sticky, but he still fills you full all the same, now even deeper since you’re sitting on his dick. 

“So full. Oh god. You’re so deep, Sannie”, you squeal when he presses the bulge on your lower abdomen once more, adding to the pleasure. 

You lift yourself off and slowly bounce off his cock with San’s hands on your ass to guide you, although he is rather impatient with it. You wrap your arms around him, pulling him into a hug while he’s thrusting right into your cunt over and over, and it makes you tug against his hair and scratch the back of his ears, which pulls out a purr and another thrust up your cunt and a light nibble against your neck. 

“You shouldn’t do that if you don’t want me to ruin your pussy”, San warns you along with a loud slap his palm impacts against your ass. You return his words with a cheeky smile before you bite against his ears gently, and he groans below you, his thrusts increasing in speed and as he fills you up with his cock every two seconds. 

He pulls you down for a messy kiss, his breathing heavy. Then he pulls away, looking up at you, dripping with lust, entranced by how gorgeous his partner looks filled up with his cock. The feeling builds up dangerously in your stomach once more. You glance at San, his eyes are shut, soft grunts leaving his lips, his cock twitching in you once more, he’s at his limit too, it seems.

You tap his arm, and San’s eyes flutter open, staring back at you as his pupils dilate and his ears point forwards. The corner of his lips curl into a smile. 

“Are you gonna cum for me again babe?” 

You nod, biting the bottom of your lip, a broken cry leaving your lips when he pushes his hips upwards into you once more, ripping a moan out of you as white bursts and floods your veins, your cunt convulsing around his cock for the second time, making San hiss. 

As you go down from your high, you interlock your fingers with San’s, keeping eye contact with him. 

“You can let go, Sannie. You’ve been such a good kitty”, you hum, brushing his hair back, not forgetting to scratch the back of his ears, knowing that it drives him fucking nuts as San bares his fangs and bites onto your shoulder, his cock spurting even more white into your spent pussy. His eyes roll back when he pulls away from your shoulder, whines piling on whines when he seems like he’s spilling his cum into you endlessly. 

As the snapped tension slowly dissipates, the both of you are left panting and catching your breaths. You giggle, breaking the short moment of silence, which San cocks an eyebrow, curious at your amusement.

“What are you laughing at, kitty?” He asks. 

You stare at him for a couple of seconds, admiring his face. “Nothing. I was thinking of how pretty you look when you cum, kitty.” 

San pouts at you, his face flushing from the shyness, and his retaliation comes in the form of biting your fingers. He gently lifts you off him, almost forgetting that his cock is still in you for second when he hears you whimper. But what definitely catches his attention is the amount of slick and thick white that trickles out of your pretty pussy, and San has to bite his inner cheek to hold his instincts from going a third round. He carries you to the bathroom, his tail swishing satisfied behind him, thinking about how baths aren’t so bad when you take them with him. 

[charliemwrites]

1fur1 Price part 2

(Sorry if this isn’t, like, spectacular. It’s been a minute since I wrote for this au)

The house is getting an upgrade. Two wolf dogs was a cozy situation, but manageable. The addition of a third, especially one as big as Konig, was pushing it. Like, really pushing it.

Now that Skipper has adopted himself into the family…

Not that you mind, of course. Skipper has been a bit of a blessing in furry disguise. You know that “Alpha Dog” dynamics aren’t an actual Thing with wolves, but if they were, you think Skipper would be it.

He must have some sort of shepherd in his blood because he wrangles the rest of the boys masterfully. They spend too long in the yard, he’s barking and nipping and rounding them up. Johnny’s being too insistent about “sharing” your food, he’s inserting himself between you two. Ghost and Johnny get rambunctious, he’ll tolerate it for a couple minutes but then he’s breaking it up with a grumble — especially if they’re acting up inside.

You appreciate the help.

It’s not that the boys don’t listen to you. They do! With almost perfect obedience. But it can still be overwhelming to keep an eye on everyone all the time.

“Oh darling, why is it always you?” you sigh, scratching at Konig’s chin. Receive a whine in return.

Your poor sensitive guy. Stepped on a bee in the yard, it seems. The vet cooed over him, gave him some meds, and now he’s all but collapsed in an anxiety-exhausted heap by the fireplace.

Johnny is pacing behind you, making upset noises and nosing at your elbow.

“I know you’re worried, bud,” you soothe over your shoulder. “He’s alright.”

You’re working a sock over Konig’s bandages so that he doesn’t pick at them. Johnny takes that as an invitation to insert himself into the mix, bumping into your shoulder hard. Your hand pushes into konig’s paw as you catch your balance and he yelps. The noise surprises you, scares you, hands jerking back.

Skipper is on him in an instant, teeth on his scruff and yanking him away from you and Konig. For once, Johnny resists, yelping and whining crying.

“Jesus, enough!” You raise your voice a bit to be heard over all the canine yelling. Get a hand in Skipper’s scruff and give him a shake. “Release.”

He does, though not without an indignant growl, twisting around to glare at you. You didn’t even know dogs could glare with so much indignation.

“What are you gonna do, bite me?” you challenge, hand still buried in his fur. “Grow up.”

You turn to Johnny, who’s making a great show of looking pathetic, tail down and ears back.

“Got to bed,” you instruct, pointing with your other hand to the cushion Ghost is on. Those two are thick as thieves, you’re sure Johnny will feel better after some cuddles. Sure enough, Johnny drags his feet over to ghost, who grumbles as he makes room for the other dog.

You let Skipper go, who makes a big scene of shaking off. But he doesn’t go making trouble with Johnny, so you let him be. Which leaves Konig, who isn’t making eye contact with anyone.

“You alright, baby boy?” you croon. He licks your offered hand.

You manage to finish getting the sock on in peace, dropping a kiss to the scar on his forehead.

“My little trooper, good boy,” you murmur.

With him settled, you sit back with a sigh. Skipper is sitting, looking mighty offended. You groan.

“I’m sorry, honey,” you offer, extending a hand to him. “I was just stressed and all that fussing freaked me out. I know you were just trying to help.”

A long, long look at your palm. And then he sighs and sets his chin in your hand. You waste no time scritching along his jaw, coaxing him closer until you can leave kisses all over his muzzle and forehead.

“Big strong boy,” you coo, grinning into his ears when you see his tail sweeping slowly back and forth. Like he doesn’t want you to notice. “Such a good helper. Thank you, handsome.”

Peace restored, you settle onto the couch until dinner time.

So yes, four wolf-hybrids is pushing it on space.

—

You’re being minded.

It would be funnier if your dog wasn’t better at taking care of you than you are.

“You must have been in service dog training or something,” you muse, accepting the pill bottle from Skipper’s mouth. “Someone wanted you to work.”

And work he does.

If it’s not helping you keep the boys in line, it’s patrolling the yard with Ghost. Or nudging you to eat at mealtimes. Or putting you to bed. Hes a busy boy, hardly ever settles on the couch with the rest at night for snuggle time.

And when you do strong arm him into it, his ears are perked at every little noise, ready to protect.

There’s also this. The bringing you meds. (You try not to think about how he managed to get into the cabinet. Maybe you left them out on the counter?) Or sometimes he picks up things you’ve dropped, like pens or keys or even your phone.

It’s sweet, but you worry he’s bored. When you do buy him enrichment toys though, he gives them a perfunctory sniff, then leaves them for one of the others. (Johnny in particular loves the treat puzzles.) So you figure he’s stimulated enough, considering bored dogs usually tear into anything and everything.

“You know I’m supposed to take care of you right?” You tease, patting his big, sturdy side. “I take care of everyone here. You’re my boys.”

Skipper snorts and sits down, watching you, eyes pinging between your face and the pills. You huff, amused despite yourself.

“Alright, alright! Rude mutt.”

A little “boof” — agreement or offense? You amuse yourself with anthropomorphizing his noises while you chug water with your meds.

“See? Done. Ta-da!” You say when they’re done.

Another “boof” and then he’s trotting off. Pauses to give you a significant look. You check the time. Right, it’s lunchtime. Best to take meds with food anyway.

“I’m coming,” you groan, shuffling after him.

All the dogs are waiting for you in the kitchen, big eyes and perked ears.

“Look at you lot,” you laugh, dropping a scratch to Ghost’s head as you pass. “What is this, an intervention. I’m not giving you guys enough peanut butter?”

Skipper ignores you, taking his usual place at the entrance to the kitchen. A good vantage point to keep an eye on you and the rest of the house. He only accepts a little bit of shared food after everyone else gets a bite. You hum as you consider all of them, crammed into your kitchen because they’re a clingy lot.

“Might be time for a move, guys,” you sigh. “Or maybe another story.”

You glance at the ceiling with dread. Either way, you’re not looking forward to it.

[tojisun]

simon (ghost) riley x fem bimbo!reader

!! smut - minors dni; cunnilingus; genital piercing (christina piercing); hinted age gap (30s v 20s); simon’s pov

: this is based on oddy’s brainworm of bimbo!reader getting a christina piercing while simon’s away for a 9-10 month mission as a surprise for when he comes home teehee <33 // bimbo!reader mlist

simon tries to swallow any remaining spit he has just to quench the building thirst in him, but it is understandably futile. he is left walking behind you with a spring in his step, pretences having flown into the wind the moment you barrelled towards him as soon as he got home.

it is a usual dance at this point: you, jumping into his arms all excitable, and him, planting his feet to catch you with ease. simon knows he’ll never tire of this routine, one that never fails to fill him up with over pouring affection that he carries for you.

“i have a surprise for you,” you whispered to him, your voice so small in your hushed giddiness.

you stared at him with sultry eyes, your bottom lip captured between your pearly teeth. simon felt his mouth go bone-dry, his chest stuttering and his fucking chub kicking up underneath his jeans because he knows that look.

dear gods, he knows that look.

the last time you surprised him with anything after his months-long mission, it left simon marking your thighs up with kisses and hickeys and bite marks, the ridges of his teeth so prominent on that single point that stood out in the expanse of your dewy skin – his callsign, ghost, inked on your inner thigh, somewhere close to the juncture of your legs and your pelvis.

so you can’t blame simon for being too interested and going all breathless in anticipation as you led him back to your room.

he’s fumbling for his steps as you two step inside – white walls and strawberry cow print sheets – where you proceeded to sit him down on your vanity before taking a few steps away from him.

“okay so,” you begin, swaying slightly, looking deceptively shy. “i really hope you’d like it.”

simon’s gaze shifts, desire warming to make room for the softness he feels. he shoots you a small smile. “y’know y’can give me a paper cup for your surprise and i’d still love it.”

“of course,” you giggle, rubbing your palms on your sides. “‘s just that i thought of you when i got it so, you know.”

simon’s throat constricts, his pulse quickening at your words – you thought of him when you got it. oh. oh fuck.

“i-” his voice cracks and simon ducks his head down in his embarrassment, clearing his throat quickly so that this moment may pass soon because he can feel himself bursting at the seams.

“thank you, sweets,” he finally utters, rubbing his palm along his face in hopes of abating the blush warming his cheeks.

you beam at him, all pretty and happy, before you begin to slide your skirt off.

jesus.

“oh,” he rasps out, a strained gasp spilling into the air. simon has to clench his fists on top of his thighs to restrain himself, feeling so faint at getting a flash of your pretty legs, his eyes trailing from your floral lace socks before climbing up to get a view of your pretty little lingerie.

his tongue feels heavy sitting in his mouth as he catalogues the little thing – sheer, red, and dainty. it’s not hiding anything, showcasing slivers of flesh that simon wants to sink his teeth into.

it’s not hiding anything so he wonders why it took him a while to notice it. there, nestled just above your clit, are two little diamond studs.

“are those-” his voice sounds strained even to his own ears, the words having been punched out from him as his lungs work over time.

“yeah,” you say with a quiet chuckle and simon briefly wonders how you must look right now but he can’t lift his head to look at you, unable to rip his eyes away from the twinkling diamonds on your body. one of your hands slide from your hips towards your pubic area, acrylics making soft scratching sounds against your sheer panties.

the gems on your nails matches your new piercing – christina, simon’s mind supplies right away – and he just about whimpers.

finally, simon’s eyes flit to your own, and he doesn’t know what he must look like because the brief shyness on your face melts away and desire begins to burn from your eyes. the tension is building between you two, settling in like a dense fog, and simon waits for a heartbeat and another before he’s lunging towards you.

hands tangle against each other in mutual desperation, blindly tearing apparel from each other’s bodies with nothing but twin ragged breaths to fill up the space. simon throws you to the bed, his chest heaving as he stands by the foot of it to gaze down at you, eyes full of palpable hunger as they rove over your presented body.

“mine,” simon rumbles. “all mine.”

he covers your smaller body with his bulk, trembling hands greedy as they press and pull and squeeze at your flesh. your tiny mewls fuel him as he bends down to hover his lips over your pussy. your beautiful, pierced pussy.

“simmy,” you hiccup, your voice a soft little thing. “please, no teasing.”

of course, he wants to say because simon is sure that he doesn’t even have it in himself to prolong it anymore. not when he’s missed you by a lot, having been away for one of his longest missions. and especially not after the gift you have for him.

simon’s silence ripples, promising, and he knows he doesn’t have to say any more.

he kisses your cunt with his lips, nuzzling just soon after. you gasp out from somewhere on top of him, your hands gathering the short strands of his hair in your fist, and tugging when simon doesn’t do anything more than ghost kisses.

simon presses another one as an apology before planting his hands on your thighs and pushing your legs open, presenting your already-wet cunt to him. briefly, he remembers your older gift, and simon shifts, nuzzling your inner thigh instead, nipping at your inked skin.

simon is not a narcissistic man but there is something so good at seeing you carrying his callsign, as though he’s branded you. claimed. marked.

you giggle at the touch, fists loosening just a bit, your legs losing their tension at the ticklish feeling. simon puffs out a huffed laughter, enjoying the moment, taking it all in, then he is moving.

because there is something else he wants in his mouth. something else he wants to explore.

the first drag of his tongue along your clit and up until the first stud of your piercing has you squealing, your small feet digging into the planes of his back. it pushes him even closer to your cunt, something that simon eagerly takes advantage of as he begins to eat you out with earnest.

the cool press of the barbell on his tongue is a new experience, one that he is beginning to love as he continues to lap his tongue along your folds. simon flicks his tongue over the piercing, careful not to truly tug it, before he’s moving on to suck on your clit, rolling the little thing on his tongue.

you choke on a moan, hips lifting off the bed as you thrash, and simon has to press down on your belly to subdue you. you squeak when you are pinned, fists leaving simon’s hair to claw at the sheets instead. simon kisses your clit once more as an apology, before lapping at your hole, pushing his tongue in to mimic shallow thrusts.

“si-!”

your moan sounds guttural, bouncing off of the walls as simon continues to fuck you with his tongue. your slick pools in his mouth and he doesn’t even recognize the answering growl that rumbles from the base of his throat – deep and primal.

his thick hands grip at your thighs, tugging you in a new position, forcing your back to arch as simon continues to make a mess of your pussy.

pretty, pretty pussy.

“s’mine,” simon growls the moment he pulls his tongue out to suck on your folds.

he lightly nips at your clit, and a choked sob falls from what he knows would be your bruised lips. you do tend to bite on them when drunk in your pleasure, nibbling until they are throbbing and plump, looking so kiss-swollen.

fuck. he wants to kiss you there too.

simon gives your clit one more suck before he lifts his head up, the warm air on your room hitting his damp face. he sees the way your chest is heaving before flitting his eyes over your hands to see them tremblingly fisting at your sheets. your head is tipped up, mouth open as you shakily gasp out your breaths.

“sweet girl?” he asks, wanting to see you.

you move slowly, sluggishly, and simon can’t fault you for your reaction as he can still feel your legs shaking. teary eyes turn to him and simon couldn’t help but coo, letting go of your legs to climb towards you.

you track his movement, still hitching in breath, until he’s finally hovering over you. simon presses his forehead to yours, nuzzling, and rumbling a deep hum when your arms hook onto his shoulders for a loose hug.

“hi,” you say with a giggle after the silence settles. simon huffs a fond laugh, shifting so his lips trail soft kisses along your cheeks.

“hi,” simon replies, his lips moving lower, teasing touches from the cut of your jaw to the column of your throat. he settles there, burrowing with a deep breath, hot desire waning for something softer. for something slower.

“…y’like it?” you ask, sounding so conscious as though simon didn’t lose himself when eating you out, leaving his dick to throb painfully underneath his boxers.

“oh, princess,” he says with a breathy chuckle. he shifts again to see you. “i fuckin’ loved it.”

your eyes crinkle when you smile, and simon wonders if his lungs are even working with the way his breath constricts.

fuck, reality is settling – he’s truly missed you.

“thank you for such a darlin’ gift, baby,” simon murmurs, his lips hovering over yours.

you hum, already deaf to his words as you turned your focus to the ghosting touch of his lips instead. you tip your head up, whining when even that doesn’t make them meet.

aww, simon coos in his head. sweets wants a kiss.

so he finally gives it, his head angled to kiss you deeper. harder. teeth clack against each other before warm tongues tangle, and simon wonders if you can taste yourself on him. if you can taste the way he made you feel good.

your nails scratch his back, and he knows shallow welts will be there when he checks tomorrow. but for now, simon loses himself to the messy kiss – nipping your lips and, later, lapping at your folds.

because he’s not done with you yet. he needs to eat you out more. needs to see the way your pretty, jewelled pussy takes his tongue the same way you do with his cock.

oh, how you spoil him.

i teeheed too much while writing this but then i got drunk so it kinda splintered away from what i envisioned 😭

tagging: @oddityinthesky @ghostsbimbo @kenz-ee @yannauauau @yaebaal @ivymarquis @liwooa @loonalockley @kariiiel

[milksnake-tea]

❀ ˎˊ- prompt: how they are in a vampire au ❀ ˎˊ- characters: blade, dan heng, dan feng, march 7th, himeko, jingliu, jing yuan, kafka, luocha, sampo, caelus, stelle, yaoshi ❀ ˎˊ- warnings: lots of mentions of blood and wounds, the typical vampire stuff, talks about scents, usage of the word "feeding", intended lowercase, mentions of alcohol in kafka's part, caelus/stelle may be ooc :| ❀ ˎˊ- a/n: NEVER REALLY ANNOUNCED IT BUT YAHOO HERE U GO !!! THE WINNER OF THE POLL WAS VAMPIRES, SO LETS GO ITS BITING TIME HEHE <3 different format bc damn thats a lot of characters i dont have banners for... also first time writing them women so scratches head sorry if it's ooc teehee i tried

vampire!blade, whose bloodlust runs deeper than most. his desires drive him to the brink of insanity at the slightest whiff of blood, the former human despising the animalistic tendencies that now governed his existence. with his enemies, he is content to lick their blood from his face, finding no remorse in the blood of the dead. but when he dares to drink from you, he is gentle - cautious. always his eyes are watching your own, especially before he sinks his teeth into the crook of your neck. for blade is prone to losing himself in the taste of you, and he fears he may go too far.

vampire!dan heng, who despises his species more than any hunter out there. he longs for the normality and companionship of humanity, and often hides his vampiric traits in public as to masquerade as a human. the only time he'll satiate his desire for blood is when he's on death's door; and even then he'll only settle for blood bags at the dead of night, away from any of the eyes of his fellow trailblazers. when the time comes and you offer your blood to him, dan heng is reluctant, hesitant. never in his life has he fed on another, and you can feel his inexperience in how he cautiously sinks his fangs into your skin - opting to kiss your wrist rather than your neck, just in case he lost control.

vampire!dan feng, who will outright refuse blood that he deems to be unsatisfactory to his palate. even if his dietary needs are considered monstrous by other species, that doesn't mean that he himself needs to be barbaric. dan feng treats blood as he would wine - like a delicacy, only to be partaken on occasion. but all of that is thrown out the window once he tastes you for the first time. when dan feng drinks your blood, he does it with the tenderness of a lover. always, he keeps you against a comfortable surface such as a bed or a sofa as his lips latch onto your neck, taking his time as he savors you like a fine dish.

vampire!march 7th, who never really questioned why she needed to drink blood to survive, and always deemed it as normal. although, she doesn't really consider it cute, claiming that it "ruins her cute-girl aesthetic". as such, she won't talk about it unless you start the conversation first, preferring to disguise her blood intake in the juice boxes she keeps around. even when she does drink from you, it's in small sips, a mere nip before she's off to doing something more fun. don't take it personally, march just isn't fond of drinking from another person. she appreciates you offering, though!

vampire!himeko, whose taste is questionable, even for a vampire. for a second, you thought that her horrendous taste in coffee came from her background, but no, it's just himeko being himeko. unlike her other companions, himeko isn't ashamed of her needs. if she needs blood, she beckons you from across the parlor car, taking your arm in her hand as she gently bites your wrist. there's something playful in the way she drinks - she's gentle, yet doesn't treat you as though you're made of glass, a soft giggle leaving her lips as she licks the wound on your wrist.

vampire!jingliu, who makes sure you understand just what you're getting into when you offer your blood. it's hard enough to keep both her mara and her bloodlust at bay around you, and even harder to control herself when you're so willing to help her. time and time again she warns you, saying that she may not be able to control herself once she gets a taste. but if you're strong and brave enough to feed her despite the dangers, then brace yourself, for jingliu won't stop until she's fully satiated.

vampire!jing yuan, who loves to nip at your fingers playfully, flashing his fangs whenever he can. honestly, jing yuan's the type of person to forget he's a vampire until the time comes and he needs to feed - and even then, it's more of an inconvenience to him than anything else. but that won't stop him from messing with you, after all, he loves the disgruntled face you make whenever he pretends to snap at you. however, when jing yuan does drink from you, he prefers to take it from the back, hugging you from behind as he languidly drinks from your shoulder - making sure the process is as painless as possible.

vampire!kafka, who teases you when you first find out of her species. are you afraid of her now? how cute, but really, there's no need to be afraid. she wouldn't hurt you, not intentionally, at least. kafka can't help but laugh as you playfully hit her for her words. can you blame her, though, when your reactions are just that endearing? kafka isn't one to take blood directly from the source, instead, she prefers to drink it in a wine glass, mixed with some sort of alcohol to really amp up the effects. having both wine and blood in one drink can be quite intoxicating to a vampire, but kafka wouldn't be kafka if she were afraid of the after effects.

vampire!luocha, who becomes addicted to your blood the second he tastes it. over his lifetime, luocha has tasted the blood of many, each with their own flavors - ranging from savory to sweet to downright disgusting. but with you, the drinking of blood is less so a matter of feeding, but rather an intimate act between lovers. he is tender as his lips latch onto your neck, his arms wrapped around you and hands massaging you to ease you through the process. and through it all, his eyes forever hold your gaze as he tastes heaven once again.

vampire!caelus, whose inexperience often makes him dangerous. caelus doesn't know how to deal with his urges, nor does he understand why a hunger builds up within him whenever he sees an exposed patch of your skin. he's a sweet guy, no doubt about it, it's just that he doesn't know how to stop. it's up to you to guide him and tell him when to stop, for caelus is young, and doesn't understand the durability of the human body compared to a vampire. but he's willing to learn, even if it means driving off his own needs in favor of yours. the last thing he wants to do is to hurt you, after all.

vampire!stelle, who nuzzles up to you whenever she feels the slightest thirst for blood. like caelus, stelle has no idea what she's feeling nor how to deal with it. when she starts getting hungry, she becomes clingy - she starts hanging around you more, often staring at you and leaving you to wonder just what it is she wants. it's only when she starts tugging at your sleeve that you realize that she's hungry. when stelle drinks, it's... well, it's not as unhinged as caelus, but she still lacks the control as he does, and you have to tap her head to snap her out of it. but when she's done drinking, you can't help but coo at her adorable face, like a kitten full of soup.

vampire!yaoshi, who prefers to give their blood rather than drink it. they would hate to put anyone in danger, after all. but alas, their instincts won't disappear, even after their ascension to aeonhood. ironic, isn't it? the giver and sustainer of eternal life is also the same one who drains that life. when they feed from you, they prefer to have you in their arms as they do, your back pressed against their chest as they drink. they whisper sweet nothings each time they rise from your skin, their tongue licking at your wound to soothe you. but it never hurts when it's with yaoshi - perhaps it's the dew from yaoshi's trees that numbs you, or the poison in their tail. if anything, you feel as though you are in a hazy dream, not yet asleep, yet not quite awake either.

[crystallizedtwilight]

Lock is super cute n all but Barrel is all that AND a bag of beans (a.k.a. he's really nice)... kind of feels like barrel deserves better sometimes ....(this isn't said in bad faith to you, the artist, btw! I'm only shaking the angst jar a bit)

Lock thinks so too.

Of course Barrel has better options. Belladonna or, hell, just about anyone.

Lock thinks that maybe Barrel would find it easier to wake up next to someone who doesn’t accidentally scratch him with their claws during a nightmare, maybe someone of his own species, or someone who is generally more…pleasant and effortless.

So Lock puts the distance between them before someone else does. He hates it, surrendering the best thing that ever happened to him, but after wasting so much of his time, doesn't he at least owe Barrel this? The chance to be happier with someone better?

He turns distant, cold, avoidant. Enough for Barrel to ask, "Hey, what's wrong?" And Lock realizes that, truly, he must be the most selfish creature in the world for not just saying I'm fine.

Lock wanders so dangerously close to speaking his heart that he panics, turning to run like he always did when he came close to acknowledging why. But Barrel catches him around the waist, voice soft and desperate, as he says more to himself than to Lock,

"I've let you run too many times."

Lock flails and sobs and sinks his teeth into the forearm that binds him across the chest.

"You can bite me if you want, but you’re going to listen to what I have to say," Barrel tells him low and steady, "I would rather wake up next to you with scratches than unscathed next to anyone else.” 

"Why?" Lock sobs, asking the question furiously, frustrated. It just didn't make sense. He wasn't worth it and he wished Barrel would just tell him what he already knew.

But when Barrel speaks his voice is so desperate, so fiercely certain, that Lock is inclined to listen.

“Because there’s no one like you, Lock. You’re fun...and spirited...and always up for a laugh. You’re open to anything which makes every day with you an adventure. You’re one of two people in this world who’s been through hell and back with me and yet you still approach life with so much enthusiasm. I know you kept me safe from the worst of Oogie, and you kept this trio together like it was your mission. Every good thing I have is because of you. You’re bright and exciting and the most mesmerizing person I’ve ever met. You’re incredible in more ways than you know and when I’m with you I feel like I’m home. Every day I wake up feeling so lucky you even let me hold you. And I…I didn’t say it for so long because I know you didn’t want to hear it, but fuck that…I love you. I’ve always loved you. It’s always been you, Lock.”

Lock sobs into Barrel's forearm and Barrel presses his forehead to the back of Lock's neck, letting him. The grip becomes an embrace, and Lock is weak in his arms. He lets his weight drop and Barrel lowers them to the ground. When Barrel speaks again, the tears have caught up with him as well.

"So don't you dare tell me you're not good enough."

[izvmimi]

cw: smut but softcore. hot spring. too much banter. reader is implied to have textured hair.

“Your hair’s grown long,” you murmur.

With the observation, your right hand wades gently in the steamy surface of the hot spring to rise to Tanjiro's damp cheek and pats it coquettishly before your fingers glide gently through the strands of his water-slicked burgundy locks. You’ve been submerged together, you to your collarbones and him just to the base of his pectoral muscles for the past thirty minutes, chatting idly with a short pause in conversation just moments before this to rest and relax, really letting the soothing waters seep into your skin. Traveling together has weighed heavy on you both and the few minutes to catch your breath have been welcome, but now that you're rejuvenated, you’re right back to teasing. 

“You think so?” he asks. He looks a bit surprised, his own rough fingers closing around a couple looser strands. The remainder stick close to his skin, framing his handsome face, his neck, and the slope of his broad shoulders, and you continue to run your hand through them at the forehead, gently scratching his scalp with your nails as you do so. 

“Yeah, not that I don’t like it,” you practically wink, and he smiles, pulling you into his arms so that you’re back pressed to chest again. You inhale softly and he sighs as if you were sharing one breath. 

“I must have not been paying attention,” he murmurs, kissing your ear. You laugh to yourself, a trickle of heat running down your spine with the nibble of his teeth..

“That’s why you have me,” you remind him, brightly. "To pay attention to you, that is." Your own hair is in a high bun, avoiding the water but reveling in the wafting steam to nurture your coils and he lets himself breathe deeply of the scent, then presses his lips to your neck. 

“Cut it for me?” he asks, tentatively. His hands wander again, gliding from your shoulders to your wrists, and the soft splash of the water parting accentuates the drop of your heart into your loins as he kisses the soft underside.

“I don’t know how to cut wavy hair,” you immediately answer, but he’s turning you to face him again in the water and his eyes look at you hungrily now, as if you’re having a conversation a lot more licentious than the simple act of snipping away with scissors.

“I don’t mind as long as you try your best.”

Tanjiro’s voice is coming out breathy and lower as he leans in, and he’s clearly asking for something more from you rather than this simple future act of service. Eyes darkening as you press your palm against his chest, right above the jagged scars, he asks if you think you’re up to it, and it’s clear he’s not talking about an impromptu haircut.

“And if I do a bad job?”

His hands are on your hips now, cupping the curve of your ass before they lift up, your legs reflexively finding their way in a hold around his waist. The warmth of the hard length pressed soft against your belly stands out so much more than anything in the world right now, enough to make your breath hold tightly in your throat.

“I won’t hold anything against you,” he teases.

You snort, but his bad joke has made him crack a smile. Pulling you with him through the water, he lets himself lean on the rocky wall as he supports you. 

“You’ll let me do whatever I want then?” you ask. He nods, biting his lower lip as you attempt to ease yourself around his cock. He’s good at flustering you, but easily forgets how quickly you can turn the tables on him, at a loss for words as you descend.

But then once you sink in, and take all of him inside, your arms reflexively wrapping around his neck, the temporary gain is lost as you adjust to his length, moaning as he stretches out your insides. Again. Just moments ago, you were like this, letting him slip in and out of you, fluid resistance meaning so little to him with every thrust.

“Of course,” he practically croons.

The push and pull between the two of you is always an endless wave of emotion, where even something as simple as telling your boyfriend he’s looking kind of shaggy ends up in being awash in emotion, but that’s the ebb and flow of your relationship and you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

[lovandr]

Felix Catton the type of guy to suck breast during sex. like he just wants to be as intimate and close to you as he can and he also loves touching and kissing every part of you. like he 100% one day was kissing down towards the boob area and sucked a little and decided he liked it

mdni! 18+

Felix sucking brest??? i think the fuck yes. I mean felix has an oral fixation why wouldn’t he wanna suck a lil tittie? (i severely apologise for my lack of activity… school is killing me rn)

it started off as gentle and soft kisses on your tits, little kitten licks to your nipples. he would lick up the crevice between them, rubbing his cheek against your chest as if he were trying to nuzzle his way into your ribcage and make a home in your heart. he wants you, he needs you.

he would leave burning bruises on the area above your breast, his other hand making sure to entertain your remaining tit. how could he ignore them? they were so beautiful, so soft and warm and oh so kissable.

the first time he really indulged himself, the two of your were lazily making out, felix right arm wrapped round your waist, the other resting on your right boob, squeezing and rubbing at the soft skin. he focused almost primarily on your breasts, kneading the flesh, looking down as if he wanted to say something. you ran a hand through his soft brown hair, his eyes instantly coming to look at you. he looked dazed and desperate, so needy and unfulfilled. he wanted something but he didn’t know how to ask.

“what the problem baby?” his eyes seem to shimmer at the nickname, his hips buck upward gently into your leg, a soft groan wantonly escaping his soft pink lips. “what is it my love?” you ask again, running your hand down to his cheek and bringing him closer to your chest. that almost killed him. your boobs pressed right up against his face, he could smell yoyr scent, so intoxicating so sweet.

“can i suck your tits please? i promise i’ll be good, i’ll be so good for you.”, he pleaded, eyes so full of love and adoration. he looked so pretty begging for you, begging to taste you. how could you deny him. “its okay fi, you can have a taste.” he latched onto you immediately after, his lips so softly sucking at your nipple. after that he couldn’t get enough. it was like there was nothing else going through his mind, the taste of your boobs encapsulated him. he sucked almost feverishly, as if he had been anticipating that very moment, and perhaps he had.

it felt almost too good, the warmth of his tongue so soothing against the skin of your tits. his teeth gently bite the hardened bud sending shockwaves through your body, your skin tingling with excitement and pleasure. his big, hand massaging and teasing your other nipple. he looked up at you, eyes so full of love and warmth. god it could have made you cum right there and then.

You cradled his head in your hand, your fingers laced in his hair, your nails scratching lightly at his scalp, making him nuzzle into your touch. The moment was so intimate it almost didn’t feel sexual. he swapped over to your other nipple, he almost laid fully on top of your body, gently rutting his hips against your thigh. he whimpered and whined quietly, the plush soft skin of your tits and the friction of his boxers on his cock made his sweet little head fuzzy and clouded with you. You. You. if you tried to touch him he’d whine. he doesn’t give a fuck about how he feels he just wants to be close to you. he could (and probably would) suck on your tits all day if you let him. the two of you laid grinding against each other as felix indulged himself in the sweetness of your breasts, his head in the clouds, not a care in the world.

taglist 💌

@mrdrwrites

[st4rymoon]

can I please request where Steven has a fixation on fuckin the reader dumb and when she makes faces or noises he mimics them back at her and is kinda condescending but the reader is into it?

Like reader is really smart and steven likes having the power to make her dumb.

This is so good omfg.

𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐬𝐟𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 • Steven Grant x Fem Reader

- 18+, smut, unprotected sex!, soft dom Steven, meanish Steven, dumbification, language, pet names, finger sucking, p in v, creampie!, teasing, reader is described as smart, messy sex!

Steven loved having such a dork as a girlfriend. He was over the moon when he finally found someone that was hyper fixated on something like he was with Egyptian History.

You could go on and on about your interests in science and Steven would sit and listen with a cheeky smile.

But what he loved most was knowing you’ve never failed an exam or a quiz, top of your classes since you can remember. The last thing anyone could call you is dumb.

Everyone around you joked that the day you answer anything in a dim-witted way is the day pigs will fly.

That’s why the first time you and Steven got intimate together, it was like a whole new world being opened up for the both of you.

You were always so sharp and composed that the second Steven had you scratching at his arms with your eyes rolled back, drool pooling out of your mouth as you mumbled on incoherent sentences made him cum right there.

It felt like you could finally release all that stress and energy whenever Steven was fucking you dumb, you didn’t care about anything other than Steven.

Steven on the other hand couldn’t stop thinking about the way you seemed to go dumb. How utterly wrecked and brainless you looked as you bounced on his cock, coating him in your slick as the lewd sounds of your pussy filled his ears.

And the sounds you made. Oh god the sounds you made, steven could hear it now. He’d close his eyes and imagine it right there steven, don’t stop pleaseee, ah- oh mhm, as you dumbly cried with mascara smeared all over your face.

Today was a stressful day for both of you so it was no surprise that you were in his arms as soon as you walked into the living room.

Steven’s soft lips were peppering warm sloppy kisses all over your face, lips, and shoulders. You could tell he was needier than usual, his grip tight around your hips as you spread your legs around his waist.

His hands were already up your skirt as you tossed your blouse behind the couch. Both of you seeming to be ripping off each others clothes in haste. “You know what Khonshu said today?” Steven cooed.

You hummed in question as you dragged your nails up Steven’s back “that old bird joked he’d never seen someone so smart mouthed like you. Always right, always so bratty” Steven huffed.

“Steven please” you whined, his calloused hands now tugging your panties down your legs “please Steven please, that’s all you bloody say when we get this far” he mocked.

You signed as he pressed reassuring kisses down your jaw, his hands swatting your legs wide for him to settle in. “Look at me sweetheart, in the eyes, yeah just like that” he whispered.

“Why do you already look so empty-headed darling?” He hummed with a cheeky smile. Your eyes dumbly rolled back as Steven sunk into you, your warm walls instantly squeezing around his thick size.

You let out a pathetic mewl “st- stevennn”

He smiled at the praise, the stupid look on your face making him groan as he pushed two fingers into your mouth. He watched with his mouth ajar as your tongue swirled around his digits. Your teeth softly biting down as he thrusted his hips forward.

You moaned into his fingers as he watched hypnotized, he felt his hips moving on their own all the while his eyes locked onto your face. He felt so proud of himself knowing he was the only one to get you so messy.

Ragged moans slipping past his lips as he felt you throbbing around him. You never understood why Steven was the only one to get you this way, he was nothing like you expected.

He was so quiet and shy when you first met him and now you’ve come to learn that he’s the one man capable of being so loving and caring yet fucking you like a pro. He seemed to know exactly what you needed, when you needed it.

“St- o- Pleas- ah” you hummed, saliva and sweat making your hair stick to your face as he pounded you into the couch. You clawed at his chest as your legs began to shake, you could feel him so deep it was getting harder to ignore the starting of tears form.

The amount of pleasure you were feeling as getting to you and Steven could feel it, you were gushing slick, your wetness sticking to his thighs as he angled his hips.

A shaky gasp escaped you as your orgasm turned your vision blurry, your cunt fluttering around him as he muttered to himself. The only thing you heard was his voice cooing at you in a mocking tone.

You didn’t even try to get angry when you heard him mocking your moans with a chuckle “I’ve got you this dumb? Aren’t I a lucky guy”

All you could do was nod and glare up at him with glossy eyes.

The look on your face was enough to make Steven cum, saliva all over and tears staining your cheeks. He let out a loud moan, hands pinning your hips down to make sure he fills you up nice and full.

Neither of you seeming to care for the couch that was now messy with cum as Steven softly thrusted.

“Made for me love”

[leviismybby]

Levi pressing down on your stomach while inside you okay bye now

ANON???? BDJDJSJKSKAK YES YES YES

Levi Ackerman x fem!reader

NSFW 18+, mdni, literally Levi just destroying your insides, I apologize in advance for this.....:))

How long has it been since Levi and you had alone time like this? Too long and he is showing you just how much he missed you as his cock penetrates your walls ruthlessly.

Your moans reach his ears, hands gripping the sheets. Fuck he has missed seeing you like this. His hands find themselves on your hips, setting them in a rough pace with his own.

You knew that he wasn't going to start easy but you still didn't expect that he would feel this good. "Look at you, baby. Missed my cock didn't you?" He asks through gritted teeth, your pussy feels so tight and warm for him.

"Y-yes! I love being filled l-like this!" Walls, Levi doesn't know how he managed to get by for so long without this. Without being in you and watching you lose your mind beneath him.

Levi leans down to kiss you on the lips, it's messy, not all soft as his tongue moves harshly against yours. His cock starts pounding into your sweet spot and you pull away from the kiss, moaning into the pillow.

With a little smirk on his face, Levi leans back and takes your legs, throwing them over his shoulders, he wants to be as deep as possible in you and he succeeds as you feel his cock hit spots you didn't even know existed.

"Fuck L-levi! Too deep! Too deep!" You yell feeling like you can sense him in your stomach. His gray eyes land on your stomach, a slight bulge appears anytime he thrusts into you.

And it's like he is hypnotized, he can't take his eyes off it. That was him. His cock was so deep in you that it can be seen on your lower belly. Fuck he shouldn't be enjoying this as much as he is.

Levi puts your legs back in the position they were as his hips stop moving. You look at him through half-lidded eyes, already fucked out of your mind. His eyes are glued to your navel as he sees the slight bulge of his length.

"Levi...please...move.." He bites his lip, kissing your neck and he whispers. "If it gets too much tell me."

"Why would- mmmmhh!" He starts snapping his hips, his pace unforgiving palm pressed against the bulge. It makes you see stars.

"I'm so fucking deep in you baby. Look at that. Fuuuck t-taking me so well." Levi himself isn't even able to form proper sentences as your wet walls clench around his cock.

His palm presses further and you arch your back, adding to the pressure. It feels too good. He has never been deeper in you than he is now.

Levi's other hand travels up to your lips. "Open." He grunts and you obey, letting two of his fingers enter your mouth as his cock pounds mercilessly into you.

You moan against his fingers when he starts snapping into you even faster. Your pussy clamps down on him and you feel that it isn't much longer before he tips you over the edge.

His hand leaves your belly and he pulls his fingers out of your mouth before taking the back of your neck and smashing his lips onto yours.

Your hands wrap around his neck, nails scratching down his muscular back. Both of you are moaning against each other's mouth, both of you are close to coming.

Levi pulls away from your lips, looking at you. "You gonna cum for me Iike a good girl?" You nod your head trying your best not to cum already.

"Speak." He says, you don't. You don't because you didn't hear him, too focused on the sounds of his cock slamming into your heat. "I said..." He presses a hand firmly against the belly bulge again, making you roll your eyes back from the pleasure. "Speak."

"I- cum L-levi! I'll cum like a good g-girl!" Your warm walls squeeze him tightly one last time before you cum screaming his name as your legs shake. Levi lets out a few heavy grunts before he too is coming inside of you.

"Take it all. Fuck. All of it." He says almost whimpering as his cum fills your pussy up. His sweaty body falls on top of yours, his cock slowly pulls out of you,his cum leaking out of you.

"Where did that come from?" You chuckle weakly, kissing the side of his head. "I missed you that's all." He kisses the skin of your shoulder before pulling his head back and looking at you.

"We are not done yet." Oh boy this was going to be one long night....

---------------------------------------------------

Taglist: @youre-ackermine @the-milk-anon @humanitys-strongest-bamf @levisbrat25 @notgoodforlife @ackermendick @cometlevi @lovolee3 @sixpennydame @mrsackermannx @laraackerman @yakaaamoz @levismylover @svftackerman

[mitsvriii]

self-talks

・❥・aventurine x reader

★ wc: 730+ノ★ no reader type or pronouns used or specifiedノ ★ cw: aventurine is his #1 hater, mentioned death/ways to die, set during 2.1 quest, written by a mentally-tired high schooler, lowercase intended, lazily proofreadノ★ no summary for this one, notes at the endノ★ if you get what’s happening i’ll give you a cupcake

“[name] doesn’t really love you, y’know.”

that voice. the same, agonizing tone that held itself high as if the owner knew every secret in the world. how aventurine hated how it followed him like an ant and he was a basket filled to the brim with succulent insecurities - as if they themselves were ripe, appetizing pieces of fruit.   

the tinted shadow, or should he say figured, of himself wouldn’t stop drilling those words into his head. aventurine tried to prevent the words from bothering him but he couldn’t shake them. it was agonizing having to hear his ‘future self’ talk about you as if you thought he was the last pawn left in a chess game, waiting to be used for the greater good. 

“that’s not true.”

because he knew you. then again so did he. future is often wiser than present but if that’s the case then why did he feel anxious at his words? 

shaking his head like a parent who caught onto their child’s lie, the ‘shadow’ tsked in mock disappointment. “honestly, i thought you were self-aware of the majority of one’s actions. are you so blinded by the scorching love that [name] provides that you cannot even see that you’re burning?”

he wasn’t burning, and you weren’t so bright that he wouldn’t be able to see anything else besides you, either. it was infuriating how this version of him - more of a shell than aventurine was in the present time, hollowed out and left to rot on a tree branch of desolation - seemed to believe that he was wiser than him about the love of their? his life. 

aventurine was as loyal as he could be to you without pushing past his boundaries (which were often as weak as a dam made out of twigs when it came to you). he could say the same about you, the absolute truth to anyone but him. bringing a hand up to his hair aventurine scratched it roughly in discomforting thought. all of this ‘he said, he says’ was making him go crazy.

or crazier than he already is in this deforming dreamscape of twisted memories and second-takes. if he ever gets out of this ‘living nightmare’, the first thing he’s going to do is charge up to veritas and-

“i wonder if [name’s] flocked to ratio yet. clutching onto him as soft weeps leave puffy eyes.”

okay, buddy.

“what’s your deal?” aventurine hissed at the amusement drawn on his face, covered hands digging crescent shapes into his gloves. “you seem so adamant in getting me to believe [name] doesn’t love me, yet i’ll probably never-“ cutting himself off with a quick bite down on his tongue, letting it go swiftly when metallic laced his taste. 

he couldn’t think like that. that anxious feeling that sunk into his stomach as if it were made of quicksand tried to open and claw its way out of him.

if aventurine could not ever see your face or hear the voice (that he wanted to put on a record and play it repetitively), he feels as if he would rip out all of his hair that you adored combing your fingers through, floss it through his teeth, tie it up, and ha-

a shaky exhale, “there’s a high chance i’ll never see [name] again, so what’s the point of getting me to openly despise everything that pertains to…what’s the point?”

he only smirked in response, the expression on his face was akin to looking in a mirror of opposition to aventurine’s own. he hated how he looked.

oh. so that’s it, huh? could it be that his ‘future’ version seemed to be nothing more than what aventurine himself already imagine what his future would be like, was that it? whom was molded with clay laced with nothing but pure self-hatred without you being there to swat them away.

inhaling sharply, pain shot up through aventurine’s head as he doubled over. he clutched his head and gritted his teeth as if he had a severe brain-freeze, shaking it as he stomped a foot to the ground as if he were in a tantrum. in all honesty, he looked like he was. 

puffs of frustration left him as he glanced up, eyes meeting his own heavy, irritated ones as he stared into them with ferocity. “oh aventurine”, he spoke to himself as he blinked away.

“you’ve got to stop talking in mirrors.”

me if writing bad characterization for my fics was hilarious 😹😹😹 seriously though i need to character study him more. take this while i go cry into my pillow over exams 🙏 this didn’t go as i originally had in mind but we ball!!! i hope this flops harder than a fish on a deck after it has just been caught i hate it sm

[eddiemunsons-missingnipple]

monster!eddie who also has a monster sized cock and mocks you as you try and be the first to take it all? he’s degrading but sweet at the same time, calling you a good slut? idk man

Why would you do this to me!!!???!?!! I know who you are, You can't hide behind anon from me. 😉

Moot request

☾ Pairings: monster!eddie x fem!reader

☾ Warnings: porn no plot, unprocted sex, size kink, degrading, Monster!Eddie refers to the reader as slut, good girl and sweet girl, mocking, monster fucking, tetratophilia. Use of spit as lubricant, Slight fear kink if you squint. Biting, scratching, mention of blood, roughish sex, Everything here is consensual. Monster!eddie loves you, and you love him too. If I missed anything, let me know nicely, and I will fix it.

|A/n: a short blurb about Monster under the bed Eddie, Not proofread, divider by me, you can read my monster!eddie fic here. |

18+ no minors

"Please-- just a little more." You writhed under his large frame.

His dark eyes locked on yours, with an almost sorrowful expression. His brows knit together as he sits back on his knees, looking down at where your bodies were trying to meld together. He frowns, noticing how his thick cock has barely even passed the tip. No one has ever been able to take all of him before. He knows tonight won't be any different.

Some have tried, and it always ended in tears and pain. Pain, he never wanted to inflict on purpose. But God seeing you begging for more made him want to just slam into you, until he's filling you to the brim with is cock.

"Hmmm, I'm not so sure you can take more." His deep voice shakey as he tried to keep his composure.

"I can. I promise." You pleaded.

His long, serpent like tongue slithers out to lick his lips. The same tongue he used just moments ago that made you cum so hard your vision went dark. He can still taste you on his lips. The smell of your fear faded as it was replaced with your arousal clouding his mind. You were always just a little scared of him, but you always managed to warm up quickly. You're so fragile compared to him. He just wants to let go and ruin you, but he knows he can't.

He laughs darkly at how pitiful you sound begging for him to push deeper.

"Sweet girl, you want more, huh?" He cooed.

"Yes!, I need it all ." You practically yell.

His cock barely breaching past your entrance, his large clawed hands spread your thighs further apart. He removes his cock just for a brief moment to spit in his hand and rub it on his length. He readies himself at your entrance once more and pushes in deeper than he was before. You gasp at the stretch feeling his cock splitting you open around him. The size of him should have scared you, but your body yearned for him.

His mouth hanging open as he hovers above you. His long hair cascades down his back and over his shoulders. The scars on his body fading with time. His dark eyes now closed as he feels your pussy taking him in slowly inch my inch. He's being careful you can tell he doesn't want to hurt you.

"Keep going!" You moan impatiently.

His eyes shoot open and grins again, revealing his set of sharp white teeth.

"Such an impatient little thing, aren't you?" He teased.

You don't respond. Instead, you look up at him with big doe eyes, hoping he'll give you what you need.

He shakes his head, smiling to himself. He pushes in harder this time, causing you to let out a strangled sob. You throw your head back and move to grip onto his forearms that were now beside your head. You spread your legs impossibly wider for him. He continued pushing deeper and deeper, working you open around his length until his cock has disappeared in your body.

"Such a good little slut." He praised.

He stays still for a moment and examines your face looking for any sign of discomfort. He doesn't see any, and he pulls out almost halfway before plunging all the way back in. Your body jolts under him as his hips slam violently against yours. He's grunting and growling in your ear as he steadies himself on top of you. Your back arching off the bed when his cock starts hitting that spongey spot on your walls.

"Mmmm! fuck don't stop."

"Look at you taking all of me so well." He praised you again.

Your only response was to dig your nails into his shoulders as his cock easily glides in out of your pussy. "Want me to fill you up with my cum too?"

"Huh? Get you all nice and messy you'd like that, wouldn't you?" His voice low in your ear.

"W'anna see it spilling out of you." He hums, and his chest vibrates.

His warm breath against your ear sends a shiver down your spine.

You still can't form any words to make a cohesive sentence. The only sounds coming from your mouth are a few whimpers and pleads. One large hand moves to caress your cheek and wipe away a few tears that are spilling from the corners of your eyes.

"Aww, I know it must be so hard for you to think." He mocks.

Your face grows hot when he mocked you making your pussy flutter. But he's right, you can't think no matter how hard you tried. He dragged his long a long from your throat down to the middle of your breasts, making your skin prickle with goosebumps.

The harsh snap of his hips as his cock plunges back inside you breaks you from your daze. His heavy balls slapped into your ass with each powerful thrust. The soft curls between his legs soaked in your slick. A hand moves to grip your thigh as his cock sets a brutal pace. Your pussy making a filthy squelching sound that was close to pornographic.

His face now buried in the crook of your neck, and his mouth moves to bite down on hard. The sharpness of his fangs drawing just the smallest amount of blood as he desperately tried to stifle a moan.

He moves his mouth from your neck to let out the deepest animalistic growl you've ever heard from him. You feel that tightness building up again. You want to reach down to play with your clit but you hesitat not knowing if you're allowed to just yet. He sits back up again when he notices you're getting close. "Go on, touch yourself cum for me."

You easily moved your hand between your bodies to rub tight circles around your sore clit. He watches you while still vigorously pumping his cock in your pussy, making your breasts bounce with each thrust. His breath hitches, and he lets out a soft sigh when he feels you clench around him. You start rubbing your clit harder while his cock is still working that sweet spot on your inner walls.

Your legs wrap around him tighter when your second orgasm washes over you. You take a sharp intake of breath, digging your nails down his strong back. Your body trembles from your release. "Thank you!", "Thank you!" You quietly chanted to him as you came down from your high. Your legs shake and go numb. "yes such a good slut that's it cum on my cock."

He's giving you praise after praise going from "my good girl" to "his good little slut." You feel his cock twitch and his thrusts are getting more frantic. He gives his last few hard pumps of his cock before shooting his hot cum, coating your walls. "OH fuck!" He continues pumping his cock milking himself of every single drop. His cum filling you up and spilling out down the curve of your ass making a mess of you like he said.

He crashes down on top of you with his full weight, making it hard to breathe. You both lay there silent, struggling to catch your breath. He felt him shift his weight off you for a second. He tries to easily remove his length from you. You winced at the feeling of him leaving you. Your body is sore and weak, and your legs still feel numb.

For a moment, you think he's gonna disappear back from where he came, but he doesn't just yet. Instead, he goes to lay beside you on your bed. His body littered in claw marks you left him. The sun peaks through your curtains, signaling that you don't have much time left together. He can sense you're now getting sad and bends over to look you in the eyes once more. "You did so well for me tonight."

"Yeah?" You ask as your eyes light up.

"Of course, my sweet girl." He reassured, pulling your blanket up to cover your naked body.

"I will see you again tomorrow night like I promised I always would." He continues on while slinking himself under your bed.

You pout, but know he's got to leave the sun is starting to rise. You lay your head back against your pillow, waiting again for his hand to reach up and intertwine his fingers with yours as you sleep.

[chapel-of-rizztual]

~nsfw~

Mountain gets snowed in the greenhouse. When he’d gone there in the morning it was only snowing a little bit, but by the time the afternoon rolled around it was a complete flurry and he couldn’t get the greenhouse door open. This wasn’t the first time this has happened, in fact it happened at least once every winter so Mountain was prepared. He had a little electric heater, some blankets and fold out bed. He always kept snacks and water incase he got hungry and didn’t want to trek back to the abbey. Nobody really worried that much when he got stuck, he knew how to take care of himself and it had never been an issue before, Mountain always found his way back to them within a day. 

This time was different. The heater wouldn’t work and Mountain had forgotten to bring the blankets out when the first frost had hit. He was well and truly fucked this time. 

By the time he makes it back the abbey the next morning he’s absolutely freezing. There’s a blue tinge to his lips and the tops of his ears, he can’t feel his hands or his face or anything really, it’s all numb and stinging from the biting cold. His teeth won’t stop chattering and he can’t stop the shiver that continues to run through his whole body. 

He gets fussed over by all the ghouls before he gets dragged off by one of them. His clothes get stripped off and he gets gently placed into a nest that’s covers in thick fluffy blankets. It smells like campfire smoke and roasted marshmallows. He lets out a little thrill and he buries himself deeper into the blankets, welcoming the warmth they bring. There’s a warm, equally naked body pressed up against his back, warm nimble fingers combing through his snow damp hair.

“Why didn’t you call me.” Dew noses along Mountain’s neck. “I would have come to get you, I would have melted the snow.” 

Mountain can hear the concern in his voice.  “I didn’t-didn’t have my phone.” His teeth won’t stop chattering. “Left-left it in the kitchen. In the f-fruit bowl.” 

Dew headbutts the back of his head lightly, running his warm palm over Mountain’s quivering stomach.  “You need to start taking it with you. Incase you get stuck there again.” 

“I’m-I'm normally more prepared. But the h-heater wouldn’t work, and-and I f-forgot the blankets- Dewy I’m so cold it hurts.” 

Dew lets out a sympathetic whisper, kicking up his heat even more and presses himself even closer to Mountain’s back.  “I don’t want to hear you up too fast and burn you, pebble.” 

Mountain shivers and presses himself closer to Dew.  “I can feel it in my bones. It’s like I’m cold on the inside.” 

Dew kisses Mountain’s shoulder.  “I can warm you up from the inside if you want.” He smirks and bites down lightly on Mountain’s  shoulder. 

There’s a pause, the only sound that can be heard is the chattering of Mountain’s teeth.  “You mean- mean that?” He asks in a timid voice.

“Of course.” Dew kisses his shoulder again. “It’ll help warm you up.” 

“Please.” Mountain arches his back with a moan. “Please, Dew I’m so cold. Please warm me up.” 

Dew fingers him open quickly, Mountain whines and fidgets the whole time, rocking his hips back into Dew’s fingers. He only settles again when Dew eventually sinks his cock into him, keeping one warm hand on his hip. 

He lets out a chuff as Dew bottoms out, his bony hips flush against his ass. He lets into a grain as he feels heat start to radiate inside him, warming him form the inside just like Dew had said. 

Dew cards his fingers through Mountain’s hair again, scratching at his scalp in the way he knows Mountain loves.  “That better, baby? Feel good?” 

Mountain nods with a sleepy hum, finally the shivers and chattering of his teeth come to a stop as he feel’s himself finally begin to warm. 

“Feels good. So warm.” Mountain purrs as he wiggles slightly, burying himself deeper into the blankets. 

Dew feels himself twitch as Mountain clenches around him and he resists the urge to roll his hips and fuck into Mountain. 

“You feels so good, darling. Once you’ve rested and warmed up properly I’m gunna fuck you so well.” 

Mountain lets out a gasp and arches his back, grabbing at Dew’s hand that resting on his stomach. 

“Yeah? You like that idea, babyboy? You want me to fuck you? Get you nice and snug and stuck on my knot?” Dew scratches at Mountain’s belly, feeling it flutter under his touch. 

“Yeah, yeah Dew, I want that. Please.” Mountain begs, but Dew can hear the tiredness and the edge in his voice.

“Sleep first, baby.” He strokes down Mountain’s cheek with his finger. “Need you to be well rested for what I’m going to do to you.” 

Mountain whines, but he doesn’t argue against Dew, he can feel the heaviness weighing his eyes down. 

“I’ll be here, keeping you warm.” Dew noses into his neck. “And if you’re good, I'll fuck you awake.” 

Mountain has never fallen asleep so fast. 

[angel-of-the-moons]

Cycles

Miguel O'Hara x Spider-Woman!Reader

TW/Content Warnings: NSFW, Smut, PIV Sex, Heat/Rut Cycles, Territorial, bit of Feral!Miguel, improper use of webs, pheromones, hormones, predator/prey dynamic if you squint, Unprotected Sex, Biting, Scratching, Bondage(?), Breeding Kink (c'mon we all know Miguel has one), established relationship, boyfriend/girlfriend, rough sex, oral sex, blowjob

MINORS DNI: I am not responsible for the content that you are about to read/consume, if you are upset by the themes in this fic, do not read it and scroll on by!

A/N: For context, you are a Spider-Woman who is one of (maybe the only) the few Spiders who have similar powers to Miguel. This is my first Miguel x Reader fic I've ever written, and my first fic ever posted here on Tumblr! (Header does not indicate reader's race)

Earth 7164. New York. Middle of summer.

The scent hit him the moment he tore through the portal. A heavy, sweet, earthy scent that flooded his whole body with a rush of adrenaline. Even the fat droplets of summer rain that fell from the dingy skyline did little to diminish that delicious, mouth watering scent.

Your scent.

His body was trembling as he rolled his shoulders in an attempt to rid himself of the tension that roped its way through his heavy muscles. His talons flexed as he gritted his teeth, each drag of his lungs pulling your scent into his body.

Miguel O'Hara was a man who would claim he had a good sense of control over his urges. He would also say he was a good boyfriend, attentive. A bit protective (some would say possessive).

But, he had been neglecting you as of late, his duties in the Spider Society and ensuring the safety of the universe had kept him away from you these past few weeks, and he almost lost track until he felt that familiar boiling of his blood, an itch that he knew could only be scratched by you.

And he knew that you would be experiencing a similar situation to him, almost parallel. In fact, he surmised you were probably the only Spider who had similar powers. The only difference was that whereas Miguel's powers were (sort of) intentional, and other Spiders were given to them after being bitten by radioactive spiders... You were born like this. They didn't know why. Hell, you didn't know why.

You had the venom (you could consciously control how much you pumped out in every bite), you had your own talons (although yours were a part of your nails, not in the pads of his fingers and toes), the wall crawling abilities, natural web-shooting...

And your cycle. At first having you around was torture on his senses when it would roll around. It would start with your scent changing; the dampness he picked up from between your legs making the blood rush straight to his dick. More often than he'd like he'd have to excuse himself to his private lab to jerk himself off until he felt some of his clarity return.

But it was always just a temporary relief. It only got worse when your breeding cycle and his rut cycle synced up, resulting in the two of you needing to almost be sedated and kept away from each other. (How Lyla kept that under wraps, Miguel never knew.)

And once your dynamic shifted and you started seeing each other, and eventually getting intimate... well. He was positive that Jess or Peter suspected what was up... Especially when he would disappear to your universe for a week or so, only to come back in a slightly better mood, small dark patches peeking out from beneath the collar of his suit, or you would be walking funny or unable to sit comfortably.

Right now, though, those thoughts were shoved to the back of his mind. The only thing he could think of was you. He could smell you, taste you in the air. This was your territory, and he... Could be considered an intruder, depending on your mood.

A male spider waltzing into a pissed off and horny female spider's web during breeding season.

Shaking his head, he took another deep drag of the air around him, the smell of the city mixing with your earthy, almost fruity tones. Your scent was faded slightly, but he could still use it to track you beneath the smog, garbage, and vehicle exhaust.

It's not like he didn't know where your apartment was... But he knew during this period of time you'd be restless, irritable, angry.

And mind-numbingly horny.

Miguel launched himself up, slinging his wrist out and using his glowing webs to propel himself in between the buildings and skyscrapers; leaping, flipping, arching through the sky in a red-and-blue blur.

He knew he was closing in on you. Your scent was all but strangling him, choking the air and what little sanity he was clinging to right out of him.

He should have known you were waiting.

Miguel was rammed into with the speed of a runaway train, the oxygen he so desperately needed ripped from his lungs as he tumbled with a roll onto the rooftop below, landing on all fours as his talons dug into the concrete and tar, leaving deep grooves as he slowed himself.

He lifted his gaze to see you land in front of him, chest heaving, body trembling.

"I have been waiting for you, for almost two weeks." You wheezed out.

"Hell of a way to greet me, querida." Miguel grunted, pulling himself to his feet.

Beneath your mask, he knew your eyes immediately dragged down to the hard bulge pressing against his suit, the hard outline of it sending a fresh throb of arousal straight to your core.

"The kick was a bit much." He said, trying to maintain a professional composure.

But his control was quickly slipping.

"Shut the fuck up."

The short rebuke didn't surprise him.

"Should have been here days ago." Miguel said, swallowing hard at the lump in his throat. "I know that. But--"

You cut him off by lunging at him, hurling your full weight onto him and pinning him down beneath you.

The heat between your legs felt like it melted through his suit, burning the skin beneath and causing a fever to spread.

You raised your fist to bring it down on his face but his reflexes allow him to catch it, gripping you like a steel vice. His other hand gripped your thigh as he planted his feet on the rooftop, rolling to pin you beneath him, his massive frame caging you in.

He squeezed your hips between his thighs, muscles tensing and twitching, breathing heavy. Your free hand reached out and clawed at him, tearing at his suit, leaving a rainbow of glitched out fabric behind, small droplets of blood rushing forth to drip down his tanned skin.

He gritted his teeth at the sensation, the sweet burn sending another wave of heat through his body that made his cock twitch.

You were past talking, past negotiating and being civil. You knew what you wanted, and you wanted it now.

You breathed heavily, gritting your teeth as Miguel gripped your thigh and forced your knee by your head, squeezing the plushest part as his face dragged down to the dark patch soaking through the fabric of your suit.

Using this new position, you kicked at him square in his chest and threw him off of you.

Before he could right himself, you rolled to your feet and jumped off the roof, shooting a web to sling you away from him.

Sure, you were horny and wanted to ride his cock til he couldn't see straight for a month. But he had been gone for weeks and you had been struggling with your own self-care, your measley silicone toys and vibrators barely able to compare with that womb-punching length that Miguel crammed into you, or his skillful and knowledgeable hands rubbing you until your eyes rolled back. But right now, you were pissed.

He wanted your pussy? He was going to have to work for it.

And if that meant playing your cat and mouse game for an hour, building the anticipation and making his cock leak; aching, desperate for a taste of you? So be it.

You played this game for a while, teasing him, getting within arms reach before yanking yourself away at the last possible second, thwarting his attempts to catch you.

Sometimes you liked to play with your food.

But all games come to an end. And this one had an abrupt ending when Miguel headed you off, tackling you to the roof of some abandoned warehouse, pinning you down on your belly, hands above your head.

"Bout fucking time I caught you. Tu pequeño bromista.." (You little tease.) He snarled, leaning down to your ear as his mask dissipated from his head, letting his wavy chocolate hair fall free, damp strands plastering themselves to his forehead.

His eyes were wild, red and glowing; pupils blown wide.

"Fuck you." You hiss, squirming under him.

"Oh, sucederá en, no te preocupes." (Oh, don't worry, it will happen.)

Miguel raised his free hand and brought it down hard on your ass, making you bite your lip to contain the mewl that tried to claw its way out of your throat.

"Look at you, now, hermosa." He sneered, his chest huffing in a small, humorless laugh. "I can fucking smell you from a mile off."

He reached down and cupped your mound, his fingers squishing slightly in the damp fabric of your suit; but once again you deny him a moan, instead biting into your lip, fangs threatening to puncture your lip.

You squirm an arm free and go to elbow him in the face, get him off of you. (Or under you.)

But he predicted that. That's what always got you going when you were in the middle of your cycle. You liked it rough.

His large hand completely encircled your elbow and forced your arm back down. Quickly, he used his glowing, laser-webs to secure your wrists together before he gripped the fabric of your suit with his talons, shredding it as he yanked you over so you were on your back.

Miguel smiled and yanked your mask off of your head, tossing it to the side before gripping your chin with his fingers, putting enough pressure to keep your eyes on his.

"Now... What should I do with you?" He said contemplatively, tapping your cheek with his index finger, making a show of thinking, his eyes dragging over the flushed features on your face, your tongue darting out to wet your dry lips.

"Ah. That's it." He grinned, his slightly askew teeth gleaming in the dark. He grips you by the front of your torn suit and pulls you to your knees as he stands.

He grips the crotch of his suit, and rips at it with his talons, the torn edges doing that kaleidoscopic glitch of colors as his cock springs free from its confines; large, twitching, angry red tip leaking in excitement.

You have to bite your tongue to keep in your little groan, your heart soaking through and dripping out through your suit.

"Hmh." He grunted, annoyed. "I'll loosen your fucking mouth. I've been keeping myself under control this whole time. But now? I'm not going to be gentle."

He gripped your hair, just shy of painful as he dragged your head to his crotch, the tip of his cock smearing his precum across your cheek.

"Chúpalo." (Suck it.)

You finally give in, your hands bound in your lap as you drag your tongue along a prominent vein in the velvety skin of his shaft, earning a deep, rumbling groan from him that you swore sent vibrations straight to your cunt, making you flutter around nothing.

You pull your head back and swirl your tongue around the tip, pulling and tugging as you lap at his slit, eagerly tasting every drop of pre he was giving you before diving in and taking the rest of his tip in your mouth, bobbing your head in a steady rhythm.

He massaged your scalp, his talons tickling the skin under your hair as he encouraged you to continue.

But you knew his calm demeanor wasn't going to last. It wasn't long before he grabbed at your hair with both hands, forcing you to choke down on his length, just shy of blocking off your airway as he fucked your face, the tension and stress from your cat and mouse game coming out as his tip kept shoving at your throat, your nose brushing the dark curly hairs at the base, his balls slapping your chin with every thrust; saliva pooling around his length as you keep your fangs pulled back as you let him use your throat like a fleshlight.

You close your jaw microscopically, fangs grazing the flesh.

"Míralo!" (Watch it!) He reprimanded, pulling your hair roughly to pull you back, his cock springing out of your lips with a wet pop, saliva connecting the tip with the soft pink muscle in your mouth like a weak bridge.

"Be a good girl." He snarled, pulling you back down on his length, barely letting you catch your breath before forcing you all the way down, tears welling up in your eyes and falling down your cheeks as you choked and gagged.

You knew exactly how to lick, suck, and tug at his cock to get the best reactions, the most delicious sounds from him.

You snuck a glance up at him, watching as he tipped his head back with a throaty groan as you greedily swallowed him down.

You moaned around him; his cock throbbed.

You felt him twitch, felt his hips sputter as he gritted his teeth.

"Fuckin' close." He snarled, looking down at you as your eyes connected with his feral ones.

You rocked your clothed cunt on your heel, trying desperately to get some friction to your aching clit. Miguel caught this motion, and held you down on his cock, choking you from not letting you ease off.

"You're not allowed to touch yourself." He said through gritted teeth, pulling your head back with a harsh tug, letting you get a gulp of air before voraciously fucking your mouth again. You obeyed his command, sitting in your slick that was dripping down and out of you, your folds puffy and neglected.

"Fuck..." He breathed heavily, he could feel that burn, that coil about to snap, his blood boiling and rushing straight to the tip of his dick as he felt his balls draw tight.

You moaned softly around him, gagging slightly before that rush of heat flooded your mouth as you worked your throat to swallow every last drop of the load he was feeding you.

Miguel panted, dragging some much needed air in his lungs as he let you pull back, hacking and coughing as your airways flooded with oxygen again. You grin maliciously and bite down on his thigh. No venom of course, but just enough to remind him you were there, earning you a sharp glare and a slap to the back of your head as you licked your lips.

He ran a hand through his hair, and it wasn't but a moment later before he yanked you to your feet, and shoved his tongue past your lips to overpower yours, tasting his cum lingering on your breath as his heavy rut-scent flooded your nose. You moaned shamelessly into the kiss, biting and tugging at each others lips until a burst of cooper flooded your mouth.

Miguel pulled away and licked at his bloody lip, before his mouth twisted into a snarl. He barreled into you, forcing you against a rooftop air-conditioning unit.

His hand reached down as he ripped at your suit, your breasts bouncing free.

Of course you weren't wearing a fucking bra. Probably no panties either. Because you were just that fucking horny and desperate.

He leaned down and took one of your pebbling nipples in his mouth, biting and sucking roughly as you push your head back against the unit, the metal bumping as you do, a strangled cry coming from you.

He pulled back, before delving back down and putting the same torture on your other tit. This time however he pulled back, biting down on the marshmallowy flesh, making you mewl out as his tongue laves over the mark he made.

"Miguel!" You snarl, thrashing your leg to kick at him, your frustration and neglect finally getting to you.

Miguel caught your flailing lim and forced it up, pinning it against the air-conditioning unit with another shot of his webs, before securing your already bound hands with more, above your head.

He pressed his forehead against yours, his hot and heavy breath ghosting over your sweaty skin, before his hands once again swiped and gripped at your cunt, pawing at it like a cat kneading a blanket.

Miguel lazily dragged two fingers torturously slow up your slit, before punching your clit hard through the fabric.

"You've been misbehaving... But I know you're just going to keep acting out until I give you what you want." Miguel sneered into your ear.

You whimpered, arching into his touch as he pulled away, making a frustrated sob at the lack of contact.

You nearly had the air punched out of your lungs when Miguel dropped to his knees, inhaling the scent of your soaked pussy like it was a drug he needed a hit of. He opened his mouth and dragged his tongue up the soaked fabric, before latching on and sucking.

Now this was new. Getting eaten out through the fabric of your clothes. There was too much contact but somehow not enough as he rutted his nose at your clit, sucking more at your folds drawing more of your slick through the fabric.

You thrashed against his webs, trying so hard to roll your hips and fuck his face, but with the way you were pinned, you were at his mercy, especially when he hoisted your free leg over his shoulder. He pressed two fingers against your covered hole as he furiously suckled your clit.

Your orgasm crashed into you so hard you couldn't even manage a scream, your mouth just hung open on a silent cry, eyes rolling back as a fresh gush of slick leaked through your suit.

Miguel smiled against you and tore your suit's crotch open, and you shivered as the humid, summer air made contact with your slick and creamy folds. You barely had a second to realize what was happening before Miguel plunged back in, his nose rutting your clit once more as I sucked at your cream, your slick covering his chin.

Miguel was the best sexual partner you ever had, he knew exactly how to eat you out to the point you lost your voice without even using it.

Just as your second orgasm was creeping up on you, he pulled his mouth away, wiping his face clean with the back of his hand and licking his chops like a dog eyeing a juicy stake.

His cock bobbed against his stomach as he stood, a steady stream of precum dribbling out of the tip and to the ground below.

He pulled your free leg to wrap around his waist as he slid the underside of his cock against your puffy cunt.

Miguel bit down on your shoulder, hard as he forced himself into you with one brutal thrust, pushing the air out of your lungs as he punched your guts through your womb with his cock, spearing you wide as he set a rapid, relentless pace for the both of you.

You uttered breathless pleas, praises, and incoherent mumblings with each thrust; the two of you grunting and moaning in each others ears like rabid animals, Miguel's cock slamming home into your pussy, squelching, dripping, the slap of skin and hips colliding filling the very atoms around you.

Your body screamed, cried, ached for him to fuck you, fill you up to the brim.

Miguel's tip crammed against your cervix in such a brutal way that you swore he bullied himself into your womb with every thrust. It was a blossoming pain that bled into pleasure, quickly bringing you back to the edge of your second orgasm that he had denied you.

"That's it, baby." Miguel snarled in your ear. "Ah... So tight for me. You want me?"

You nodded, whimpering and sobbing into his shoulder.

"Want me to fuck you til you can't walk for a week? Stretch you til all you can think of is my cock?" He said, his voice edging on a gleeful tone as he pants, turning his head and licking at the sweat on your neck.

"Want me to fucking breed you?"

You bite into his shoulder at that, whimpering as his suit glitches around your fangs and you lick at the blood welling up.

He hissed, and his pace became frantic, almost angry as he reaches down and pinches your clit like before, and your orgasm comes flooding through every blood vessel in your body as you jerk mindlessly against him, your pussy crushing down on him, milking him for everything he can give you.

He moans loudly in your ear, snapping his hips up into yours, balls slapping your ass as you cry out, sobs wracking your chest as your vision blurs and the tension rips out of you.

You whimper, and hiccup against him when he forces himself into you one last time, his tip kissing that oh so lovely spot inside as he pumps his heavy and sticky load deep inside your pussy, dripping out of you with each jagged thrust as he fucks you through his orgasm.

When Miguel's hips still, his hand pets at your hair as he kisses your jaw, nipping the skin there as he slices the webs holding your legs and hands up.

"Mmmmh. I needed that." Miguel sighed into your hair.

You grunted in response, your fists gripping at his suit as you pull him down for a hungry and toothy kiss.

"Take me home and fuck me." You demanded.

All Miguel could do was smile, and carry you back to your apartment. The real trick was keeping his cock sheathed inside of you as he swung from building to building, trying to avoid anybody who may have a camera phone...

But honestly? You didn't care.

However...

The two of you did care, a few weeks later.

When two little pink lines appeared on the stick in your hand.

"Fuck."

[riaki]

a spritz of peppermint | megumi fushiguro x reader

pt.6 of christmas event! cw: petnames i think idk, not proofread, there’s probably other stuff i’m missing but wtv happy birthday the prettiest king pls come back the food is cold

today is a very special day.

megumi notices that you rise early— mostly because when he wakes up in the morning, rubbing his sleep-heavy eyes groggily with a groan, he notices you’re not there. he rolls over, and smacks his face into cold sheets, devoid of your heat.

it pisses him off. so he starts his special day out as a grouch.

when he eventually crawls out of bed and makes his way into the kitchen after pulling on some sweats, though— he stops just short of the threshold to that sweet smelling cozy haven you love to spend your time in. the scent of pine needles and fresh chocolate orange wafts across the space, warm and welcoming and awfully wintery. he’s impartial to the cold— but he likes seeing your nose get red, so he guesses that’s one point positive.

“megumi?” your soft voice drifts across the open space, and the frost around his grumpy heart melts just a little; a crack in the frozen surface of the lake.

he reluctantly emerges from the shadow of the hallway, past the bundle of mistletoe hanging from the ceiling. the thought causes a memory to flash across his mind— your sweet smile and your prettier laugh; a distinct feeling of fuzzy warmth like a knitted sweater spreading across his cheeks when you pulled him close by the sleeve of his shirt and leaned in—

he shakes his head, trying to dash the stray thought. he’s supposed to be mad. it has no right to be there.

“why’d you get up so early?” he sighs heavily as he joins you at your side, scratching the back of his neck and running a hand through his unruly hair. you smiled sheepishly, turning to face him and you wrap your arms around his middle, squeezing lightly as a silent apology. he takes it with a grumble, snaking his arms around your waist and resting his face in your hair to bask in the scent of home before pulling away.

“it’s a secret.” you grinned, and he glares down at you, clicking his teeth in annoyance. you just laugh like the angel you are, leaving no room for guilt. you’re wearing one of his sweaters; you smell like him, and he supposes it makes up for the way you ditched him this morning.

“i expect compensation.” he grumbles, leaning against the counter as he watches you move about the kitchen, pale winter sunlight painting you like an ethereal dancer beneath the surface of misty lake water, crystal clear in your beauty. it’s mesmerizing.

you laughed, and his teeth dig into his bottom lip. “what, missed me? were you feeling lonely, gumi?” you smiled.

he just shoots you a piercing glare, the color of icicles in his eyes, but the warmth of your grin melts it away. you spend the next few moments in a comfortable silence, preparing a french toast topped with sweet berries and powdered sugar that looks so soft megumi could probably sink into it, until your lovely voice breaks the crisp morning silence.

“want black coffee?”

…

that’s weird. he never hesitates. and you know he takes his coffee black; of course you do. not because he wants to look cool, or look suave in another person’s eyes… well, except for you, of course. but not in the area of caffeine doses. and to be perfectly clear, all he needs is a dose of you to get him going.

he clears his throat. “can you make me hot chocolate?”

you pause, and he almost wants to bite his tongue off. why is he so embarrassed? but you just chuckle, like morning bird song across fresh dew on the grass.

“switching it up, huh? that’s cute.” you hum, and his face burns hot like embers in a brick fireplace. he coughs, throat scratchy like the pricks of a pinecone— but you make no note of it, simply going about your day.

he’s content to watch as you fish around in the rum-colored cabinets, pulling out a crinkly bag of cocoa powder. you put him on milk microwaving duty and he busies himself, lithe pale fingers unscrewing the carton of milk and pouring it into his favorite little painted dog mug. you were the one who’d made it; that silly little ceramics class you insisted on taking clearly didn’t help you too much in the way of smoothing down the bumps and blotches on the mug, but it holds your fingerprint, so he might as well memorize the shape of your hands when you’re not there.

megumi’s snapped back to reality when you grab a candy cane from the mini tree you decorated together sitting on the kitchen counter, smashing it up in the wrappings to mix the pepperminty dust with the cocoa powder. he eyes the pile of holiday drug warily as he brings the steaming mug over, placing it before you and leaning against the counter again to watch you work your mystery magic.

“that looks like brown cocai—”

“shh, megumi. keep your pretty mouth shut, please.”

he’s about to butt in again, lips parted before he presses them together irritatedly and resigns to sulk in silence.

you pour the hot chocolate mix into the milk, swishing it together as it forms a pretty spiral of cocoa; the color of dark chai and chocolate tart. he’s content to watch in silence, humming some christmas carol he’d overheard you listening to one gray afternoon— until he realizes you’re opening a bag of those sickeningly sweet and fluffy marshmallows he’d bought you on a whim. he only did it because his mentor told him they made the best gifts, but he’s beginning to realize it was the sweet tooth talking.

“hey— wait… are you going to put those in there, pretty?” he asks, putting a gentle hand on your wrist to stop you from vigorously emptying the bag into his poor victimized hot chocolate mug.

you glance up at him and flash a toothy grin, giving him one of those looks that makes his heart skip a beat. “trust me, gumi! you’re gonna love it.” you laughed, shrugging his hand off, and his lips curve downward. less because of the marshmallows that are toppling into his mug with a splash and more so because you freed yourself from his grasp.

obviously, you notice— your eyebrows knit together, a pinch of guilt weighing upon them like the snow on the streets outside. but it’s wiped away as quickly as it comes; before he knows it, you’re walking away with a bounce in your step, disappearing behind the counter before re-emerging with something behind your back.

“don’t look so sad, gumi. here,” you say, the cadence of your voice as soft and playful as he ever remembers it being when you pull a bunch of roses from behind your back. the bouquet is small and there’s dirt clinging to the stems— but his heart melts at the thought that you hand-picked them, prickly thorns and all, for him. “happy birthday,” you whispered, and his walls break.

“you’re not so different from them, you know.” you hummed, smiling as he takes them from you and gives you an inquisitive, quiet look. “you might be a little prickly on the outside, but you’re just as beautiful. you just have to look a little past the thorns.”

he feels his face flush; at this point, it’s probably as red as the stray candy cane shavings melting in his mug and the vibrant petals of the roses. he splutters and mumbles something annoyed under his breath, but he’s sure you can hear the undercurrent of fondness and affection weaves into each syllable like the beats of his heart, where you’re so close to. megumi thinks you might’ve just cut him open and made a home in his ribcage.

the bunch of handpicked roses for his special day sit on the marble counter dusted with cocoa powder and candy cane shavings, marshmallows bobbing at the surface of his hot chocolate like apples in a bucket as he wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you in to press his lips insistently to yours, slow and tender like the way he always loves you. his hands curl around your sides, as if to ground you there; freeze the time in this bubble of warmth, forgetting the chill outside to warm his hands on your skin. you’re so little in his arms; he wants to hold you and never let you go, to keep you under his tree and have you make hot chocolate for him instead of black coffee every morning he wakes up, because it’s fine if you’re not there in bed— as long as you’re waiting for him with open arms elsewhere.

and when he kisses you, he realizes he might not need his hot cocoa to warm his stomach— your lips are as soft and pillowy sweet as the marshmallows melting in his mug, filled with steaming hot cocoa and all the love he could ever wrap his heart in this cozy winter; his christmas gift to you.

he’s grateful today is a special day, if only because of you and his sweet little painted dog mug filled with your heartwarming love.

stop this was so close to being late my (riaki) stuff. don’t repost and/or plagiarize !

[matchavellichor]

Just This Once Pt. 2

dark!Ominis x f!MC - NSFW/Angst - 3.4k words

Tags: !!Non-con!!, Pining, Obsession, Drugged Sex, Somnophilia, Cunnilingus

Part 1, Part 3 ☆ﾐ(o*･ω･)ﾉ

“You alright, Ominis?” 

“Fine,” Ominis forces a tight-lipped smile. He’s been nursing the same glass of firewhiskey for most of the evening, barely able to get it down. “Just tired.”

Sebastian gives a sigh as he stands, only wobbling slightly. He knows that look on his friend’s face, the familiar I don’t want to be here, but I’m too polite to leave. 

“Why don’t you help her back to Slytherin then? I’m gonna stay a while and she’s clearly had enough.” He nods to where their friend is warring against a black-out, slumped against the garrish scarlet cushions of one of the common room couches.

Sebastian chuckles as he helps her from her seat, stilling her wrists when she playfully swats at him and insists she’s fine. She’s deposited in Ominis’ arms before he can get a word in.

She stops her grumbling when she realizes who’s holding her up, blinking up at him for a moment before her lips curl into a pleased smile. “You’re still here, Omi?”

“Still here,” he murmurs, trying to keep his breathing even when she loops her arm with his to steady herself.

He meanders the both of them through the noisy Gryffindor common room, out into the cool, dimly-lit hallway. She hums one of the old tavern tunes the Gryffindors have been belting the entire night, slurring all the words the entire journey towards the dungeons. He bites the inside of his cheek, pretending he isn’t amused.

She leans on him, her fingers curling around his bicep for support, as she stumbles through the coiling serpent door, and that familiar ache manifests itself in his gut. 

He ignores it. He’s done a good job of ignoring it so far, hasn’t laid a finger on her—just like he promised. He isn’t a bad person, after all. He won’t do what he did to her again. It was a one-time thing, just to scratch an itch, and he’s more than capable of suffering in silence from now on, the same way he always has. 

By the time they finally cut through the Slytherin common room, he’s practically carrying her. She’s dozing off with her head on his shoulder, soft and pliant in his arms, and he feels this strange sort of tightening feeling in his chest.

He’s felt that dull, longing pain for a while. This is exponentially worse, as if his pining has finally culminated into something unbearable. He grinds his teeth and holds his breath and pretends he doesn’t feel tempted to bury his nose in her hair, to inhale until his inhibitions melt away and he does something stupid.

He sets her down on her feet when he reaches the stairs to the girls’ dormitories, but has to hold her up to keep her from falling over. Her words are stumbled over, soft and broken by yawns. “D’you think…you could bring me up?”

“You know I can’t,” he sighs. “Wards.”

She frowns, looking up at him. “Then…bring me to yours?” 

He immediately shakes his head. “That’s not a good idea—”

“Oh, come on,” her fingers curl into the front of his shirt and he’s suddenly acutely aware of just how close she is. It’s suffocating, in a dreadfully pleasant way. He never thought he could find asphyxiation appealing, but he’s learned by now to not put anything past her. “Please?” 

She pleads so pretty. He thinks of how she sounded back in the Undercroft, when he had her body pinned underneath his. Heat pools in that spot just below his navel and he suppresses a shudder. He runs a hand down his face to disperse the memory, nodding jerkily. “Yeah, al-alright. Fine.”

He shouldn’t give in so easily. He finds himself in possession of very little faculties to refuse her absolutely anything.

//

Ominis mutters a few locking charms as soon as he carries her into the quiet of his empty dorm. For her privacy, he tells himself, and ignores that contrite little voice in his head that knows it’s for something more. He pretends he doesn’t feel some sick satisfaction in knowing he has her all to himself.

It’d be easy to do it all again, he thinks. Perhaps even easier than the first time, with her state.

The thought leaves his head as quickly as it comes. He won’t. He has control over this. He has control over himself, most importantly. However, the longer he’s around her, the more she presses her body into his, the less convinced he is of the fact.

He takes a sharp breath and sits her down on the edge of his bed to unlace her boots for her. Her calves are small in his hands, delicate. There’s something appealing about that realization that he doesn’t stop to dwell on. 

When he’s done, he helps her brush her teeth and comb her hair. It’s strangely domestic. Once again, he tries not to think about the warm, fuzzy feeling it gives him. He knows by now he has no right to crave such things. Wholesomeness isn’t for people who imperius and molest their friends.

He can’t help the smile that tugs at the corners of his mouth when she flops down onto his bed, tangling herself in silky emerald sheets. “Smells nice,” she murmurs, voice muffled with her face buried in his pillow.

He doesn’t think he’ll ever wash those sheets again.

He hovers near the foot of the bed, hands tucked chastely in his pockets, posture awkwardly stiff. He clears his throat. “You—uh, you should probably take a sober-up.”

She props herself up on her elbows to look at him, tilting her head with a pout. “That’s no fun.”

He rubs the back of his neck. “I think you’ve had enough fun for one night.”

She falls back onto the pillows with a groan. “Fine.”

He kneels in front of the bedside table he shares with Sebastian, rummaging through the drawers in search of a sober-up he’s sure the brunette certainly keeps in store.

His hand brushes a familiar vial, and for a brief moment he forgets about the potion he’s supposed to be looking for, in favor of thumbing over the worn label he knows too well.

He used to take it whenever his anxiety got too bad, when sleep was scarce because of nightmares. He’s more than familiar with the side-effects—only a bit more potent than a calming draught, really. Makes him drowsy, helps him sleep.

A thought passes through his head, but this time it lingers.

He closes the drawer with his knee and hovers over where she’s still curled on his bed, the dull edges of the vial biting into his skin where he’s tightened his fist around it.

It isn’t like he’s drugging her. He takes the potion himself. He’s just helping her relax a bit, that’s all.

“Here,” he brushes a hand over her shoulder to get her attention, her warmth seeping through the linen of her blouse to his palm. He resists the urge to dip his hand under the hem of her collar, skin-to-skin. “Can you open your mouth for me?”

He pretends he doesn’t feel the little flicker of heat that manifests in his stomach when she obeys, parted lips brushing his fingertips, looking up at him through her lashes. 

He uncorks the dropper from the vial and drips a few more drops than the recommended dose on her tongue, and then a couple more. Her nose wrinkles from the bitter taste, but she swallows nonetheless. “Gross.”

He huffs a laugh, helping her lay back down. “A bit.”

“Thank you,” she sighs, eyes half-lidded. He finds he likes the dazed quality of her voice a bit too much. “You’re a savior, Omi.”

He forces a smile and swallows down the guilt he feels burrowed in his chest. His mouth tastes bitter. “It’s no problem, really.” 

He goes to tug the comforter over her body but she protests, limbs feeling too heavy to use properly. He gets a strange sort of thrill when he feels how weakly she pushes at his wrists. 

“Need—need to take this off first,” she murmurs, voice already softened.

She tugs at the laces of her bodice, but her fingers are languid and clumsy, lacking too much dexterity to untie them. The potion is fast-acting, he notes with a disgusting amount of satisfaction. She looks up at him for help, guiding his hands to the front of her blouse. He swallows the lump in his throat. “Right—uh, sure.”

He tries to still the trembling in his fingers as he unworks the latticework of ribbons, but he supposes she’s too bleary now to even notice. He helps her shrug off the garment, her arms limp when he holds them up to pull the fabric over her head. That little flickering heat in his gut is stoked higher when he notes how perfectly her two wrists fit in just one of his hands. 

He likes her like this, maybe to an alarming degree. Weak and pliant. It reminds him of her state under the Imperius, trance-like, bending to his will because she lacks the capacity to do much else.

He helps her shimmy out of her skirt as well, even though she never asks him to. She doesn’t protest. Just lets his hands adjust her as he sees fit. He doesn’t linger on the fact that she’s only letting him because she doesn’t have the power to voice any objections, much less stop him.

That tiny, wanton flame inside him has been fed into an all-consuming fire, far too zealous to allow even a shadow of guilt to hinder his actions. 

The chemise she wears underneath her clothes is sheer, barely reaching the tops of her knees. Easy to tear, he thinks as he smooths his hand down her hip, only briefly. She lets out a soft sigh and he pulls back. Still too lucid.

Temptation is a pretty thing tangled in his sheets, donned in thin, satiny fabrics.

It’d be so easy to take. The thought comes and sticks, even as he tries to rid himself of it. It’s tacky, enticing, gluing itself to the walls of his brain.

He wouldn’t even need to use an Unforgivable again, not like last time. No breaking any promises—though he notes that the thought of doing so is less nausea-inducing now than the first time. The idea more digestible. He doesn’t dwell on the implications behind that.

He unclasps the first few buttons of his shirt as he waits for her breathing to finally steady out. It isn’t long before she’s out like a light.

He sits on the adjacent bed, but only for a moment before his anxiety makes him pace the room. His thoughts are a mess, alternating between staying as far away from her as possible and sinking into her very skin. He chews on his nails while the latter begins to take dominance, until he ultimately finds himself hovering over the side of his bed.

It’s not like he hasn’t touched her before while she’s sleeping. He’s traced her features a couple times, gently, just to get an idea of what she looks like. This isn’t any different. He won’t do anything terrible.

He knows with certainty that Sebastian and their other dorm mate won’t be in until dawn breaks, he’s more than accustomed with their party habits by now. The situation is almost too perfect. When will he ever have her like this again? Drowsy and willing, all to himself, in his bed.

The mattress creaks as he sits himself on the edge. She doesn’t move an inch. His heart hammers in his chest, but he reaches a hand out anyway, tentatively running his hand down the soft outline of her figure, bathed in silk. He wants to feel her, though, so he brushes his fingertips, feather-light, where her shoulder is peeking out from under the covers.

It’s easy to not feel guilty when this is something familiar. 

Tentatively, he pulls the covers down to her waist. When she doesn’t stir, he pulls them back the rest of the way, exposing her to him. Gooseflesh prickles over her skin as it comes in contact with the cool air of the room and he runs his hands down her arms to soothe it. She’s somehow softer than he remembers, sensitive and sleep-warm.

She shifts in her sleep, but he isn’t deterred like he usually is. He knows that with the effects of the potion she won’t wake, at least not fully. That familiar course of adrenaline courses through his veins at the thought of not having to be as cautious as he usually is. Being able to touch at will. It’s exhilarating, in the most terrible way possible. 

He bunches her chemise over her waist in one pull. The material glides over her skin with ease, and she gives little protest, nothing more in the way of a soft exhale, a gentle murmur. The sound courses through his very core, all the way south. He’s sick with curiosity about what other sounds he can coax from her, fingers hovering over the bare expanse of her midriff.

He’s filled with the urge to know her in all the ways he hasn’t yet, having kept all his prior explorations strictly above-belt. The unknown beckons to him, every inch of her he hasn’t touched or tasted, teeming under his skin until it aches. 

He runs a thumb across the hem of her knickers, gentle, patient—even if at the moment it’s like he hasn’t the faintest idea of the definition of the world. It doesn’t take very long for him to exhaust the small amount of hesitation he does possess.

He shifts over her on the bed, climbing down her body, hands trailing adoration on her skin with exploratory curiosity. He digs his fingers a little too hard into her hips and she lets out a whimper, soft and barely audible. He finds he quite likes the sound.

She squirms in place, hips shying away from him in her sleep and he hushes her, soothing the skin with soft, little circles stroked by his thumb.

He presses his lips right above her navel, trailing kisses down her stomach, and she keens under the sensation, stretching like a purring kitten. He smirks against her skin. So receptive, even unconscious. 

As he trails down to his destination, he noses softly at every curve and bow he can reach, slow and appreciative. She’s gorgeous, all soft features and gentle silhouettes. He finds himself wanting to run his tongue over every contour until he memorizes her with his mouth.

He treats her as if he’s at an altar, kneeled in not only solemn adoration, but grave penitence for what he knows he plans to do with her. He supposes it’s always best to pray for forgiveness, then ask for permission. 

When he gets to the hem of her knickers, he plies her legs wider to accommodate him, pinning one of her thighs to the mattress. She obliges so easily, limbs loose and limp, so he tugs the other over his shoulder. 

His breath hovers over her clothed core and that familiar contrite little voice murmurs a flurry in his head. He finds it’s so much easier to tune it out now, especially as he presses his mouth to the gusset of her knickers for the first time and his brain whites out in bliss.

He wouldn’t be able to suppress the groan he lets out if he had all the willpower in the world.

It isn’t long before he’s hastily pulling the thin cotton down her thighs, any sort of barrier between them a personal affront to his sanity. Something tears but he finds himself in no capacity to care. She does little to stop him, only shifting futilely in her sleep, but he has his arm anchored across her thigh to still her squirming.

He licks a stripe with the flat of his tongue, just to finally taste her, to acquiesce the pounding in his ears and that familiar rush of blood south. She tastes like heaven, and he knows that after all he’s done it’s the closest he’ll ever get.

His fingers dig into tender flesh so hard he’s sure he’ll leave marks as he starts to lap at her in earnest, unable to stop himself. Breathy little sighs hitch in her throat, turning into soft moans as he takes his time, exploring every millimeter his tongue can reach.

“S’gorgeous,” he slurs, lips sticky against her cunt. “Gods, you taste so good.”

He wraps his lips around her clit and sucks, and the noise she lets out is almost enough to make him finish in his pants. He can tell her brain’s struggling to breach consciousness, hips rocking languidly against his mouth, the softest murmurs escaping her lips. He pays little mind to them, continuing to devote himself to tasting her fully.

He takes one of her hands that are pawing weakly at the sheet beneath her, placing it on top of his head. Her fingers immediately find purchase in his hair, eliciting a groan from him as he circles her clit with his tongue in tight little circles.

Her breathing is stuttered, uneven. “Om–Omin–”

“That’s it, angel, say my name,” he hums, her voice making him throb in his pants where he’s been rutting mindlessly against the mattress. “You sound so pretty. Fuck, my sweet, sweet girl.”

Her fingers tighten in his hair, a bit too softly for his tastes due to her semi-lucid state, but enough to earn a moan from him nonetheless. He feels the muscles in her abdomen tighten when he braces a forearm across her middle to pin her to the bed, stilling her helpless writhing, and he knows she’s close. He doesn’t plan on stopping until she’s coming on his tongue, no matter how much she begs.

Feeling her try to resist him makes him ache in his trousers, her hands pushing weakly at his head. He latches his mouth to her clit and sucks until he feels her heels dig into his back and a sob is torn from her throat as she’s pushed over the edge. 

He grinds his hips into the mattress as he rides her through her climax, grunting expletives against her skin. Her chest heaves, arms loose at her sides as she hiccups through tears, coming down from her high.

Her legs tremble around his head and he kisses the insides of her thighs, listening to her breathless, incoherent little murmurs that he can’t quite make out. He can’t help the blissed satisfaction he feels, thumbs rubbing soft circles on her hip bones. 

He climbs over her, chin sticky as he leaves kisses in his ascent. “I know, baby, I know,” he hushes when she squirms, voice hoarse. “Just a dream. Go back to sleep.”

He wipes the wetness from her cheeks, damp lashes fluttering in her attempts to gain some viable form of consciousness. He smiles to himself knowing the effects of the potion will keep her perfectly limp and drowsy for him.

He noses at her temple, stroking her hair while he waits for her breathing to steady out again. “Was that good, angel? Did I make you feel good?”

She doesn’t respond, and he knows her brain is too addled with sleep and endorphins to even hear him. He rambles praises anyway, lips pressed to her forehead, his heart so full in his chest it might burst.

“I love you,” he whispers, collecting her in his arms and tucking her into his side, even if the rational part of his brain advises against it. He can’t help but want her close. “I love you so much, it hurts.”

The inside of his trousers is sticky with the evidence of his own climax, but he can’t be bothered to feel the shame he normally feels, too caught up in the feeling of her body against his. He plants kisses to the crown of her head and pretends he’s holding her because she wants to be held.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs sometime after into the stillness of her soft breathing, exhaustion tugging at his eyelids. He isn’t, not really. Being sorry implies he won’t do it again. Something he’s able to admit by now he knows isn’t true. “I’m so sorry.” 

He closes his eyes and pretends he is.