#i want to spit and bite. i want to wander out into the woods and vanish. except its the middle of the fucking desert and there's no woods

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

#me doing field work with someone cool: look at me im so normal. im fine. idk why i was crying so much yesterday lol #me after opening my email and checking comments on manuscript: i... i want to say and do so many upsetting things rn #i want to spit and bite. i want to wander out into the woods and vanish. except its the middle of the fucking desert and there's no woods #i shouldnt even be looking at this stuff bc i spent fucking like 9hrs doing fieldwork and my brain is fried #but my fried brain hates me hhhhh i have so much bullshit to do. i dont fucking care about any of this #and yet tomorrow morning im gonna get before fucking 6am and im gonna get field supplies together for Friday and im gonna meet a fucking #collaborator at fucking 4pm bc i cant fucking stop. but if i can manage go to the fucking health and wellness center bc im not healthy and #im not well and idk how tf it works bc im staff and not a student but i assume they have some obligation to help if i wander in off the #street. then idk well see how the middle of my day turns out bc ive got 90 million things to do #but god i hope i go in tomorrow like i just want to not have to live like this anymore i dont wanna lurch around full of bitterness & pain #i dont even like field work that much. i cant convince my brain im not just wasting time so it stresses me out #but fucking everything stresses me out. tho today it was more useful in avoiding the things i dont wanna do #hhhh im just sick to death of all this #unrelated #also fucking shout out to my sp0tify wrap list. i forgot that i used to listen to crumb radio to fall asleep so im apparently in the top 2 #percent of crumb listners lol. also my genres were german indie. iclandic idie. indie rock and alternative rock lol #i dig the idie music

[kishibe-kisser]

Making work more interesting (nsfw) (Diluc, Kaveh, Neuvillette, Wriothesley)

Tags: genshin men x implied female reader, scratching, bruising, oral (male & female receiving), semi public sex, cursing, biting

Diluc: Your hand grazed the buttons on his shirt as you walked past him, the expression on your face nothing short of mischevious. Diluc nearly dropped the glass he was cleaning feeling your hand drop down to his belt buckle before leaving his body completely.

The bar had closed no 2 minutes ago and it was time for cleanup but that, that was the last thing on his mind. You had tormented him your whole shift and now, it would take very little to make him snap and well those last few touches were enough.

Now you were bent over the bar, nails scratching against the wood as Diluc fucked you from behind. His hips slamming your own against the counter sure enough to leave bruises. "Couldn't do this with all the guests in the tavern." He grumbled, placing his lips by your ear. You turned your head to his slightly, shooting him a knowing smile because this was the exact outcome you wanted.

"Tease me again like this and I will." He added on, hand moving from your hips up your back to grip your hair and pull it harshly. You let out a loud moan, Diluc's fingers tugging on your hair roughly. His other hand smacked your ass, hard enough to leave a handprint and you found yourself cumming at all of the stimulation.

"Don't think I'm going easy on you, after this the tavern still needs to cleaned."

Kaveh: He wasn't the type to risk getting caught having sex in the office, especially not in Al Haitham's house. The last thing the man needed was another reason to kick him out, but he threw caution to the wind the second you crawled under the desk.

Your lips wrapped around his cock and he could feel the stress dissipate from his body. Biting back whimpers as he leaned back in his desk chair. You could tell he was stressed from a mile away, this was the least you could do. Kaveh's nails dug into the arm rests of his chair and he shut his eyes, screwing them shut as he scrunched his face.

"Fuck, fuck, I have deadlines you know?" He asked, watching as you pulled your lips off his dick. A string of spit connected your lips to his cock and he had to try his hardest not to cum at the sight. "I know and I have needs." You said in return, moving from under his desk to his lap. He whimpered at the feeling of your weight on him and your words, instantly grabbing your hips.

"Besides seems like you could use some stress relief." You added and he started bucking his hips up, trying to regain control over the situation but it was entirely lost. He let out a whine and squirmed, itching for relief.

"Please relieve my stress or fuck fulfill your needs with me."

Neuvillette: It was your skirt that had enticed him in the first place, wandering into his office with some letters that had been left for him at your desk. Lusting after your secretary was hardly something the iudex of Fontaine should indulge in and he knew that. However with work pressure high and the hem of your skirt even higher, he wanted a taste.

It's hard to deny his wishes, the man hardly ever wanted anything so when he expressed he wanted a taste of what was between your thighs, you couldn't say no. Moans filling his office as you tried your hardest not to mess up the paperwork under your hands. His tongue lapped at your core, hands gently holding your hips down and skirt up.

"Absolutely divine." Neuvillette's deep voice grumbled, singing praises as you whimpered and hiccuped. His tongue moved quicker and you could feel the coil in your stomach getting tighter and tighter. "Neuvillette~" Your hand found his hair, not meaning to grab it but not being able to help yourself. You needed to hold onto something, something to ground you as he made you cry out.

Your hand in his hair only made him moan against you, a sound you'd never thought you'd hear from the dignified man. He pressed his face into you more, throwing you over the edge as his hands gripped you even harder. It was clear he had no intent of stopping any time soon, your release on his tongue being a mental release for him.

"I need more, you can give me that, right Darling?"

Wriothesley: It wasn't often that you got to visit him, the prison being dangerous to those who didn't belong, but you had your ways. Sometimes your ways led to him pressing you into the cold walls, or bending you over his desk in his office.

Days like today however, you were pressed against a cold wall. Your bare chest rubbing against the rough texture with each snap of his hips. You weren't cold though, Wriothesley's body serving as a furnace as he held you close. His scarred chest pressed into your back as he grunted into your ear.

The second you saw him you knew he was frustrated beyond measure and with the way he kissed you, you knew you could help him out. He was fucking you like a wild animal, hand clasped over your mouth to make sure your sounds didn't travel through the halls.

"Miss you so much." He said in your ear, turning your face to look at him slightly. Your eyes were nearly watering and yet you still couldn't help but look at him with pure love, it had him him nearly tipping over the edge. "I love you." You moved his hand away from your mouth to say the words and he moaned, pressing his face into the side of your neck to bite your skin softly.

"I love you so much that I'm insatiable when it comes to you."

A/N: In love with the idea that Neuvillette is a proper man who gets absolutely pussy drunk

#genshin impact x reader #genshin smut #genshin x reader #diluc x reader #diluc smut #kaveh x reader #kaveh smut #neuvillette x reader #neuvillette smut #wriothesley x reader #wriothesley smut

[kaciidubs]

Imagine like waking up and being needy because wouldn’t if your boyfriends are Felix and chan. So you decide to be nice and start to press kisses all over Chan’s neck sometimes slightly biting down on the skin of his soft neck, when you feel Felix hands wander over your chest and suddenly you hear his deep voice right beside your ear “wanna make our Channie feel good Sunshine?” Felix deep voice made you shiver but you nod anyway moving your hand downward to Chan’s morning wood, as you slowly push your hands inside Chan’s boxers while Felix whispered praises in you ear with his deep voice. As you wrap your hand around Chan’s dick he whines in his sleep letting out a breathy moan at the feeling of your soft hands around him.

Now u can suffer with me from the thought of pleasing both chan and Felix 🫠🫠🫠

Oh bestie, this is more than just pleasing Chan and Felix, this is everything I could have asked for with poly Chanlix - Felix being the instigator and you being the partner in crime to all his naughty ideas~

Felix murmuring against your lips how you should give Chan something nice to wake up to since he stayed up for so long, and you aren't deaf to his insinuations - especially when he uses your hand to reach behind and feel Chan's morning wood.

The sheer amount of ease it is to get Chan into his back without making too much of a fuss, followed by the both of you shuffling midway down the bed; you on one side of Chan's legs, with Felix on the other.

This is one of the moments you're slightly annoyed he chose to wear underwear to bed, but with two sets of hands it doesn't take long for that problem to be remedied. Before you know it, you're peppering kisses up Chan's cock while Felix is whispering hushed praise.

"Just like that, sunshine, don't wanna wake him up just yet." "Make sure to get it wet, you know how he is - need me to help you?"

That's when you're both making out with Chan's dick between both your lips - all tongue and spit and needy whimpers and whines; you suck on the tip while Felix works the shaft, before alternating effortlessly.

It doesn't take long for the telltale signs of Chan's impending orgasm, the throbbing against your tongue welcome as Felix eggs you on to deepthroat.

"Fuck, look at you - doing such a good job angel-"

He's cut off by a sharp gasp, Chan suddenly snapping himself awake before moaning loudly, hands scrambling to hold onto something for his own sanity.

"W-What- Oh, fuck, fuck, 'm gonna-"

His orgasm takes him by storm, his cum costing your tongue and filling your mouth faster than he can comprehend.

You take it with a needy moan, humming around his tip before pulling away; only to tug Felix toward you and pressing your lips to his, parting them to let the cum slip into is own mouth.

The moan he let's out matches your own as you both make out with the taste of Chan's cum in your tongues - it's hot, it's sloppy, and so, so satisfying.

Chan watches you both, breathless and dazed, until the two of you turn to gaze at him with desire plainly written on your features. "So... I guess neither one of you wants to be able to walk today."

[Unedited]

#✧. ┊ kacii answers #✧. ┊ lovely chqnverse #skz smut #stray kids smut #bang chan smut #bangchan smut #lee felix smut #lee yongbok smut #bang chan x reader #bangchan x reader #lee felix x reader #lee yongbok x reader #Poly! Chanlix

[tenseoyong]

don’t wake me | e.m

Ko-Fi | Masterlist

somnophilia, unsafe sex, very little foreplay, “princess”, cream pie

shoutout to the girlies that like the idea of morning sex but would probably bite their partners head off if they woke you up this early

Eddie relished in the little sounds you made. Hushed moans, quietly cursing each time Eddie bottomed out, how your fingers digging into the soft skin at his sides when he crammed his hand between your sweaty bodies to relentlessly rub your throbbing clit, eagerly pushing you towards your end--his name never sounding so good to him than hearing it fall from your pretty lips, “E-Eddie, fuck! I’m so c-close—oh my god—right there, there! Feel’s so good, Eddie, I—”

Eddie didn’t anticipate the grand finale to be opening his eyes, staring at the back of your head as you slept soundly beside him. A dream, Eddie groaned and stretched not unlike a cat before settling back against his worn out mattress. The sun had barely begun to rise, Eddie’s ridiculously thin curtains and the various holes and tears in the fabric unable to keep the pesky sunshine from flowing into his messy room, threatening to rouse  the sleeping form beside him. He’s always said the worst part about the warming weather as summer began it’s approach yet again, was the earlier mornings and longer hours of sunlight. And of course, that damned light drifting through his window waking him up from a very interesting dream, a rather wet one, if the aching morning wood he was currently sporting was anything to go by.

He could still hear your pretty gasps of pleasure, playing on repeat in his mind as he let his eyes drift down your relaxed form—taking in your messy hair from a rather active night before, to your soft body, curves covered by one of his old band tees you’d taken to stealing as sleepwear, right down to where you’d kicked the blankets off you in you sleep, leg hitched up and shirt riding up just far enough to show off the fresh panties you’d thrown on the night before. With his imagination still running wild and the burning desire growing in him, Eddie shuffle across the mattress, hooking his arm around your waist and tugging your body against his front. Letting out a small sigh of contentment at the welcomed warmth you radiated alone with the small bit of relief he gained from pressing his hard length against your ass, gently rocking his hips against you in an attempt to not wake you in the process. 

In the mix of memories of the previous night, and the fantasy of his dream bleeding together in his head, Eddie’s mind briefly wandered back to a conversation you had had weeks ago, the first time Eddie had woken, needy and horny, and tried to wake you for some morning fun—”Eds, you know I’m not a morning person, I-I love you, right, but I love sleep, like, a massive amount, too. Just...do you have to wake me up for it? Can’t you just...get yourself off, with me, without waking me up?”

He couldn’t lie and say at the time he wasn’t flabbergasted by the notion of fucking you while you slept, let alone come to terms with the fact you were the one to suggest in, and sign off on it—but today, Eddie was more than happy to oblige and let you sleep in as much as you wanted.  Shifting his hips back just enough to give him room to pull his own boxers down just far enough to release his aching cock; spitting into his hand, Eddie grasped himself in his own fist, hissing against your hair at the slightest bit of stimulation. Working his clenched fist over the sensitive tip, gently thumbing at his leaking slit before returning his attention to you—the one arm tucked beneath your head awkwardly bent to try and get a handful of your chest while his other, spit and pre-cum covered hand tugged your little panties until they rested just below your ass, the way you had your leg thrown to the side leaving your pussy on full display and, thankfully, easily accessible without having to jostle you around much.

With a small amount of effort, to not have to slip the arm you currently were laying on out from under you, Eddie blindly reached over the side of the bed with his free hand, running his fingers along where the mattress met his box spring before finally settling on the object of his search—a small, mostly used bottle of lube he kept tucked between the mattress for moments not so unlike this, when you were just too impatient with one another to properly warm up, and needing this extra aid to avoid some discomfortable sex—and with a skill that came from using it so much, managed to twist the top off one-handed and moved to let a small glop drip, right onto your waiting pussy before tossing the bottle across the room, immediately putting his fingers to work. You’d barely jolted an inch in your sleep, the sudden touch against your probably still sore pussy still having some reaction, even if you were dead asleep; gentle spreading the room temperature lube all across your pussy lips, softly dancing his fingers through your folds before stopping at your opening, cautiously sinking two thick fingers into the waiting heat. Eddie didn’t even try to stifle the groan that rumbled, deep in his chest and the tight warmth enveloping his fingers, remembering only all too well how fantastic the same feel felt around his cock—that jumped the moment he sunk his fingers into you, another slow drizzle of pre-cum leaking, staining your-his-shirt while slowly, yet firmly beginning to pump his fingers, gently scissoring them. Eddie was the definition of impatient at the best times—and this was one of those times--but he had to know you could at least take his cock without doing any further damages. 

Managing to pull the arm you laid on out from under you enough to be able to lean up on his elbow, Eddie took careful watch of your sleeping face, peaceful and calm, eyelids twitching just the slightest whenever the tip of his fingers brushed against your g-spot; determining you as loosened up as much as you could be while asleep, Eddie withdrew his fingers, chest tightening at the semi-suction cup grip your pussy had on his digits before hastily grasping his cock once again, smearing the mixture of lube and your juices across his length, giving himself a few good tugs before guiding the flushed head to your pussy and sunk himself to the hilt. 

You twitched lightly at the intrusion, a small huff interrupting your steaming breathing but otherwise remained unconscious; Eddie, though, smashed his mouth against your clothed shoulder, fighting to not sink his teeth into your skin as shakes of pleasure ran from the top of his head to the tips of his toes. He pushed your shirt up, grasping at the your hips, sticky, slick covered fingers digging into the plush meat as he withdrew a mere inch back only to sink back into your heat, more so humping at your behind than actually thrusting, every pull of his hips sounding like velcro from your lube covered skin sticking together.  “Fuck, m’princess,” Eddie tried to keep his volume down, he really did, but what could he do when his mouth was pressed to your throat, and you felt so good he couldn’t begin to stifle his moans. “Still so fuckin’ tight, even after I fucked you good last night—s-shit—greedy lil’ cunt was made to be used, over’n’over huh?” 

Carefully, Eddie pushed at your hip, rolling you to half lay on your stomach, giving him more room to fully withdraw his glistening cock and then quickly bottoming back out, sharp hips pressed right up against your ass, rutting as deeply as humanly possible, trying to force every inch of his cock into that soaking wet, warm heaven between your legs; lewd, wet noises sounding off every wall, mixing in with his harsh pants and the soft slaps each time his hips connected with your ass. “Fuckin’ perfect pussy—my perfect lil’ princess—absolutely filthy, lettin’me use you while you sleep like this—fuckin’ filthy...”

Eddie was suddenly grateful, knowing he wasn’t going to last very long, already feeling the ache in his balls, thankful you weren’t awake to see him lose his load this quickly—he’d surely never live it down—but that was for him to know and you to, hopefully, never find out. 

“Gonna make me cum, an’ you don’t even know it, don’t even know what you do to me...” Sweat across his forehead had begun trickling down his temple, breathing getting heavier. With each uneven thrust, Eddie’s grip on your waist grew tighter—it’s a wonder he hasn’t woke you—he remembers not to bite, when the flood gates open and he jerks wildly as he cums and he feels your warm cunt suddenly getting that much warmer, instead sucking a harsh bruise onto the already marred skin of your neck; Eddie’s hold on you is so tight he fears he might just suffocate the life out of you before he manages to wake you as he slows his pace, just barely rocking against your used body until the overstimulation is too much to handle and he’s forced to pull out. The last scrape against your tight walls, the sudden cool air against his slick-covered cock has Eddie gasping and swearing like he’d been jabbed with a fork, hastily pulling his boxers back up before collapsing on his back; sweating, out of breath, and completely satisfied—with the sex and that he hadn’t woken you up—before the stickiness all over him became too much to ignore.

Throwing one more look at the sun making its way higher in the sky, Eddie rolled back over to you, gently brushing some stray hairs away from your face and oh so carefully inched his arm out from under you, pressing a final kiss to your head, “S’good for me, my princess...” Eddie left you with one more fond smile, before clamoring from the bed in search of a rag to clean you both with.

#stranger things smut #Eddie munson smut #Eddie munson scenario #Eddie munson x reader #shorts #x reader

[thecreelhouse]

part time soulmate, full time problem

Paring: Gator Tillman x Alt Fem!Reader (she/her pronouns) || MDNI!

Summary: It’s been a full week since you and Gator came back into one another’s lives, unwillingly, before ending up snowed in together. Something’s changed enough in the last 7 days leaving you to wonder just how strong your feelings really are for him.

Word count: 8.4k+

CW/Tags: fluff, exploring feelings, language, discussions of harder/taboo kinks (knife and gun play is mentioned), super brief blood play, spit kink, somnophilia, sub!Gator/dom!reader, oral sex (m receiving), handjobs, femdom, brief self esteem/body issues with reader again, body neutrality/positivity, hurt/comfort, Roy Tillman being an absolute waste of space as usual

Series Masterlist // Read on AO3

A/N: hey y’all!! please heed the content warnings before reading. It’s not incredibly insane and mainly discussing the rough stuff, but I just wanted to add the warnings of rougher kinks just to be safe!! Things are gonna ramp up from here on out, so get ready lmao. Thanks for all the support on this so far, and I hope y’all enjoy <3

Day 7

After catching up on much needed sleep, the rest of your sixth day snowed in with Gator was spent pretty much like the last few days; making up for lost time with updates on each others’ lives, and sex. …. A lot of sex.

Oh, and cleaning the air mattress, and all the blankets after Gator proudly made you squirt. Again.

By the next day, you could feel just how sore your entire body was from everything you and Gator had done since the tension broke. The pain is what wakes you up, and for once, you were up before Gator. He’s sound asleep, steady breaths and occasional soft snoring filling the silence in the room. You can’t take your eyes off of him, hoping to God he was actually asleep; you know it’s kind of weird, but he just looks so… peaceful.

Yeah, because he’s not running his mouth right now.

If you weren’t so attentive to him, you might’ve missed the quick whimper he makes in his sleep, stirring and adjusting himself. His hand subconsciously finds its way to his morning wood, still somehow fast asleep in the process.

Now you really can’t take your eyes off of him. A throaty groan pushes out from behind his lips as his hand unknowingly palms himself. It’s like this for a little bit, but then he moans your name, and you’re gone, just like that.

Yeah, maybe you’re too sore for sex, but that doesn’t mean you can’t play with him.

“… Gator?” You whisper, testing the waters. He gives no response before turning over, facing away from you, moving his hand away from his member in the process.

You let some time pass before he settles down, back into slow, steady breaths. He’s not making any noises now, nor is he squirming or touching himself. As quietly as possible, you shift closer to him, inch by inch, pausing every so often to make sure he’s still asleep. By the time you press against his back, spooning him, he’s still knocked out.

The outline of Gator’s back muscles are ever so slightly noticeable through his white sleep tee; you can’t help yourself, tracing softly along the details. From there, your eyes catch on some of the freckles on his neck, giving into an urge to kiss him softly on those spots. He stirs, but only for a moment, with a content sigh. You bite back a giggle, wondering if this is affecting whatever wet dream he was just having about you.

Your hands wander, tracing over his soft but muscular arms, still in awe at how he’s not the lanky, awkward boy you grew up with. One hand reaches over to the front of Gator, gently palming him. He stirs again, flexing his hips sleepily into your touch as his breathing picks up just a little.

Again, you check to make sure he’s not awake, whispering, “Gator?”

Nothing.

Sneakily, your fingers push past the waistband of his boxers, making contact with the soft, warm skin of his hard-on. Brushing past the tip, you feel precum stick to your fingers, and use that to slowly stroke him with a feather-light grip.

Gator bucks unexpectedly into your hand, and you have to bite back your own moan to keep quiet. He murmurs something incoherent, with your name to follow again. It sounds so sweet coming from him, while he’s unknowingly needy in his sleep. Without much warning, he rolls back over, and you’re quick to move and give him space, hand still on his cock.

Again, you wait for any sign of Gator waking up, but nothing happens. He just goes back to the relaxed state he was in moments ago. You take advantage of the calm before the storm, sliding under the comforter to carefully pull his length through the slit in his boxers. He sighs, but it ends there, so you dribble some spit quietly onto the head, mixing it with his precum with your hand to stroke him again.

Another sigh from Gator, another pause from you. He goes back to being quiet and still, so you begin jerking him softly again, leaning down to suck on his balls at the same time. A heavy breath shudders out of him, but you keep going, keeping things slow and soft. Every so often, obscene sucking noises come from your mouth’s suction on him, and little pleasured noises from him follow.

Gator moans your name again, hips bucking lazily, so you back off, softly kissing along his inner thigh, leaving a trail of spit behind as he calms down. Again, you wait, then go back to work, licking slowly up the underside of his cock, along the pulsating vein, signaling how needy he was without any awareness.

You softly suckle on his tip, humming as you taste him. The vibration of your noise causes him to whine, muttering something like, “Need you,” along with chanting your name a few times. It motivates you to keep going, taking your time as you push your mouth onto his length, hollowing your cheeks out as you feel him reach the back of your throat. You stay there for a moment, trying to suppress the gagging noise begging to escape as you choke on him.

His cock kicks in your mouth, and you have to pull yourself off before you start making louder sounds, but when you do, he whines even louder.

“Don’t stop,” He rasps out, beginning to pant as you start bobbing up and down on his length. “M’god… please don’t stop.”

You throw the covers off of you, checking if he woke up; Gator’s still sleeping, but you can tell he’s on the edge of consciousness by the way his hands grip at the sheets by his sides. He murmurs something quickly about wanting to touch you, pleading if you’d let him. You don’t answer, you just keep sucking him off, humming around him again.

Then Gator says something that throws you off; “Darlin’… please... Untie me… wanna touch ya’…”

You glance at his hands, knowing you never restrained him, but you can’t help groaning on his cock while you watch his fists ball up, frustrated he can’t touch you in his dream. The thought sends blood pumping straight to your core, heat blooming throughout your body. At first, you don’t realize you’ve straddled one of his legs, grinding lazily on him as you deepthroat him, too. Not really even to get off yourself, just needy for some kind of friction. His leg tenses up, causing you to yelp, muffled by his cock in your mouth.

That’s when Gator’s eyes flutter open, blinking a few times as he looks down at the sight in front of him, lifting his head to get a better view. It takes a bit for him to escape the sleepy fog his brain’s in, but when it clears, he finally realizes what’s going on.

“Oh… oh, fuck…” His head falls back onto his pillow, hands reaching up to his face to desperately rub the sleep out of his eyes before looking back at you while you still keep a steady pace on his length with your mouth. You pull off slowly, keeping eye contact as a string of spit drags out from your lips, still attached to the head of his cock.

“Untie you, huh?” You tease before your hand takes over on him, mouth sucking on his balls again. Gator’s eyes cross before rolling back in his head, hips bucking into your firm grip.

“Is- huh? I’m not…” He can’t form a coherent thought, whether that’s from waking up or the pleasure that woke him up, you’re not sure. “You didn’t tie me…”

Your mouth makes a filthy suction sound as you release from his skin, hand stroking him faster. “No, but I kinda wish I did after you moaned about it in your sleep.”

His face goes red with eyes going wide. “Fuck… do I sleep talk? Christ… the fuck did I say?”

You shrug casually before stuffing your mouth again with his throbbing cock, and while it pains him to do so, he grabs your hair, pulling you off of him.

“Tell me what I said,” He demands, but it sounds more pathetic and needy than authoritative. You let spit spill out of your lips and onto his cock, watching it kick on contact as he muffles a groan, biting his lip.

“Gator, you’ll let me go if you wanna finish.” You threaten, quirking a brow with a smirk. His eyes narrow at you, wanting to question you further, but he stays silent, loosening his grip on your hair. “Good boy.”

Those two words drive Gator insane; he grabs your head again, but this time he pushes you back onto his cock, shoving it all the way to the back of your throat as he moans loudly. The way your throat gags and constricts around him makes his eyes roll back. His hips are twitching as he spills his seed into your mouth without much warning. He’s bucking into your mouth sloppily, shoving your face to the hilt. You groan around him, letting the liquid fill your mouth as he rides out his high.

Panting hard, Gator lets go of your head and watches you pull off, his arousal seeping from your lips before you swallow, sticking your tongue out with a smile to show you finished your work.

“Mother’f fuckin’ god….”

“G’mornin’ to you too, sunshine. Didn’t think you’d finish that fast.” You crawl up to him before wrapping yourself around him without thinking, laying on top for a moment, but then you worry you’re going to hurt him, so you begin to move. Gator grabs you and holds you in place.

“Whoever made you feel bad for bein’ on top for anythin’ is a fuckin’ asshole.” He murmurs while his hands wrap around you in return, hugging you close to him. You can feel his heartbeat pumping wildly through his chest. “M’not kidding, gimme names, babe.”

You laugh before nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck. He doesn’t laugh, though.

“Darlin’, you know you’re beautiful, yeah?”

“Pfffftt. Quit bein’ so sweet just ‘cause I swallowed.” You tease, but again, Gator doesn’t laugh. So you pull back, sitting up a bit to get a better look at his face, gauging his reaction, but can’t quite read him. “Gator?”

“I mean it.” He’s serious, but not stern, or angry. Just sincere. “If I ever said anything—“

“Oh, Gator, no, it’s totally okay. It’s not you…. I mean, I remember your shitty friends teasing me about my hips and stuff in high school, but like… people are just shitty at that age.”

Gator’s expression softens, like a puppy that’s been kicked; he reaches up to your face, and you lean into his palm, eyes closing with a small smile as you feel comfort from his touch.

“M’sorry I didn’t stop them.” His eyes search yours, realizing the hurt you’re covering up.

“It wasn’t just that. Seriously, it’s okay Gator.” You try reassuring him, your own grasp holding over his hand on your cheek. “It took a bit for me to find people I trusted when I moved. I ran into some… not so kind people when I first started dating out there. Obviously the whole ‘Midwest Kindness’ ain’t a thing on the East Coast, but I quickly learned why most folks in the city are easily pissed off; you’d be too if some group of tourists blocked the same sidewalk you’re speed walking down to get to the subway on time for work.” You’re again, making light of things, but all Gator does is give a short laugh.

“But really, aside from that,” You’re elaborating on what he really wants to hear, “some people are just garbage wherever they’re from or wherever they go. Had a couple underwhelming dates that wasted my time. One dude was a real jerk-off”

Gator, while looking puzzled, smirks at the way ‘jerk-off’ sounds with the hint of your stubborn Midwest accent that refuses to die. “Not like you to put up with that shit.” He’s not blaming you for someone else’s shit attitude, just surprised some asshole thought he had the right to ever give you shit.

But then again, he was also an asshole to you for years. Maybe it’s not his place to judge someone else when he’s no better.

“Don’t worry, I kicked his ass to the curb immediately.” You smirk.

“That’s my girl.” Gator praises, chuckling. You roll your eyes playfully.

“Dude couldn’t even find my clit. We literally have the internet at our fingertips, porn available 24/7, but the fucker couldn’t be bothered to learn how to rub one out properly.”

“Now that’s just embarrassin’.” Gator’s smug now, “Meanwhile, some motherfucker from the Midwest made you squirt twice.”

“Gator, if you don’t shut the fuck up—“

“Gimme somethin’ to put in my mouth and I’ll shut up.” He’s grinning like the smug son of a bitch he knows he is.

You tense up, legs wanting to automatically press together as your cunt throbs over his corny innuendo.

“Felt that.”

“I just woke you up with a blowjob, try to be a lil’ more humble.”

“Never,” Gator taunts, sitting up to kiss you softly while you’re still on his lap. He pulls back, looking at you with a smirk. “What do ya’ wanna do today?”

Another eye roll comes from you. “What else is there to do? Pretty sure we’ve run out of ideas since being snowed in.”

Gator thinks for a moment before shooting a mischievous look your way.

“Oh, no. I don’t like that look.” You laugh, shaking your head while you push off of him, but Gator holds you on his lap firmly.

“You’ve seen my porn searches, you should show me yours.”

Another laugh echoes from you. “Gator, I use incognito mode, like a smart, responsible adult.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” He’s reaching for your phone on the nightstand, shoving it into your hands. “Just show me what you’re into already.”

———

“You said we didn’t have anything in common,” Gator scoffs, scrolling through the playlist you made on one of the many porn sites under a hidden account. You have to hold back a laugh, watching him with a confused and bitter expression while holding your obnoxiously glitter-smothered phone case, bedazzled with a sparkly pop socket. The contrast is funnier than it should be.

“I might’ve lied a lil’.”

You’re sitting up against the wall on his bed, with a cozy hill of pillows behind you, while Gator lays back on you as he sits between your legs. His head rests on your stomach while he continues scrolling down, stopping occasionally at thumbnails of certain videos, murmuring under his breath a couple times with some profanities, or groans, sexually frustrated and overwhelmed viewing what gets you off.

Gator tilts his head back to look up at you, but his head is practically right under your tits, so that’s all he sees, and snickers. You’d consider it immature, but you’re just as amused as Gator is.

“Oh, my bad,” You comically lift your breasts with your hands, leaning over him to see his face. “These things just get in the way sometimes. Need somethin’?”

Gator suppresses laughter, pointing at your phone screen. “You really like some heavy, rough shit, huh?”

You shrug, teasingly as you let go of your chest, hitting him in the head softly.

“God, I could die happy here,” Gator jokes as he dramatically snuggles back into you, enjoying the way your legs wrap around him, too.

Passing his comment by, you answer his previous curiosity, “Depends on a lot. The situation, if I feel safe, if my partner feels comfortable and safe, too. Where we are, or what toys we have, ‘cause some you can’t just substitute with every day items, y’know?”

Sitting up further, he slots the back of his head in the valley of your breasts, like it’s completely normal. You, on the other hand, find it silly, laughter picking back up.

“What? I’m comfy!” Gator defends himself. “But no. I actually don’t know about that. What do you mean?”

“Well, like, I guess it all narrows down to personal preference and consent, but, for example, you wouldn’t use a regular candle for wax play.”

Gator turns his head, looking over his shoulder at you, brows raised in surprise. “You don’t?”

“Nope, candles made specifically for wax play burn at a lower temperature, and don’t have scents and oils that would irritate skin for some people. Usually soy wax.” You’re kind of enjoying talking about kinks like this. Nothing bad about talking about them during sex, but the two of you got easily distracted several times trying to multitask. Gator’s honestly curious, and the way he’s clueless on at least half of these things in kink has your stomach fluttering from his rare innocence.

Oh, jesus fuckin’ christ, don’t tell me this is a new kink, too.

Gator breaks your internal self scolding with an “ohhhhh, gotcha’.” He swipes up on the screen, stopping on a knife play video, audibly gulping. “So you… you’ve never tried this? You said you didn’t trust anyone enough?”

You shake your head before pressing a soft, quick kiss to his cheek, leaning over his shoulder to look at what has him tense. His hand white knuckles your phone, staring at a thumbnail of masked man balls deep in a woman tied up. He’s got a knife in hand, holding it up, but not against, the woman’s throat.

Distractedly, you lick your lips; Gator notices the action in the corner of his eye. “I- yeah. I mean, fuck, man. Like… I definitely couldn’t ever be the dom in these kind of scenes. Makes me nervous. I don’t even trust myself.”

Gator’s intrigued. “Really? Why not?”

“I dunno… kinda like the riskier kinks more in theory than in practice. But I also like them enough to at least try once. I just haven’t fucked around with anyone I felt totally safe enough to try that. Or gunplay.”

That last bit slips out; you bite your lip, hand slapping over your mouth. You’re looking anywhere else other than Gator’s face as he processes those few words, but you feel him adjust and turn around fully to get a better look at you.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. I wanted to take that one to my goddamn grave.

“You’re fuckin’ with me,” he breathes lowly. “You. Of all people. You like gunplay?! You hate guns.” His mouth feels dry and sticky as he dares to ask, “… You ever try that yet?”

‘Yet’. Sweet mother of—

With shallow breaths, you finally reconnect your gaze onto his; Gator’s feelings and thoughts written all over his face. He’s honestly horrified at first, then worried, and not understanding why anyone would find pleasure in something so dangerous, but the more he thought of it, the more it grew on him.

“I still hate ‘em, but there’s just… somethin’…” You trail off as you answer bashfully before slowly shaking your head. “And n- not yet….. you?”

Neither of you realize his hand is on your leg until he’s gripping it like a vise. He forces a throaty cough as he loosens his grasp on you.

“Me ‘neither… never really thought about it till right now, though…” Gator’s voice wanders as his words come out, sounding dazed with lust. “Wh- what do you… what’s it supposed to be like?”

With a shrug, you answer cautiously, “I think it differs from person to person. I guess that’s the case with any fetish… but the thing about gunplay that turns me on is, uh, well…”

He anxiously waits for your finished thought, watching you intently. You nervously chew your lip. “It’s okay, darlin’, you can tell me.” His eyes flicker to your lips, lingering for a bit.

“You promise you won’t judge me?”

Gator sticks out his pinky, like he did the night the two of you got drunk when the storm started. “I promise.”

Hesitantly, you link your pinky around his, and he grips it firmly with his own before releasing. You nod, taking a few breaths to calm down; this was one of those things you kept to yourself, knowing how insane it sounds.

“Um… it’s… okay, I know it’s bad, but the thought of being made to suck a handgun off while someone watches, enjoying how scared I am… it’s so hot. I wish I didn’t think it was.” You’re ashamed as the words leave your mouth, your entire body burning up with embarrassment. You can’t bring yourself to look at Gator, missing the way his jaw drops over your confession. “I think it’s like, hand in hand with the whole CNC kink. At least for me, it is.”

Gator is speechless. His breath hitches, and never releases, looking absolutely broken on the outside. When you finally look at him, your heart drops, regret flooding your body after sharing all of that.

“You good? Fuck. I’m sorry, I shoulda’ kept it to mys—“

“Fuckin’ hell…”

“You said you wouldn’t judge me,” You frown, feeling more shame for sharing your dirty secrets.

Gator shakes his head quickly. “No, no, m’not. I promise. It’s just… really confusin’ that I find it… hot?”

Your frown dissolves as a small, devilish smile plays up on your features. “I like corrupting you, Gator.”

“Don’t take all the credit, freak.” He scoffs with an eye roll, but runs his hands through your hair softly before holding the back of your head with a light, soothing touch. “Aren’t ya’ scared of getting hurt?” His attention is on your well being more than anything.

“I mean… yeah, but I think it’s part of the thrill for me. If it’s with someone I trust, and we’re both consenting in a controlled scene, then I’m into it. I think that kinda goes for everything I like.”

Gator can’t help asking, “You trust me?”

“Gator…”

“You can say no, you can be honest, it’s okay.” He reassures softly, pulling you towards him before pressing a quick kiss to your forehead. “I won’t be offended. Promise.”

You chew on your lip again before answering, “Honestly? I don’t trust anyone, even myself, dom or sub, I think it’s mostly a thing I like in theory. Would I try it with someone I trusted if given the chance? Probably. Do I trust you? Right now? Mostly. Not with anything risky like this, or knife play… but it’s not personal. Just something I really, really want to be sure I do with the right person if ever.”

Gator nods while his grip slides to your hips, beginning to understand you’ve thought this over carefully, too. “Just promise me somethin’?”

“What is it?”

“If this,” he motions between the two of you, “doesn’t last, if ya’ do it with anyone else, be safe. Okay?”

You catch yourself thinking, I wouldn’t want it to be anyone else but you. You push the thought away, but Gator notices the way your brows scrunch together.

“What’s up?” He asks, but you duck your head onto his shoulder, not responding as you groan, nervous. He shrugs his shoulders to get you back up, but you don’t move. “Talk to me, darlin’.”

You sit up but can’t look him in the eye, murmuring words into a jumbled mess, “Idon’twantittobewithanyoneelse.”

Gator chuckles, “What was that?” He slips two fingers under your chin, directing your gaze to his gently. “One more time for me.”

Your skin feels like it’s on fire and shivering all at once. “You keep mentioning ‘if things last’… are you trying to say something else?”

“What do you— oh. Oh. No, darlin’. M’sorry if I worded it wrong.” He’s earnest in his tone, giving soft, sweet eyes with a warm gaze. “I just— I didn’t want to assume anything would be more outside of this whole snowed in together thing, that’s all. I don’t wanna tie ya’ down, m’sure ya’ still wanna enjoy yourself when you go back home.”

‘When you go back home.’

You’re baffled by his words. “What makes you think that?”

Gator laughs, but it’s void of much if any humor at all. “‘C’mon, you’ve been having the time of your life out there. I can’t compare to the guys you’ve dated in the city…. ‘Cept that one dude that couldn’t find your clit. He’s got nothin’ on me.” You can tell he’s trying to joke it off, but it’s obvious how the thought of you finding better so easily hurts him.

In the past week, you went from hating one another, to keeping things cordial, to amping up tension you hadn’t even noticed until moments before you touched one another, to fucking each others’ brains out, and now… this.

Nothing’s been labeled. There’s no declaration of any certain feelings, but they’re still there, for the both of you. The sexual tension broke days ago, but there’s still some kind of… romantic tension, hanging heavy in between and over the both of you.

It’s a tension neither of you are certain of how to break, or even address at all.

Sighing, you speak before you can fully think, “Gator… I said I like you. I have feelings for you, y’know.”

Making a noise somewhere between a laugh and a scoff, he nods. “I know. I like you too, y’know.”

You so badly want to open up further into your feelings for him, tell him how much you love—

No. No no no no no. This wasn’t supposed to happen. You’re just infatuated for the moment. Nothing more. Just strong, intense feelings that—

“Fuck.” You don’t mean to say that out loud, but you do, and Gator’s smile fades. “Can we… figure this out maybe tomorrow? Or something? I like you, Gator. I really do, despite all the fuckin’ odds and times I wanted to fight you— wait. How are your knees doing?”

That makes Gator actually laugh, “You still get sidetracked easily. Some things don’t change, huh?”

“Shut up.”

“S’cute, always was.”

“Gator.”

“Yeah, yeah, they’re fine, look,” Gator awkwardly maneuvers to slide his pants down past his knees. He stopped using bandages; the cuts were mostly healed and faded reds and pinks. “They’re actually healin’ a lot faster than I expected.”

“Huh, wonder why that is.” You tease as you run your fingers over the healing cuts, now turning into little speckled scars, and Gator playfully pushes your hand away before he shrugs, kicking his pants off fully.

“Not sure, I think it had somethin’ to do with the angel that wanted to kick my ass but helped me instead.”

“Yeah, you’re right, the guys in the city ain’t like you at all. You’re the corniest man in the world.” You giggle, eyes rolling.

Gator rolls his eyes in return, before tackling you in a hug, pushing you back into the pillows, earning a surprised yelp from you.

“I’ll gladly wear that title with pride if those corny lines still make you smile.” He shoves his face into your neck, blowing raspberries against your skin, earning louder giggles from you.

“Gator! Enough!” You try scolding him, but can’t hold in the laughter.

This. This is what you want. Soft, sweet moments with someone you care for, someone who knows you, in between sex beyond your wildest dreams. What you’ve always wanted, with anyone, but especially with Gator. Just accept it already.

Gator pulls back as he hovers over you, eyes searching yours for a moment. “Alright, alright. I’m done.”

You cover your neck with your hands, laughing nervously as you anticipate more of his nonsense. “You’re not.”

“I am.”

“Promise?”

Gator goes back to tickling your skin, blowing raspberries again along your neck where your hands aren’t covering.

“That’s it, you’re goin’ to jail, bud.” You tease between laughs while he tugs your hands off your neck. “There’s definitely a law against this.”

“Can’t arrest me, I am the law.” He teases in between his actions.

“You are not,” You argue, laughing involuntarily as he continues. “Gator, you’re askin’ for a fight!”

“Yeah, sure sounds like it.” He stops, only to replace his actions with a gentle bite to your skin, making you gasp at the sudden change. “What? No protestin’ now?”

You don’t answer as he nips at you again, earning your breathy gasps while he makes his way up to your jawline, love bites turning into soft kisses.

“Huh, why the sudden change, darlin’?” He reaches the corner of your lips, kissing again, but when you turn your head to kiss him back, he pulls away, again, flashing his smug grin.

“Gator, quit bein’ a tease.” You pout.

He’s about to quip back, but his phone goes off, triggering annoyed groans from both of you. Sitting up as he straddles you, he grabs it and answers, immediately wincing as his dad’s voice shrills through the other end.

“Yeah, the snow’s been bad here, too.” He’s beyond annoyed, and you can tell. He’s been growing more and more fed up over time with Roy, especially in the past week alone. “What? Shovel the entire— are you fuckin’—“

Roy’s shouting something about how disrespectful it is to cuss at your own father, and Gator rolls his eyes. You catch the tail end of his scolding, hearing, “Wouldn’t kill ya’ to be useful, for once.”

To say that angers you is simply an understatement. It’s taking everything within you to not grab Gator’s phone, and scream at his father for all the damage he’s done to his son.

Hell hath no fury like a woman enraged.

Gator can tell you’re ready to snap, and he shakes his head, mouthing, “Don’t. It’s okay.”

It’s not okay, though. It never was. It never will be. What did either of you deserve to have such terrible, manipulative, abusive fathers?

“Yeah. I’m listening.” Gator reluctantly answers, eyes falling shut while he sighs out his anger. “You can’t get one of your guys to bring a plow over? Y’know I can’t get the entire driveway cleared before y’all get back.”

You go to reach for the phone, but Gator leans back further from you, again mouthing “Don’t. Please.” He looks… scared. It pains you to see him so stressed and tortured just simply trying to appease his father’s bullshit. You lean back and nod, and Gator reaches back for your hand, giving a gentle squeeze as a ‘thank you’.

“I ain’t makin’ her do that, that’s not why she flew home, y’know. She didn’t even get to spend Christmas with her parents, because you—“

Gator stops himself, knowing the consequences of his words for either of you wouldn’t be worth it. The yelling continues, and all Gator can do is just take it until Roy’s done with his grown-ass temper tantrum.

Your anger bubbles inside you, ready to spill over, but you’re trying your hardest to keep calm. Gator can fight his own battles, but you know he’s always felt like it was better to let his dad just take things out on him, like an emotional punching bag. It’s hard just letting this slide when all you want to do is take care of Gator.

If you can’t stand up for him, you can at least give him a justified distraction.

Letting go of his hand, you slide your hands down your own body before reaching between his open legs, lightly dragging a finger around his length, still covered in his boxers. Gator looks down at you, covering the phone’s speaker before hissing, “What are you doing?!”

You only smile sweetly in return, flashing false innocence. His eyes narrow as he glares down at you, until you palm him, and he has to bite down hard onto his bottom lip to hold any noise back. A trickle of blood bubbles up from the self-inflicted wound, staining his bottom lip. With his free hand, he grabs both of your wrists together in a firm grasp, jaw set as he grits his teeth, shooting daggers with his stare.

“Yeah. Fine. We’ll shovel the fuckin’ driveway.” Gator’s desperate to end the call because he thinks you’re being a major brat, as usual. Your face falls; you just want him to feel good. He notices the way your attitude shifts, and rushes his dad off the phone. “I gotta go, since you want this damn driveway cleared by hand.”

Roy continues yelling on the other end, but Gator hangs up before tossing the phone aside. His grip loosens along with his jaw, bringing your wrists to his lips, kissing both of them gently. “Fuck, m’sorry baby. Are y’okay?”

Your voice is soft, not scared, but concerned you upset him further. “I’m okay, I’m sorry for touchin’ ya’, I just wanted to help you feel better. Wasn’t tryin’ to brat out this time, I swear.”

Gator pulls you to sit up and hug you tight. “I’m so sorry, darlin’.”

“It’s okay, you had every right to think I was pullin’ some shit, like the first time it happened.” You’re referring to the day the two of you finally broke the tension, and how it was kicked off by you grinding on Gator’s lap as he spoke to his father on the phone. “Won’t do it again, I promise.”

“No apologizin’, I was just overwhelmed, but it doesn’t excuse me bein’ angry.”

“It was kinda hot, though. M’sorry about your lip.” You pull back to look at him, make sure he’s alright.

“Huh?” He touches his lip, fingers pulling away with sticky blood. “Shit, I didn’t even realize.” Gator huffs out a laugh as he shakes his head. “What were you tryin’ to do anyway?”

Without a second thought, you grab his hand, slipping his fingers into your mouth, tongue swirling around the blood on his skin. You’ve got a look that seems innocent enough on the surface, but by now, Gator knows better with you. His jaw drops a bit while watching you, feeling the warmth and softness of your mouth, noticing the little bit of red tinted spit that dribbles from your bottom lip, onto your shirt.

“We’re- we can wash that later,” Gator murmurs, unable to respond properly to what you’re doing to him while mentally losing it over your actions. You nod and hum around his fingers before pulling them out, now blood free.

“M’kay. Can I make you feel better? Or try?”

He nods quickly, “Yeah, please. If you still wanna—“

“Get up, baby.” You order, but it’s not harsh. As Gator moves, you settle back into the pillows against the wall, holding your arms out for him. As he moves to lean forward, you hold him back by extending your arms, pushing back on his shoulders with your hands. “No, turn around. Like before.”

So, he does that, and settles back against your body, watching the way you wrap your legs around his, lazily pinning them to the bed.

“Gator?” You kiss his neck while your hands splay out onto the tops of his thighs, caressing up and down as far as your arms let you. He shivers under your touch.

“M’yeah?”

“Is it okay if I cuff you this time?”

He chokes on air before nodding wildly. His voice cracks with desperation as he answers “Please. Please.”

“Yeah?”

“Uh-huh,” He breathes out, willingly placing his arms behind him with ease. “They’re on the f- frame behind you.”

You’re surprised he’s so eager, but you’re not complaining. Reaching through the pillows, your hands hit the cold metal, pulling them off with ease; he kept them unlocked since the last time he used them on you. Your touch is softer than his was when he cuffed you, and you snap them closed loosely, afraid to hurt him.

“Tighter.”

“You sure?”

Gator looks back at you as best as he can, nodding. So you push the metal into the cuffs further, but it’s not enough. He shakes his head, needily asking, “More?”

“Honey, I don’t wanna hurt ya’.” You murmur, kissing his shoulder. He shudders at the combination of your words and touch.

“You won’t. Even if ya’ did, I’d love it. Promise.”

Hesitating, you breathe deeply before giving two more clicks, leaving the cuffs snug on his wrists. “That okay?”

Gator whines, nodding as his wrists move, testing the handcuffs. The metal clinks but doesn’t budge.

Hooking your arms through and under his, you pull him back towards you, as closely as possible. As you pull his boxers down, you ask “If anything’s too much, you promise you’ll tell me to stop?”

“Promise, darlin’“ He rasps while you hold out your hand in front of his face, palm up. Before you can ask, he takes the hint, spitting into your hand.

“You catch on fast.” You praise lowly, spit-covered hand on his half-hard length, softly stroking the liquid up and down the entirety of him. “Good boy.” His cock twitches in your hand. “You like being praised too?”

Gator bites his lip, opening the wound back up right after blood dried over it. “Oh, fuck…”

“Oh, baby, don’t hurt yourself again.” Your free hand reaches up to his lips, trying to wipe the blood off, but Gator leans forward, sucking your fingers into his mouth, triggering a pleased, relieved groan from him, and a whimper from you. Pulling them out, you drag your blood-tinged-spit-covered fingers down the front of his neck before stopping, hand ghosting around his throat.

Leaning into your grasp, Gator moans while your hand still strokes him at an agonizingly slow pace. “Please?” He sounds so needy and pathetic, and it makes your heart flutter.

Hand closing around his throat with the slightest bit of pressure, his eyes flutter shut while his head lolls back onto your shoulder. He’s panting already, bucking into your hand on his cock; your legs spread his apart and pin him down tighter, keeping him still.

Precum begins leaking from his tip, so you spread it onto his length in the next round of strokes.

“This is what I wanted to do, baby.” You let go of his throat, hand traveling under his shirt to just caress any part of him you can get your touch on. “Just make you feel good.” You purr at the shell of his ear, causing him to shiver and arch his back, flexing himself into your grip further. “I’d love to do this and edge you next time. Would you let me do that to you?”

A strangled gasp echoes through the room. “N- now?”

“No—“

“Now. Please. Please, now. Right now?”

You weren’t expecting him to beg, ever.

“M’not gon’ last long if ya’ don’t.” He strains out, bucking his hips into your fist again. As his back arches again, his hands brush against your core; Gator gives a satisfied hum, feeling how soaked you are. You gasp as the wind’s knocked out of you from just a simple manipulation from his restrained hands.

“Who did this to you?” Gator’s smug at first, until your hand slaps over his mouth, shutting him up fast.

You don’t answer him, just stroke him faster. There’s a sickeningly erotic sound of the mixture of your saliva and his precum on skin; it’s saturating both his cock and your hand, making him writhe and moan.

“Who did this to you?” Your tone is sweet like sugar but your attitude is wicked. Gator clearly can’t answer with your hand blocking his mouth, but he tries to speak anyway. “Baby, I’m sorry, I couldn’t hear that. Maybe try again, yeah?”

Gator foolishly does try responding again, but once more, his shuddering, needy voice is muffled. His eyes nearly cross when you slow your heavy petting down; he’s jerking his hips, trying to regain friction and pace again, but you slow to a stop.

“I’m sorry, I thought you asked me to edge you.” The kinder your voice is, the more your words and their intent drip with venom. Gator’s face is flushed red under your palm, pent up energy and sexual frustration getting to him. “That is what you asked for, right?”

Your hand stays in place, and all Gator can do is huff through his nose, glowering at you.

“I dunno, babe, you might be more of a brat than me.”

He bites your hand, and you yelp, reeling back.

“Fuck. Fuck. Is this how you feel when I’m in control?” His chest heaves as he catches his breath, still wound up from the unfinished handjob. You begin to worry you’ve done too much.

“Gator, we can stop. Are you okay? I’m sorry if I hurt you at all or upset—“

“I’m fuckin’ pissed…” His words make you wince with guilt until he finishes his thought. “… but fuck, I love it. Is that bad?”

You’re shocked, and honestly confused. “Are you asking if I ever feel frustrated like this when you’re the dom? Fuck. All the time, but it gets me so wet for you. The morning you stopped eating me out to fuck me had me infuriated, but you know how good it felt for us both. Feelin’ that isn’t bad at all, as long as it’s consensual.”

It’s almost laughable, how you’re breaking these feelings down when he’s probably ready to break out of these cuffs if it means he’ll cum faster.

Gator nods breathlessly, turning his head as much as possible to look at you. His lips are swollen with dried blood speckling the bottom one, while his face is still red, eyes darting from your own, to your lips, fixated on both. “M’all yours, darlin’.”

“Yeah? You’re mine?”

He nods while licking his lips. “Kiss me.” He’s begging, not ordering. Not like he’s in charge, anyway.

Your hand softly winds through his hair, and his eyes flutter shut, but he grunts as you pull on his hair roughly.

“Earn it.”

Gator grunts again when your fingers wind tighter within the strands of his hair.

“Open your mouth.” You’re not playing nice anymore. Gator obeys as you tug his head back, spitting into his mouth. He gags but a gravelly groan follows. “Swallow.” Again, Gator listens, so you praise him, “Good boy.”

His cock is still painfully hard, leaking and red with need without your touch.

“Need you,” Gator rasps, trying to struggle against you to get you to make a move. Your hand slithers behind his back, hooking around his arms, still restrained behind him. Your grip tightens, and it causes him to cry out.

“You always need me, babe.” You spit into your free hand, returning to his length to finish what you started. A weak breath shudders out of him as you guide your spit and his precum along his cock. “You always have. Always will. Won’t you?”

“Mhm…” His panting picks back up, along with his hips snapping upward, fucking your hand sloppily. “Feels s’good.” He tries to touch you from behind again, but your grip holds him in place, and he whines. “Wanna touch you too.”

“Next time, honey.” You’re grabbing his balls roughly, then massaging them; the pain and pleasure clouds Gator’s mind. “Look at you, so fucking drunk on just my hand fucking around with you. You’re so fucking easy, Gator.”

“I- I am,” He gasps, groaning in disappointment as your hand leaves, but he bites his lip as you move back to his cock.

“Doesn’t take much to get you hard, huh? But you sure love thinking filthy thoughts.” You’re taunting him, jerking his cock as he tries to writhe, still held down by your legs. “You said we like the same things, but it turns out you were so much more innocent than me. Turns out it’s so fucking easy to corrupt guys like you that like to play pretend; you’re not as tough as you try to seem. You’re falling apart from my fucking hand, babe.”

“I know, I know, I know, I know,” Gator’s consumed by the pleasure, with the degradation dragging him deeper into his own version of sub-space. “Just want you to ruin me, I need you to ruin me.”

“Oh, honey, I know. I know you’ve wanted this for a long time, huh?”

“Y- fuckfuckfuck— yes!” His eyes are clamped shut as your grip speeds up.

“How long have you waited for this?”

“Sin- since— god, please—“ Gator’s so fucked up, so, so very fucked up on the way you’ve got control over him right now. “Before y’moved away. Thought ‘bout you every day for months after watchin’ ya’ leave.”

“What did you think about when you jerked off? What did you fantasize about with me?” Your voice is demanding, and he’s in the palm of your hand— literally— willing to answer anything at this point. Except, he takes a pause, and your hand releases his length; Gator cries out, pained by the loss of your touch. “Answer me.”

“I- I-“ He’s so fucked out, unable to think straight. You laugh at how overwhelmed he is, and it causes his cock to kick with desperation. “This. With you. Switchin’ with you. Makin’ you scream n’ squirt— god, please fuckin’ touch me!”

Your hand hovers over his cock, warmth radiating onto him, but not close enough to feel your touch.

“Keep talkin’, Tillman.” Your fingers teasingly flex above him.

“Never thought ‘bout half the things we did so far, everythin’ I thought of with you wasn’t nearly as- as—“ Chest heaving as his panting becomes shallow, he’s leaning back onto your shoulder, desperate for your attention. “Please, please touch me. M’gonna fuckin’ lose it, darlin’. I wanna do everythin’ with you. I trust ya’ more than anyone.”

“Yeah, I know.” You answer simply with a devilish smile. He grunts, absolutely beyond frustrated, trying to snap his hips into your palm, but your legs keep him in place. “Y’gonna be good for me?”

“Always, I- I- can be so good f’you,” Gator’s practically babbling at this point, ready to scream if you don’t touch him. “Please?”

You’re basking in the glow of this control over him, loving how easy he is to please, how easy he is to ruin. But, you did start this to distract him and make him feel better, so you know you have to end this soon on a high note for him.

You grab him again and begin stroking at the pace you left off. He sighs in relief, melting into you.

“You’re mine, yeah? All mine?” You’ve never sounded so possessive over someone before, but it’s only turning you on more.

“Yeah, yes, m’all yours baby.” He’s nearly drooling on himself as his cock throbs in your hand; he’s close to his high, losing himself in the feeling while his eyes roll back in his head. “I’m yours, I’m—“ A strangled groan cuts him off.

“Y’wanna know somethin’, Gator?” You’re talking softly, before moving to his ear to whisper, “I’m all yours, too. Ain’t no one takin’ that from ya’.”

It’s unexpected, but that is what sets him off, that’s what triggers his climax. His body shakes as he cries out, sounding so damn relieved to finally reach this point. He’s moaning your name, moaning profanities, grunting as he cums all over your hand, all over himself. “Babybabybaby—“

And with that, Gator’s gone. He’s on another fucking planet, spilling himself everywhere, body tensing and trembling as the pleasure strikes through his entire being. You can’t take your eyes off of him as he rides it all out, slinking down against you, resting limp like an old doll on your tummy as the moment of ecstasy fades away into exhaustion.

“Gator, babe, lemme get these off of ya’.” You’re gently pushing him forward, and he groans weakly; you reach for the keys on the nightstand, unlocking the cuffs as fast as you can so he can rest. When you free his hands, he doesn’t move them at first, so you move them around to the front for him. “C’mere, honey.”

You’ve got no clue how the sickeningly sweet pet names continue growing between the two of you, but you’re not mad about it. Not at all.

Gator can’t bring himself to move, so you gently maneuver yourself, slipping off the bed as you lay him back on the pillows. “Gimme a second, ‘kay?” You disappear for a few moments before returning with a towel for him, and begin cleaning him off, keeping your touch gentle and light as best as you can.

With heavy lids and heavy breaths, he watches you reach his cock, taking him into your mouth fully to clean him off. He shouts at the overstimulation, so you keep it quick, licking your lips as you shoot an apologetic smile. He uses the last of his energy to sit up shakily, grabbing you and pulling you close; he’s kissing you in his usual clumsy, yet soft way he always does.

When he pulls back with a dopey, spaced out smile, you speak your mind, “I meant what I said, Gator. I’m all yours. No one, not here, not in New York, can change that.”

All he can reply back with is, “Same,” before falling back onto the pillows, pulling you down with him. Laughing, you fall onto him, and he pulls you on top fully. You don’t second guess it, you don’t fight it, not this time. Your head rests on his chest, where you can hear his wild heartbeat attempt to settle down.

You’re kissing him all over, softly, slowly, praising him in whispers. “You were so, so good, Gator.”

He’s so out of it, almost looking stoned, when he grins at you. “Yeah?” You’re giggling at how zoned out he is. “Thank ya’ for the distraction. Helped lots.”

“Yeah.” You answer, feeling him relax and meld into the mattress, “Always here for you, Gator ”. You’re also feeling exhausted, ready to sleep this off with him. “Even if it’s just for a handjob.” You joke, earning a pinch in your side from him at that before he kisses your cheek.

Before he succumbs to rest, though, he’s mumbling into your neck, “Tomorrow I’m teachin’ ya’ about gun safety.” He pats your shoulder sleepily; he’s serious, but you snort at the way that this is what he’s thinking about after everything that just happened.

“We’re not shoveling the entire driveway?”

“Fuck no, he can fuck off. I ain’t makin’ ya’ shovel the snow. He’s a fuckin’ jerk-off.” You notice your lovely East Coast vocabulary is growing on him.

“Okay, Gator.” You’re stifling more laughter, but he’s laughing too, delirious from wearing himself out with you. “We can worry about that tomorrow. You definitely need a nap now or somethin’.”

Gator doesn’t respond, only soft snores answer back as he keeps cuddling with you on top, lulling you to sleep with him

#gator tillman x reader #gator tillman x y/n #gator tillman smut #fargo #my fics #part time soulmate full time problem #i know i said like two hours ago id post tomorrow but whoops couldn’t help myself

[slippinmickeys]

I have always had this idea of writing a fantasy-like AU where unbeknownst to her, Scully is a witch and Mulder has been cursed as her familiar, spending his nights, ‘Ladyhawke’-like, as an animal, and his days as a man. I doubt I’ll ever write a full-length fic, but wanted to exorcise the demon, and I had a few rare, free hours this afternoon.

Familiar

Dana wrapped her cloak tightly around her shoulders and looked up at the dark underbelly of the canopy. The oak leaves were still, but there was fluttering movement not high above her head. Feathered things flew in the daylight, but she knew other things, darker things, flew at night. With a swallow of unease, she began to walk more quickly.

There was an old crofters cottage by the edge of the wood past the Roman road that she could rest in if she could get to it. The roof would no doubt leak in the rain and it would be damp as a toad’s foot, but she didn’t feel comfortable out in the open—not with that creature following her. Not with the shouts of “witch!” still ringing in her ears.

She turned to look behind her and saw nothing, but she could sense the animal there, hiding in the undergrowth, biding its time. Patiently stalking her, she thought.

It had been following her for the last three days, glimpses of movement on her periphery, too quick to be human. It had been following her since she’d been run out of her village, since Alexander had whispered “conjurer” to the men as they worked in the fields, to the women as they combed the wool. It had followed her like a shadow, like the rumor that had made her leave.

She spit into the duff. Alexander . He had been her friend, but she had refused his advances. His proposals of marriage. She hadn’t explained that she wanted more from life than to be a brood mare to a villein, working a landlord’s farm, but he knew and the love he’d carried in his eyes turned quickly to hate.

A branch snapped not far behind her, and she cursed her wandering mind, her hand flying to the dagger at her belt. The blade, long and old as the Norsemen who used to land on their shores, seemed to hum as she touched it. She’d named the skean “Bite,” and like the teeth of a cat, it never needed to be sharpened.

The animal, whatever it was, was growing more bold, no longer satisfied with following her at a distance. She was tiring of being stalked, and whipped around on the old game trail, her cloak twirling dramatically around her legs. As she turned, she caught a flash of amber in the moonlight.

“Out then!” She shouted. “Show yourself and let us have it out! I have a shadow already, I have no need for a new one!”

Nothing answered her but the dull hooting of an owl.

She sniffed the air, but caught no scent and turned slowly, having no choice but to continue her lonely sojourn through the wood.

She had no idea where she would go. It had to be far, far away from the village where she’d come of age, left as a babe on the doorstep of a country peasant, wrapped in quality wool with Bite tucked into the bottom of the creel in which she lay, the basket thatched together tightly with river grasses that did not grow anywhere in the whole of the county. The mantle of “conjurer” would follow her like stink clung to the hide of a pig.

She was already the odd orphan with hair like fire, where everyone around her had pelts the color of mud. Perhaps she could lose herself in one of the bigger cities. Though how she would feed, clothe and shelter herself was another matter altogether. She had only the coin she’d sown into the lining of her cloak last autumn.

Ahead, there was a break in the line of trees with dull moonlight shining on a field of barley. The light beyond the field was the grey of twilight; dawn wasn’t far away. If she could make it to the crofter’s cottage without being seen, she could sleep the day away there, rest her head and her sore, aching feet. Leave behind the feeling of being shadowed, of being shunned.

Through the field of barley she walked, a low stone wall just west of the field in a long, unending line, the barrier denoting where one landowner’s property ended and another’s began.

She looked over her shoulder. She saw nothing. A tingling at the base of her spine, however, told her that she had not lost her shadow. Whatever it was was still behind her, though she could not see it. Perhaps it was pressed to the ground like a slinking cat. Perhaps it was something that couldn’t be seen.

The barley was still green. There were tight knots of plaited beads at the tops of its stalks that would be harvested in a few months time, the rough seeds surrounded by long, thin whiskers that grazed along the skin of her arms as she walked, like a lover’s caress.

Or what a lover's caress might feel like if she’d ever granted a man her consent. Alexander was not the only young man in town to have looked at her a bit too long, but her adopted mother had been protective and had warned her of what they might do. She’d raised Dana to be strong and quick, to be aware of her surroundings. Especially when the milites came through, collecting taxes of coin and wool. Those were the men you needed to be careful of, Old Mildred had warned her. Local men could be just as dangerous, but they would think twice being that everyone knew where they laid their heads.

“Any man who touches you without invitation,” she’d tell Dana loudly whenever a villager would look at her with want. “You wait until he sleeps and slice off his cock!”

With a pang, Dana thought of the woman who had found her on her threshold as a babe, who had raised her as her own, though she’d never married, preferring the company of milking goats and chickens. She had been dead not five months, and oh how Dana’s life had changed in that short burst of time.

Over a hill and through a field of rye she walked, ducking under a stile as the light in the sky turned grey, the last of the night’s stars winking off. There at the bottom of the dale stood the crofter’s cottage, surrounded on two sides by thick, old elms.

She picked up her step, letting the pull of the earth carry her more quickly down the hill toward her salvation. The feeling of the creature behind her was even closer now and the urge to draw Bite from its scabbard at her waist and thrust it into the night behind her was nearly overpowering. Instead, she pushed on.

She was almost to the cottage with its thick oaken door. She would be behind it momentarily and safe. But of course that’s when she stumbled over a hidden root.

She fell hard on her side, wrenching her shoulder and bruising her hip. Before she could get to her feet came the sound of heavy padded feet and another crack of branch stepped on. Raising her eyes, she finally caught sight of her pursuer. A large fox, thick of pelt and red as her own hair, darted behind one of the elms just as the rays of the sun rose over the horizon behind it, blinding her momentarily. She blinked several times. And when her vision cleared, it wasn’t a fox that stepped out from behind the old tree, but a man.

Scrabbling to her feet, she whipped Bite from its sheath despite the pain in her shoulder and held it up, the sharp tip pointed at the man who stood before her.

He was young, she saw, perhaps only a year or two older than her. With the blaze of the newly risen sun behind him, his hair looked as fleecy and golden as the fox he had replaced, though when she looked more closely, she found that his hair was brown. She couldn’t discern eye color, but could see that his chin was strong, with a longish nose that leant his face character. He was tall, too. His head nearly as high as the local Sheriff’s gelding.

“Hullo,” he said, his voice light.

She did not gift him with a reply, merely flicking her blade with a quick movement of her wrist. He would know she knew how to wield the weapon she carried.

“You’re the one the villagers call Dana,” he said. His voice was like a low mumble, though pleasant enough.

“I’m the one the villagers call ‘witch,’’’ she hissed, hoping to scare him. Instead of stumbling back in fear though, the young man merely grinned.

She stared at him a long moment, waiting for him to approach or attack, but he leaned against the tree instead.

“You’ve been following me,” she finally said, lowering Bite a bit, though only a bit. She wanted to hear what he had to say for himself.

He shrugged, lackadaisical. She felt her hackles raise.

“You don’t deny it?”

He shrugged again. “It is more an act of self-preservation than ill-intentioned pursuit,” the man explained.

She was losing her fear of him. Or the fear was turning into vexation.

That she had been convinced that her pursuer was an animal rather than a man was not helping. When the fox had walked behind the tree and the man had emerged from the other side with the very breaking of dawn, she had been confused. And confusion always turned her angry. You are too intelligent, Old Mildred had always laughed. Stupid people are always happier, smart people frequently vexed.

“You are Dana, are you not?” he asked.

“You plan to turn me in to the witch slayers?”

“I plan nothing of the kind.”

“Then I am Dana,” she said, and, on a gut feeling, re-sheathed her blade.

“I am glad to hear it,” he said, looking relieved.

“You now know my name,” she said. “I ask you to tell me yours.”

Now that the sun had risen further, he was easier to see. He had kind eyes and was wearing a tightly-woven flaxen garment dyed the color of leaves in the winter.

“I only know what they called me in the village,” he said, a wistful, almost lost look on his face.

“And what’s that?”

“Fox,” he said, with a sheepish tilt to his head.

Her stomach dipped and goose flesh spread over the skin of her arms. Still, what he said was intriguing enough. “Have you no memory?”

“I have knowledge,” he said, his eyes narrowing. He knew unknowable things, she could somehow tell. “But I have no past that I know of.”

“You sound similar to me in that way.”

His eyes sharpened. “You have no past?”

“I have a story that lacks a beginning,” she said simply. “And lately am called only ‘witch.’”

“The villagers don’t know what a witch really is,” he said. “You are not what they think you are.”

“I am not,” she agreed, standing up taller and thrusting forward her chin.

“But a witch you are,” he said, taking a small step toward her. “And I? Am your familiar.”

#the x files #fanfic #my fic #au #fantasy #ficlet

[spiriteddreams]

some adepti philosophy on dreams w/xiao

"what do adepti dream of?" the question tumbles from your lips before you can stop it. you lean against the balcony railing of wangshu inn, staring off into the distance towards mondstadt as the figure next to you stiffens. xiao pauses, what do adepti dream of?

"i don't dream." his voice is rough. i eat them, he wants to say to you. he swallows them whole, savoring the sweet aftertaste that he feels guilty for enjoying. dreams are figments of the imagination, sweet nothings that dangle hope in front of your eyes, a false sense of peacefulness. they are the opposite of the life he's had.

xiao believes there is no room for him to dream, not when his mind swims with the burdens he's carried for thousands of years. each one is a reminder, a reminder of a past that never truly died, a past that shaped his being, a past that haunts him whenever he tries to close his eyes. to dream is to wander into one's desires, xiao thinks to himself, and desires are dangerous. they fill one's head with fantasies, memories of a past unburied that leaves him clinging to those fleeting moments of hope when he shoots up in bed, gasping for air as he grounds himself with the feel of silk bed sheets.

you hum in contemplation, "i don't think that's true." xiao casts you a dry look but you've chosen to pointedly ignore it. you can feel golden eyes bore into you, his silent question on the tip of his tongue.

"everyone deserves to dream." you lean further against the railing, propping your elbow on the smooth wood so you can rest your chin on your fist. "you're no exception." xiao wants to roll his eyes and bite back a dry response. you're human, he wants to spit out. to be human is to dream. it is to dream of reaching for the stars and the moon, clinging to false fantasies that drive people forward. he doesn't quite get it, how a peaceful night of sleep can offer such comfort to someone in such a world where pain and suffering is all that he's known.

in the back of his mind, xiao thinks that if he could dream, he would. he would wish his dreams were warm and reminiscent of days he spent beneath the sun, chasing after his friends, no his family, when they didn't have to worry about miasmic creatures that had climbed their way to the surface. he would dream of the mondstadt wind, carried over the green hills and into the land of geo as he hears the faint tune of a lyre amongst the breeze. he would dream of lying beneath towering trees with you, away from the bustle of liyue harbour as you braid qingxin flowers in his hair and share bowls of almond tofu.

yet he holds back his words as you turn to face him fully, a knowing smile on your lips as if you already knew what he was going to say. instead you hold up your other hand, curled into a fist with the hint of something peaking between your fingers.

"may i?" he can't tell what's in your closed fist but he holds out his hand anyways, curiosity getting the best of him. your bare palm is warm against his gloves and he nearly flinches at the feeling. but the gentle hold you have on him is enough to encourage him to stay, to ground him in the spot and watch as you drop something into his palm.

it's a small tassel, braided with a piece of mora in the middle. he recognizes the design instantly and can't help but let his eyes drift over to the matching tassel that hangs by the vision at your waist. made in the same colour as your own vision, xiao feels his heart lurch at the offering. gifts to the adepti are nothing new, a tradition that has still lived even as liyue has shifted away from its archaic times. so why is it that this gift, braided silk threads around mora makes his heart flutter?

"if you don't want it--"

"i want it." he states firmly, clearing his throat as he realizes how fast he'd replied. you watch in silence as xiao fastens it along his waist, nimble gloved fingers tying the knot tightly. and when he looks back up at you, there's a faint hue of red dusted across his cheeks. he mumbles a thanks, thumbing at the tassel as you look at him with a satisfied expression. a comfortable silence blankets the two of you as you turn back towards the railing. this time, xiao joins you, one arm pressed up against yours as he steals one more glance at your calm features.

late at night, when xiao finishes his patrol of dihua marsh he finds himself retreating into his room at the top of wangshu inn. illuminated by the silver light of the moon he finds himself following an old routine to prepare for bed. and when he finally slips into bed his eyes find the tassel and a gentle smile crosses his features. and as exhaustion finally pulls him to rest, xiao wonders if you're dreaming of something sweet too.

reblogs and comments are greatly appreaciated! a/n: when was the last time i wrote for xiao idk? i hope he wasn't too ooc!

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #xiao x reader #xiao #yaepublishinghouse #genshin impact xiao #spiriteddreams writing #spiriteddreams

[devine-star]

Dylan x Male!Reader

Warming: SMUT! 

IF YOU READ THIS YOU ARE AGREEING TO BEING 18+!

(Side note; I HC that Dylan is a switch!) 

Early mornings at camp were Dylan’s favortie espcially when the camp was empty of kids; waiting for the new bus load to bring the rowdy kids that kept him away from his boyfriend. 

Y/n was asleep. 

The way his chest rose and fell as he slept soundly. Turning to look at his boyfriend Dylan admired everything about him the way his nose was shaped to the little splots of achne across his face. 

Dylan’s eyes wandered down Y/n’s chest reaching over to run his hands over the hair that had grown on Y/n’s chest. His hands slowly going lower until he stopped at the waist band of Y/n’s boxers. 

“Getting a bit frisky huh?” Dylan jumped at the sound of Y/n’s voice before blushing a deep red “I-I...uh” Y/n chuckled before leaning over for a sleepy kiss. 

Humming softly, Y/n reached over to pull Dylan closer to deepen the kiss. Dylan slowly leaned over to hover over his lover while swinging one leg over his waist; sitting hip to hip. 

“Someone has a little bit of morning wood huh?” Dylan pulled back staring at his boyfriend lovingly “Only for you handsome,want to help me with it?” 

Y/n paused and pretended to be thinking for a moment before smiling “Only if you help me with this,” Dylan was confused for a moment before he felt Y/n grind up into him; he was just as turned on. 

Groaning Dylan dove back in for a heated kiss. Pushing his tongue into Y/n’s mouth loving the sound of Y/n’s moans as his hands wander all over Dylan’s body. 

“I think we’re both overly dressed for the occasion,” Dylan smirked leaning back to pull his shirt over his head enjoying the way Y/n’s eyes left a burning trail against his skin. 

Y/n gently pushed Dylan off so he could shimmy his pants down, watching as Dylan did the same. 

Normally when the two would get ‘busy’ in the morning, they would just stay in a spooned postion, back to front, while the other went to town; just holding each other close. But today was different, Dylan wanted to see the pleasure on Y/n’s face. 

Pushing Y/n back onto the bed Dylan waisted no time. Reaching up to stick two fingers into Y/n’s mouth, moaning as his tongue swirled around the digits quickly as he sucked. 

Slowly pulling his fingers away, Dylan groaned softly at the pornographic sight of his boyfriend’s tongue hanging out of his mouth and the spit trail coming from his fingers to Y/n’s mouth. 

“Fuck baby, you’re going to be the death of me, you know that?” Y/n smiled innocently at him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Dylan narrowed his eyes. 

“Don’t be a brat now, I was going to take you on a trip to pound town,” Y/n laughed while shaking his head “Never say that again you big doof,” before pulling Dylan back into a rough kiss. 

Y/n gasped into the kiss as Dylan slid one finger into him then the next before pumping them quickly. 

“Shit Dyl! No warning?” Y/n moaned arching his back as he felt Dylan begin to kiss down his neck. Harshly sucking and biting the skin; knowing the two would get clowned by the other counselors late that day. 

“Want everyone to know that you belong to me,” Dylan growls roughly pulling his fingers out while hoisting one of Y/n’s shoulders over his leg. 

“This isn’t going to be our normal soft morning session is it?” Y/n asked with a soultry voice that turned Dylan on even more than he currently was “No it isn’t baby,” He places a kiss to Y/’n thigh before lining himself up. 

Hissing Y/n closed his eyes tightly when Dylan pushed in roughly “Gonna make you feel good baby boy,” Dylan mumbles rocking his hips into Y/n’s to let him adjust for a moment. 

“Don’t go easy on me Dyl, we havne’t had a session like this in a long time,” Y/n panted softly. 

The sight of Dylan balls deep inside of Y/n as he leaned over him was almost too much. The way his necklace hung from his neck along with the way he panted; obvioulsy holding back until Y/n was ready caused Y/n’s gut to stir. 

“Fucking move already Dylan, we don’t have long before the kids-” Y/n cut himself off with a loud almost pornographic moan as Dylan snapped his hips roughly. 

“Don’t.be.a.brat.” Dylan puncuated every word with a rough thrust, causing Y/n’s back to arch slightly as he cried out in pleasure. 

“Fuck Dylan!” 

The sound of Y/n yelling his name was like music to his ears, if Y/n would allow him to Dylan would record their sessions to mix into songs or just listen to them when Y/n wasn’t around to help Dylan get off. 

“Oh god baby, you gotta let me record you,” Dylan mumbled off whatever was on his mind “Want to hear you moan my name as I jerk off when you’re away at work,” Dylan moans as he bit Y/n’s calf. 

Y/n’s face flushed deeply as he heard Dylan’s pleasured mumble rants “Grab your phone baby, record me,” Dylan almost came right then and there. 

Frantically reaching for the phone he convinced Ryan to steal back from Mr. H, Dylan quickly opens his recording ap hitting the big red button to record the lewd sounds his boyfriend was letting out. 

Tossing the phone back to the nightstand, Dylan began thrusting harder; wanting every heavenly sound that Y/n let out to be recorded clear as day. 

Dylan smirked down at Y/n as his moans seemed to be a lot louder than normal “You’re getting off to this arent you?” Y/n nodded slowly “Like the thought of me listening to you as I jerk off huh?” 

“Yes! God yes!” Y/n cried. 

“Maybe the thought of me holding one of your hoodies close, smelling your cologne while I moan your name hm?” Dylan mumbles close to Y/n’s ear, moaning softly himself once Y/n mewed in his ear. 

“I know you’ve done that with my shirts,” Dylan admited softly. “I know you moan my name late at night when I’m in my cabbin,” 

Y/n didn’t reply knowing Dylan mumbled things like this when he was close to cumming. 

“Cum baby,” Y/n panted feeling his own orgasm creeping up on him rather quickly. 

Groaning to himself, Dylan reached between their bodies quickly jerking Y/n’s swollen cock roughly “Cum with me handsome,” he whispered. 

Y/n clenched his eyes shut tightly once again as his orgasm came at him like a speeding train “DYLAN!!” Y/n yelled. 

Dylan leaned back watching as Y/n spurted cum across his chest and over Dylan’s own fist while his thighs began shaking. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck” Dylan chanted as he slowly fell out of rythm for a moment before remaing still inside of Y/n as he came; groaning lowly leaning his head back. 

Suddenly the sound of someone banging rythmically on the door and fake moans could be heard “Oh Dylan!!!” 

It was Jacob and Kaityln. 

The two began laughing when Dylan slid his boxers on and swung the door open to flip them off “At least I’m getting some,” He responded crossing his arms. 

Y/n blushd while chuckling as he reached to hit the ‘Stop recording’ button on Dylan’s phone, listening to the three of them bicker back and forth. 

#Dylan Lenivy x male reader smut #Dylan Lenivy x male reader #Dylan Lenivy x reader smut #The Quarry x reader #The Quarry x male reader #The Quarry smut #Spicy Talks #SpicyTalks

[scream-play]

ACT I - SCENE II

[By the time he's about given up, freezing and just made the realization it's oh-so likely he's soon getting frostbite, a small gas station and old-looking convenient store comes into view from where he's been walking, now a quicker pace than before, the slither of hope bubbling up in his stomach for a moment as he stops to breathe in the air of the live area, finally able to relish in this newfound finding at last. The majority of people around him are wandering about on their own; there's more people that are walking in one place - some aimlessly, with no plan, while for others it's clear they've got to be somewhere in a few minutes - than he's seen the entire time of this spiel of unexpected backpacking, even though it's past midnight.]

ANDRÉ: (Pushes the brown rusted doors of the store open and glances around.)

[The tile floors under his feet are a telltale sign of how cheap this place is; the brown is really there to seem like the accumulated dirt is truly the design, but it becomes obvious it's a flimsy attempt at a lie when looked at for longer than a mere second. Crinkling his nose at the smell, he notices the only two people in the store. A customer near the back is leaning on one of the built-in coolers, eyeing the jug of milk it contains before going for the worst knock off brand - the jug is half the size it should be, it being the cheapest option.

The other person is the lone worker, a cashier behind the counter that looks handmade out of light wood, seated on a stool as his black eyes flit across the screen as he skims the words on his phone with ease. He has a pot belly, there's a gruff look about him. His seemingly jet black eyes add a sense of unease, but not as much as when he snaps his head then cranes his neck to send ANDRÉ a rough glare. While completely anxiety-inducing, it does give him a chance to get a good look at the guy. He looks to be in his late sixties.]

ANDRÉ: (Swallows a lump in his throat while giving himself a pep talk before walking up to the counter. He squints at the guy's smudged and blurred out name on the tag attached to his plain black hoodie.)

OLD GUY: (Runs fingers through hair then pulls the hood over his head, fully covering his dreads that's ends are dyed a deep red, the rest his natural hair color; a medium light brown.)

[For some odd reason, the old guy stares for a while, those few seconds that instead felt like it was forever. He never lifts the blank stare.]

[I would not be even a tad bit surprised if the dead stares and dead emotions were more of a permanent thing, ANDRÉ thinks to himself.]

OLD GUY: Whaddya want, kid?

[ANDRÉ immediately takes note of the overly funky breath and hint of a French accent.]

ANDRÉ: (Fiddles with the cross charm on his necklace that slightly brushes against his band tee.) Um, the phone. Any phone, really. I need to-

OLD GUY: Need? I don't owe you anything. (Slips his phone into the pocket of his hoodie.)

[It almost looks like the old guy has a ghost of a smile - in a sinister pretense - on his lips, not too noticeable.]

ANDRÉ: What, no, I just...

OLD GUY: (Clearly irritated with him as his jaw tightens.) Get a move on, I don't have all day. Just spit it out.

ANDRÉ: (Clears throat.) I n-need to call for for help, or anything, really. My car, it broke down not too far from here, actually. Well, by driving at least, walking though - now that's a different story. [His accidental use of the word makes the old guy even more vexed, becoming a rude mess in return.]

OLD GUY: (Said bluntly.) No.

ANDRÉ: (A deep frown flashes over his light features.) But w-why?... I don't see what I did wrong, I just-

OLD GUY: (Smirks - it's the most emotion he has shown.) I said no, you here? No buts. Now get 'outta here, son.

ANDRÉ: (Bites his lip to the point where it is probably about to bleed, as he's on the verge of tears. His frown is quite visible now, but the old guy makes it unbearably clear he doesn't care at all.)

ANDRÉ: Right, yeah. (Turns around, heading for the door, then speed walks on the concrete sidewalk as he keeps his head down and his hands in the comfort of his sweatpants.)

ANDRÉ: (Mumbling to self.) How rude.

[His full set of scruffy facial hair really makes him look the part of being a mustache-twirling evil supervillain, ANDRÉ thinks to himself.]

ANDRÉ: (A breathy laugh escapes his mouth as his eyes crinkle with tears still clouding his vision.)

#short story #screenplay #film #short film #creative writing #creative

[oomisluvr]

sakusa's first blowjob, part 1/3

synopsis: sakusa wants to take the next step in your relationship. who are you to deny him of such a request?

warnings: handjobs, blowjobs, cursing, minors do not interact.

sakusa likes to believe that he’s a confident person. he dominates the court, confidence oozing out of him in just about all he does, but he’s never given much thought to his physical attraction. sakusa gazes at himself in the mirror, gently batting a stray curl from his face.

suddenly, he doesn’t like his appearance so much.

what kind of guys did you like? should he cut his hair? straighten it? maybe he should dress differently than usual today? do you even like him to begin with?

six months. you've been together for six months and not once has he asked you to engage in anything remotely sexual. according to his teammates, that isn't normal. apparently, he's supposed to have fucked you a million different ways by now, ruining your ability to walk for days at a time.

what if you want that? is he failing as a partner?

his frown deepens. it's not that he does't want to have sex with you, it's just that, well,

he's kinda scared.

what if he's bad at sex? what if he isn't big enough? what if he can't make you finish?

he sighs, no longer wanting to look at his reflection or think these thoughts. shoving his phone into his pocket, grabbing this keys and wallet, he heads out of his dorm room to the other side of campus.

the walk to your campus apartment is uneventful, but he feels stressed nonetheless. stopping by the mini-mart to buy you some snacks, his mind wanders once again.

i shouldn't rush this, he thinks, we can take baby steps. start with some smaller stuff and work your way up to the big event. a plan, yes, a plan is what he needed.

thanking the cashier, he checks out and heads your way, suddenly feeling inspired. he checks his phone to see the time, changing his direction to your apartment.

upon his arrival, he raises a fist, giving three light raps to your door.

"it's open!" your voice calls, muffled through the thickness of the wood. he opens the door, stepping into the gentle air conditioning of your place.

"it's me."

"oh! kiyoomi, hi!" you walk over to him, kissing him on the cheek, "i wasn't expecting to see you today."

he frowns, "you need to lock your door, then. what if it wasn't me coming to visit you?" your eyes lock on the grocery bag he's carrying.

"yes. lock the door." you reach out to grab it.

"i'm serious, y/n. you need to be more careful," sakusa pulls it away from your reach. you groan.

"okay, okay, i'll be more careful. happy?"

"mm, give me another kiss and i'll think about it."

you make a show of rolling your eyes, leaning up to give him a quick peck to his lips. he smiles when you snatch the bag out of his hands, walking towards the kitchen to put the snacks away. he awkwardly follows you, wordlessly putting the goodies when they're supposed to go.

"so what's up with you? you're acting weird, did something happen?" your small hands dig through one of the bags, latching onto one of the candies he bought you.

"i just wanted to see you, believe it or not."

"that sounds even more suspicious," you begin, tearing apart the twisters he brought for you, "are you sure that's all?"

"yeah, i-" he eyes scan over your appearance, the old shorts you're wearing are suddenly looking very sexy. he wonders if you think the same way of him, "i just missed you, is all."

you take a bite of 3 twizlers at a time, hoisting yourself up to sit on the counter space by the stovetop, "you're lying. c'mon, be real with me, oomi."

he scowls, moving from his position in the kitchen to where you sit. sakusa stands above you, towering over you even while perched on the counter. he kisses your forehead, placing his calloused hands on the plush of your thighs. you know him so well. patiently, you wait for his response, chewing happily. sakusa fiddles with your skin, feeling very bashful in your presence. he thinks back to the thoughts he had earlier; he should communicate with you and tell you how he feels.

"i was wondering if you wanted to take our relationship to the next level."

"what do you mean?" you still nibble on the twizlers, finishing the last one in a single bite.

"like..." he wraps his finger around the stray thread on your shorts, "...if you want to have sex. and stuff." he cringes at the words coming out of his mouth.

"and stuff?" you giggle, poking his cheek.

"sorry, that sounded weird. it's just... we've been together for a while and we've never really talked about this kinda stuff. i know you're more... experienced than me and i don't want to disappoint you."

you reach out to stroke his face, palms resting just under his jawline. you smile when he leans into your touch, "no, no, never. i'm sorry if i made it seem like i didn't want to have sex with you, oomi. i thought i was respecting your boundaries, is all. losing your virginity can be a big deal, and i didn't want to pressure you into something you weren't ready for. i'll wait for you, though, for whenever you are ready," his skin feels soft under your thumb, a sad expression on your face.

"i-i think i'm ready, but..." he feels his blush deepen further, realizing how vulnerable he felt in the moment, "... but maybe not for everything, a-at least not right now. i think we should take baby steps."

"baby steps?" you softly smile.

"yeah, like the smaller stuff so we can get comfortable with each other before we do the big stuff."

"like?"

"like... we can, uhm, touch each other," god, this feels embarrassing to say out-loud, "and do things with our hands and mouths," your fingers comb through the thin hairs at the base of his neck; sakusa feels like he's floating. you feel so soft.

"touch each each other?" you lightly push him off of you, sliding down from the countertop. still maintaining eye contact, you slowly move to pull your hair into a high ponytail, "i mean... there's no time like the present, right?"

sakusa feels an inkling on where you're going with this, and plays into your advances, not wanting to come off as desperate, "i- yes, but, no. i mean, not if you don't want to. me personally, i-" his throat closes up when he feels your soft hands run over the waistband of his sweatpants.

you sink down to your knees, batting your lashes up at him, "are you sure, kiyoomi? we don't have to do anything, you know."

"please, yes," his voice squeaks when you run your palm over the print in his sweats, "this is fine. "i-it's okay. i like when you touch me."

you smile at him, your grip on him getting tighter. sakusa has to stifle a whine the threatens to spill out of his lips. playfully, you tug down the front of his sweats, lightly running a finger over his dick, feeling his erection strain against his boxers, "baby steps, huh? i'll take things slow then, just for you."

finally pulling down his boxers, you mentally celebrate at the sight before you. his dick stands hard against his toned abdomen, a pearly bead of pre-cum bubbles at his tip.

you take him into your hands, running your index finger across his slit, collecting the pre that's accumulated during the time you've been teasing him. he feels so embarrassed; you hadn't even begun to do anything, yet he's fully erect, dribbling pre-cum. he wants to cover his face, but kiyoomi can't seem to pull his eyes away from you.

you pull your hand back, spitting in it, and grabbing the base of his dick, building a languid, slow pace that knocks the wind from his chest. holy shit, he thinks, this is really happening. he has to remind himself to breathe when you focus your hand movements to his tip, maneuvering your hand in circular motions and rolling your wrist to keep the fluidity. your other hand finally comes up, moving to quickly pump the rest of him.

"o-oh, fuck," sakusa has to grip the counter, thighs shaking, "holy shit, that feels good," his voice cracks, but he can't bring himself to care, throwing his head back and releasing a series of moans.

"can i use my mouth?" you sweetly ask, now solely stroking his shaft, leaving the tip alone as to not deliver too much stimulation at once.

"mm, ye-yeah," sakusa squeezes his eyes tightly at the thought, "yeah, go for it. please."

you stop your movements and sakusa forces himself to choke down a whine. he's breathing heavy, eyes still shut because he knows that opening them will bring him to an orgasm. the vulgarity of the situation makes his dick twitch in your hands.

lowering his head, he finally opens his eyes, feeling blessed by the sight he sees. your pretty mink lashes make you look like an angel, your small hands wrapped around such an intimate area, fingers just barely touching. your eyes carry so much weight behind them; promises of what you want to do to him, the millions of ways you'll make him yours. gently, he brings a hand up to your head, thumbing the hair of your ponytail.

"look at me, kiyoomi," you voice sultry, yet demanding, and sakusa can't help but listen to you, pupils blown wide.

you lick his slit, dragging your heavy tongue across one of his most sensitive areas, your right hand moves to deliver long strokes. not wanting to make him wait any longer, you put your lips around him completely, hollowing your cheeks as you take him as far as you can go, the fine hairs of his pelvis tickling your face. relaxing your throat muscles, you swallow around him, once, twice, constricting his dick with the smooth muscles of your throat.

"oh my god, baby, just like that," you feel the hand on your ponytail tighten, but kiyoomi doesn't force you down, "yeah, yeah, fuck, you're so good to me, shit," he moans through the pleasure.

seeking oxygen, you come up for air, the wetness from your saliva giving you the slickness to jerk him at a faster pace, your grip on him tightening. his stomach clenches as he fights back an orgasm, mind clouded with thoughts of you.

diving back in, you bob your head up and down his length, your hands working what doesn't fit into your mouth. sakusa's hands fly up to grab the counter, his knees threatening to buckle.

"s-shit, y/n, ah, fuck," he groans over the sounds of slick, "i-i think i'm gonna cum, y/n. wait, i'm gonna cum."

you move your head back, opening your mouth right below his tip, sticking your tongue out flat; a silent invitation to cum in your mouth. your right hand stays where it is, speeding up the pace of your strokes, your left hand moves back, massaging his balls between your fingers. sakusa's face is beet red, your generosity getting the best of him. throwing his head back, he groans loudly, stomach tensing as white ropes of cum paint your face and tongue.

"o-ooh, fu-u-ck!"

you deliver tightened, heavy strokes, slowing your movements to not overstimulate him, milking him of everything he's worth. looking down at you with lidded eyes, even kiyoomi is surprised at how much he came. semen is sprawled from your chin to your cheekbones, the whiteness of himself stands out against the pink of your tongue, thick cum pooling down your fingers and forearm, almost reaching your elbow.

grateful that he's an athlete, you swallow everything he gave you, enjoying the delicate taste. tucking him back into his clothes, he helps you stand from your position on the floor. you notice a sheen a sweat on his hairline.

"god is a woman and her name is y/n. i think you took my soul."

you laugh, he smiles, "you almost got cum in my eye, you know."

sakusa's ears turn red, suddenly worried about your comfort, "sorry, you made it pretty difficult to focus," using his thumb, he swipes the cum that missed your mouth, collecting it on his finger and holding it in from of your mouth. moaning softly when you shift forward to suck away the cum, he brings his free hand to pull you in by the waist, "thank you, y/n, seriously. let me return the favor, yeah?" bringing his face closer to yours, he slips his tongue past your lips, tasting himself through a deep kiss. his hand rises to caress the side of your face, tilting his head for a better angle.

"i blow you once and now you think you can handle me?" you mumble against his lips, "you aren't ready for it," you tease, your words making his body feel hot. he is ready; he's been ready, sakusa thinks, but waiting for the right moment makes it that much sweeter. patting your ass, he pecks your lips once more for good measure. oh, that reminds him.

"i wanted to talk to you about that, actually." you shoot him a questioning look, maneuvering around him to wash your hands.

"yeah, what's up?"

"i have a plan."

"a plan? for what?"

"for how we're gonna have sex."

you grimace, "gross, don't plan it out! that's what old people do!"

"stop," he whines, "i thought really long about it. i just need to ask you a few questions."

"okay, okay," you dry your hands with paper towel, using the wetness of the paper to wipe away any sticky spots still on your face, "what do you need to know?" he walks closer to the calendar you have on the wall in the kitchen area, whipping out his phone to compare dates, you assume.

"are you free next weekend?" you think for a moment.

"yeah, i think so, but i have a baby shower at 10."

"who throws a baby shower at 10 in the morning?"

"that's what i said! she really thought that it would be a good i-"

"wait, don't get side tracked. i still have more questions."

"kiyoomi, what are you even planning to do?"

"well, i cant show you all the cards in my hand! i just need you to answer the questions."

"okay, damn! ask away then." he taps through his phone.

"do you have a preferred place to have sex?"

"uhm, not really? just not in a car or shower, at least not for the first time." he types frantically.

"okay, next question. what are your thoughts on pubic hair?"

"kiyoomi!" you laugh, "what the hell?"

"i need to know! it's for science!"

"jesus, man. i guess, it doesn't really matter? it's natural, so who cares? as long as i'm not flossing with your pubes while i go down on you, i have no issues."

"that's disgusting. you know i would never do that. i need a serious response, y/n."

"okay, okay fine!" you laugh, "not too much but also don't just have nothing. bald dick is weird."

he nods his head, considering your answer, he types into his phone, repeating your words aloud to himself, "okay, last question for now. would you prefer sex in the morning or the evening?"

"it depends on the day, but considering this would be out first time as a couple, i wouldn't want to ditch you to go to lab after we fuck. late afternoon to evening would be the best time i think." he's silent, walking over to the calendar once again.

"okay," he nods his head, squinting his eyes in thought, "okay, yeah this totally works."

"it does?"

"yes, everything is coming together."

"so can i expect to have my back blown out in the near future?"

"if by 'back blown out' you mean gently and passionately make love, then yes, expect it."

"great," you clap your hands together, "i look forward to it," your stomach growls, the angry rumble echoes throughout the kitchen."

"don't tell me those 3 twizlers is all you've had to eat today."

"no," you smile, a laugh threatening to rip from your chest before you even have the chance to finish your sentence, "i had your kids for lunch."

"y/n!" he gasps.

this is my first time writing smut, so please let me know what you think! leave a comment so i can improve; i plan to make this a series, so give me some criticism to improve the story <33 thank you for reading :)

#sakusa #kiyoomi #sakusa kiyoomi #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #kiyoomi sakusa #sakusa x reader #msby #msby sakusa #sakusa smut #haikyu smut #sakusa fic #sakusa drabble #sakusa imagines

[pockcock]

couldn't stop thinking about Hak... I don't regret anything

warnings: guard!hak x f!reader. breath play. dub-con. somnophilia. belly bulge. a bit angst at the end.

Imagine Hak as your guard.

Imagine him coming to your room in the middle of the night, slowly approaching you who is sleeping peacefully. He removes his clothes, carefully placing them next to your bed, then lifts up your duvets to reveal your sleeping gown. Sheer silk covers enough of your body, wrinkles of the fabric accentuating your curves. You’re beautiful. And he wants you, he wants you now.

Trying his best not to wake you up, he gets under the duvets. His hands slowly roaming your body, it feels like the movements of a snake. So slow, so smooth and so soft. He then finds the hem of your gown, lifting it up to reveal your panties. Soon after his calloused fingertips find your clit, drawing eights on it… stealing your pretty moans.

“Princess…” His voice is husky with arousal, the night can be felt in his tone. He buries his nose into the crook of your neck to inhale your heavenly scent. It’s intoxicating, agonizing and amazing. With a not-so-innocent kiss he gives, your jawline feels sticky with his spit. He bites a bit, you wince with his motion. Too sleepy to wake up but getting aroused enough to want to wake up.

He puts your panties aside, revealing your glistening cunt. You shiver as the cold weather of the night hits your cute and wet pussy. You open your eyes as you feel his thick fingers playing with your entrance.

“Wake up, Princess.” Even in bed, he is still respectful, using the right words. As soon as he sees your eyes open, a grin coats his lips. “There you go…”

“H-Hak-”

He shushes you, putting a hand on your lips. “No, no, no… Be quiet Princess. You don’t wanna wake up anyone, do you?” When you shake your head with disapproval, he kisses your crown. “Now, that’s a good girl.”

Before you even know he was inside you. Pushing himself deep into your tightness, his groan is lost into your neck as he bites. His hand is now gripping your throat, he won’t let you breathe. He never does.

“Feel me, Princess?” He asks, his hand is on your tummy to feel himself going in and out. Hak finds your hands gripping the sheets, he leads them to your tummy to feel the enormous bulge. “Feel how deep I am?”

“Hak!” You menage to say when his hand loosens around your neck to get a better grip. He likes to have you under his control when he fucks you deep and slow. “H-ak, ple–”

He lets go of your neck, covers your mouth instead. “I know, Princess. Just be quiet and I’ll give you everything you want.”

No skin slapping is heard, Hak is so careful not to alert or let anyone know during intimate times. Your love is forbidden; he is a general, a soldier and you’re the Princess. You two can never be together. Officially. That’s why Hak is in your bedroom each night. That’s why he fucks you so deep and slow. There are times where you two go outside the palace to ‘wander’ in the woods on horseback, those times are when Hak bends you over a rock near a river to have you hard. Those times are when he steals your pretty screams and you steal his feral growls. Those times where you can be as wild as you like.

“You’re close…” He whispers, out of breath but still going strong. “Will you cum for me, Princess?” You nod wildly. His fingers find your clit to make you get even closer to your release, hand muffling your screams, he scoffs. “Cum with me, yeah? Cum with me and let me fill you up, Princess.”

“If I get pregnant,” you whisper as he wears his cape. “Please take me away.” The anxiety is visible on your face.

He kneels down next to your bed to face you, his skin is glowing under the moonlight with a sheer layer of sweat. “Don’t worry, Princess,” he says, then takes your face into his hands. Hak has the most beautiful eyes, and they look even prettier when they are on you. His lips find yours, smooth and loving. Not rough like he was minutes ago.

“I’ll never leave you.”

@st-arlert this is for you pretty <3

© 2021 sunshinedragonofthewest. All rights reserved. Do not modify, copy, repost my work.

#hak smut #akatsuki no yona smut #hak son smut #hak #hak son #breath play tw #tw breath play #dubcon tw #somnophilia tw #tw somnophilia

[palbabor-writes]

Practicum

Pairing: Shigaraki Tomura x Fem!Reader

Warnings: SMUT/18+ only, unbalanced/unhealthy relationships, student/teacher sex, tw.dubcon, tw.sub/dom dynamics, brat taming, fingering, masturbation, a table is pretty roughed up in this, so pls hold a brief moment of silence for it    

Words: 12,857

“So, you just want me to read from the book?”

“Yes.”

“And...answer questions?”

“That’s what I said,” Shigaraki smirks, already reaching toward his bookshelf, tugging the heavy Intro to Biology text out and shifting it into his large hands.

You bite at your lip again and pass your gaze from his amused expression to the bland cover of the textbook, debating your next move, trying to walk yourself through all the ups and downs. It’s too simple; too easy. It’s not like him. He’s got something else in mind, why else would he fucking look like that? It’s not a bad look. No, it’s a look that makes your stomach flip and head spin.

“Stop being so suspicious,” Shigaraki scolds, drawing your wandering attention back to him. “I don’t bite, that is, unless you want me to.”

Notes: the title was selected because it’s got the word cum in it. ahhh, the things that crack me up. anyhow. 

this is part of the BNHA Degeneracy server’s 9 to 5 collaboration! i had a ton of fun participating in this and thank you guys for making this so freaking awesome! special shoutout & thanks to @albinoburrito​ & @kugutsuu​ for their beta edits! this was a departure from what i usually write about and i appreciate all of your notes and help!  

Practicum prac·ti·cum /ˈpraktəkəm/ noun a practical section of a course of study

It’s your senior year, they said. Live a little, they advised. Stop and take a breather, you’re practically home free! Take some easier classes. Focus on what’s in front of you, it’ll be over before you know it! On and on and on. 

Spring semester is almost here. You’ve applied for graduation, the cap and gown ordered, and you have a shiny class ring sitting on your pinky. It’s in the bag. Just breeze through four more classes and you’re out. Well, it would be an easy shot, if you hadn’t put off this one class. 

It always popped up, so it’s not like you could plead ignorance. Your advisor warned you, each quarterly meeting, that you needed to get it out of the way. Take it seriously, he cautioned, clacking out his notes, typing down that you’d failed to heed his sage advice, again. If you wait too long, you’re not going to get the professor that you want.

That was the other problem. You’re a procrastination superstar. If there was some kinda award for putting off assignments, you’d have won it ten times over. You liked the heart pounding race to the deadline, the sleepy boasts that you’d tackled the project within hours of its due date. 

It’s a stupid habit. Every semester you promise yourself that you’ll do better. You won’t wait, you’ll tackle things one assignment at a time and turn them before the hard cut off at 11:59 pm. Who the fuck did you think you were kidding? Certainly not your friends, or your advisor. He could read you like a book. Hell, he’d even sent warnings. 

‘Don’t forget about the deadline for senior registration!’

‘You don’t want to be on a waitlist. You especially don’t want to take one of the harder professors. These are freshman level classes, they’re designed to flunk undergrads. Don’t forget (Y/N), chew them up and spit them out tactics are employed.’ 

But you had. You’d set an alarm on your phone, then neglected to give it a title, so you’d only chuckled and smacked the chirping into silence that morning, snoozing the all important deadline away. 

Fuck. 

Most of the classes for biology are wait-listed. No, scratch that, all the classes for Intro to Genetic Biology are wait-listed. You opt into the waitlist for all of them, just in case, and a week later your phone alerts you that one has an open seat. Actually, it has several open seats, too many open seats to be natural. However, you’re not going to look a gift horse in the mouth, so for now, you’re enrolled in BIO 1208: Principles of Cell and Organismal Physiology - For Non-Science majors. 

Perfect.

Yeah, no. You’d looked up the professor, since the whole open seat thing was still giving you the heebie-jeebies, and your heart dropped. You’ve heard of him, most of the student body has. His classes are notoriously small. Not because the university limited them, or planned for smaller class sizes. No, his classes are tiny because he is infamous for failing students. 

Most, when they realize they’re scheduled for his bio classes, frantically drop, taking the withdrawal and praying for better luck next semester. Others, brave souls who think they can come out unscathed, attempt to grit their teeth and push through. But, by midterms, they’re war torn and haggard, shaking their heads and praying for a ‘C’, at best. Fewer still, pass.

This pedagogy isn’t a sign of good teaching; quite the opposite, in fact. You don’t want your student body failing. Yet, year after year, Professor Tomura Shigaraki keeps teaching the same Intro to Bio class. It boggles the mind, but you’ve never had to worry about it. Well, until now. 

When you’d received the notification that you’re enrolled in the B section and spied the name Shigaraki under the professor listing, you’d scarfed down your suddenly flavorless lunch and dashed up the steps to the student advising hall, praying there was some way you could wiggle your way out of this growing disaster.

“I’m pretty sure I told you to take it earlier and to take it in the fall when there are more freshman level classes available. I swear I said that to you. And, AND, I even sent you emails, several times if my sent inbox is to be believed, to NOT forget when senior registration ends.” 

Your advisor is peeved. You don’t blame him. He’s right, this is your fault, but there’s gotta be some kinda loophole. Something, fuck, anything, that can pull you from this mess. 

“I know, I know! I’m so sorry. You’re right. But, I mean, can’t I just hold off for another week? See if the waitlist clears?”

The man that you’ve known for four years, that’s seen you progress from freshman to senior, steeples his long fingers and purses his lips, likely debating on a tactful scolding, or a firm rebuttal. He takes a deep breath and you can’t help but sink into the soft cushioning of the chair, your nose wrinkled and brow furrowed, mentally preparing yourself for the worst.

“Do you know how many students we require to take BIO 1208?”

“No,” you gulp, nibbling on your lower lip nervously. 

“Over 7,000. Do you want to hear the statistics that would need to shake out in your favor for you to miraculously avoid taking this specific class? Nothing is going to open for you, it is this class, or no class.”

You sigh, and your advisor nods, pushing his horn-rimmed glasses up his nose. “Well then, I suggest you brush up on your study skills. Find a classmate that you can compare notes with, join a study group, go to the student union and ask for a tutor. I would hate to see you back here for the summer semester. You’re scheduled to walk the stage this spring and you’ve worked hard for this, so don’t fuck it up, okay?”

You’ve attended this university for four years, but the first day of term always gives you the jitters. It doesn’t matter that you know your way around, or that you know ten professors by name, and bump into several friends on the way to your next building, you’re always buried in your phone, checking and double checking the next class’ room number. 

Despite all that caution, you’re lost.

In your defense, it’s your first time stepping foot in the Graduate & Research building and the whole concrete block is a fucking maze. There must be a basement because the numbers don’t match up with the floors and they seem to jumble further every time you round a corner. Like what the hell? How can this next room be GR 3.03.05 when this is clearly only the second floor and GR 2.03.11 was right down that other hallway?

Exasperated, you lean against the nearest wall and tug your phone out again. Shit. Class started ten minutes ago. 

Part of you wants to call it a day, end the search here and try again on Wednesday. Maybe take a few extra minutes to scout out the building next time and have some idea of where you’re going before the start of class. 

Ugh, why is this so stressful? 

It’s the first day of classes. Surely Professor Shigaraki won’t mind if you’re a few minutes late; besides, if you’re lost, others must be too. 

You tuck your phone back into your pocket and resume the hunt. Two hallway turns later, you find your mark.

Your hand pauses beside the heavy wood, and you take a steadying breath. Again, why are you so nervous? Just go in and take a seat, it’s easy, stop freaking out over nothing. 

The door groans open, hinges protesting the sharp push, and you stumble into a darkened room. The low glow of the projector doesn’t help your blurry vision. Ah, shit, it’s one of those older rooms, so it’s built like a bad movie theater. Oh well, better get to a seat before he spots you. 

Swiftly, you make your way toward the raised steps of the aisle and the second row of chairs, plopping into the first one you reach that’s empty. You’re too busy fiddling with the zipper of your backpack to notice that the speaker has stopped his rasping preamble, but as you pull your laptop out the ominous weight of that heavy silence hits you and you toss a hooded stare toward the front of the lecture hall. 

Immediately, your eyes land on the professor’s and you feel a low shiver shake up your spine. 

He’s watching you. 

The gleam of the overhead projector makes his red eyes flash, and he openly scowls at your gaping expression, his lips curling into a dark sneer.

“Well, thank you for joining us, Miss…?”

He’s waiting for your response and you squeak out your last name, mindlessly rubbing your moistening palms against your thin skirt. 

“Ah, Ms. (L/N). Now that you’ve graced the class with your belated presence, may I continue?”

“Uh,” you gasp out, your mouth dry, tongue sticking to your teeth, “I’m sorry. I got–”

“I didn’t ask for an explanation, or in your case, an excuse. Or are you now attempting to disrupt this class purposefully?”

“Wha– I-I’m–” your words stumble to a halt, voice failing under the intense glare that he’s giving you. “No,” you finish lamely, ducking your head, nails digging into your sweaty palms. 

“Thank you. Do me a favor, stay after class.” His voice is gravel, threatening and low. You don’t like the edge in his tone. It makes your skin prickle and your knees knock. He sounds like the kind of guy that you don’t want to run into in a dark alleyway, or a classroom, for that matter. Even so, it’s not your fault, and despite your feelings of unease, you can’t tamp down your need to protest his unreasonableness. 

“But, professor, I didn’t mean to–”

“If I need to repeat my insistence for silence, I’ll make things easier on both of us and fail you now.”

Stunned and fuming, you bite your tongue and lean back into your chair, crossing your arms and blinking back mounting tears of frustration. Great, just great. It’s the first fucking day of class and it looks like you’re already on his shit list. And for what? For being late on fucking syllabus day! What an ass. 

You look over at him as you defiantly finish setting up your computer, hoping each pull of a zipper or screen reboot will grate under his stuck up skin. He’s not inordinately tall, or old. In fact, he looks like he might only be in early 30s. He has long white hair that’s pulled back into a low ponytail and, from what you can make out in the dim lighting, some kinda skin condition on his forehead. That, or he’s prematurely wrinkled, and let’s be honest, if he’s gone through life with that big of a stick up his ass, he deserves each and every pull on that mottled skin of his. 

You linger in your seat when class is over, lips pulled into a thin line and legs crossed. Finally, when the last student has left the room, professor Shigaraki flips a switch beside his elevated podium, filling the lecture hall with a sharp, fluorescent light. He pauses by his raised computer system and clicks off the overhead projector, blanketing the massive room in an uncomfortable silence. 

“Since you missed the part of class where I go over the syllabus, I’ll give you a brief rundown. Under no circumstances will I tolerate tardiness. If you do it once more I’ll mark you absent and three absences knock you down a full letter grade.”

Glumly, you cross your arms and peer up at him, finally able to get a good look at his face. Your first observation was correct. His skin is sharper around his forehead, but his wavy white hair does a pretty decent job of covering up the imperfections. He has two scars: one nicks across his right eye and the other splits down his rough lips, parting the skin and granting him an even more foreboding appearance than his already gruff demeanor does. He’s dressed in a dark pair of jeans and he’s wearing a low slung v neck shirt. It’s a brilliant red and it brings out that otherworldly glint of his red eyes. Shit, you think bitterly, while he’s not conventionally handsome, he’s not exactly hard on the eyes either. 

You shake your head against these unproductive musings and curtly snap out a clipped, ok.

“What was that?” Shigaraki scoffs, tilting his head at your sullen figure. “Speak up.”

“I said,” you bristle, eyes narrowing and chin lifting, “Okay, I apologize for interrupting your lecture, it won’t happen again. But, in my defense, if I’m allowed to do that in this class, I’ve never been in this building before, and it’s not like–”

“You’re a senior, right?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“Then you’ve had four years to figure out the layout of this university. The excuse of ‘being lost,’ isn’t an option for you. You know the buildings and you’re fully capable of turning up early to sort out the rooms.”

You let out a long sigh and look away, mumbling vague protests. This guy is ridiculous. You’re not a science major and it’s not your job to know the ins and outs of each building. How fucking stupid. Who does he think he–

“Speak up. I won’t ask you again.”

You bite your lip and look back at him but he’s moved in that distracted moment, silently stepping down from his raised platform and is now leaning over the first row of chairs, looming over you. You can’t help your sudden flinch as you sink further into your chair, away from him.

“If you’re gonna complain, Ms. (L/N), I’d much rather hear it. Don’t you think It’s rude for you to mutter under your breath about me? You don’t see me doing that to you.”

“Fine,” you blurt out, turning away from his insistent, and all too close, gaze. “I was saying that I’m not a science major. I get that I’m a senior, but you can’t seriously expect me to know every nook and cranny of this campus.”

“No, but I can ask for you to be a little more thoughtful. I put time and effort into my lessons and I won’t have you undermining them by bouncing in here with those legs and that flouncy little skirt.”

You’re about to counter his little haughty speech on politeness when you finally process that final comment he’d breathed out. Flabbergasted, you raise your head back to his, but he’s already moving away, snatching up his shoulder bag and waving you a curt goodbye as he presses open the squeaky door. “Next class is at 10 am sharp, so be on time Ms. (L/N).”

You’re still slumped in your seat when the door glides shut again, your eyes wide and jaw no doubt comically unhinged. 

Wait. Did…did he really just say that?

Obviously, for the next class, you’re early. You’re so early that you’re the first one in the lecture hall. You select a seat toward the back and fiddle with your computer, checking your messages, adjusting your brightness, replying to old emails, anything to keep your head down and attention occupied. 

The door opens and, despite your best efforts, your head flies up, expectant and tense, ready to meet those red eyes of his head on, to show him you’re here and he better… oh. It’s not him. It’s two chattering freshmen. One of them gives you a quick smile, but they both quickly take their seats, a few rows over, and continue their soft conversation, leaving you to fall back onto your earlier distraction tactics. You twiddle with your phone and shoot off a few texts, change your wallpaper, accidentally close an app you meant to leave open, and then the lecture hall door reopens.

He steps in slowly, completely ignoring you and the other scattered students, opting to sort out a few papers and set up his login on the school computer. The minutes tick by and you can’t seem to jerk your eyes away from him, suddenly fascinated by his languid movements. He looks more relaxed than he did on Monday, looser and fluid, completely in his element. True to his word, at ten am on the dot he begins class. 

Professor Shigaraki has an interesting voice. It’s low, calculated, bordering on a rasp. It’s one of those tones that makes you want to lean forward and listen up, even though he’s only discussing cellular biology. Which isn’t exactly the sexiest topic for that shockingly dulcet timbre of his. 

Wait. Sexy? 

Your pen falters against your notebook, and your eyes drift up to his frame. He’s switched the lights off again and the shine of the overhead projector is the only illumination in the hall. His white hair gleams in the dim lighting and his long hands animatedly illustrate his points, elegant fingers opening and closing, gesticulating about the intricate nature of the human genome. You’re so focused on watching his movements that your elbow partner has to push the slip of paper onto your collapsible desktop. You blink at the sheet, your pen nearly clattering from your hand, and you twist to peer at the unfamiliar student beside you. 

“It’s the attendance sheet and, um, I think you’re the last one,” they whisper, careful to lean away after they finish their explanation, not wanting to draw professor Shigaraki’s ire. You maneuver the paper under your pen and scribble down your name, biting your lip and silently berating yourself for your poor selection in seating. Great, now you’ll have to take the paper down to him after class. What if he talks with you again? Shit. 

At 11:25, class ends. You collect your things and plod down the steps, the attendance sheet clutched between your fingers. He’s just snapping the projector light off when you reach his podium. 

“I, uhh, have the attendance. You want me to just leave it here, or…”

“I’ll take it,” his hand is extended toward you and those red eyes are fixed on you now. It’s not the same disgruntled stare he’d given you on Monday. No, this look is a little more curious. Again, you’re taken aback by your reaction to him. He’s not even saying anything, just patiently waiting for you to deposit the sheet into his open palm, but there’s something about him that’s making your heart race. 

Maybe it’s those eyes of his. 

They are an unusual color and they have a strange intensity to them. Right as they narrow, the vermillion shining under the sharp lights; you press the paper to him and he pulls it from you, studying the names that are listed. 

You want to say something. Maybe toss him a quick, friendly, goodbye. Or apologize for the other day? Ugh. What can you even say? ‘Gosh, so glad I was on time today! All that fascinating information about the genetic code! So glad to be here!’ No, that sounds stupid and a little patronizing. Besides, why do you want to talk with him at all? He’s an ass, remember?

“Did you need something?”

His question snaps you out of your stupor and you numbly shake your head at him, already lowering your gaze, but his exhaled chuckle makes you pause, your fingers curling around your backpack straps.  

“I know I upset you the other day, but I appreciate you taking the effort to correct your mistake.” 

“Oh,” you breathe, your eyes finding their way back to his. “Yeah, well, like you said, I’m a senior. Gotta take responsibility for myself someday.”

“Ah,” he smirks, that long scar on his lip quirking upward. “Seems like you’ve got some determination after all. You might be more interesting than I gave you credit for.”

“God,” you scoff, popping out a hip and crossing your arms at the bemused leer on his face. “Just come right out and say you think I’m a bad student, why don’t you?”

“Don’t worry,” he amends, tucking the attendance sheet into his shoulder bag and snapping the clasps closed. “There’s plenty of time for you to end up right back at square one with me.”

He’s already halfway out the door by the time you right yourself from the shock of his last comment and you follow him, a string of low curses falling from your lips. 

The spring semester always flies by, and before you realize it, a full month has bled away. You’ve kept that same seat in Shigaraki’s class and at the end of each session you head down to his little platform, attendance sheet outstretched. Each day of class has a different ebb and flow. Sometimes he chats with you and it’s gotten easier to talk with him, both of your eyes holding and lingering, lips raised into calculating smiles. Sometimes it almost feels like he’s flirting with you. Other days he only spares you a curt nod, his white hair curtaining his expression from your curious gaze. You’re not bothered by these silences, not when you’ve got your secret weapon. 

The days that you like best, the ones that you plan, sorting through your closet until you’ve found the perfect choice, are the days when you wear one of your skirts. You’d even gone on some skirt shopping sprees as of late. On those days he doesn’t just make some sort of fleeting eye contact with you, no, on those days he stares. 

At first, you’d tested out your theory, staggering your outfits, careful to not screw up your suspicions with a hasty miscalculation, but as they say, the third time’s the charm. How did he expect you not to notice? He never bothers to hide those sharp ogles and recently you’ve made a point of dramatically gathering your things when you wear these cute little ensembles, bopping down the steps so his eyes have to work to follow the line of your hips and the long paths of your bare legs. One rainy afternoon you’d worn over the knee stockings, that came to an abrupt halt over the plush skin of your upper thigh, under your mini skirt and he’d practically leapt over the podium to grab the sheet from you, his eyes hooded and dark, almost wild.

“Test, on Friday,” he warns, eyes finally rising to meet your bemused expression. “Don’t stay out too late tonight.”

“What makes you say that?” you ask, brushing at a rogue fold in your skirt, luring him back to your legs. 

He scoffs at you, that jagged scar arching into a smirk. “Humph. You’re dressed up. Most of the students just wear the sweats, or pjs, and call it a day.” 

“I like to put a little effort in all that I do,” you retort, grinning up at his vermillion stare. 

“Yes, so I’ve noticed. You certainly look the part…and you’re keeping up with the workload of this course.”

“Ahhh,” you crow, clapping your hands excitedly. “Are you saying I might get an ‘A’ in this class? Be the first time someone’s done that in a while, from what I’ve heard around campus.”

Shigaraki sneers and tuts out an inaudible reply, leaning a little closer to you, making you inadvertently fall back a step. “Don’t push your luck.”

“Awe,” you pout, crossing your arms over your chest. “I’m doing ok on all the quizzes and the classwork.”

“So far,” he taunts, his pearlescent hair falling over his broad shoulder.

“Tch. Don’t be like that. I’ve been studying.”

“Sometimes it takes more than that.”

“Oh?” you smile, raising your chin. “What else should I be doing, professor?”

“We’ll know that after Friday, won’t we?”

God. 

You’d felt so confident when you’d turned in your test and that stupid, horrible, sexy little quirk of his lip scar that he sends you, when you’d handed him your papers, carries you on some strange, half aroused cloud all weekend. Maybe, just maybe, this class won’t be so bad after all.

The tests are handed back the following Friday, passed from row to row so everyone can fish out their papers and marked Scantrons. Yours, since you still occupy that final seat on the back row, is the last. Biting back a grin, you flip it over, so ready to see that A, that grade that you worked so fucking hard for, that… wait.

The gross flash of red across the top of your paper leaves you reeling, your breath catching against the back of your throat. It’s not a terrible grade, well, it wouldn’t be, but there are only three tests in this class, so it’s going to plummet you down to a B. One more fuck up will leave you with a C, or worse, an automatic failing grade. 

No. No, no, no, no. 

You can’t afford a bad grade, you honestly can’t even let yourself slip to a B. Your fucking cap and gown have just come in and with them that cord that you can wear around your neck at graduation. The one that marks you as honors cum laude. Fuck. You’re already pulling one B, in one of your other classes, because you’ve been focusing so much time and effort on this one. Another B will strip that cord from you, leaving you barren, with a less than ideal GPA. 

God fucking damn it.

You glare up at Shigaraki, who’s busy taking the rest of the class through a review of genetic mutations, but you can’t hear him anymore, too incensed, too overwhelmed to even care about what he’s saying. The test crumples under your fingertips, the paper shaking in your hands, and you seethe, your teeth biting your lower lip to pieces. 

It’s not fair. You’d paid attention. You’ve taken all the notes. Read all the chapters. Drilled and studied till your eyes had drooped, heavy with exhaustion. You’ve done it all right. Plus, he’d been so fucking flirty, so open with you. You’ve never chatted with a professor this way, never gone out of your way to wear clothes they like, that make them watch you, their eyes hungry pinpricks as you walk to them, mindful of the luscious sway of your hips. 

No. Fuck him. Fuck this class.

Before your elbow classmate can leave, you ask for them to hand in the attendance sheet. You barely hear their response, too busy slamming your laptop into your backpack. As you storm past the podium, you can feel his eyes on you. The distant sensation of his gaze makes your flesh prickle, but you ignore your involuntary reaction and shove your way out the door. 

“(Y/N), you can’t switch classes this late. It’s almost midterms. Besides, I don’t think anything has opened up and if you’re going to drop it, you’ve gotta get the signature of the professor,” your advisor tells you, blinking at your stony expression over his thick glasses. “I don’t get it. Why do you want to drop it? Your grades are alright and it’s just one test. You can always try–”

“Gimme the paperwork.”

Shigaraki’s office is on the top floor of the research building, tucked away down another winding and weaving hallway that once again requires your careful inspection to navigate. When you finally hit the right set of doors, you slowly make your way forward, counting the numbers up as you pass. His door is wide open, a yawning cavern that’s filled with the distant light of a lamp. You brush a hand down your skirt, smoothing away any wrinkles and steadying your nerves. 

You’d tossed on the skirt this morning, before you’d gotten the grade, and you hadn’t thought to go home and change, too consumed by that simmering rage bubbling within you. And now, like this fucking class, this skirt felt like a mistake, something stupid and vapid that you wished you had time to change out of. He’d told you he liked your attire, liked that you put effort into your outfits. At the time, you’d been so thrilled and excited that he’d complimented you, but now you wish you were confronting him in baggy jeans or lazy sweats, anything that would turn that avid gaze of his away from you. 

Lost in thought, you waver beside his open door, nibbling on your lips and tugging at your clothes. It’s now or never. No point in putting it off. What’s the worst that can happen? What can he do now? Or, a darker side of you whispers, what do you want him to do to you? What? That’s a stupid thought, you scold yourself, lifting a hand to the wall and rapping against the beige paint, announcing your presence. 

When the sound fades away, swallowed up by the empty and darkened hallway, you poke your head around the corner, searching for him. His head is tilted quizzically, and he blinks twice when he spots you, that all too familiar smirk lifting his lips. 

“Ah, Ms. (L/N), what can I do for you?”

His voice is softer than usual and your name sounds like honey, his tone resting on the syllables and consonants for a beat, almost as if he’s savoring their lift, their sound. You can’t help but swallow heavily at his appraisal. Suddenly this may be a terrible idea. 

Ugh. Get a grip (Y/N). 

“I-I need you to sign this withdrawal paperwork,” you finally reply, digging in your bag and tugging out the thin leaflet, holding it out to him. He’s silent after your demand, meditatively threading his fingers and peering up at you, his red eyes bright. 

“Step inside and shut the door behind you,” he instructs, his gaze never falling from yours. Despite the simplicity of his request, you can’t help but bristle at his imperious tone. Why does he always have to sound like that? Like he’s seconds away from taking control of the situation, or of you? He’s always one stupid step ahead, and no doubt he’s going to try and talk you down. Or, he’ll sign it and say that he always knew you were a screw up, someone who only did things halfway, who could never match up to his lofty expectations. Humph, the sooner you’re outta here and out of his class, the better. So, you obey, closing the door and petulantly flopping into the unsteady chair that sits in front of his low desk. 

He maintains that uneasy quiet, his red eyes whisking over your disgruntled face, waiting, watching. Unable to take this strange standoff, you push the university paperwork toward him, sliding it as close as you dare to his bent elbows. “I would like to withdraw from your class,” you repeat, lips setting into a thin line. 

“Why?” he asks, cocking his head so his loose white hair falls a little further down his rough brow. 

“Something came up.”

“Hmm, I can try to work with a new schedule, if it’s your job, or home life,” he counters, eyes narrowing as he sharpens his observations of your brittle expression. 

“It’s not that,” you smart, crossing your arms. Great, he’s going to make this difficult. 

“Then I suggest you tell me what’s on your mind,” Shigaraki replies, mirroring your movements and leaning back in his chair. 

“I don’t think this class is working out for me.”

He exhales a soft laugh at your lie, and you watch that tiny mole at the edge of his chin lift in his quiet mirth. “This is a freshman level course and you’re a senior. You’re in my class because it’s likely the last pre-rec that you need to take before you graduate.”

“Um, yeah. But–”

“And now, you’re wanting to drop it because of one poor grade.”

You grind your teeth and fix him with a stark glower. “I–”

“There will be two other tests. If you read your syllabus, you’d know this.”

“I read the syllabus. Your tests are worth a stupid amount of points and it only takes one of them to tank my grade.”

“Frankly, you did better than most of the class. You only need to work on practical application. I said that the written portion would be a major component of the exam. I also provided you with a review and a rubric. So I’m not sure–”

“Your grade drops me to a ‘B’, and that ‘B’ pulls me from the honors list. And… well… I thought that…”

“Oh? What did you think?” he presses, his voice suddenly dropping to that lower octave it had drifted into when he said your last name. 

“I thought I’d get a better grade,” you spit out, turning your head and biting at your lip again. 

“Why?” he counters simply. His obtuseness is making your blood boil.

“What do you mean, why?” It takes all of your will to not slip a ‘jackass’ into that question. 

“It’s not a hard thing to answer. I graded you fairly and according to my rubric. Why exactly do you feel you merit a different grade than the one you earned?”

You fall into a frustrated silence. You can hear your heart pounding against your ribs and you want to scream at him, to leap over his desk and shake him until his teeth fucking rattle. Your shoulders are rising and lowering disjointedly and his vermillion eyes are honed in on your face, shifting over your pinched expression with a distant interest. You can feel tears pricking at your eyes and you hastily rub a fist over them, brushing away any rogue drops of moisture.

“How can you ask me that? You think I didn’t notice you staring at my legs? Or that you always had something to say to me when I was wearing a skirt? What was I supposed to think, huh? I fucking thought shit like that was gonna help, ok? God, I’m so stupid. I can’t… fuck.” 

Shigaraki arches forward when you finish, a deep sigh leaching through his parted lips. His teeth snap together when you look up at him, your eyes gaining back some of that earlier defiance, and he gives you a quick grin, clearly pleased by your shift in attitude and pushes your paper aside, fixing you with a dark look. “Here’s a thought, since you feel you’re so different, I’ll make you a deal. I’ll give you a chance to make up the score.”

“I don’t care about the score anymore. I wanna drop your class,” you snap, but it’s a halfhearted barb. Something has changed in his demeanor. He’s dropped the concerned professor act and is leaning so close you can hear his steady intakes of air. He’s only a few inches away; if you want, you could touch him.

“I doubt you want to attend a class in the summer. Besides, they won’t let you walk if you haven’t finished your freshman level courses. And you can’t tell me you don’t want to graduate, to earn that cord that lets you into the honor cum laude. So stop pouting and hear me out. I think you’ll like what I have in mind.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever like anything about you,” your voice is sharper than you mean it to be, but the challenge makes Shigaraki smile. As it crosses his cracked lips, it pulls that scar up and it makes those eyes of his glow. He looks like the cat that’s got the cream and you’re not sure how to respond, so you cross your legs and wait for him to make the next move. 

“You sure about that? Well, I’ll have to change your tune then, won’t I? But that can wait, lemme tell you what my requirements are. I’ve got a copy of the textbook in here. I’ll have you review some of the major concepts, you’ll read the passages aloud so I’m sure you’re on the right track, you’ll hand the book back to me, and then I’ll verbally quiz you over the material. If you answer them correctly, I’ll bump you to an ‘A’ on your test.”

You have to actively work to keep your mouth closed. “So, you just want me to read from the book?”

“Yes.”

“And… answer questions?”

“That’s what I said,” Shigaraki smirks, already reaching toward his bookshelf, tugging the heavy Intro to Biology text out and shifting it into his large hands. 

You bite at your lip again and pass your gaze from his amused expression to the bland cover of the textbook, debating your next move, trying to walk yourself through all the ups and downs. It’s too simple; too easy. It’s not like him. He’s got something else in mind, why else would he fucking look like that? It’s not a bad look. No, it’s a look that makes your stomach flip and head spin. 

“Stop being so suspicious,” Shigaraki scolds, drawing your wandering attention back to him. “I don’t bite, that is, unless you want me to.”

Your eyes boggle and you have to clench your thighs tighter, your stomach churning, you feel light-headed and you can feel your core fluttering with your sudden arousal. “Wh-what did you just say?”

“Stop gaping at me like that, you’ll make me blush. Now come on.”

Your jaw snaps closed and you shake your head, trying to clear your mind from your whirling emotions. He takes this reaction as a surrender and stands, stepping toward a marred table that rests a little ways away from his desk. He licks his thumb pad and flips through a few pages before finally settling on an appealing section. Once he places it on the table, he twists back to you and crooks a finger your way. “Come here,” he orders, his voice deep and languid. Obediently, you rise on unsteady feet, hands tugging at the length of your skirt, careful to keep it pressed down as you walk toward him. 

He makes space for you to stand in front of the book and shifts back, one hand resting on the table, propping him close to your bent figure. You look up at him, but he only nods his head toward the table, a wicked smile curling the corners of his lips. Blink a few times but finally, the words clear and you can see the block of text that’s in front of you. It’s passages on DNA encodes and RNA proteins, hefty stuff, things that you had to make flash cards for. This isn’t going to be easy. If anything, he’s picked some of the harder concepts, the ones that take steady knowledge in the foundations. Flustered, you look back to him, but he’s moved. He’s leaning against the wide window beside the table, a dark mark against the glass.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, a laugh bubbling in his tone.

“There’s no way…” you stammer, shaking your head at him. 

“Want me to throw a curve in?”

“I should ask what kinda curve, but knowing you, it’s likely gonna be something terrible.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” he rumbles, stepping away from the window and leaning close to your stiff form. “It just takes an open mind and some enthusiasm on your part.”

“Enthusiasm?” you question, trying your best to withstand his closeness. You can feel the heat radiating off of his broad shoulder and if you tilt a little nearer, you could graze against him, or feel his breath on your skin. 

“You’re right,” he amends, his forearm contacting your side. You startle at the touch, a gasp falling from your lips, but you don’t pull away and you can’t stop staring up at him, your eyes wide. “Obedience is a better word. From here on out, whatever I tell you to do, I expect you to obey it, although it’s not exactly, ah, school approved.”

“You want me to suck you off or something?” you sneer, hoping to stumble him off his guard, even if it’s only for an instant. Too bad he’s always one step ahead. 

“Don’t be vulgar. Think outside of the box, (Y/N). Do you think I’m going to go for something so short sighted when I could have you bending to my will? Obeying every little demand that I make? I’d much rather see if that skin of yours tastes as good as it looks, then simply have you on your knees. No, I want you to fucking scream for me while I stuff you full of my cock. But first, you need to put in some work. You should know that by now.”

Oxygen is suddenly very hard to come by and you can feel your mind hazing over as you stammer up at him, your mind flitting from word to word disjointedly. Shigaraki grants you a wolfish grin, and he dips his lips beside your ear, whispering over those tiny hairs that rest against your tender skin. “I’ll make this part easy. Nod and I’ll give you the first set of instructions.” 

What did he say? Nod? What happens when you nod? Fuck, why are you letting him do this? Is your grade really worth it? Are you that desperate that… that… 

Shigaraki is whispering other promises over you as you war with yourself, speaking his words gently, slowly, his breath hot as it fans over your neck. It’s like you’ve fallen under some kinda spell and before you realize it, your traitorous head is bobbing up and down, letting him know you want him to keep going.

“Perfect,” he sighs, his lips grazing over the shell of your ear, jerking a shiver from you. “Now, lean forward and put your hands against the table.” 

You do as he says, but he’s not satisfied with your positioning, his fingers wrapping around your wrists and yanking you forward, jutting your ass out and pressing your chest down, maneuvering you until your nose is right above the pages of the textbook. “There we go,” he rasps, pulling away so he can admire your splayed form. “Hmm, your legs are too close together. Spread them.” Knees trembling, you obey, gasping when he runs a palm against the curve of your thighs.

“You’ve got such nice legs (Y/N), so let’s put them on display, shall we?” His fingers search against the top of your skirt and they still when he reaches his prize: the zipper. When he pulls it down, you let out a sharp squeak of protestation but he silences you with a swift pinch to your side. 

“Now, now, don’t be like that. You nodded, remember? Besides, you could have left when I told you I’d give you a curve but you couldn’t help yourself could you? You want me to keep going and to do that, I need you to take this skirt off. No, don’t move. I’ll get rid of it for you. Why don’t you focus on the task at hand, hmm? Aren’t you supposed to be reading for me?”

You arch away from his fingers and he chuckles at your impudence, one large hand hooking under your chin and pulling you toward his face. His red eyes blaze as they find yours, the dark pupils threatening to swallow up that deep vermillion. “Let’s start with the second paragraph. If you do well, I might grant you a reprieve.” 

Jerking your face from his grip, you twist back to the text, trying, and failing, to ignore his inquisitive fingers, unable to resist sighing as he works one up your inner thigh. He pauses when no words fall from your lips and you grumble out a few low curses before acquiescing to his silent demand. 

“The flow of genetic information in cells from DNA to mRNA to protein is described by the Central Dogma, which states that genes specify the sequence of mRNAs, which specify the sequence of proteins. The decoding of one molecule… the… the… molecule… by spec-specific…”

He’s slipped your skirt down over the swell of your ass, but he’s taking his time, flexing out the front of the material and dipping his fingers over the bump of your lower stomach, kneading into the delicate flesh that’s stretched out for him. You can’t help the twitch of your spine and you involuntarily wiggle, palms slipping forward, dragging you further along the tabletop. Shigaraki chuckles above you, running his rough lips over the back of your neck.

“You’re so sensitive. I’ve barely touched you.” 

He circles his hands back to your skirt and edges it along, lowering it sharply on one side and then giving the same treatment to the other. You’re doing your best to keep up with your stammering readings, but it’s difficult when he keeps sighing and running his long nails across your newly bared skin. Finally, he works the skirt down and it thumps against your bare ankles; the fabric tickling your skin. 

Meanwhile, his other fingers skitter against the elastic band of your rapidly dampening panties. Once he hooks the lace under his hand, he yanks them along your legs, trailing them sinfully slowly, ensuring that they glide down the billow of your thighs. His teeth nip at your ear when you stumble to a halt in your recitation and your hands tense over the grains of wood beneath them, your nails pinching into your palms. “If you stop, I stop,” he warns, his head bumping against yours, his sharp nose pressing against your pulse.

“You’re not exactly making this easy,” you grumble, doing your best to ignore his renewed pets and strokes. 

“Stop complaining,” he smirks, leaning away from your head to peer at your newly exposed flesh. “You better pay attention to what you’re reading or you’re not going to pass the questions I’ll be asking you.”

“Yeah, yeah, ow!” you squawk, whipping your head around to glare up at him. He fucking pinched you again! This time, he’d slipped his hand between your spread legs and tweaked your inner thigh, painfully. 

“Read,” he repeats, running those guilty fingers upward, lingering beside the heat of your cunt, careful to not get too close. When you start on the next sentence, one of his hands tugs up the fabric of your shirt, snaking upward until he’s thumbing against the wire of your bra. Once again, you falter to a halt and exhale a wavering breath. 

Goddamn it. This review is no review. You’ll be lucky if you can even recall what a cell is if he keeps this up. You hear his ominous intake of air and quickly resume your recitation, mumbling something about RNA and mRNA differences. 

Wait. Didn’t you just…  

“Looks like you’re having trouble listening to me. I told you to read aloud, not to repeat the same passages over and over.”

“Hey, at least I’ll have a firm grasp on those. You should ask me something about that s-section… ah–”

The hand that was resting under the cup of your bra has made its way underneath the lightly padded material, and his thumb and index fingers have trapped your peaked nipple between them. As soon as your snarky comment left your mouth, he’d twisted the bud, squeezing it until it throbbed. 

“Pay attention,” he commands, shoving your bra upward, freeing the globes of your breasts and cupping both of his broad hands under them. Your abused nipple stings and the mixture of sharp pain and jarring arousal goes right through you, stoking that coil that pulsed within your core, and sending a tacky flush of your essence down your spread thighs.

The next few words are a struggle. The text keeps blurring and your breaths are coming in fast and heavy. Shigaraki is still feeling you up, keeping his lips close to your ears, rasping sharp commands to you and dealing out lightning fast rounds of pinches and squeezes each time you falter. 

“I–I can’t… I don’t even know what I’m reading anymore,” you bemoan, your hips pressing against the edge of the table, legs trembling as you attempt to keep them apart. He’s deliberately ignoring your throbbing clit and a desperate edge is creeping into your voice. 

“Are you always this whiny? Fine. I’ll give you a moment to read without any distractions.”

Thank God.

True to his word, he slips away from your back and you’re left shivering against his sudden absence. Despite your quaking, you’re determined to make the most of this chance and you quickly read out the paragraphs that are on the second page. As you ramble down to the last bit of text, you realize you can’t hear him anymore and when you finish the last sentence; you start to really wonder where he’s drifted off to. A tense silence follows your completion of the material and you arch up on the tips of your toes, jutting your ass out and stretching the stiffened muscles of your lower back. 

“Didn’t say you could stop reading, and judging from all of your complaints, I don’t think you got some of those earlier concepts, so I’d suggest doing a quick review,” he taunts, the sudden rasp of his voice startling a low gasp from your lips. 

He’s close; somewhere behind you and to the left from the sound of it. You try to twist around, your chest lifting from the table, and when he notices, his hands return, creating a rough pressure against your neck as he forces your body back down. His weight plasters you to the surface, scraping your partially exposed stomach and tender breasts over the nicked wood. Shigaraki is merciless in his swift correction, his breath puffing out angrily behind you. “Didn’t say you could move, either.”

Stunned, you freeze. Your arms are arched awkwardly, but he keeps his weight against you, flattening your breasts and forcing your back to arch into an awkward bend. Fuck, you think, how are you supposed to stay like this? Your legs are already aching and if he shifts away again, he’s likely going to expect you to maintain this absurd pose.  

“Yes,” he groans, his voice catching against the word, “Good girl. Now, stay just like that.”

Damn it.

“Go on, read the first part again,” he instructs. 

“The entire genetic content of a cell is known as its genome and the study of genomes is gen-genomics. In eukaryotic cells, but… but not in p-prokaryotes, DNA forms a complex with histone proteins… with histone proteins… sub-substance… of…”

His teeth have latched onto your neck, and he’s sucking bruises into your tender skin. He’s still pinning you to the table, but his hands are widening their explorations. He’s started dragging a fingernail across the puffy folds of your cunt, teasing against the dripping and swollen flesh, chuckling when you buck against his hold. 

“You always seem to lose it when you get to cellular modulations.”  

“I–I–It’s not… I can’t help that you keep…” you whimper, your fingers curling under your palms, head shaking back and forth. You can’t think. He’s not being fucking fair, and you can’t even string your goddamn words together. Shit. “Y-you’re not being fair,” you accuse, falling on the only thing that keeps running through your mind, your splayed feet shifting uncomfortably under you.

“Not fair? Not once did I say fairness would come into this arrangement,” he lifts himself off of your back and leans beside you, one arm planted beside your crooked elbow. His fingers trace over the curve of your ass, cupping at the thickest part of you and squeezing. 

“But don’t worry, I’ll make sure you get a little satisfaction out of this arrangement. I bet you look good when you cum. And you’ve been working so hard to get my attention these last few months. So careful to do what I tell you. Looking at me with those big eyes of yours, all wide eyed every time I catch you looking at me. And don’t even get me started on your lips. You’re lucky I didn’t fucking bend you over after class, especially when you started wearing all of those cute little skirts for me. Ahhh, don’t moan like that, I won’t be able to help myself if you do. Let’s see how you’re doing, shall we?” 

Without warning, he slips his longest digit into your cunt, groaning loudly when he’s sucked into your welcoming heat. Your pussy, hungry for any kind of scrap, ripples around his intrusion, clamping and pulling, desperate for more. 

“Fuck,” he groans, his weight falling against your shoulder. “You’re soaking.” His elegant digit pushes deeper and you roll your hips under him, urging him closer, sighing when he sinks to the last knuckle. As he pulls his finger back, he adds another, swiftly v-ing the two before curving them together as they slip back out, dragging a steady line of pleasure from your quivering cunt. Shigaraki whispers another round of awed praise against your ear, his voice dark and breathless. 

A third digit is added on another trip out, and it creates a ragged sensation within you. It’s close to what you like, but he’s stretching you too far and it’s starting to hurt. He either needs to speed up, or give you a little more pressure. If you can hump your clit against the edge of the table, maybe it’ll give you the friction that you need. When you mindlessly buck your hips, your thighs threatening to lose that spread, he stops, holding his fingers inside you, laughing as you agitatedly try to shift him back into his earlier rhythm.

“So eager. I’d say you’re ready for my questions.”

“W-what?” you gasp, wholly focused on making him restart the push and pull of his fingers inside you. 

“I’ll start you off with something easy. What’s the cell membrane?”

“W-what? The cell… ah–” 

“Answer me. Now,” he grunts, leaning forward, re-steadying you as his fingers pull outward, dragging against your sensitive folds and schlicking through your arousal lewdly, loudly. You moan and your eyes roll back, completely ignoring his demand as you fall into the haze of pleasure that comes after his movements. 

His free hand travels up your neck and he tangles his fingers into the tendrils of your hair, yanking and jerking at the strands, demanding your attention.  

“I said, answer me.”

“Shigaraki–I–fuck. I can’t even… ugh… think right now!”

“Do you want the grade, or not?” he questions, his voice tense. “Answer correctly and I’ll give you what you want.” 

“I–I don’t think I can,” you whine, pressing your hips back as he thrusts his fingers forward again, curving them upward, searching for the spongy pad of nerves that rest against the front of your pelvis. 

“Oh? What happened to wanting that A? What about your graduation? You gonna let me fuck up your entire college career? I can do it, you know. I’ve done it to so many simpering freshmen. I fail kids left and right and you’re no different, (Y/N). 

The university lets me ahh–there it is! God, you’re so fucking wet. 

Where was I? The university can’t say no to me; they let me do what I want. I bring in too much money, too many tempting grants, and that’s all they really care about. So what’s it gonna be? Let me see that you can answer this basic crap and I’ll pass you. Or would you like for me to tie you down and force it outta you another way?”

He’s picked up the pace of his fingers as he rambles over you and a swift press against that newly discovered spot inside you has you falling to pieces in his hands, popping up onto your tiptoes and rutting yourself against the surface of the table. “O-ok, God, ok! Just–fucking repeat the goddamn question,” you pant, head slumping forward, forcing his fingers to tighten against your hair to hold you upright. 

“What is the cell membrane?” 

You wince your eyes closed, trying to rack your brain to focus on something other than the heavy pressure of the three fingers that are teasing their way across your dribbling pussy. He’s moving his presses with a lackadaisical, inconsistent rhythm now and it’s hard to fucking think. You can’t tell if his next thrust will be hard, or soft, or so rough that it’s bordering on that bittersweet line of pain. 

You shake your head, doing your best to ignore the mounting pressure that he’s building inside you and the ache of your neck and legs. Finally, after another sharp tap against that secret bunch of nerves at the front of your cunt, you latch onto a vague remembrance. 

“It… it’s a double layer of–of phospholipids that make a boundary between the cell and t-the surrounding… ugh… it controls the passage of materials.”

“Very good. Elaborate on the cellular wall.”

He’s unrelenting in his domineering treatment, twisting and frigging his fingers each time your breath hitches, and your arousal is leaking down your legs, making your skin stick and pull. It’s too much, you can’t! How can he even ask this? Words are falling from your lips incoherently, and all too soon you’re gasping out his name rather than reciting the answer. 

“Cellular–oh, fuck, Shi–Shigaraki–Please, keep–don’t stop! S-Shigaraki, God that… feels… ah–keep going!”

He ignores your request and pulls his fingers away, robbing you of that sweet pressure that he’s so carefully mounted within you. 

“I’ll count that one as incorrect. Your ‘A’ is swiftly becoming an ‘A’ minus, (Y/N)” he snarls, his teeth gritted, hands falling to the swell of your hips, wet fingers digging into your soft skin. 

“What? No! You didn’t give me enough… e-enough time! How can–can you expect me to answer that qui-quickly!”

“Let’s try another.” 

It hurts. That ache that he’s drawn out of you is starting to sting and throb and he’s being such a dick about it! You twist and grind under him, and he traps your disobedient hips against the rough siding of the table.

“I don’t–” you protest weakly, your legs trembling and chest heaving under his weight.  

“Do you want this? Wouldn’t you like to pass this class? To graduate with honors?” he growls, leaning closer, his hands braced against you, his fingers no doubt leaving bruises on the supple crest of your hips. 

“You’re such an ass! Yes! Fuck, please! I–I want it so fucking bad!” you cry out, your voice drifting into a sob as you croak out the last plea.

“Then answer another question. What’s diffusion?”

“D-diffu-diffusion is the process by which molecules move from an a-area of… of… fuck- of high concentration, to low concentration. Shigaraki!”

“I should count that as another miss, but you got the major concept correct.” He removes his fingers from your waist and yanks your ass toward him, keeping your overeager hips away from the fleeting relief of the sturdy table. “Pop your legs together,” he commands, one hand wrapping around your arched throat, squeezing until you obey. His other hand drops to that thatch of curls that rest between your quivering thighs and he gathers up your gossamer strands, rubbing against your clit for one hazy instant, sending a flash of spots across your vision.

“Mmm, now that’s a pretty sight. Good girl, don’t move,” he reminds you and you want to scream at him. Right before you can spit some frustrated vitriol out, he’s releasing your neck, his hands dropping from your skin and letting you fall back to the uneven surface below. Just before your chin contacts the wood, his hand is back in your hair, tugging you upward, holding you a few inches above the table. The sharp pain makes your scalp tingle and you unconsciously rut against the tempting heat that’s now plastered to your ass. He’s hard. You can feel the stiff bulge of his cock straining against the front of his dark jeans, pressing into the cleft of your posterior. 

“T-that’ can’t be comfortable,” you pant, twisting your head so you can look up at him from the curve of your shoulder.

“Oh? You worried about my cock?” he asks, his red eyes flashing down at you challengingly. You don’t bother giving him a verbal response, opting instead to grind your ass up, catching against the jut of his length, earning yourself a low groan. His lips curl when you repeat the motion and you realize you love watching that smug face of his drift into a look of tense pleasure. It makes his scar on his lip flush and those red eyes of his fall to a lazy half mast. He spies your arched brow and pleased grin and pushes himself off of you, leaving you alone and open on the table.   

“Keep pushing your luck. I’m more than happy to drop you back to a B.”

“What?” you scoff, teeth clinking together as you clench your jaw. “I didn’t move!”

“No, but you’re trying to take control of this and we can’t have that can we?” Shigaraki sneers. “Now, how shall I punish you?”

“P-punish me?” you stammer, a chill racing down your spine. 

“Ah, I know. This’ll really piss you off,” he twists from your strained gaze and walks back toward his desk. What? What the fuck does he mean? You can’t see him from this angle, not with the way your legs are stretched and back is lowered, but it doesn’t stop you from trying, your chin lifting upwards as you do your best to keep him in focus. 

Ugh. It’s no use. He’s slipped past your field of vision. 

Hearing is likely your best bet, so you shift your forehead back to the table and listen, straining your ears to pick up any morsel. Something opens and closes and you catch the sound of the wheels of his chair as they shift, squeaking across the floor, and the groaning of the springs when his weight is applied to the cheap leather. 

Okay, so he’s in his chair. Is he just gonna look at you? That’s not… wait… 

There’s a faint clicking sound. 

It’s both familiar and unfamiliar to your ears, but once the teeth slide over the last pull, you realize. It’s a zipper. 

Oh fuck. Is he going to jerk himself off? With a gasp, your head whips back around. He’s still positioned himself away from you, and you can only just make out the sounds that are accompanying the undoubted rise and fall of his fist. All you can see is a tiny sliver of his body, but you catch sight of the coiling muscles on his neck and you notice that his head is dipped forward, pearl white hair settling across the cut of his collarbone. The one red eye that meets yours is blazing and hungry, it makes every hair on the back of your neck stand up.  

God, he’s staring at you, watching you, getting himself off as you’re half naked and bent over a desk in his office, fully subjugating yourself to his whims and fancies for the sake of your grade. 

Damn it, (Y/N). This should not be a fucking turn on. You should be disgusted, but the flush of slick that drips down your thigh says otherwise. 

He lets out a choked moan, picking up the pace of his hand, letting you hear the click and slip of his palm as it strokes up and down his cock. A shiver echoes up your spine and your hips seem to have a mind of their own, grinding your clenched thighs over the dip of the table, easing the clenching pulsations that your cunt is shuddering through you.

“Look at you, so desperate for my touch that you’re humping the fucking table. Such a dirty girl, and so disobedient. You’ve only answered a few of my questions correctly and yet your slutty little mouth and body keep pushing at me. Making me put you in your place. Let me ask you something, why should I go out of my way to fix your grade when you can’t even prove to me you understand the simplest concepts? 

Ah, here’s a thought. What if I told you I’ll wave the other requirements; no more readings, no more quizzes, but I won’t let you cum? What if I just get myself off? You’re putting on a such a good show for me! Why should I bother with seeing that you’re satisfied when that table seems to do the job for you? Sound good? Or would you like for me to come back over there and make you cum?”

“I–I don’t… I don’t want…” You can’t get the words out, your tongue feels leaden between your lips and you can’t think of anything but the steady itch that’s spreading from your clit. 

“Speak up,” Shigaraki demands, slowing his jerking fingers. The chair he’s sitting in groans as he leans forward, and his eyes wide as they take in the delicious sight that’s propped before him. “You don’t want to cum? Is that it? You’d like for me to get myself off and leave you there?”

“No!” you cry out, your fingers digging into the scuffed wood of the table. “I-I want you to make me cum.”

There’s a sharp clatter and you jump at the abrupt noise. It must be the chair you think, your heart pounding against your chest, waiting for Shigaraki’s next move. He only lets a few seconds drift by before he presses himself back to you. He leans his broad chest over your back, the front of his legs pushing against the back of yours. His exposed length is wedged firmly against the cleft of your ass and its tempting hardness makes you squirm under him, but he’s propelling you forward, pinning you against the rough wood, and you can only flail uselessly under his control. His lips skim over your neck and he bites into your skin, sucking and licking bruises as he inches closer to your pulse.  

You say his name pitifully, wantonly, and he lets out a shaky gasp. Something about your tone has shifted something within him and you can feel his cock swelling, dripping a rope of wet pre-cum down your shaking leg. 

He leans away, removing his sticky hardness from your ass. “Seems your priorities have shifted. You’re a little preoccupied right now, aren’t you?” he asks, his voice gravel scraping against your overwhelmed senses. You let out a weak moan and he snaps into action, his fingers pushing under your flattened stomach and tugging against the fabric that he finds. He yanks you upward, pulling your shirt up as he goes. His palms dip under your half lifted bra, and he cups at your breasts, massaging the rounded bulbs and plucking at your peaked nipples. Your head lolls back, and he sucks at your earlobe again, his breath warm and rasping as it passes by. 

“Hold still,” he commands. 

It’s not an easy position, this stretched upward arch that he’s forced you into, but it’s worth it when you feel his cock pushing between your tensed legs. He doesn’t thrust into you, opting to run his weeping tip against your slippery folds, pressing until his bulbous head is twitching against your pulsing clit. 

Goddamn it, you think as he stills, his lips smacking open-mouthed kisses over your shoulder, it’s not enough. You wiggle your hips back and forth and he abruptly exerts a firm pressure against your windpipe, leaving you sputtering and gasping. “What’s wrong? Not happy with this? Do you think you deserve something more? Do you think you’ve earned that?” He shoves you back against the surface of the table, his broad chest following the plane of your back, trapping you under his heavy form. 

You’d replied, you know you must have, but you can’t hear yourself anymore, your attention attuned to the warm length that’s pressed against your shuddering folds. You’d likely thrown in a please for good measure because Shigaraki rewards you with a quick peck to your shivering neck and his thumb, swirling it around your clit, creating a cresting ache that leaves you mumbling incoherently, a thin line of drool slipping from your parted lips. As he keeps that faint osculation up, your fingernails scrape over the wood of the table, your feet lifting you onto your toes, curving your back, and shoving your leaking pussy into his open palm. 

“Greedy little thing, aren’t you?” Shigaraki says, a breathy desperation lingering around the edges of his rasping voice. “But it’s just not enough, right?” 

You nod, licking up some of the excess saliva that’s built under your heavy tongue and crane your head back at him. His eyes are the first thing you see. They’re wild, ravenous and glinting with a roughness that makes you whisper out a soft whine. Fuck. It’s not supposed to be like this. You’re not supposed to want him this badly. Goddamn it. Now that he’s caught your gaze, he won’t let you look away, and he presses himself closer, his cock twitching and warm, the tip rubbing back and forth, keeping time with his circling thumb.

“You gonna fuck me, or not?” you finally ask, unsticking your lips and smirking up at his hardened face. 

“Tch. Don’t rush me,” he grumbles, removing his hand and teasing cock from your cunt, watching as your body convulses under him, your pussy quivering against the excess stimulation that he’s wrought over you. Your thighs burn, aching to break free from his control, to rub against that throb, that tingling that keeps shuddering outward.

“One more question,” he tells you, lifting his dripping thumb to his lips and sucking off the traces of your arousal. The sight of him licking his pink tongue over his gleaming knuckles almost makes you lose your balance, your arms shaking precariously under you. 

“A-another? Come on,” you pout, your eyes following the curve of his wicked lips, watching as his scar quirks upward, amused by your useless defiance. 

“Make you a deal, answer it correctly and I’ll give you my cock. Sound fair?”

“Ugh, whatever, just hurry up,” you snap, so impatient and turned on that you can hardly think. 

The tip of his cock presses against your sopping entrance, pushing forward just enough to part your dripping folds but stopping before he clears that first, tight ring of flesh. The promise of his dribbling tip makes you lose any semblance of self-control. You thrash under him, but he traps your disobedient hips against the rough siding of the table.

“No! Don’t stop! Come on Sh-Shigaraki–Don’t be such a fucking–ah–” 

“Do you want this? Do you want my cock?” he growls, leaning over you, his fingers squeezing down, no doubt leaving bruises in the supple crest of your hips. 

“Yes! Fuck, please! I–I want it so fucking bad!” you cry out, your voice drifting into a sob as you croak out the last plea.

“Then you better answer. What are cytosines?”

“They… they’re n-nitrogenous base… fuck… base that pair… that pair with guanine during D-DNA replication… I–please, please, Shigaraki! Fuck me! I want your cock! Fuck me, fuck me!”

Thankfully, he either takes pity on you, or can’t control himself anymore, his hips surging forward, gliding his thick length into your cunt and snarling at the mind numbing heat that waits for him. He keeps driving upward until he bottoms out, sharp hipbones grinding against the plushness of your ass. 

He’s not gentle with you, no he’s animalistic and raw, his thrusts papping into you with a terrifying strength. You would have liked something slower, something that lets you enjoy each imperfection and dip that raced along his cock, but this, oh, this is an exception because this is perfect. It’s not what you want, but it is what you need. 

The heavy fullness that he’s stuffing you with leaves you breathless, but you somehow manage to gasp out a string of nonsensical praises each time he drives back into you, overwrought by his roughness. 

This coupling isn’t kind, isn’t right, and is not healthy, for either of you. No, not with the way he’s using your shivering body, distracted with slacking that euphoric thrum that’s making his cock pulse and swell inside you.

But fuck it feels good and you can’t help but tremble with delight. These intoxicating thrusts of his ram him up against something that’s buried deep inside you, and each time he hits it another star of bright pleasure races through you. The familiar coiling of release is steadily mounting with each rapid fire rut he gives you and if he could just, ah, there’s something that’s… no, fuck, it’s, it’s not going to work. It feels good, but it’s missing one vital ingredient, one thing that he’s neglected to pay attention to, to notice. 

Your clit needs to be tweaked and rolled, and right now it’s pulsing away against the table, beating a sad tattoo into the grainy wood. Oh well, you think, head fuzzy, lost in the euphoria of his powerful cants, grinding your ass into his hips as he digs into another teeth chattering thrust. He’ll likely finish soon, and you’ll probably need to get yourself off later. It’s not something new, and it’s not like he’s going to care enough to focus on that, on you. This whole thing has been about control, so there’s likely no room for your own pleasure.

“What’s wrong,” he gasps out, his fingers lifting from your hips to curl beside your turned head. 

“What? N-nothing–I–” you pant, eyes rolling back as he hits that spongy patch of nerves again. 

“Tch. Hold on,” he interrupts, his voice rasping and breathy. He pulls himself out of you with a grunt and yanks you upward, hauling you onto the tabletop and flipping you on your back, bending your stiffened legs and bracing your knees against his lean forearms. 

He holds you apart, spreading you open with his powerful hands. You can see him properly now, and the sight makes your breath catch against the back of your throat. Fuck, he looks good. 

His long white hair is draped across his bare shoulders and his eyes are blazing pits of hunger, devouring the sight of you with those red irises. His jaw is clenched, and he glares down at you from his imperious height, his nostrils flaring as he drags in a quick intake of air. To your shock, he gives you a little time to acclimate to this new position, opting to languidly step forward, letting his slippery cock head press and tease at the dip of your opening. But right when you think he’ll move again, he stops, his eyes roving over the lines of your face. 

His sudden stillness makes you peer quizzically up at him and you scoot closer, your feet lifting from the table. The movement snaps him out of his stupor and he grabs your ankles, roughly pinning you back down.

“Keep still,” he snarls through clenched teeth, that scar of his lifting. 

You nod mutely and he rewards your unquestioning obedience with another powerful thrust, sinking his swollen cock back into your waiting cunt. He lets out a sharp groan and grabs at your hips, jerking you forward, already drifting back into that all-consuming rhythm he’d started earlier. His ruts are a little slower from this angle but, in no time at all, that familiar ache pools in your core, stoking and building at an alarming rate. The driving force of his hips soon has you blinking back spots and distant stars, and this time he adds the all important pressure of his thumb, circling the finger pad over your clit and dragging a broken moan from your quivering lips. 

“So that’s what you needed. You close?” he grits out, his lips set in a curled scowl. He’s lost some of that early control, his hips stuttering as they connect with yours, his power lessening, cooling, as he looks for your release. 

“I–I think–oh fuck, do that again. Yes! Just–ah!”

He angles your hips upward and gives your clit another quick oscillation, pressing down until you’re gasping. “There you go. That felt good. You’re getting tighter,” he laughs, looming over you, shoving your heaving chest downward as he jerks your hips into him, forcing your body to do most of the motion, making your shoulder blades scrape across the uneven wood. “Cum for me. Fucking cum on my cock, (Y/N). Cum and I’ll give you your A, I’ll give you whatever the fuck you want.”

Your spine arches as you break around him, your cunt greedily pulling him deeper, slipping him past the barrier of your tender cervix and earning you a weak shout of praise from Shigaraki. Seconds later, he’s pulsing and twitching against your walls, the warm pooling of his cum filling you up and spilling down your spread thighs. 

His head drops to your shoulder and the rough skin of his forehead sticks to your sweat dampened flesh. For a long moment you’re both still, each of you struggling to catch your breath, luxuriating in the tingling sensation of release. 

“I fucking hate you, you know,” you gasp out, your arms circling his back, fingertips etching vague patterns over his neck and shoulders. 

“Ha,” he snorts, “I’ll have to remember that. Don’t worry (Y/N), I’ll pay you back for that little remark next time.”

“Oh? Next time?” you chuckle, moaning as he twists out of your hold and pulls his softening length out of you. 

“I’ll fail you on every assignment if you try to keep away,” he threatens, his eyes falling to the gaping mess that he’s left behind. You cross your legs, denying him the satisfaction of leering at your dripping pussy. 

“Fine. But next time, fuck me on something softer than a damn table.”

tags: @spicy-skull​, @xwildskullx​, @yixxes​, @ghstmthr​, @rekoii​, @diaouranask​, @bat-eclecticwolfbouquet-love​, @libiraki​ <--- i’m coming for you. you’re gonna have to read for this, lady. so, uh, i’m officially noneconing you here. 

notes: you made it! this thing is a monster & i’m so sorry i can never stfu

#shigaraki tomura #tomura shigaraki #reader insert #shigaraki x y/n #shigaraki x you #shigaraki x reader #bnha smut #9 to 5 collab #bnha degeneracy server #collaboration #tw: unhealthy relationship #tw: teacher/student #tw: dubcon #tw: bribery

[celestialking]

Moo moo meadows

◇ NSFW 18+ only ◇ Minors/Ageless blogs DNI◇ You will be blocked ◇

Word count: 1.6K

Warnings: amab, taller reader, humiliation, smidgen of degrading, accidental cowhybrid!reader, mentions of you wearing jeans,

"Alright, George I'm loading in," you confirmed. 

"Wait did you load the plugin?" 

"Not yet. I'll turn it on once I get in," 

The world shimmered around you, and you were transported to the world of Minecraft. George was waiting for you right at the spawn. "Alright, you ready?" George had coded it so you would turn into a cow for his latest video. Dream had been busy, so you offered to take his place. I mean. Could be that hard?

You entered the plugin and some part of you were covered in warmth, but when you opened your eyes you were still taller than George. Your natural height. "Oh dear," George frowned, adjusting his signature glasses. He slowly seemed to study as he circled around you. 

"Oh, dear? What does oh dear mean? Why didn't it work?" You asked following him with your eyes. 

Something twitched in the corner of your eye. Was that a- 

"I messed up somewhere you are only half a cow," 

It was a tail. "Well fix me," you demanded looking down at him. 

George seemed to be highly amused by this whole problem.

"I can't right now," he shrugged. You stared at him in shock.

"What do you mean you can't fix it?!" You twirled in a circle before finally catching your tail. You waved it accusingly at him "Am I supposed to be just stuck with a cow tail and horns every time we play? What about manhunts?" 

As you were rambling you didn't notice George step closer. He grabbed you by the horn yanking your face down to him. "Quit whining and let me work," he snapped. 

You gulped shutting up immediately. "Make sure this fits real quick, it's for the video, hold still," George let go and reached into his pocket. He pulled out a choker with a golden bell on it. Reluctantly you let him put it on. "See? Isn't it nicer when you listen?" 

You rolled your eyes. "Whatever," you ended up wandering off. At least until another cow decided it no longer wanted you on its land and chased you away.

"Georgie are you done," you whined, wandering back to spawn.

"No," he responded typing away.

He was sitting on a wood log, with plenty of room beside him. You plopped down next to him. Your tail whacking him in the chest. "Stop," George sent a glare to you, waving your tail away when it happened again. 

"Not my fault," you rolled your eyes.  Your tail once again flicking him in the chest.

"(Y/n),"

"fine I'll move,"

You got up to sit elsewhere but apparently that's not what he wanted. George suddenly grasped near the base of your tail. You let out a pornographic moan that caused both of you to freeze. George blinked surprised before a sly smirk set upon his lips.

"Sit, now," gulping you did as he asked. George stopped what he was doing and slowly moved behind you. "G-george?" His hand smoothed down your chest, stomach, and hovering over your jeans where a bulge had started to appear. 

His hand began to tease you slightly. You whimpered, bucking into his hand. "What a needy little cow I have," George said softly into your ear. You felt his lips graze your neck before nipping. You yelped, his hand undoing your jeans.

"You'll be good for me won't you?" He murmured dragging his tongue over a bite.

"Mhm," you whimpered. George pulled your cock out and lifted his hand to your mouth. 

"Spit," 

You did and immediately he grabbed your cock, stroking it gently. You bucked your hips up into his fist, trying to make him go faster. George pulled back his hand.

"Take only what I give you," he hissed.

Once you made a noise of agreement he continued his slow pace. What you didn't realize is that George wanted to draw out orgasm after orgasm. You quickly realized after he didn't stop after you spilled in his hand. 

"G-george," you whimpered out of overstimulation. 

You tried to squirm away but he wouldn't let you. Your back arched up, a jolt of pleasure shooting up your spine. You gasped feeling his thumb swipe over your tip.

"You can give me one more," George said, his calculating gaze upon you.

You whined. He enjoyed picking you apart, watching you spiral into a hazy mess of pleasure under his fingertips. His hand stroked you a few more times before stopping. You came for the second time and he had only just begun.

George had marked your skin several times over. Dark marks that would surely be darker tomorrow. "I think you should give me something in return," before he could finish his sentence you had already slipped out of his grip and to your knees.

"So eager," George mumbled brushing his thumb over your lips.

"Well? Get on with it,"

you removed his cock from his pants and boxers before slowly taking it into your mouth. You heard George's breath hitch and falter as you teased him with your tongue. You tried to take him deeper but ended up gagging. You pulled off, now giving special attention to the tip. You opened your mouth to say something but paused. George raised an eyebrow.

"What, what is it?" 

"I-" you blushed unable to say what you wanted. You grasped his hand and brought it up to your horns before gulping.

"Oh," he smirked.

"I see, open your mouth for me, darling,"

He gripped onto your horns and thrust into your mouth. George felt your fingers dig into his thighs. Tears brimmed your eyes from a combination of the rough mouth fucking and choking. His cock battered against the back of your throat practically brushing it. There was a steady jingling of the golden bell around your neck. George finally let you off to get some air.

As you gasped for air he smeared some of his pre-cum on your lips. 

"Come on now," he drawled. "You can take it, be a good little whore for me," you whined at the name. 

George just smirked and shoved his cock into your mouth once more. "Make me cum and maybe I'll fuck you," either you have the best head in the world, or he was already close. 

You felt George's cock twitch in your mouth but instead of filling your mouth, he chose to pull out. Cum spurting onto your face.

"Look at you covered in my milk," he cooed. You blushed embarrassed.

"Don't say it like that," you muttered, shoving his thigh. "Why not?" You couldn't seem to find an answer. He laughed when you didn't respond.

"You like it," George said softly. "Now get undressed but leave the bell on," you began stripping your clothes off slowly, enjoying the way George's eyes trailed your body. The golden bell rang softly after you removed your shirt. "Hands, knees," you moved into the position he wanted. His hands smoothed over your ass.

"You look good like this pretty boy,"

"S-stop staring and do something," you trembled.

George muttered something to himself before shoving his fingers in your face. "Suck," you took them into your mouth, tongue swirling around them. George pulled then out and began prepping you. One finger slipped in then another immediately after that. 

"You're already stretched a bit," George hummed. 

"I- I was busy before I joined you," you admitted softly. 

"Is that so?" He asked slowly pushing in another finger. You moaned as he purposely avoided that one spot. "What was it? Dildo? Vibrator?"

"Dildo," you flushed red. 

"Could it make you scream like this?" 

Scream? Why would you- "nnng!" You let out a loud cry as he fingered right into your prostate. "Fuck, please fuck me now," you begged. 

George ignored you his other hand reaching for your tail. Suddenly you had stimulation from two different places. You attempted to push your hips back to take more of his fingers.

"Greedy thing," George tutted.

He pulled his fingers out, you whined from the loss but not for long. He replaced the fingers with his cock. His pace was fast. George jackhammered into you, your thighs trembling in response. You moaned and whimpered; your tongue lolled out. He was hitting all the right places while also messing with your tail. You had begun to clench around him. George slowed his thrusts.

"No," you whined.

"I- I was gonna cum,"

"oh, you'll cum love. After you moo for me," George grinned.

You tried to look back over your shoulder. "W-what?" 

"Moo and I'll let you cum," the blush extended down to your shoulders. "I'm not mooing," you snapped, tears prickled in your eyes. 

"Well," George's fingers settled on your hips, holding them close. "I'm perfectly content using you as a cockwarmer," your lip quivered. "Cmon moo, for me, just a few times," you couldn't even look at him. Your face a tomato red you laid it down against the grass.

"Moo," you mumbled.

The grin on George's face was unbelievable. He let you make tiny cow noises as he slammed into you. The bell swinging wildly. 

"Pathetic, willing to moo for me just so you can cum," George tutted. 

Just as he said that you came around him harshly. George thrusted a few more times before filling you up. 

"I'll fix you tomorrow, promise," George said gently before pulling out. Your tail swished lightly, cum dripping down your thighs. 

"After we have some fun again,"

Reminder: DNI = Do Not Interact

If you are a Minor/Ageless blog, Do not follow. Do not comment. Do not reblog. Do not like. DO NOT INTERACT.

Either add your age to your bio/pinned, message me in private, or DNI.

#celestial:scribbles #celestial:gnf

[jynzandtonic]

HOLY SHIT I FINALLY DID IT, Y’ALL! A COMPLETE MASTERLIST! All of my writings are laid out under the cut. XOXOXO!

Last updated: October 4, 2021 (refresh the masterlist)

Hop on the taglist!  -  Join the Discord!  -  Say hi on AO3!  -  buy me a whiskey! - READ & SUPPORT ADCU WRITERS OF COLOR 

 Aaaand just a quick reminder...

ADAM SACKLER - Girls (2012-2017)

- FICS -

MEET THE BOYS: Adam Sackler - (450 words)

an intro to Sackler in the jynzandtonic universe

The Show Must Go On - AO3 - (1.8k + 1.7k + 2k words)

{part 1} - {part 2} - {part 3}

switch!Sackler x switch!reader: “omg they were quarantined!” w/ anonymous webcam sex and edging

Cherry - (1.6k + ? words)

{part 1} - {part 2 tba; it’s on the back burner!}

Daddy!Sackler x virgin!reader: reader has a daddy kink and innocence kink, initiates a pre-negotiated roleplay scenario for their first time sexual experience

Swiped - AO3 - audio - (1.2k + 1.3k + 2k words)

FULL FIC + AUDIO or {part 1} - {part 2} - {part 3}

Sackler x inexperienced/virgin!reader: “omg and they were roommates!” w/ idiots-to-lovers, instruction, dirty talk

Cake - (1k + 1.9k + ?) - to be continued!

{part 1} - {part 2} - {part 3}

Sackler asks what you want for your birthday. You ask for DAT BOOTY. Switch!Sackler x switch!reader pegging fic!

What to Expect - AO3 - (30k+) - WIP!

ch.1 - ch.2 - ch.3 - ch.4 - ch.5 - ch.6 - ch.7 - ch.8 - ch.9 - ch.10 - ch.11 - ch.12 - ch.13 - ch.14 - ch.15 (epilogue)

You decide to have a baby via donor, but your friend across the hall offers to help out the old-fashioned way. Preggo/Babyfic feat. Sackler!

Whole - AO3 - (500 words)

There are days when it feels like you just can’t get out of bed. There are days when you feel like you’re broken. But with Adam, you know you’re never really alone.

Ask Her - AO3 - audio - (5k words)

When you let it slip that you fooled around with your best friend back in the day, Sackler asks if you’d do it again. When you say you would, he can’t seem to let the idea of the three of you go. Maybe—just maybe—all you have to do is ask her.

Basic Instinct - AO3 - (25k)

ch.1 - ch. 2 - ch. 3 - ch. 4 - ch. 5 - ch. 6 - ch.7 - ch. 8

It’s a lucky coincidence—when you’re desperately searching for a new place, Adam Sackler has a room for rent. Plus, alphas and betas make great roommates, right? … Right?

- THOTS -

Losing your virginity to Sackler

Adam making you cum while out at dinner w/ his parents

Sackler fingerfucking you on a rollercoaster

Facefucking and spitting in your mouth

Sackler screeching for cuddles

Sackler finding ‘innocent’ virgin!reader’s vibrator

Feeling needy and giving Sackler a sloppy, lovey BJ

Sackler teaching anxious reader how to give him head

Sackler wanting to see your lipstick smeared on his cock

Shy reader pulling The Lip Bite (TM) on Adam

Temperature play w/ ice cubes

Shy reader turning passionate for Sackler

What are the odds: wearable vibe at work

You and Sackler jerking each other off at a movie theater

Fucking you so hard you forget you even met your ex

Soft dom!reader overstimulating sweet Sackler

Adam eating your pussy on a hike

Riding Sackler’s face to shut him the fuck up

Sweet, soft sex with Sackler in front of your ex

Soft, sleepy morning sex

Adam loving on your teeny tiny titties

Gremlin!Sackler fingering the fuck outta you

Shit-talking switch!Sackler feat. some bondage

Catching Sackler jerkin’ it and playing with his titties

Some very possessive dirty talk

Adam finding virgin!reader’s dildo

Sackler ‘helping’ busy student!reader unwind

Proud reader fucking Sackler backstage between shows

Sackler buys you your very first vibe

Sackler pulling up your sundress and fucking you in the park

Sleeping in *ahem* too small of a bed with roommate Sackler

Sex that sent you and Sackler to the ER

Sackler in a healthy, communicative relationship

Sackler comforting a reader far away from home

Sackler with asexual!reader

- SNACCS -

Random shit that Adam says in bed with you

Pregnancy kink with Adam Sackler

Sackler’s nicknames for reader

Daddy!Adam Sackler daydreams

Misc Sackler hcs: dirty talk, sex, exhibitionism, domestic fluff

Songs on my Sackler “bedroom playlist”

Comparing the temperature of your mouth and cunt

Sackler eating out nervous!reader for the first time

How Sackler gives kisses

Dan + Sackler soothing your anxiety

Making grumpy Sackler BEG FOR IT

Bashful Sackler hcs

On Adam’s chaotic!switch tendencies

NSFW Alphabet: Cum + Fave Position

On seeing a usually self conscious partner feel confident about their body

Adam Sackler loves love

Sexy HCs: cum, masturbation, oral, kinks, pussy-eating

CLYDE LOGAN - Logan Lucky (2017)

- FICS -

Meet the Boys: Clyde Logan

Maybe - AO3 - (1k words)

breeding kink/creampie WITHOUT the possibility/goal of reader becoming pregnant

Clyde gets ASMR - AO3 - (1k words)

Your sweet boy Clyde is the first guest on your ASMR channel. SFW fluff, can you believe it?!

Solstice - AO3 - (3k + 1.8k words)

{part 1} - {part 2}

It happens every Winter Solstice–you shift into a fox and wander the West Virginian woods for the longest night of the year. When you’re injured in an accident, the kind local bartender takes you into his care. Little does he know you’ll shift back into your human form come sunrise… without a shred of clothing on you.

The Plunge - AO3 - (3.4k words)

Clyde's not too hot on the idea of you swimmin' all by yourself at night, so it's up to you to convince him to join you for some moonlight skinny dipping.

In Vino Veritas - AO3 - (6.6k words)

In Vino Veritas — ‘In Wine, Truth.' You open up your very own wine bar, but one Boone County bartender isn’t particularly pleased about it. When a rift emerges between the two of you, will you find a way to mend it? And is there really “truth in wine?”

Eyes Wide Open - AO3 - (1.5k words)

It's all anonymous, and you're so hungry for a lover's touch. You'll never see him; he'll never know you. After an hour together, you'll part ways and never cross paths again. You couldn't find each other if you tried. As luck would have it, you might not need to.

- THOTS -

Rowdy fuckin’ with Clyde

Clyde comforting reader after a fight with a parent/other

Touch-starved, babbling, dirty-talking Clyde

Daddy!Clyde fucking bratty reader while decorating the xmas tree

Clyde getting riled up watching you do stretches

Mirror-fucking and dirty-talk with Clyde

Phone sex with Clyde

Teaching Clyde to dance

Making Clyde do a homemade facemask*

Clyde wants a baby for Christmas

Admiring and loving on Clyde’s soft cock

The first time Clyde made your cheeks go hot

Filthy fucking at Duck Tape with Clyde 

Clyde’s very first time eating pussy*

Crying on Clyde’s cock

Clyde making you cum seven times in a row (for luck, y’know)

Facesitting with Daddy!Clyde

Clyde fucking your ass at Duck Tape after seeing your plug

Leaving the big city and reassuring Clyde of your choice

Waking Clyde up with some slow head

Sweet n sensual mirror sex with Clyde

Clyde comforting you with slow lovemaking

Clyde comforting isolated reader

Sending/receiving nude pics with Clyde

Corrupting sweet sub!Clyde

- SNACCS -

Clyde comforting sad reader (gn)

Clyde + breeding kink/pregnancy - part 1

Clyde + breeding kink/pregnancy - part 2

Clyde + breeding kink/pregnancy - part 3

Clyde with a lactation kink

Clyde taking care of you when you’re sick

Netflix and... cockwarming. oops

Riding Clyde’s cock. That’s it. That’s the post.

Marking his territory with creampies

Fantasizing about meeting Clyde at the bar

Clyde x SIZE KINK

Loving fussing over Clyde

High school Clyde (uwu)

Telling Clyde you want to have a baby

Clyde being protective of you

NSFW Alphabet: Oral + Jack Off

Clyde eating pussy

MORE Clyde and breeding kink

The first time you have sex with Clyde feat. SIZE KINK

Sexy HCs: creampies, pussy-eating, and pregnancy

FLIP ZIMMERMAN - Blackkklansman (2017)

- FICS -

Under the Stars - AO3 - (2.8k)

Flip Zimmerman’s always talking shit—even about the gear you’ve brought on your weekend camping trip. When the rain rolls in, will you help him out with a dry place to sleep?

Sweeter Than Honey (multichapter)- coming soon!

- THOTS -

Visiting Flip at the station to show him your new lipstick

Flip daring you to sit on a vibe for 20min (overstim)

Coming home to find you in lingerie + his flannel

Fucking you in the archives division and telling you to keep quiet

GOOD COP BAD COP feat. Flip + Ronnie

Mirror sex in a dressing room

Breeding kink w/ Flip*

Your first time with Flip - part 1

Your first time with Flip - part 2

Fucking the brat out of you at a holiday party

Flip taking care of you after a long work day

Lovey-dovey drunk sex with Flip

Playing strip-poker with Flip

Slapping Flip (hint: it doesn’t go over well)

Flip spitting on your pussy

JUST how much Flip loves you

Slow lovemaking with Flip

- SNACCS -

Flip’s kinks, fave things to do in bed, and aftercare

Flip cheering you up after a bad day

Visiting Flip at the station in your skimpiest outfit

Flip being territorial over you in public

L.E.O. boys on National Horny Day

Flip being charming and playful

NSFW Alphabet: Aftercare, Goofy, Motivation, Stamina, Unfair

Gender-affirming lovin’ with Flip (transmasc!reader)

Semi-public sex and getting caught

On the subject of Flip’s balls

Growing old with Flip

OFFICER RONNIE PETERSON - The Dead Don’t Die (2018)

- FICS -

MEET THE BOYS: Ronnie Peterson - (1k words)

an intro to Ronnie in the jynzandtonic universe, in which the ending of The Dead Don’t Die is gleefully retconned

Holds Two Nicely - AO3 - (2k + ? words)

{part 1} - {part 2 coming soon}

switch!Ronnie gets road head in the Smart Car, and reader’s gonna pay for pulling that type of shenanigans

This Is The Way - AO3 - (2.6k words)

STAR WARS ROLEPLAY SEX WITH MANDO!RONNIE

Bad Day - AO3 - (2k)

blowing off a bad day with some mutual masturbation + squirting

- THOTS -

Meet the Boys: Officer Ronnie Peterson

Hand kink w/ Ronnie’s giant paws

Deepthroating + dirty talk with sweet + spicy bby Ronnie

Rescuing Ronnie from the apocalypse and settling in the big city

GOOD COP BAD COP feat. Flip + Ronnie

Handcuffing and domming Ronnie

Ronnie can’t keep his hands off you at the PD holiday party

Sitting on Ronnie’s face... HE LIKES IT.

Mando!Reader doms subby Ronnie

Cockwarming as a form of dominance with switch!Ronnie

DOUBLE PENETRATION with Ronnie + a Clone-A-Willy

Ronnie finding you half-naked in a Stormtrooper costume

Thigh-riding Ronnie at the station

Ronnie overstimulating you with a clit-sucker + cockwarming

Giving Ronnie head in the bathroom at a frat party

Ronnie spanking you after he has a rough day skiing

Make-up snuggling with Ronnie after a fight

Virgin!Ronnie x virgin!reader thots

Sending/receiving nudes with Ronnie

- SNACCS -

Fluffy/dirty HCs for nerdy boy Ronnie

What are Ronnie’s hugs like?

How Ronnie dresses when he’s not in uniform

L.E.O. boys on National Horny Day

Dan + Ronnie on Daddy kink

Ronnie Peterson Tummy Appreciation Post

NSFW Alphabet: Jack Off, Zzzzz, + Dirty Secret

CHARLIE BARBER - Marriage Story (2019)

- FICS -

MEET THE BOYS: Charlie Barber - (550 words)

an intro to Charlie in the jynzandtonic universe, which occurs solely post-Marriage Story

Exit Stage Right - AO3 - (1k words)

Theater smut and a very protective, soft Daddy!Charlie

Special Spot - AO3 - (850 words)

Daddy!Charlie is stressed from work and asks you to play with his ass

Business or Pleasure - AO3 - (1.7k words + ?) - WIP!

{part 1} - {part 2}

CHARLIE BARBER x READER x DAN JONES THREESOME

Lost and Found - AO3 - (4.6k words)

You’re an artist in New York City patiently waiting to find your soulmate. But what happens if your soulmate didn’t wait to find you?

- THOTS -

Desperate, touch-starved fucking with Charlie

Cockwarming in the theater with Charlie

Charlie buying sex toys for reader

Building IKEA furniture + drinking wine

How Kind of You to Let Me Cum: etiquette kink with Daddy!Charlie

Counting belt spankings for Daddy!Charlie

Charlie rubbing your clit on the subway

Daddy!Charlie feat. squirting kink

Charlie comforting you after a hard day

Christmas party cockwarming with Charlie

Thigh-riding Charlie in his office

Professor!Charlie Barber fucking you in the library stacks

Charlie and a little bit of voyeurism/exhibitionism

Teasing Charlie like a little brat

Charlie fucking nonbinary!reader senseless for looking too good

Sleepy morning head with Charlie + erogenous zones

Charlie punishing you with edging, spanking, and overstim

Wearing Charlie’s hand like a necklace + mirror sex

Late-night somnophilia with Charlie

Distracting Professor!Charlie during office hours

Getting messy making pancakes with Charlie

Cockwarming for Charlie during his zoom meetings

Charlie taking his frustration out on you + aftercare

Student/teacher cockwarming with Professor!Barber

Falling asleep after sex with Charlie

Soft breeding kink feels with Charlie

- SNACCS -

Misc Charlie hcs: nicknames, sex, aftercare, + more

Charlie sending you gorgeous NYC lingerie

d-d-d-d-DADDY KINK + more

NSFW Alphabet: Unfair - remote control vibe

NSFW Alphabet: Cum, Jack Off, Fave Position, Goofy, Stamina

Charlie teaching you your manners before a fancy date

Daddy!Charlie on erotic piercings

Threesomes with Charlie: Adam, Dan, + Toby

PHILLIP ALTMAN - This Is Where I Leave You (2014)

- FICS -

A Great American Pastime - coming soon!

- THOTS -

Edging bratty sub!Phillip

Phillip messing with you during Passover Seder

Sudsy shower sex with Altman

Altman fucking you in the pool during a family bbq

Making Philly cum in his pants at a house party

Phillip buying you a naughty present

Pegging bratty Phillip

Phillip degrading + facefucking you

Handcuffing Phillip and riding his face

- SNACCS -

Phillip + Sackler on the BDSM test

NSFW Alphabet: Goofy, Motivation, Unfair, Volume

Spending Hanukkah with Phillip

Sending/receiving nude pics with Phillip

DAN JONES (au context) - The Report (2019)

- FICS -

MEET THE BOYS: Dan Jones - (550 words)

an intro to Dan in the jynzandtonic universe, in which he is still a Senate staffer and the lead investigator for the Senate Select Committee on Intelligence; this is not RPF

Business or Pleasure - AO3 - (1.7k words + ?) - WIP!

{part 1} - {part 2}

CHARLIE BARBER x READER x DAN JONES THREESOME

Long Day - AO3 - (2.7k words)

DOM!Dan Jones!

Consumed by his work for the Senate Intelligence Committee, Dan comes home to you tense and exhausted, desperate for an outlet for his stress. Lucky for him, his little dove always knows just what he needs.

Professor!Dan Jones AU - coming soon!

- THOTS -

Sensual phone sex with Dan

Subby!Dan with assistant!reader

Riding the fuck out of Dan in his office chair (drabble)

Disciplining Dan when he’s misbehaved

Semi-public sex with riled-up Daniel

Dan begging you to swallow his cum*

Surprising Dan with head when he comes home from work

- SNACCS -

Dan + Sackler soothing your anxiety

Dan + Ronnie on Daddy kink

Dan with a shy!reader

Aftercare with Dan

NSFW Alphabet: Cum, Jack Off, + Toys

TOBY GRISONI (GRUMMET) - The Man Who Killed Don Quixote (2016)

- FICS -

You Can, You Shall, You Must (multichapter) - coming soon!

- THOTS -

Distracting Toby mid-film by being a brat 

Toby eating your pussy on the train + getting caught

- SNACCS -

Misc Toby HCs: fucking, protectiveness, aesthetics

Misc Toby HCs: thigh-riding, hair-braiding, polaroids

NSFW Alphabet: Kinks + WILDCARDS

Toby mustache HCs

RICK SMOLAN (au context) - Tracks (2013)

- FICS -

Meet Me in Moab (Vanlife!Rick AU) - coming soon!

- THOTS -

Watching sub!Rick jerk himself off for you

Rick shooting outdoor lingerie photos

Fucking a very touch-starved Rick

Making Rick cum in his pants

Rick worshipping readers phat titties

- SNACCS -

Roadtripping with Rick

Rick tickling and teasing your pussy

PAUL SEVIER - Midnight Special (2015)

- FICS -

Sugar Daddy!Paul Sevier AU - coming soon!

- THOTS -

Praise kink with sweet Sevvy

Catching feelings for Sugar Daddy!Sevier

Sugar Daddy!Sevier comforting you during hard times

Paul spanking you with his file folders

Giving Sevvy head so good he cries

Overstimulating sub!Sevier

Somnophilia with Sevier

-SNACCS-

Sevier comforting sad reader

ALL OF THE BOYS

DOM/SUB x LAWFUL-NEUTRAL-CHAOTIC Chart

- THOTS -

Dirty texts from all of the boys

How the boys feel about stretch marks

Cute lil’ domestic arguments with Clyde, Ronnie, Charlie, Dan, + Flip

The boys with pregnant!reader

The boys on hickies and love-bites

The boys on period sex

Loving on fat!reader

Sunday morning snuggles and ~shagging~

How the boys would ask you to move in with them

The boys with a nonbinary!reader (they/them)

How the boys would spend a snow-day with you

- SNACCS -

The boys on thicc thighs

Dominant/submissive x LNC chart for the boys

Charlie + Ronnie comforting sad reader

~Soft~ hcs for Flip, Dan, Sevier, Ronnie, + Phillip

TRUTH OR DARE with Sackler, Clyde, + Flip - part 1

TRUTH OR DARE with Sackler, Clyde, + Flip - part 2

TRUTH OR DARE with Charlie, Phillip, Ronnie, + Dan

Top three boys with a breeding kink

The boys on the BDSM test

Flip, Daddy!Charlie, Clyde, + Sackler on being called ‘himbos’

A lil’ bit of clit worship

Sweet + spicy hcs with Clyde + Sackler

Sweet + spicy hcs with Flip + Ronnie

What kind of porn the boys watch/read

Falling asleep and waking up with you

What to do to get the boys weak for you

Must-have songs on their “bedroom playlists”

How kinky do the boys get + fave positions

How the boys rate in the exhibitionist category

The boys taking care of you when you’re sick

NSFW Alphabet: Aftercare with Sackler + Charlie

NSFW Alphabet: WILDCARD

NSFW Alphabet: Experience

NSFW Alphabet: Dirty Secret

NSFW Alphabet: Location

NSFW Alphabet: No

The boys with a transman (transmasc!reader)

What the boys sound like before they cum

On finding out you’re bisexual

What the boys are like when they’re drunk: Toby, Dan, + Rick

What the boys are like when they’re drunk: Charlie, Clyde, Flip, + Ronnie

How the boys give hugs

What the boys prefer to fuck

Reverse cowgirling Charlie, Dan, Sackler, + Clyde

What alcohol the boys like to drink

A few New Year’s Resolutions

How the boys feel about verbal debasement/degradation kink

Size kink with Flip, Ronnie, + Clyde

Favorite rewards for The Subby Boys (TM)

Romantic nights with Flip, Charlie, + Clyde

Reactions to participating in skin-care pamering night

On dating a reader who does camming

The Babie-Daddy-Gremlin Triangle

The boys helping you when you’re overwhelmed with work

WHICH OF THE BOYS...

Would be most likely to roleplay Mulder/Scully with you

Is most likely to cum on you vs. cum in you

Likes to be called “Sir” (for scientific purposes)

Has the biggest dick - part 1 

Has the biggest dick - part 2 (NSFW Alphabet)

Has the best cock

Prefer showers or baths

Is the dirtiest and softest

Give the best back scratches when tucking you in

Wear speedos vs. trunks

Want to bring snacks to sexytime (food kink)

Is an ass man vs. a boobs man

Would be into having a threesome, and what kind

Would want to have children*

Is the best at eating you out

Has the heaviest balls feat. @clydesducktape​

Love facials the most

Is most likely to eat ass

Do I ship with each other + threesome ideas : paul x rick threesome, flip x phillip

Like to dole out orgasm denial/edging

Is the cuddliest

Is most likely to fuck the bratty attitude out of you

Has an edging kink

_____

MATT THE RADAR TECHNICIAN

- FICS -

The Dungeon Master - AO3 - (1.7k words + 1.9k)

{part 1} - {part 2}

Matt plays D&D on Thursday nights, and you decide to interrupt him for a good dicking. You get more than you bargained for.

CHAOTIC DOM!Matt

-THOTS + SNACCS -

HCs: Matt the Radar Tech, Cameron the Actor, + Mr. Ketchup

HCs: very NSFW chaotic-dom!Matt the Radar Tech things

Matt the Radar Technician’s pet chinchilla, Greg by @rollerdiscodiva​

How you got together with Matt + misc HCs

A few Matt x chubby!reader HCs

Feral Matt the Radar Tech being... sweet??

What Matt’s cock is like

Feral Matt being a little sweet after sex

Crumbs on soft!Matt

Surprising Matt with some DnD cosplay sex

Matt + first-time somnophilia

Matt congratulating you for acing a test the way he knows best

Trying to give Matt a slow, sweet blowjob

Keeping grumpy Matty up late with some deepthroating

Sweet Matt buying you succulents

_____

SNL BOYS

-THOTS + SNACCS -

Wearing Christmas Lingerie while Daddy McTavish tries to work on Zoom

Your first Christmas with Mr. McTavish and Mr. Pennyham (Sleepover Dad)

_____

KYLO/BEN SPECIAL WRITING EVENTS

-THOTS + SNACCS -

Kylo’s guilty pleasures

Kylo fucking his hand in the refresher

How Kylo/Ben shows everyone you belong to him

Sub!Kylo begging you to let him cum

Tending to each other’s wounds after defeating Snoke’s guard

Dom!Kylo fucking your throat

Kylo/Ben and possessive behavior

Kylo and pregnant reader snaccs

Rough, post-battle sex with Kylo

Tending to Smuggler!Ben’s wounds (Mando!Reader)

Sucking Kylo’s cock in the refresher

Cockwarming in the throne room

Kylo watching you kick ass in training

Sparring with Kylo till he fucks you senseless

Daddy!Kylo Ren overstimming and spanking your pussy

Kylo/Ben taking care of you after a hard mh day

_____

SPECIAL WRITING EVENTS

KINKTOBER 2021 MASTERLIST

A full month of kinky prompts with all your favorite boys!

Love Letters from The Boys

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

KINKS/TROPES - (will be expanded)

-additionally, all of these are tags that can be blocked 🖤-

daddy kink

hurt/comfort

virginity kink / innocence kink

pregnancy kink

breeding kink

size kink

fluff

body positivity

light verbal degradation / degradation kink

light bondage / bondage

light exhibitionism / exhibitionism / voyeurism

semi-public sex

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

#ADCU #adcu community #jynzandtonic #MASTERLIST #about jynzandtonic #adam sackler x reader #clyde logan smut #adam sackler smut #clyde logan x reader #charlie barber x reader #charlie barber smut #dan jones x reader #daniel jones x reader #flip zimmerman x reader #flip zimmerman smut #phillip altman x reader #phillip altman smut #toby grisoni x reader #toby grummett x reader #paul sevier x reader #ronnie peterson x reader #rick smolan x reader #adam driver character #adam driver snl #matt the radar technician x reader

[jackrrabbit]

Bloodlust /// Sanemi x f!Reader (18+)

Summary: A naive demon is waylaid by the Wind Hashira.

A/N: Might fuck around and get back into KNY…Sanemi is one mean bastard, and I’m here for it. Be warned—this is pretty brutal (not by canon standards, but still). ngl I’ve missed writing stuff like this 🥺

Tags/warnings: sadomasochism, noncon, hatefucking!!!! is def the best way to describe what happens in this fic, threats, violence, demon reader & demon things, primal, degradation, outdoor sex, bloodplay & marechi kink stuff, yandere? obsessive fixation ig, some creative liberties have been taken with canon

You’d almost forgotten what it feels like to be weak.

Strength came with the territory when you were turned into a demon, along with the hunger: all-encompassing, oppressive, like you’re starving every second you’re not eating. Apparently you’re better able to control your hunger than other demons, not that you’ve met many—none, actually, other than the one who turned you. He was the one who told you to exercise control, who told you that you’ve done well to stealthily pick off prey that wouldn’t be missed instead of attracting attention. He was the one who told you about demon slayers.

You almost laughed at the idea at the time. A group of humans who tried to resist demons? Tried to kill them? How? Every human you’ve encountered since you were turned—hunters, mostly, men who’d wandered into the woods looking for something to eat—has been pathetically weak against you. Life as a demon is simple. As long as you stay in the shadows and avoid the sun, you have nothing to fear.

Sometimes you daydream about making your way to a village and gorging yourself, but you don’t mind the hunger so much. You can get by on scraps. And besides, the demon who turned you warned you not to go overboard. He said to stay away from the humans’ notice—not that the threat of some human calling themselves a “demon slayer” bothered you. You know how strong you are; you can feel it in your blood, your muscles, your bones. You don’t understand how a flesh-and-blood human could threaten that.

You don’t understand…until you meet him. The Wind Hashira. You should’ve listened to the warnings about demon slayers.

Bitter.

It tastes bitter, and you try to ground yourself on that taste, the sharp, bitter-wet flavor of the grass and dew and earth because the slayer is shoving your face into the dirt and the copper from where you’re biting into your lip and holding back the sound of your voice. Not that he cares, probably. But you don’t think you could take hearing yourself moan for a human while he carves the shape of his cock into your pussy.

How did you…get here? Facedown, barely holding yourself up on your elbows, chest and stomach shoved into the grass with your back arched up and your kimono ridden above your hips… Fuck, you can barely remember the fight, his ability, him wrestling you into the earth and shoving his weight down on you and bringing his blade to his own arm and—

—his blood, so rich and thick and sweet that even recalling the smell of it sends a wave of heat through you and you whine under your breath. The hunger overtakes everything else you’re feeling, but only for a second before with a twitch of his hand the Hashira brings the edge of his sword to the tender skin of your throat. “Ah-ah,” he rasps out a laugh even though his voice is heavy and strained. “What was that? Are you starting to like it?”

“K-Kill you, I’ll—kill you,” you snarl, but you and him both know the threat is empty. You tried. And you failed.

“Fucking demon whore,” he spits, and the blade slips just enough to draw a hair-thin line of red across your neck, earning a yelp from you even though you don’t dare move any more for fear of letting it cut you deeper. When you go still, he grunts and you can hear him shifting position in the grass, angling your hips up so his cock can sink in again. “Asking for it…fuck…”

“I wasn’t—nngh—ah, ahhh, s-stop—you can’t—” Your words are coming out in babbles, barely intelligible but it’s his fault. He’s pushing up at your womb, pulling out in short, quick thrusts and slamming his cock back into your cunt so hard and rough it’s like he’s knocking the breath out of your lungs. It hurts, ithurtsithurtsithurts, an ache deep in your core and accompanied with a heat and tension that you hate even more than you hate the pain, because it means he’s right. You—no, your body, your traitorous pathetic weak body that submitted to his so easily—it’s starting to like this.

“How’s it feel?” He’s mocking you, fisting his fingers in your hair and wrenching your head back so he can look you in the eye. “Does it hurt?…it hurts, right? Good.”

“—i-it doesn’t—“ You don’t even believe it yourself.

“Yes…it does. Guess even a demon bitch like you can’t take me that easily.” Somehow the slayer’s hips keep pumping deeper, pushing his fat cock through your walls and against the entrance to your womb until you’re certain your unnatural healing can’t keep up with the bruising in your cunt. Your fingers are scrabbling in the grass, digging clawed nails into the earth—the little nick on your throat has already knitted itself back up, but the tension in your pussy is a dozen—a hundred—times worse.

“—stop, let me go—“ Debased. Lower than an animal. You’d be begging if you thought he would listen.

“‘Stop’? How are you going to...ungh, make me stop? Want to try to fight me off again?” He pulls out (you hate the way your cunt feels when he does, hot and slick and empty) and his grip on the sword slackens, easing up enough to give you a scanty inch of movement. “Go ahead, give it a try.”

The slayer’s taunting you—just like you taunted him at the start of this, when you first challenged him, when you thought he was a human—and, and somehow he is, still human and yet just as much a monster as you are. More. You’ve been cruel, you’ve done evil things, but you did them to survive. Fuck, you shouldn’t—shouldn’t have taunted him, shouldn’t have boasted, should’ve stayed hidden in the dark. You didn’t know. He wasn’t supposed to be this strong.

Your muscles are shaking from exertion as you brace your hands against the ground, trying to push up against the weight of his body so you can right yourself, but it’s futile. Within a second (less than a second) of your attempt to move, one of his scarred hands slaps over your wrist and crushes it back into the dirt, grip so tight you swear you can almost feel your bones grinding underneath. You snarl, try to twist yourself away from him but the hilt of his sword slams down flat against your other hand so hard you feel a dull pang of surprise that nothing actually breaks.

“So weak…try that again and I’ll use the sharp end.” His chest is moving back on top of yours, and you recognize the silent rhythm of the movement.

He’s laughing at you.

Weak. You know it’s true. You thought you were so strong, but compared to this Hashira you’re nothing. Pure unadulterated defeat is written in every cell of your body, and whatever animal instinct you have left from your human life is telling you to roll over and accept that he’s the predator, and you’re nothing more than prey. But the mockery, the ease with which he holds you down, the goddamn fucking laughter sparks a fresh wave of hatred and you thrash and squirm underneath his body. “You’re dead, you—I’ll kill you, I’ll tear you apart, they’ll be picking bits of you out of this forest for weeks—“

The red haze over your vision is so heavy that you barely notice the blade tilting into position—not over your skin, but against his. You only register what he’s doing when the glint of sunlight on the blade reflects brilliant white, and you catch a scarlet line of blood beading against it. You pull back, eyes going wide, trying not to inhale but your lungs betray you and,

oh ohhh fuck it smells good smells so good you want it you want it so fucking bad you’re going to die if you can’t taste it you need it you need it you NEED IT.

Your muscles go slack. You’re salivating already, dizzy from hunger, so intensely focused on the smell of his blood that you can’t help your compliance as he pulls your hips up into place and slips his cock back into your pussy. Only when it starts to hurt again—a dull soreness now, because he’s slowed his pace to push his thick shaft into you inch by inch—do you feel that same prickle of hatred and disgust, but who cares who cares that you’re getting fucked because the smell of his blood is driving you out of your mind with need.

You no longer have the self-control to hold back your voice, and when the slayer hears the pathetic little mewl dripping out of your mouth from the sensation of him filling you up, he laughs again. But this time you don’t care, you just want him, want his body, his blood. Your jaw snaps open and shut on instinct and you whine, pleading, because you’re past the point of believing that you can beat him.

“You like that? Want to taste?” His voice is softer now, but the vein of mockery still runs clear through every syllable.

Your head jerks up and down desperately and then he draws his hips back and slaps his cock between your aching walls, pushing a huffed “uhhn!” out of your lips—but you don’t pull away. You can tolerate this, if it means getting to taste that blood dripping down his fingers, over the sword grip still held in his palm, just to be wasted on the grass. Out of your reach.

“So docile now…think I could get used to this,” the slayer sighs, adjusting the position of his thighs so he can thrust into you lazily and deeply. “F-Fuck, you’re—tight, you know that? All hot and sticky inside…”

“—let me have it, need it I need it, why—“ Your head is spinning, feels like you’re…what? The intoxication is hitting some note deep in the recesses of your memory, a past life you aren’t supposed to be able to recall. Bitter taste on your tongue, liquid pouring, fuzzy edges bordering your vision. Drunkenness.

“Little demon bitch,” he growls, tapping the blade lightly against your neck when you snap your teeth at him again. “Said you were going to kill me, yeah? But now you’re moaning like a whore…”

You try to muster a denial, but you can’t.

The slayer’s other hand twists underneath the two of you to press up on your lower belly, pushing into the place where his cock is nudging up against your womb. You keen at the pressure, the slow friction against that little patch in your cunt that makes you slicker every time his cockhead passes over it. “Feel how deep I am in your cunt…? I can—feel your pulse on my cock, fuck.”

You can feel it too, your heartbeat echoed in the twitches of your pussy around his skin, quick and fluttering from the drunken stupor his blood has forced you into. Every sense is heightened, and the weight of his hand pushing up on your belly just makes it worse…or better. You’re not sure.

He swallows, and with his body on top of yours you can feel his heavy breathing puffing out over the bared skin of your neck. “Can demons even cum? If you can get wet, then you can cum too, right? I bet I can…bet I can make you cum, you fucking whore. Wouldn’t that be nice…get you creaming on my cock, make you my little fuckpet…”

His hand slips down from your belly to rub roughly at your cunt, pushing into your skin to seek out the little button at the top—and the feeling of his hands on you like this, the sharp jolt of pleasure somehow sends a splinter of clarity through your delirium. “No,” you wail, hearing how wanton you sound and hating it. “I can’t I can’t, please, please don’t make me—“

“Quiet.” His thick forearm wraps around your neck, tightening against your windpipe and cutting off your voice. “Learn your place, demon—the only reason you’re alive is because you’re a nice wet hole for me to use. So when I tell you to cum—“

His pace picks up, hips knocking yours deeper, splitting you apart while he swirls his fingers around that sweet spot—and then the smell of copper gets thicker and he’s pushing his bloody hand against your mouth—

“—you cum.”

You’re not sure whether it’s your cunt or the taste of his blood smearing over your lips that does it, but as soon as he says the word you shatter like glass. The heat is brutal horrible delicious and so overwhelming you’re surprised you’re conscious through it—every hair is standing up on end and your body pulls tight like a bowstring, arching your backside into his hips so you can feel every inch of your cunt sucking around him.

It’s bliss—sickeningly sweet, burning like fire through you—without thinking, you eagerly lick the scarlet liquid off his hand and fuck somehow, somehow, it tastes even better than it smelled—feels like you could live off just the blood in your mouth but you want more, you’d die for it, you’d do anything, and your teeth are bared ready to puncture his skin deeper when—

Cold steel slides up under your jaw, almost nicking one of the veins pumping blood up to your hazy brain. “Keep—ahh, yesss…d-damn it—keep still,” the slayer rasps. “No teeth.”

He’s not finished.

Every muscle in your body aches for you to ignore him, but the knowledge of how easily he could separate your head from your body makes you obey, dragging your tongue over his still-bleeding cut instead of biting down. You can hear the noises of damp skin against skin issuing out from where your bodies meet, but you’re not sure whether it’s from you lapping at his fingers or his cock pressing in and out of your sopping-wet cunt. Probably both. Not that it matters.

The slayer’s head lowers—you know it by the angle of his cock inside your twitching pussy and the faint tickle of his hair brushing against the skin of your neck—and then you feel his teeth sinking into the side of your throat. They’re blunt, of course, as harmless as any human’s, but the primal dominance of the action sends a shudder through you.

“Not bad…looks like demons are good for something after all. I think I might just keep you,” the slayer laughs. His voice is too close—you want to flinch back, spit at him, bite—but you can’t. You’re helpless.

You’re weak.

#shinazugawa sanemi x reader #sanemi x reader #kny x reader #demon slayer x reader #yandere kny #kimetsu no yaiba x reader #shinazugawa sanemi #sanemi #kny #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #yandere #yandere kny x reader #yandere demon slayer #yandere demon slayer x reader #yandere sanemi #kny imagines #demon slayer imagines #kimetsu no yaiba imagines #yandere x reader #tw noncon

[moonctzeny]

Softer than velvet

pairing: magazine co-editor! mark lee x fem!y/n

genre: smut

warnings: office sex

word count:  2,926

summary: “Mark is a co-editor in the fashion magazine you work for, monopolizing everyones attention with his looks, including yours. Prompted by his vast knowledge about lingerie and his tendency to want to rip them apart, you invite him in your office, and you definitely put him to work”

a/n: inspired by the legendary scene from ‘Community’ and a discussion I had with my bf and best friend about lingerie.

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

He looked dashing again, as always. 

While Monday morning finds most employees in their tousled bed hair, dark eye circles and crooked buttons from hasting to be on time, Mark Lee looks like he jumped out of the fashion magazine you worked for. He was an editor, like yourself, yet the way he confidently strolled through the hallways, capturing everyone’s attention, had executives and employees alike toying with the idea of having him in their bed.

Mark’s shoulders looked even broader in the white shirt he had chosen for the day, neatly ironed and held together with a bright coral tie. A suede brown vest, that would look plain weird on anyone else that would dare pull it off, showed off his tiny waist perfectly, short enough for the workers on the welcome desk to whisper in admiration about his ‘cute perky butt’.

As one of Mark’s many secret fans, you wanted to join in on their giggling, but as his coworker you had to keep yourself from indulging in those dirty thoughts that kept creeping in your head. It was hard to deny this sweet distraction, that perks you up in excitement and turns up the heat of your body.  Like now, that he makes his way towards you in the main lobby, and you wonder how nice his pink locks would look between your thighs.

“Good morning, y/n”, he says when he’s finally standing in front of you, and you almost spill your mug filled with instant coffee in the sound of his raspy morning voice.

“Lee”, you address him almost coldy, but your smirk as you take a sip of the hot liquid gives you away. You can’t stop yourself from checking him out, his new high-end belt begging to be tugged on and used in other ways that it was originally made for. He bites his cheek when he notices your eyes laying on his crotch a second too long but he decides not to mention it.

“Are you going on a cigarette break soon?”

You sigh, rolling your eyes before making sure to lower your voice. “Didn’t you hear yesterday’s briefing? New boss is trying to cut them and apparently so must we. No smoking allowed here anymore.”

“Then you chose the wrong outfit”

He seems satisfied with the little yelp you let out, internally scolding yourself for getting so worked up over his compliment but hell, there’s nothing more you want than to fuck that smile off his face. If that’s what he wanted that’s what he’d get, but you refuse to look all fucked out here in the open just from the mere words of Mark Lee. Not when so many of your assistants were watching.

“We got assigned the lingerie issue together”, you change the subject and start walking towards your offices at the end of the floor. “ I need you to show me your picks later”

“It was hard finding anything worth including, except for Savage X Fenty nothing new is in the game. The La Perla designs are so outdated, and don’t get me started on Fleur du Mal.”

“Wow, you seem to know a lot about lingerie, huh?”, you exclaim, genuinely impressed, and you let him bask in his pride for a little. He runs his fingers through his hair and you catch a whiff of his shampoo, its scent coupled with his cologne highly addictive.

“I love fashion, and it’s kind of my job so I have to keep up. I’m not really a big fan of them, though.”

You raise an eyebrow at his confession, and halt as you arrive outside his office that is a little nearer than yours. Your body is leaning up against the wall, in a way that accentuates the curves of your body and Mark doesn’t try to be discreet in his staring. He might as well raise his hands, go through the layers and layers of palpable sexual tension between you and run them all over your body like you so desperately want.

“Don’t get me wrong, they’re pretty”, he starts, and you’re not sure if he’s addressing you, your lips or your decolletage.”But if we were getting down to business and I saw you in lingerie, all I’d think about is how to rip it off of you”

It takes every ounce of self control in your body and the thought of how much you need your salary not to pounce at him, and start removing his clothes right then and there. The masks of professionalism have vanished and so has your patience with him, so you fix his tie, tying it up a little tighter than it needs to be and you love the gasp that leaves his chapped lips. 

“Since you are so knowledgeable Mark, I’m not sure if the lingerie I’m wearing is off-season. How about you come to my office later to hand me your picks and give me your honest opinion?”

He chokes on thin air, the angry veins on his neck twitching from the lack of circulation to his head as he huffs out a chuckle. 

“I’ll be there before the meeting starts”, he promises before slipping inside his office, his hands brushing yours as he slides past you. You bet he thinks he’s smooth, but his reflection on the glass door of his neighboring office betrays him, catching him in the act of staring at your ass as you walk away. You wink at his reflection and he winces when he realizes, but you’ll forgive him. This sweet distraction in the name of Mark Lee was all you needed this boring Monday morning, and you can’t wait to see if your coworker is as skillful as he talks himself up to be.

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The wait wasn’t long, but it sure was painful, your mind wandering at the conversation you had with Mark this morning and eyes checking the time every five minutes. You’d almost miss his figure in your absentmindedness, standing outside your office, nervously shifting his body weight from one leg to the other. 

The glass separating your office with the main hall was tinted, with a few stripes of clear glass on the very top, giving you a limited view of the people hurrying past. Through those lines you also saw Mark, hesitating to knock and giving himself what looks like a pep talk. You think it’s adorable and decide to take him out of his misery, getting up yourself to open the door.

His mouth drops open when you do, looking like a deer in the headlights with his big doe eyes and binder that is placed -strategically- over his crotch. You smile politely and motion him to come in, your meetup not seeming strange to any passerby, as you have worked together many times in the past. The moment he turns the knob behind him to close the door, Mark drops the designs from his hands, pictures of lingerie flying in the air and landing across the carpeted floor. You barely manage to turn the lock before he pushes you backwards with a hand on your jaw, until you feel the wood of your desk digging against your ass.

You close your eyes and immediately are braced with the feeling of his tongue entering your mouth, the strong aftertaste of cinnamon candy tingling your tastebuds. Bringing him closer by his tie, you let him lift you up the table, legs wrapping around his waist and you verify that he was, indeed, already hard behind that binder. 

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to do that”, he murmurs in the kiss and tugs on the roots of your hair suddenly, forcing your head to tilt back and thus expose your neck.

His breath is hot over your collarbones and the feeling of his hardness is driving you insane, so you let your blazer fall from your shoulders before taking off his vest. Mark helps you out by loosening his tie and starts to unbutton his shirt, but you stop him when his chest is almost half-exposed.

“Don’t take it off, you look sexy like that”

He blushes from your compliment, momentarily letting go of his surprisingly dom persona.

“I thought I was supposed to examine your outfit though?”, he asks cheekily and you remove your blouse, revealing the teddy that’s been hugging your body.

It’s black, with a mesh body and velvet lining over the cups and crotch area. The adjustable straps help your boobs look full and round, the velvet strips that are going down, parallel to your body lines, make you look as curvy as ever. 

Mark looks a little lost, like a kid in a candy store and he clears his throat before speaking up again. 

“I need to feel the fabric”, he states, almost too seriously for the situation you were both in currently and he runs his fingers from your belly button upwards to your abs. His fingers toy with the lace adorning the cups and he finally squeezes your boobs. He chuckles at the naughtiness of what you’re doing right now, breaking character, and you’re reminded of how young Mark really is. You free your right boob from its constraint and the sight of your nipple, hard and erect for him, immediately sobers him up. 

His mouth has stayed open in his trance, and you take advantage of it by placing your fingers over his lips, then slowly pushing them in. With his tongue wetting your fingertips, and his big eyes glued on you, waiting for your next move, he really resembles a puppy, and you gloat in the sudden gain of control over him.

When you feel that he’s had enough, or rather, that you’ve had enough, you push your digits out of the comfortable rim of his mouth, coating your nipple with a light layer of his spit.

“So?”, you mewl seductively, “what do you think?”

“It needs to be softer, I think”

You stop massaging yourself, tilting your head in confusion by his critique.

“Softer? What is softer than velvet?”

Mark smirks back at you, hand leaving your breast and travelling south. 

“I can think of something” 

He finds the buttons over the crotch of the teddy, the pieces of fabric they’re holding together damp with your arousal. You shiver when you feel his fingers easily gliding through your folds, teasing your entrance and pinching your clit.

A whine leaves your lips as he removes his fingers momentarily, falling on his knees in front of you. Suddenly remembering where you are, you stretch your body a little in your paranoia, checking if anyone is standing outside your office, witnessing your dirty meetup. But Mark is quick to bring you back up to heaven, with a flick of his tongue over your clit.

“Mmmm, so soft”

He looks so fucking delicious looking up at you, tie discarded on the floor now and lips coated with your wetness and his spit. You can feel the scruffiness of his 5 o’clock shadow slightly scratching the inside of your thighs that are so sensitive and shake in pleasure. Reaching your hands back for any form of stability you knock down some of the stationery, but how can you care when Mark draws circles with his fingers on your entrance?

He pushes in his index, then his middle finger as well, setting a pace that is as slow as it is sinfully pleasurable. Your small office is filled with the sounds of his kissing and slurping, but you can’t ask him to be quiet when you struggle to lower your moans as well. The feeling of the soft pads of his fingers massaging your walls and his tongue sucking on your pussy makes you light-headed, your nails digging in the wooden surface and desperately chasing your high. Your orgasm hits you like a wave, and you bite your fist so as not to make a sound, but Mark’s not done yet. 

He places one hand sturdily on your hips, the other cupping your left boob, successfully helping you keep your balance. He keeps lapping up your arousal, sucking on the swollen bud and you swear you see stars. You’re thrashing around in your overstimulation, too close to screaming from pleasure and you grab Mark’s hair to push him away. 

His eyes are blown out from arousal, mouth gasping for air and chin wet with your juices. The desire to have him is animalistic, and you force him up by his collar, replacing his place on the floor.

“My turn”

Unbuckling his belt in swift moves, you manage to free his member from his boxers, bright red and leaking for you. Placing his tip on your tongue, you can taste the saltiness of his precum, and Mark sighs at the warmth of your mouth. You rest your hands on his thighs, looking up to see his pretty face contorted in pleasure when you swirl your tongue around his length. 

“Oh my god, just like that”

Determined to return the favour, you gulp around him, his cock hitting the back of your throat. You ignore the burning feeling on your knees and throat and keep him there, until tears are threatening to spill from the corner of your eyes. After bobbing your head over his cock, listening to his swears over and over again you can tell he is close, and you start jerking him, slowly picking up your pace.

He lets out a guttural groan when you start palming his tip and he slaps your hand away, taking his dick in his own grasp. “Show me something worth cumming for. I want to see your body”

You fumble with the cups of your lingerie, trying to free your boobs but it’s hard, with the straps getting in the way and the fabric being too sturdy to stretch so far. Mark gets impatient with you taking so long, so he crouches forward, bunching up the mesh in his fists and ripping it in half.

Shocked yet turned on by his action you let the garment drop from your body, leaving you in only your skirt that is bunched up over your hips. Passing the mounds on your breasts you let your hands move lower, and you start to play with your pussy for Mark to see. You’re still so sensitive from your orgasm earlier and you let him know, moaning his name as you expose yourself fully for him.

As he moves his wrist frantically over his shaft, his eyes are glued on your lower lips. They are a raging red at this point, and he’s losing his mind over the look of pure lust painted on your face. He wishes he could paint it with something else but he knows you’re in the workplace, yet nothing can keep him from entertaining the thought.

“Where do you want it?”, he huffs out just a second before he’s reaching his own high and you open your mouth, giving him a silent invitation. He moves his hips closer to you, tapping his tip over your eager tongue and he watches intently at the ropes of cum that are slowly filling up your mouth.

You raise your thumb on your lips, collecting the drops that are spilling from the corner of your mouth and you swallow before Mark can even hand you the metal bin next to your desk. He seems to be in complete ecstasy, chuckling for no reason as he puts his softening member back into his underwear and helps you back into your clothes (or whatever is left from them).

“I’m sorry for ripping your lingerie”, he mumbles finally and you want to coo at how cute he sounds, “I’ll buy you a new one, I promise”

You laugh lightly, helping him at picking up the pictures of the lingerie pieces that are scattered on your floor. “It better be one of your picks”, you tease him, waving the burgundy set you were holding and he licks his lips, picturing you in it.

“Sure. How about I give it to you over some dinner this weekend?”

His offer excites you, so you nod in agreement, and you shuffle awkwardly in the heavy atmosphere of the room. As you pick up the last picture, placing it neatly inside Mark’s binder, you feel his hand wrapping around your waist, bringing you close against him. Instinctively, you kiss him, allowing yourself to get lost in the movement of his lips, that mostly taste like you and you nibble at them lightly. Mark was in the middle of squeezing the softness of your ass, humming in appreciation, when a beep comes simultaneously from both of your phones. It’s the meeting he was talking about this morning and you groan for having to let him go.

He hands you a piece of gum when you both enter the hall and you take it, praying that no one will smell his cologne all over your skin, or notice that you’re going commando under your clothes. One of your co-workers and Mark’s buddy, that you address with a nod every time you cross paths in the office kitchen catches up to you, and throws an arm over his shoulders.

“Mark, my man, you’re glowing today! Wanna grab a bite after the meeting?”

The boy turns his head in your direction, giving you a once over and winking your way, before answering with a smile that is so evident in his voice.

“Nah, thanks. I already ate”

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