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takes1 · 23 hours

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p.2 asahi x feral reader w/ a size k!nk

this is gonna get so fucking good ya'll i love thisss!! it's fun writing this sweet guy be a little dirty lmao

warnings. nsfw. minors DNI info. nsfw / build-up to more smut / phone sex / mutual masturbation / blue balls / suggestive conversation / gentle giant!asahi / mutual size kink / sweet asahi / long-mid distance issues / kuroo's sister!reader / kuroo cockblocking / kuroo being protective / 2.3k words / multipart series so reply to be added to taglist! haikyuu collection. more hq here! part one here. more links. my ao3. masterlist. requests open!

Your pencil twirled, tap-tap-tapping against your half-filled page of notes as you searched for the next header to copy for this dreadful, draining history class.

Anything to distract you from the fact that he hadn't called you.

The game was Tuesday- now it was Friday evening, and still, no word from him. Maybe you had something in your teeth when you spoke to him, or you smelled bad, or he just didn't like your hair. You had dedicated hours trying to figure it out.

A phone call was hard evidence he was interested in you. Practically a 'yes' to your fantasies, which had only gotten more unhinged with the hurt of this perceived rejection.

He still remained just a few minutes worth of your real energy on some ordinary day. But God, how you mourned for what could've been. How he would've filled you up, wrecking you with the satisfaction and excitement you yearned for.

buzz buzz. buzz buzz. buzz buzz. buzz buzz.

The sound initially deepened your already lackluster mood, because you learned to be disappointed with every call that wasn't from a Miyagi area code.

You were grateful that your eyes happened to glaze over the screen before you completed the swipe to ignore it.

A piercing scream of delight filled your entire house through a cracked bedroom door.

Tetsuro's unwanted, grating voice across the hall shattered your elevated state of bliss:

"SHUT UP!"

"YOU SHUT UP! I'M ON THE PHONE!"

You took a deep breath on the fifth ring and, shaking off the nerves by standing up out of your swivel chair, you swiped across the screen to answer.

"Hello?"

"Hey, is this (Y/n)?" A deep, rumbly voice made your knees weak.

"Y-es," Your voice cracked, tummy tingly, "Is this- Asahi?"

His name left your lips so well. You fell onto your back on your bed, pressing your thighs together at the sound of his reply.

"Yeah, that's me."

You hadn't heard his voice before, thinking hard about it now, because he didn't say anything to you in person.

"I thought you wouldn't call," You bit your lip in restraint, but kept the tension in your belly, "Why'd you keep me waiting for so long?"

A grumbly sigh on the other end gave you a full-body shiver. You crossed your legs.

"I was nervous," He admitted.

The giant did have a heart, after all. Curious, you smiled and looked up.

Your face fell.

"Get out of my room!" You shouted at Tetsuro, who was lingering in the doorway.

"How long have you been in here?!"

"I'm not in your room," He tested you by putting a foot inside, and didn't answer your question, instead pressing his own, "Who the hell are you talking to?"

It reminded you: A quick 'Hold on' and what you thought was the mute button--

You scrambled across your bed to the doorway to close it, but he dove out of the way and you ended up shutting him in. You flung it open again.

"Get out!!"

The demon-spawn was making for your phone, so you leaped onto his back and weighed him down to the floor instead.

"It better not be--," He grunted with effort as he shoved you off by the face, "Some country-bumpkin prick!"

There was no contact on the screen, so he couldn't be sure who you were talking to even with your phone in his hand.

"Who is this?" He interrogated, his torso leaning on your bed, his knee on your chest to keep you down.

You punched his leg over, over, and over again. He swatted at you while looking at your phone to figure out why nobody was responding to him.

It gave you the opportunity to push him off while his balance was uneven. You slapped your phone out of his hand and it clattered to the floor.

There was a violent hush over the two of you.

Tetsuro rose of his own accord, dodging a slap, and kicked your phone far under your bed with a grumble.

"Like I'm gonna just let that happen."

The door slammed behind him. You skittered up, opened it, then called after him, "Stay out!!"

You made sure to lock and barricade it this time.

When you leaned down to find your phone, it was impossible to reach with your hands or legs from either side of the bed. That asshole had made sure to kick it just far enough to make you get creative.

You had to tie together a ruler and a clothing hanger to retrieve it, then use your foot to leverage it out.

To your relief, the call was still active. But it wasn't muted.

Heart sunk halfway down your ribcage, you asked a grim question, "How much of that did you hear?"

His chuckle lifted your spirits instantly.

Almost as a conditioned response, you glanced to the door. It was still secure.

"I'm so sorry, my brother is the worst." You grumbled, climbing back into your bed with a sore face, hand, and knee.

Asahi's tone was clear and smooth.

"It sounds like he just wants to keep you out of trouble."

Your body jumpstarted again at that word. You wanted all the trouble he had to offer. You couldn't help but giggle, since his response sounded as if he was referring to himself.

"I know how to handle myself," You grinned, "I'm only a year younger than him."

"He's a senior, isn't he?"

"Mhm."

"So you're a second-year."

"Mhmm," You could listen to him talk all day. Your hand rubbed over your prickled chest, savoring his voice against your ear.

"Good. I feel like less of a creep, now."

In his admission you could hear his lips curl into a smile- your covered your mouth and kicked your legs in the air.

"Don't tell me you thought I was a first-year," You teased with false surprise.

"I-," He sighed, a little labored, and something shifted against the receiver, "Knew it was a possibility."

His standards aside, your interest moved to the extra sound on his end of the line. You prayed it was something risque.

"What else do you wanna know about me?" You stretched your legs up and watched your blank ceiling, biting your lip in wait for his response.

The way he towered over you- his frame was perfect for your fantasies. You imagined him leaning over you now, legs draped over his massive shoulders.

"What made you want to give me your number?"

Another shift, a heavy sigh. You couldn't raise the volume any higher, nor could you hold the phone any closer to your ear to try to hear what he was doing.

In the hopes that he was dirtier than he wanted to let on, you smiled at the freedom to paint his imagination.

"Hmm..." You drawled.

An eager hand dipped between your legs, with one last glance to the door, and you palmed yourself through your shorts while you spoke.

"Your serve really did it for me," As you recalled that last hit, you heard him shift again, "I like your look- y'know, the whole samurai vibe--,"

Asahi laughed a little, making you grin.

"-I think it's really hot."

A pause. "Wait- really?"

"Yeah!" You giggled, "You're a good mix of cute and scary, that's a huge turn-on."

"Wow."

Maybe it was a bit forward of you to say, but so was everything else until this point. Your breath stalled, hoping that was a good wow. It felt so quiet for so long. Everything was still on both sides.

You sat up after a few moments, pulse quickening, and you bit your finger to keep from blurting out another stupid claim. It must've been too much- you were just about to hang up when you heard a quiet, different tone through the speaker.

"What are you wearing right now?"

Mouth open, you made sure to click mute before squealing into your pillow-- when you came up, teary-eyed from the pressure and excitement, you had to catch your breath.

Your voice was slightly hoarse when you unmuted yourself and asked, calmly, "Do you want me to lie to you?"

Thrown in a dumbing whirl of arousal, you went to reach for a vibrator, but realized the sound would probably be too much. You opted for your own fingers instead and tried hard to visualize his heavy hand over yours.

"Shit-," He huffed an uneven sigh, "Go for it."

Did he have any idea how sexy he sounded? You hoped he did- you hoped he knew exactly how to touch you, pleasure you, break you, then put you back together.

Your raised, flirty tone didn't match your answer, "Nothing."

The rumble of his laugh guided your hand to swirl small, soft circles around your clit. Your chest rose and fell a little faster, chasing the budding tightness that was finally coming back to you.

"What are you doing right now?" You couldn't help but ask. It was too tempting to wait around for him to tell you.

"Mm, I'm talkin' to you," He evaded. His smirk was audible through the phone.

His slight regional accent was so perfect. To Hell with city boys, you wanted this big, gruff countryside boy.

He laughed at your whine.

"I wish you weren't so far away," His tone lowered to a bare mutter- it was dripping in lust, but he covered it with a thin veil of wariness.

Your fingers felt so good, but his reminder only made you more sensitive to how you could never fulfill the ache deep inside without him right here, in Tokyo.

You could appreciate how he still kept his cards close. You weren't as patient as him- but upon your inevitable frustration that he wasn't as candid as you, the realization that it was the safer outcome dawned on you. If he wasn't so careful, he might hurt you.

Still, you were riding gentle, pleasant waves while you daydreamed through your response.

"How long would a train ride be?"

He didn't have to tell you how pretty you sounded for you to know. The little raise at the end of your sentence, the tiny waiver in your voice, you knew he liked it.

The quiet seethe on his end confirmed this. He told you without having to look it up, "Hour and a half."

Your pussy practically shut down.

"I could do that," You lied. Your brother would explode if he found out you hopped on a bullet train by yourself to go see some Karasuno boy- and he would. He always did.

Another low laugh. It fixed everything. You threw your head back again, fingers in your mouth so your fingers could slide a little better.

"Don't sound so disappointed," He cooed, "Me and the guys are gonna be in town for the weekend- and I was just thinkin'--,"

"Oh my god, yes. Whatever you're about to say, yes."

His distant 'Damn' away from the phone made you blush. You stopped touching yourself, just for the time being.

"There's just one problem."

You waited for the reveal without responding, then realized he wanted you to ask him.

"What?" You giggled at the weird pause.

His laugh was faint through the rest of his point, "Your brother."

You squinted at your ceiling again with a grumpy sigh. He was right. In fact, you were sure he didn't know the extent of how right he was. Your family was on Life360, and he had your location at all times.

If you turned your phone off, or deleted the app, or put it on 'battery saving-mode' he'd know, and it would be more ground to question you on.

It wasn't the tattling that bothered you, it was his nosiness in the first place.

The last time you snuck out to go see a boy further in the city, he followed you and ruined your movie date by kicking the back of his chair for half of the film. He drove you home and grilled you the entire way back.

"Fuck," You sighed, sitting up with a bit of a tummy-ache from your abandoned orgasm, "Yeah."

It sounded like he was moving again, but he was less flirty, and it made you think he maybe put his dick back up to think better.

"He actually called our team captain, Daichi. We were uh, still on the way back from the game. On the bus. And he put it on speaker."

Your jaw dropped again.

"Said he'd- ha-ha, he said he'd castrate anyone who touched you."

An annoyed sound left you.

"Don't tell me you believe that," You laughed pitifully.

Part of you believed it, so you wouldn't blame him if he did. That same days-long disappointment was creeping back.

Asahi considered his answer. He landed on, "I think... ah, I don't know. I think being cautious is smart."

You nodded slowly, but he couldn't see.

"I still wanna see ya," He added.

You grinned, relieved, and a little aroused again at his drawl, "Good."

It still left the obvious problem. You deliberated on what you could do. A glance to the locked door gave you one idea. Another glance to the window elaborated on it.

How could you see him, not leave the house, and have your brother not know at the same time?

Your question was slow as you slid off of your mattress and started to test the reliability of your window frame.

"How good are you at climbing?"

taglist.

thank ya'll for supporting this!!! i love this series it's so fun to write so i'm glad other people do too!! reply to be added to existing list :)

@valiantqueengarden @rinheartshyunlix @alpha-mommy69 @yuyunhoo @insertamazingnamehere @kreishin

masterlist.

requests. (including what you might want to see in the next 2 parts)

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14dayswithyou · 2 days

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cw: domestic comfort fic with Moth (written for @z-shalltear <3)

"...Oh."

Your voice comes out soft — dulcet — so as to not startle your partner who was nestled deep within the fluffiness of your pillows, plushies, and blankets. Nothing but a faint light from their phone illuminates their face, but it disappears the moment their eyes fall on you. Giving you a soft smile, you watch as Moth sits up and offers you their undivided attention.

"I thought you'd be asleep by now." You return their smile in kind, though your shoulders can't help but slump even further from the fatigue that was slowly creeping up on you. "It's nearly three a.m."

"I could say the same about you." Despite the playful glint in their eyes, Moth's voice is just as gentle as yours — much like the way they scoot back and lift the blankets to make room for you. An invitation, should you choose to accept it. "....Hey, y'okay?"

At their words, your resolve crumbles and your posture falters. You honestly weren't expecting to be met with concern — all you wanted to do was sleep away the problems and stress you've been dealing with lately — but it was nice to know that someone cared enough for your well-being to show genuine interest. And so, with a weak and weary sigh, you timidly walk over to Moth and settle into the space they once occupied in the bed.

It was still warm, comforting, and smelling faintly of something that reminded you of home.

"Mm. Just... tired, I guess." Once you're settled, you feel the blankets shift around your body before they're draped over your shoulders and tucked underneath your side. "Tired of everything."

"...Are you up for some cuddling?" your lover's voice comes from somewhere behind you. It was nice how Moth always seemed to ask for permission before touching you — lest it made you feel uncomfortable somehow.

So with a slight nod, you lean back into their embrace the moment you feel their arms circle around your body and rest underneath your chest. Your partner's chin soon draws near after a beat of silence; carefully tucking itself into the crown of your head to simply breathe in your scent.

...It seems you brought just as much comfort to Moth as they did to you.

"You feel like talking about it too?" Even though you felt safe in Moth's embrace to express what was on your mind, they still left enough room for you to decline. "Or... You can just tell me about your day instead? It doesn't have to be anything exciting. If you want, I can talk about mine."

Deciding you like the idea of having your lover's low, soft voice fill the silence; you offer yet another soft nod and gently rest your hands atop theirs. Unknowingly, your fingers brush against the silly little bow ring you gifted them upon a whim and it sends Moth's heart fluttering.

"Where to start... Well, I found this new anime recently — you might like it, actually." You felt them hum against your hair, "The premise looks really promising. It's about this isekaied retail worker who's been facing a lot of hardships in a brand new world, but despite everything they're going through, they keep persisting."

Moth pulls you closer to their side and gives you a soft squeeze.

"They... Okay, this miiiight sound cheesy, but— they remind me a lot of you. Very hardworking, supportive, resilient." You could almost feel Moth's smile grow as they continued, "Kind, helpful, determined. Now that I think about it, that character might just be a direct rip-off of you. Hey, do you think we could sue?"

An unflattering snort escapes the confines of your mouth at Moth's words, and you can't help but find yourself going along with it. "Pfft— You want to sue a giant production company?"

"Why not! Think of all the money we'd get once we win." Moth's head drops to the back of your neck now, holding you close as they continue talking. "Heh, we'd probably have enough to take a trip to Japan. Would you... Would you like that? It doesn't have to be Japan— anywhere is fine if it's with you, even if it's just to the city or back to Corland Bay."

"...You want to take a trip together?"

"Yeah! It'd be good for us, I think." If you focus hard enough, you'd be able to feel Moth place a chaste kiss against the clothed space between your shoulder blades. "We'd get a nice change of pace... and you won't be stressed out as much."

"Moth—"

"—I don't mind taking care of everything." All of a sudden, they sound serious. "Tell me when you can get some time off from work, and I'll plan everything. You won't have to worry about a thing!"

Moth's real name slips from your lips with ease.

Without missing a beat, you turn around until you're facing your beloved partner and rest your forehead against theirs — careful not to bump them with your nose. Soft, hazel eyes peer back at you, and before you can stop yourself, you lean in for a kiss.

Warmth and mirth flood your senses as Moth reciprocates with the same amount of tenderness, and for a brief moment in time, everything feels peaceful. Surrounded by nothing but pure love and adoration, you let your walls crumble down and let the light in. And just like a moth to a flame, your partner effortlessly gravitates towards you.

"Okay."

#Not proofread sowwie + I was listening to Less Of You by Keshi while writing this :3 #Also edited slightly to make it more Angel-centric ;v; Da original is still linked on my personal Tumblr somewhere #💖 — about moth.#💖 — 14 days with queue.#🖤 — sai writes.#to be tagged later

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xzhdjsj · 22 hours

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i missed Isaac so bad. never felt a void like this in my life fr.

Me too anon :'(

So here's some Isaac fluff!!!

In His Arms

Isaac x Reader

Waking up next to Isaac.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

The morning circles in quickly, dim lights forcing your eyes open to start the day. Sleep is elusive, and when it does come, it usually feels as if only a few moments had passed before the morning comes crashing in on you. The nights never last, and no matter how many hours you've slept the tiredness in stubborn in your bones, where it now resides probably forever.

You lay awake, regretting your decision to sleep last night, if you had stayed awake, you'd still be tired right now but at least you'd have gotten more work done.

With a regretful sigh, you roll over in attempts to stir your mind more awake, only to be face to face with Isaac's sleeping form. You finally register the strong arm around your waist, holding you close, and temporarily let the thought of getting out of bed slip from your mind, after all it’s not every day you find him still asleep at your side.

His cheek is pressed into the pillow, eyes closed in peaceful slumber, another thing that's rare for Isaac. His sleep is often haunted by nightmares and experiences of the past, but right now he looks completely at peace. His features are soft, free from any tensions or discomfort, just steady breathing.

You take a deep breath, savouring the tranquillity of the moment. The gentle rise and fall of his chest is soothing, a quiet reminder that, for now, everything is calm. A reminder that, for now you can blissfully enjoy your time in his arms without worry of having to leave. He's yours and you're his, for as long as forever lasts for you two.

You reach out and brush a stray lock of hair from his forehead, your touch light and careful not to wake him. The morning light casts a gentle glow on his features, highlighting the slight curve of his lips and dark eyelashes. The urge to lean forward and kiss him is strong, but the fear of stirring him awake is even stronger, so you resist, content with simply being able to look at him.

For a moment, the content feeling is disturbed by a pang of sadness and a fierce need to protect him. You wish you could shield him from the shadows that chase him, grant him more moments like this, free from the weight of nightmares. If you had to give up your life for him, you wouldn't hesitate.

"Are you going to keep staring?" The rasp in his voice pulls you from your thoughts and his eyelashes part. "Good morning Pickle"

A smile tugs at your lips as you meet his sleepy gaze.

"Good morning," you reply softly. His nickname for you never fails to make you feel warm inside, and it sounds especially tender right now, when you're close enough to breathe in his exhale.

He keeps his eyes on yours, "What time is it?"

"Not sure, let me check." You try to roll over and grab your phone, but Isaac's grip tightens, firmly holding you in place.

"Doesn’t matter. Stay." He murmurs into your hair, a sleepy plea. "Just for a little longer."

You let your body relax, falling deeper into his embrace, deeper into his bare chest until you could feel his warmth and hear the steady rhythm of his heartbeats.

"Mmm fine", you surrender under him.

The room is filled with a comfortable silence, broken only by the soft sounds of your breathing. You close your eyes, allowing yourself to fully immerse in the moment. Isaac's fingers gently trace patterns on your back, a soothing and intimate gesture that makes you feel safer than ever.

"I dreamt of us last night." He interrupts the silence to speak, kissing the side of your head.

Intrigued, you tilt your head upwards, "Yeah, what was it about?"

"Hmm pretty similar to right now actually. We were comfortably in each other’s arms, but somewhere beautiful. Just the two of us, without any worries or fears." His eyes remain closed, as if still savouring the imagery in his head. "It was perfect." He smiles, a soft, unguarded expression that makes your heart ache. The dual tone in his voice doesn't help either, the joy and longing.

"That does sound perfect," you tell him. "Maybe one day we can make it real. We deserve some sort of vacation."

"Maybe," he agrees, pulling you closer. "But for now, this is enough."

You smile and plant a gentle kiss on his chest. He responds with another in your hair, a silent vow to cherish these moments together and a promise to make his dream a reality when he's able to.

The morning light grows brighter, filling the room, and you know you'll eventually have to get up and face the day. But for now, you allow yourself to bask in warmth of his skin, getting lost in the love and comfort that surrounds you.

Is this the calm before a storm? mmmaybe

#hopefully he comes back soon!#zsakuva #sakuverse #asmr #isaac rhoades #zsakuva isaac #isaac x reader

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kiryoutann · 2 days

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𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝐚𝐥𝐩𝐡𝐚𝐛𝐞𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧 ::: 𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐀

TEMPLATE CREDIT. GENSHIN IMPACT MASTERLIST.

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Childe is quite affectionate, if not, very affectionate.

He almost met the requirements for the five love languages—almost; the man failed in the quality time department, obviously. But he's a good lover. Opening and holding the door for you, only leaving after making sure you've reached the safety of your home, and giving gifts even on the most ordinary Monday.

"You look good in that dress, babe." "Let me see that pretty face." "Good morning, angel," and a whole bunch of other sweet nothings he said to you. Oh, how he loved to hold you on his lap, burying his nose in your sweet scent while ignoring the stack of documents that demanded his attention.

B = Babe (What would they use as pet names? Do they use them a lot?)

Definitely: doll, babe, baby, angel.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Childe is the biggest cuddle bug, and luckily doesn't have much free time for it (or else the man will forever demand it from you, as if he's eternally glued to your hip). Enjoys being the big spoon in the middle of a chilly night, naked. When you question him about how he remained alive, all he says is, "Darling, do I need to remind you where I come from?"

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

Childe is quite good at cooking, but it's mostly Snezhnayan food. I always picture him in the kitchen, wearing a crimson or navy blue apron and flipping whatever is in the pan with a proud smile. Though he makes an effort to clean as much as he can, there is always a dusty spot that remains unattended. Still, he found the window and table wiping to be pretty enjoyable!

E = Emotion (How are they with showing emotion in public versus private?)

I think, by default, Childe is a pretty empty person if we put aside his dark desires and ambitions. In public, he looks like a chill guy. He is cold and full of discipline towards his subordinates. Childe is quite respectful of his fellow Harbingers and those he admires; keep a little distance and minimize conversations with some strange people (for example: Dottore). However, to his family, closest friends, and his significant other, Childe is as warm as the sun and wears his heart on his sleeve.

F = Flirt (How do they flirt? Are they smooth or awkward?)

Oh, he's a smooth flirt, alright. He knows his potential and maximizes it. Usually he squeezes three or four or more in his private time with you.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Childe really gentle with his lover. God, I can't imagine the canon him being a violent person (despite his crazy hobby of wanting to fight any breathing creature within his radius). Would massage your feet if you asked. He kissed your ankles in an attempt to make sure there wasn't an inch of you left untouched by him. Treats you like a tiny little bird. Even if there is a moment where he's rough, you can bet it will, ahem, leave more pleasure than pain.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

Childe loves hugs! However, I can't say he gave a warm hug. Most of the time, he does the initiating, and hugs from behind are his favorite thing to give.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

Long enough for Childe to say these magical words. He had many considerations: was what he felt more than just admiration? Will his confession burden you? Anyway, despite his playful and easygoing persona, Childe didn't say these words carelessly.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

With his confident air, you'd think it would take a lot to make Childe jealous. Wrong. Whoever he considers to be stronger and more worthy than him, Childe turns into a green-eyed monster. But, there are some people who don't know their place that makes him sometimes… feel the need to emphasize his relationship with you.

In the first case, Childe might pout all day or sulk like a child. However, in the second case, he will show warning signs to the poor person by resting his hands on your hips or even a hug from behind while resting his chin on your shoulder. Oh, and that triumphant grin on his face when he knew the signal had been picked up.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

Childe's kisses were of many kinds. Short kiss. Soft kiss. And kisses full of desire and longing every time he came back from a long mission or a tiring day. He likes to kiss you on the lips, knuckles, and neck. He loves receiving kisses on the lips, cheeks, head, and the tip of his nose.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

We know the answer to this one!! He is very. Very. Good. With. Children.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Unfortunately, Childe is an early bird, thanks to his job. There's not much you can do in the morning when he's on a work day other than watch him leave. You figure that comes with the job and loving the man. On his days off, he will make sure to spend more time in bed with you, either by cuddling or sleeping through the entire day.

But don't expect him to be as understanding if it has to do with your job. This ginger-haired devil will try his best to keep you in his arms and weigh you down with his body in the hope you'll change your mind about coming to work today. He's super dramatic when you don't.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Childe had irregular working hours, which meant most nights he came home late and you were already asleep. However, on days where he can go home early, he makes sure to take a bath together before going to bed. He's a light sleeper, by the way! Every time you turned around and moved away from him in your sleep, he made sure to pull you close back to him.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

Childe had many considerations about the things he held close to his heart. There are some things about him that he fears will change your perception of him. It took him a few months into the relationship to reveal a stupid little secret, and that too was delivered and disguised as a joke. After making sure the foundation of his relationship was stronger, he would then tell the things he only dared to whisper when night fell.

P = Propose (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

At first, I thought Childe was the type of person who would propose about two or three years into a relationship. However, now that I think about it, marriage is also a very, very big thing for him. He has no problem committing, but if we're honest, marriage never crossed his mind until he met you.

It would take quite a while if he wanted to propose marriage. Because apart from the nature of his job (and the possibilities that accompany it), Childe is quite sensitive to rejection. He'll have to make sure you're also on the same boat regarding marriage before he dares present you with the ring he bought somewhere in Mond.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

I don't think he's the type of lover who has the ability to remember small details about his significant other. Sure, he remembers your favorite food, your choice of flowers, and the songs you used to hum; However, he's not the type to go into too much detail.

Despite that, Childe gave you the best things he could get. So, even though he sometimes forgets things you've mentioned before, you can surrender yourself completely to him because you know, Childe will move heaven and earth for you.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

The night he realized he loved you, as the world turned more colorful than ever. However, if Childe fell in love with you at first sight, his favorite memory would be the first time he laid eyes on you.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Childe is quite protective, but (thankfully) not so much that you feel suffocated. He is quite secretive in protecting you. Always sweep his gaze around scanning for possible dangers in every place you visit. Not to the extent of ordering his subordinates to follow you, but he can always be sure and will go to any lengths so that you don't get hurt.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

Childe is a good lover. However, gestures of affection are more about big things such as giving gifts, inviting to romantic dinners, and basic things that couples usually do. As I said before, he doesn't remember small details very well; but he makes sure everything he gives you is the best.

He may have trouble remembering what kind of ring you like, but you can bet your money he'll buy the shiniest one to adorn your ring finger. His effort can be seen from the way he gives the best, the most luxurious; while small and simple things like a picnic in the park, a walk around the lake are more your thing.

U = Unique (What makes them unique as a partner?)

It's the fact that you hear how horrible he is – that he's this bloodthirsty warrior and all the gossip about how he's the Tsaritsa's weapon, and yet you only see a lovesick, little pomeranian puppy swinging his tail happily every time you look at him.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

This pretty boy knows he's all that. It's so unfair how the effort Childe puts into his appearance only consists of washing his face with just water – showering – getting out of the shower with wet hair, and letting it air dry (how can his hair stay fluffy with so little care???). He only used one perfume that Tonia gave him (and mind you, he's been using it for YEARS). And... that's it. All set to take on the day.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?

He would die without you. That's enough said.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

Childe did flirt here and there, but surprisingly, his only love experience was having a tiny schoolboy crush on a girl back in Snezhnaya when he was six years old. After falling into the abyss, his teenage years were filled with all the trouble he managed to cause – the fights he managed to be a part of before his father handed him over to the Fatui. Clear records of exes.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

??? I can't think of anything other than Childe doesn't like partners who are.. possessive. He was a young man who still loved traveling and exploring the world, and the thought of having a partner who intended to confine him to one place forever sounded hellish to him.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habit of theirs?)

Childe is either a lightsleeper or a very heavysleeper, there is no in between. On weekdays, he can jolt awake from the slight noise from the kitchen. But, he sleeps like a hibernating bear on weekend or when he has overworked himself. Childe likes to sleep on his stomach, shirtless. Snoring varies in intensity from light to moderate.

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underdark-dreams · 12 hours

Text

Am I feral for the Hellrider now?? Possibly!!! Have a 1am smut drabble just in case!

Zevlor x fem!Tav | Explicit | Word Count: 750

Commander

“Please, Commander—”

She moaned out his title, too overcome to wonder whether it might be an unwelcome reminder to him tonight. The now-unattended ache his fingers had stoked between her legs mere moments ago was driving her delirious.

Luckily for her, Zevlor seemed to embrace the name this particular evening. She craned her neck back to watch as he gripped one strong hand behind her knee.

“I told you once already—spread.”

As he spoke, his grip jerked sideways. She cried out as her knee followed, spreading the exposed cleft of her legs obscenely wide before him, forcing her head and shoulders down to his bedroll to accommodate the angle. She moaned into the furs beneath her, breathing in a lungful of his heady scent.

Clean—musk—something sharp and herbal. Thoroughly, thoroughly Zevlor.

“Ready yourself,” his voice rasped out somewhere behind and above her. Far too soon to actually prepare, she felt the thick, smooth head of his cock nudge past her entrance.

She bit down on the fabric beneath her to stifle a wanton groan. She knew how Zevlor liked to hear her, but that preference ended firmly at the fabric boundaries of his tent. Here in their camp at the banks of Last Light Inn, she wasn't sure how much privacy the proximity afforded them.

Despite his commanding mood, Zevlor seemed to sense the reason for her hesitation.

“That’s it, my girl—” His voice rasped low as he pushed his thick length deeper into her tight folds. She moaned into the bedding as her cunt pulsed greedily for more of him. “Let me hear you—”

Obediently, she raised up to her chin and arched her back into him. The angle caused a few more inches of his ridged length to press into her, and she bit back a wail.

“Fuck, Commander, fuck, fuck—please!”

She let her words spill out plain and vulgar—just the way she’d learned by now that her Hellrider liked it, though he was far too chivalrous to request such language outside of their shared bed.

Nevertheless, she knew at once that she’d struck just the right chord. With a groan, Zevlor pushed into her until their hips slotted together. In the same motion, one hand landed a sharp and possessive smack on her ass.

Stars popped behind her vision. Her cunt throbbed at being filled so fully so suddenly; her eyes rolled back in her skull. The aching heat between her legs and the sting against her skin threatened to end her then and there.

But then Zevlor took up a punishing pace, rutting his hips hard against hers, and her limits were truly tested. The deep ridges of his cock dragged and tugged against her slick walls with each thrust, pulling out waves of wet desire from her center that trickled and ran down her thighs as he fucked her.

“Yes, yesyesyes, Commander, take me—so good, just like that—”

She was babbling face-first into his bedroll as he pounded into her, his pace far past teasing, instead barrelling them both headlong to their ends. When Zevlor growled and reached two fingers around to pinch her clit, she was done for.

She arched her back and bit down on a loud cry as her cunt convulsed around him, pulsing white-hot against Zevlor’s thick cock.

It undid him—his bare chest pressed warm against her back. He stifled a cry between her shoulder blades, spilling and grinding his release deep inside her.

Somewhere at the back of her mind, she realized that hot tears of bliss were spilling down her cheeks. Legs trembling and weak from her climax, she collapsed flat on her stomach into his bedding.

With one last deep thrust and a groan, Zevlor followed. His weight fell around her, the ridges of his chest indenting the soft skin of her back. She panted blissfully from beneath him.

“My apologies,” he rasped behind her ear.

His tone had instantly transformed back into something very gentle, and she knew he meant for collapsing on top of her.

“I love it,” she sighed, truly savoring the feel of his weight pressing her into the furs that smelled so thoroughly of him. “I love you,” she added.

“My darling girl.” Zevlor rumbled the words deep in his chest, and she knew from the timbre alone that he was already drifting toward sleep. Her eyes were heavy and eager to follow him. “Please tell me so again, if you would…in the morning.”

#bg3 zevlor #zevlor x tav #female tav #daddy hellrider #nsft #spicy #rebgrrl writes #underdark-dreams

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cinnabunwanda · 21 hours

Text

selfish pt. 2 ✰ Bucky Barnes

content warning — angst, crying, swearing

pairing — Fem reader x Bucky Barnes

summary — Bucky, a soldier, finds y/n in distress, feeling lost and grief. He helps her and reassures her. Y/n reveals Steve left to be with Peggy, causing her to cry and cries.

word count — 1216

Bucky's stomach churned as he reluctantly entered y/n's room, immediately hit by the pungent stench that hung in the air. He raised his arm to cover his nose, teasingly commenting on the foul odor that seemed to have taken over the once pleasant space. With a sense of urgency, Bucky rushed to open the windows, letting in fresh air in an attempt to combat the unpleasant smell.

As he turned back to face y/n, his heart sank at the sight before him. She had barely moved from her spot since Steve had left a week ago. Bucky had tried to make her laugh with his jokes and sat with her during meals, but she remained unresponsive and lost in her thoughts. It was as if she had disappeared along with Steve.

Bucky was no stranger to loss, but this one hit especially hard. He was used to losing people - it came with being a soldier. But losing his best friend and their girl to someone they loved 70 years ago? That was a whole new level of pain. And while Bucky had learned to cope with grief quickly, he still found himself crying into his pillow at night, feeling more alone than ever.

But now, as he looked at y/n's unmoving figure, he realized just how much this loss had affected her. She hadn't even been able to take care of herself, let alone wash away the days' grime. Bucky sighed heavily and ran a hand through his hair before mustering up a gentle smile.

He gently coaxed y/n into the shower, reminding her that she needed to take care of herself even though Steve was gone. The water cascaded down on her skin, numbing her senses and providing some semblance of relief from her overwhelming thoughts.

But even as she sat there in the cold water, all she could see was Steve's lifeless body. His eyes empty of the spark that used to light up when he teased her, his once bright smile now gone. She couldn't even begin to imagine how he died - was it at the hands of Thanos himself? Did he die while trying to save someone else? The possibilities were endless, but the pain of losing him remained constant.

As she sat lost in her thoughts, a gentle knock on the bathroom door brought y/n back to reality. She looked up briefly, her red eyes following the sound through the steamed-up glass shower door.

Y/n's body was submerged in the warm, comforting embrace of the shower. The water cascaded down her skin, washing away tears and worries that seemed to cling onto her every move. Bucky's soothing voice drifted through the curtain, a lifeline for her troubled mind. She felt a sense of relief and safety wash over her as he checked up on her, even though she hadn't spoken in days.

Finally, with a deep breath, she stepped out of the shower and into the steamy bathroom. Her towel, left folded by Bucky, awaited her and she hastily wrapped it around her body. Y/n ran her fingers through her damp hair and sighed.

Bucky's reassuring smirk greeted her as she emerged from the bathroom. He sat on her bed, his hands braced on the edge of the mattress, exuding an air of calmness and stability. "She's alive," he remarked playfully, referencing the long time y/n spent in the shower.

As y/n quickly dressed herself under the towel, Bucky respectfully kept his gaze elsewhere. His presence alone was enough to make y/n feel at ease, and she found herself grateful for his company.

"Do you want me to leave?" Bucky asked softly as he stood up to give y/n privacy.

"Wait," y/n's timid voice stopped him in his tracks. She took a breath before continuing, "Would you stay with me tonight? I don't know if I can be alone again..."

Without hesitation, Bucky climbed back into bed beside y/n and pulled her close to him. Their intertwined fingers lay over his chest, his metal arm providing a sense of strength and protection.

In the stillness of the room, only the faint whirring of Bucky's metal arm could be heard. Y/n finally mustered up the courage to ask about Steve's death, her words trembling with unshed tears.

"Bucky?" she spoke up, her voice barely above a whisper.

He hummed in response, his fingers gently playing with hers as he waited for her to continue.

"How did Steve...you know, die?" She bit through her tears, bracing herself for the answer.

Bucky's expression softened as he looked down at her, sensing her pain and fear. He took a deep breath before answering, his voice filled with sorrow and regret.

Bucky felt his stomach drop at her question, a heavy weight settling in the pit of his stomach. He hadn't expected her to ask about this now, when they were curled up on her bed, warmth and comfort surrounding them. The words stuck in his throat, refusing to come out as he tried to pry them loose.

"I-" he couldn't bring himself to lie. It would be cruel, especially to someone he cared for so deeply. She deserved to know the truth, no matter how much it hurt. "Y/n, Steve didn't- he didn't die." Bucky ground out through gritted teeth, feeling like his tongue was coated in sandpaper.

"W-what?" Y/n's voice trembled with shock, fear, hope, and anger all at once. She sat up quickly, turning around in his embrace to face Bucky. A scowl etched itself across her usually gentle features, marring her beautiful eyes with a hint of bitterness. "Then where is he?"

Bucky let out a heavy sigh, closing his eyes as he braced himself for her reaction.

"Bucky. Where is Steve?" Y/n's tone had shifted from confusion to coldness, something uncharacteristic for her. Bucky swallowed hard, but it did little to ease the tension that had settled between them. He watched as she folded her arms over her chest.

"Steve left, doll. He's not- he's not coming back." Bucky confessed, his face falling into his hands.

"What do you mean?" Y/n whispered brokenly, tears threatening to spill down her cheeks. "Why isn't he coming back?"

"Because he left to be with Peggy, okay? He left us, y/n!" Bucky finally snapped, his own tears mingling with hers as they stained his flushed cheeks. The grief still lingered within him.

Y/n's expression mirrored the devastation she felt the day Bucky first told her Steve was gone. But this time, there was a spark of rage in her eyes.

"I don't understand, why would he-" Y/n's voice trailed off, unable to finish her question as the answer dawned on her.

"I don't either, doll. I miss him, but I also hate him for what he did. To me, to you, to us." Bucky's voice was barely above a whisper now, his eyes downcast as he picked at the hem of his shirt.

"I-" y/n began to speak before breaking off into a choked sob, falling back into Bucky's embrace.

Steve, her Steve, had become a selfish and misguided man. He had shattered their bond and left them both with broken hearts.

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moonstruckme · 2 hours

Note

Hello!! Starting this off with the mushy gushy stuff like how much I adore your writing and talent and how I hope you know how appreciated you are, all that jazz 👐 Anywhosies, onto the nitty gritty, the other day in my psych lecture I learned more in depth about operant conditioning, which is a theory by B.F Skinner about how a behavior is either reinforced or encouraged through a series of punishments and/or reinforcements, and i thought of our resident brainiac, Spencer Reid! He seems the type to be interested in theories like that and there application in day-to-day life, and so what else is he supposed to do other than condition fem!reader! (Consensually and safely of course) obviously he wouldn’t have malicious intent, but say reader wasn’t super confident in the bedroom, he would steadily over time ‘condition’ her into being more open about her wants and needs through rewards when she’s vocal! If you are in any way uncomfortable writing this please feel free to disregard! <33333

This was fun!! Thank you for requesting babe :)

cw: smut mdni, fingering, edging

Spencer Reid x fem!reader ♡ 912 words

You gasp, sucking your bottom lip between your teeth. Spencer looks up at you interestedly.

“That’s progress,” he says, but frowns when he sees your lip. He lets go of your leg to encourage it free. “Don’t do that, please.”

“Sorry,” you manage, breathless. You feel shaky.

Spencer offers you a smile, brown eyes so kind it hurts. “That’s okay. We’re learning, right? I don’t expect you to pick it up all at once.”

You’re not sure how to respond to that and in the end you don’t have to, Spencer’s fingers sliding over your folds and stealing your breath again.

“I want to kiss you,” he says, his own breathing affected by your reaction. He’s bolder in bed than you expected him to be, more direct, but really you should have seen it coming. Spence is relentless when he’s working a case. “Is that okay?”

“Yeah. Please.”

He doesn’t go where you expect him to, his mouth finding the tender bit of skin below your ear.

“Is this nice?” he asks, kissing slowly downward. You trail your hands up his back and rock into his fingers, only just starting to get into it when he moves down to your breast. “How about this?”

You suppress a horrifically needy sound, and for a minute it seems like Spencer takes the hint. He mouths up the side of your breast, teeth scraping lightly as he gets closer to the pert bud of your nipple.

“Yeah?”

He strokes a lithe hand up your side, thumb soothing over the opposite side of your tit. His fingers part your folds, moving towards your clit, and you’re burning up, incinerating from the inside out. You wind your fingers in Spencer’s hair just before the hand at your breast leaves. It takes both of your hands by the wrists, guiding them above your head.

Spencer smooths his thumb over your pulse, not pinning you (he’d never deny you anything you want, not really), not so much a restraint as a reminder. You have an agreement.

“Yeah,” you say weakly. “Yeah, there is good.”

“Thank you,” he says, and if you couldn’t tell he means it by his tone, Spencer gives you extra encouragement by pushing two gentle fingers into your hole. Your lips part in a soundless gasp as he covers them with his.

“You know, when you like something, your body responds.” He brings his other hand back to your breast, cupping experimentally. His index finger grazes your nipple so lightly you could have mistaken it for a breeze. “But it would make things even easier if you told me yourself. You can do that, can’t you?”

“I can.” Your brain goes all staticy as Spencer’s thumb finds your clit, searching for purchase in the wetness he’s been tormenting out of you for god knows how long now. “I can, please, I can.”

“You don’t need to say please, it’s okay. You can just tell me what you want.”

The problem is, you have no notes, truly. Spencer’s fingers are working in and out of you at the perfect pace, deliciously long and brain-fuzzingly dextrous. His thumb skates crude figure-eights over the bead of your clit until you’re trembling, your hands balled up tight in the bedsheets.

Middle and marriage sponge over something sweet inside you, and you clench around him, swallowing a moan.

Spencer makes a quiet, satisfied sound. “Here?”

His fingers press into the spot again, and you gasp, arching off the bed. They go still.

“Yesyesyes,” you say, words all jumbling together in your desperation. “There. There.”

“Here,” he checks, just to be sure, as his fingers move over the spot again.

“Yes.” Tears sting your eyes. “Yes, there. Spence—”

Spencer waits a few beats. When you don’t seem likely to continue, he prompts gently, “Are you going to cum? You should say so, if you are.”

He’s doubtless seen the quivering that’s taken your thighs, but you nod anyway, panting out another fraught, “Yes.”

“Okay.” He kisses the corner of your lips sweetly as he picks up his pace. “Thank you for telling me.”

You moan without quieting yourself when his grip tightens on your breast. Spencer rewards you for it, kissing dedicatedly at your bottom lip while he kneads the fat, sending pleasure like waves of deep bass buzzing through you. His other thumb increases its pressure on your clit, the wet sounds of his fingers pumping in and out of you hardly audible over both of your breathing as he finds that spot again, and again, until you think you probably scream.

Spencer assures you later that you didn’t. That, actually, the sound you made seemed half choked back, and that’s another thing he’d like to work on next time. But for now, he’s happy enough to treat you to a myriad of kisses, soft, sweet presses of his mouth without want for anything more. He encourages you up to use the bathroom, and when you come back, lets you lay on top of him on a clean part of the bed, your cheek pressed to his chest.

“Okay,” you sigh, eyes closing as Spencer’s hand coasts down the bare skin of your back. “You wanna know what I want, for next time?”

“Of course I do,” he says genuinely.

“I want you to use your handcuffs.”

Spencer’s hand stills. You lift your head, and he looks curious. “I think we have time for that tonight, don’t you?”

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fieldofdaisiies · 8 hours

Text

azriel x eris | 5,2k words | warnings: explicit descriptions | masterlist

Azriel drops his hands, resting them on the mattress on either side of his hips. The top-most straps of his leathers are undone. Now that a hint of worry creeps in, he can’t continue immediately.

He is no newcomer to bedroom activities – quite the opposite actually as Azriel is very acquainted with many practices in the bedroom. But there is one thing where he lacks experience, where he has no experience at all: he has never been with a male.

A male that is his mate.

Everything will be more intense. Feel more intense. That is what the mating bond does to lovers.

Azriel’s heart starts to race again, and he feels how his palms turn a little clammy.

Eris can sense his mate‘s sudden discomfort and asks, “Are you scared?” He reaches for his mate’s hand and lifts it to his mouth, then kisses his palm.

Azriel's throat feels too tight all of a sudden and he needs a small moment to answer. “I‘m worried I will do something wrong,” Azriel sheepishly admits. “I have never been with a male…I don’t know if—”

“Everything will be alright, I know it.” Eris bows his head, a small smile on his lips. “I‘ll make sure you feel good and I have no doubts that in the progress I will feel just as good.”

A delicate, yet ethereally beautiful smile appears on Azriel’s lips that has Eris gasping for air. He swallows, his throat bobbing when he finds himself getting lost in the beauty of his mate. He truly belongs to him, even though it feels surreal. But Azriel is his. His mate. .

A moment passes where neither of them says something. Eris is giving Azriel all the time he needs, while Azriel silently considers how they shall continue.

Then, after sighing deeply, Azriel finally opens his mouth, the inside a little dry. “Can I…can I undress you?” Azriel clears his throat. “I want to see you.”

Without saying a word, Eris rises and lets his mate do exactly what he requested. Azriel is gentle and careful, a little shy at first and hesitant, all his touches delicate and sensual, his breath held most of the time until Eris stands before him, naked as the day he was born.

Azriel knows that he has never seen a more beautiful and at the same time painful sight.

Eris‘s chest and back, usually always hidden beneath immaculate finery, are marred by large gashes that have healed, along with many scars, smaller and larger ones. Old ones from his childhood, new ones Beron had only given him a few days ago.

Azriel swallows thickly, feeling both fury and agony within him, and lifts an equally scarred finger, carefully touching Eris‘ skin. His eyes close, lips quavering. “All Beron’s doing.”

“Mhm.”

Azriel places his palm fully against Eris‘ chest, and meets his eyes. “He was a creature.”

Eris‘ hand reaches for Azriel, not the one he has placed on his chest, but the one at his side and he lifts it to his lips, kissing the shadowsinger‘s scarred knuckles. “He was, but he is gone now.” A small smile blooms on his lips that are still pressed against Azriel‘s skin. “You shouldn’t worry about those.”

“But I do worry, Eris.” Azriel sighs. “Because I care. I care about you, Eris and I care about every little scar he caused you.”

The shadowsinger exhales audibly, his breathing a little ragged, and lowers his chin, nodding shallowly. “And I am here to help you forget everything he has ever done to you,” he says as he steps away, his eyes, despite their conversation, glazed over with desire. “I want to erase every reminder of his doing from your skin.”

Azriel’s bare feet tread lightly on the ground, when he moves behind Eris, assessing his back. His fingertips gently brush his skin, all the scars, smaller and bigger ones, until he lets fingers stroke lower, to the male‘s rear, softly caressing his skin.

“You are beautiful, Eris.” The spymaster steps into him, his lips now on Eris‘ shoulder. “I have never seen a more stunning male before.” He blows out a long breath that has Eris shuddering when it dances over his skin.

“Azriel,” he whispers and turns so they are once again looking at one another. Tears line his eyes, because everything Azriel has said has struck a cord within his heart.

Eris lets his hand trail up Azriel’s arm, to the base of his throat and then curls his fingers around the Illyrian’s neck. His lids close the moment their lips meet. Azriel gasps softly and Eris loves the sound of it.

“Together we will overcome our fear of fire,” Eris whispers against Azriel lips that are still connected to his own with a string of saliva. “Together we will erase all the memories that have been haunting us for centuries.”

“Together,” Azriel whispers. He kisses his mate so softly as if a feather touches his lips. A surge of heat and passion surges through them, and the bond starts to glow even more radiantly.

“Allow me to undress you, Azriel.” Eris takes a small step back. “I deem it a little unfair that I have not yet been allowed a glimpse of your wonderful body”

Azriel doesn’t answer immediately. Not because he has to think long about the answer, but rather because he is so distracted by his mate’s body, all the strong panes of muscles, the fine dusting of red hair on his chest and below his navel and his cock, now standing proudly and making Azriel’s mouth water.

He has never seen — he has seen naked males before (his brothers in the birchin) but never like that. He never looked at them like that, it would have been incredibly inappropriate and he hadn’t even thought about doing it. But now he is looking because it is all his. His mate.

“We can also stop here, Azriel. I won’t push you to do anything you don’t like.” Sincerity laces each of Eris’ words, and he takes Azriel‘s hands into his. “I know you have never been with a male before, I don’t want to rush or pressure you. And I don’t want you to do this because of—”

Azriel quickly stops him, saying, or rather shouting, “I want this! I want you.” His chest lifts with a deep inhale. “I may seem hesitant, but this is only because this is all new for me…but I really want you, Eris.” He claims his mouth in a searing, passionate kiss and when they part, eyes glazed over with lust, locked, he adds, “I really want you to fuck me, Eris..”

He grins, colour blooming high on his defined cheeks when he takes in Eris‘ slightly overwhelmed expression. And in a sensual voice, that is at least an octave lower, he adds the one word that breaks the camel‘s back and loosens all the restraints Eris has had on himself, “Please.”

It takes all of a second for Eris to shove the shadowsinger back against the wall, wings flaring with the impact of Azriel’s back hitting the hard wooden wall. Both their hands start to fumble with Azriel’s Illyrian leathers, trying to get them off as quickly as possible.

First, Azriel’s jacket is gone when finally all straps are open, and Eris tosses it on the floor behind him. The pants of his Illyrian leathers follow, and lastly his underpants.

Eris gasps audibly, not only at his mate’s size but… “Fuck,” he breathes, “you are beautiful.”

No verbal answer from Azriel’s side follows. He only kisses his mate, lips melding perfectly because they were made for each other.

Breathlessly, they part and Eris holds his mate’s gaze. “Oh Azriel,” he drawls, “you never have to say please when it comes to that.”

Azriel tips his head back with a low, sensual chuckle, a wicked grin adorning his handsome face. “Yet you still like to hear it.”

It annoys Eris the tiniest bit that Azriel is right. Cauldron-damn him, it can’t be possible that he can already read him so well.

Yet, Eris has to laugh, freely and loudly, and when he calms down, he says, “Shut up and use your mouth for more important things.”

It is all Azriel needs to hear before dropping to his knees in front of the High Lord of Autumn, marvelling at the beauty of mate‘s cock, that stands hard and proud. Azriel’s lips coast down Eris‘ groin, placing featherlight kisses to his pale skin, humming while drinking in his mate‘s scent.

Azriel slowly licks over his lower lip, not once breaking eye-contact with Eris. “More important things, you say?” he drawls, and drags the flat of his tongue over the broad crown of Eris length. “More important…like this?”

His hand braced against the wall behind Azriel, his head tipped back and with a growl leaving him, Eris nearly comes undone at the sight of the shadowsinger on his knees in front of him. He has no idea how he will be able to let Azriel continue. He will fall apart before they even get started, this is just too much, he knows this.

Eris lets his free hand drop to Azriel’s chin, grasping it between his thumb and forefinger, tipping it up. A sensual grin appears on his lips when he says, “You are mine, Azriel. Say it!”

Azriel grins in answer – a sight that makes Eris’ knees wobble.

“I‘m yours.” The same lips that uttered these words fasten around his cock only seconds later. Azriel sucks him gently at first, having to find out how this is done. He has always been on the receiving end, never given that sort of thing. He takes Eris a little deeper, gagging and then coughing when the tip of his length hits the back of his mouth.

Eris chuckles softly. “Shadowsinger.” His thumb strokes over Azriel’s cheek, who looks up at him through lowered lashes. “Go slow.”

Azriel runs his hand down the length of Eris‘ shaft with the next sucking motion. His lips are soon slick and swollen, both with precome and saliva and he tries once again to take him a little deeper.

"Oh fuck." Eris‘ lids grow heavy, his mind entering a stage of tranquility whenever Azriel creates magic with his tongue, allowing him to drive deeper into the wet heat of his mouth. But despite the weight of his lids, he manages to hold eye contact with his mate, and uses one hand to brush a few strands of hair out of Azriel’s face.

He can’t tear away his gaze from his mate’s eyes – the pupils have darkened with desire and seem even more endless and beautiful than before.

And as he stares, Eris tries to keep his thrusts shallow, holding his hips still to not pound too hard into Azriel‘s mouth, but when the shadowsinger’s nails pierce into the flesh of his ass, there is no more holding back. He gives into the carnal need to truly claim him as his, to fuck him.

Azriel’s eyes start to water, but he takes everything his mate gives him, until the High Lore of Autumn comes with a shout that bounces off the walls and reverberates through the spymaster of the Night Court.

Azriel swallows greedily, licking him clean and then looks up at his mate with nothing but love in his eyes.

"You are…" Eris is speechless. And breathless, but he tugs Azriel up and seals their lips, kissing him hard and deep, tasting himself in Azriel’s mouth. “Let‘s continue in bed!”

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

“Azriel.” Eris presses a hand against the shadowsinger’s chest, his cock painfully throbbing even now that it is squeezed in between their bodies. “I am a new High Lord, my powers are fresh and strong. I will try, but I can‘t promise I will be soft.”

He has tried before. But he failed. He fucked Azriel’s mouth and even though he could take it, Eris isn’t entirely sure if didn’t hurt him.

Azriel threads his fingers into the High Lord‘s hair, and tips his head up a little. A cruelly beautiful grin spreads over his face and he says, his voice dropping an octave, “Who said I like it soft?” He leans up to kiss his mate‘s jaw. “Fuck me like a High Lord would fuck me. I want it and I can take it. Have all your wicked ways with me.” Azriel lowers his head into the soft pillows and a grin spreads over his face. “I‘m fully yours.”

Eris' lips are soft and warm and when they part, he allows Azriel’s tongue to slip inside. Their tongues tangle, battling a little for dominance until they fall into a perfect rhythm. A moan leaves Eris at the feel of Azriel’s lips against his own. Where his hands are calloused and rough, the spymaster‘s lips are soft, almost silken, pillowy against his own.

"I know what you said, but nonetheless I‘ll try to be gentle, Azriel." Eris feels the soft tickle of Azriel’s breath on his nose, before he sits back on his heels. "I don’t want to hurt you."

Azriel slides his hands up Eris thighs in a languid motion, eyeing the High Lord‘s hard length, mouth watering once again at the sight and the prospect of what is about to come. "I know you won’t hurt me," Azriel says.

Warmth blossoms in Eris' chest, sparks igniting in his heart and now also a kernel of nervousness comes alive within him – he is worried he will hurt his mate.

Hesitantly, he reaches for the small bottle of oil, coating his hands first and then his length. Azriel watches him through a heavy-lidded gaze, lips parted in silent admiration.

Eris is consumed by heat as he leans into Azriel, kissing him softly, while gently working his mate open with his fingers first, using more of the oil, before positioning the tip of his cock at Azriel’s entrance.

"You really want this?" Eris asks, his fingers gently travelling down the side of Azriel’s face.

"I do," Azriel confirms, shifting only a little but making Eris slide in the slightest bit.

"Fuck!" He gasps loudly, his body tensing and a hint of pain passes over his face. His fingers curl around Eris’ biceps, nails digging in. "Don’t stop."

Eris follows his mate’s request, slowly letting him adjust before moving any further into him.

This is their first time. Their first time as mates. They need to savour every small moment of it, fully devouring the moment they share, their bodies finally coming together. Golden tendrils start to weave its way toward the other male, tangling with Azriel’s shadows, the bond glowing brightly within their souls, reflecting in their eyes.

Once settled, and after checking in once more with Azriel if everything is alright, Eris sets a soft rhythm, carefully pumping into his mate.

"Does that feel good?" the High Lord asks.

Azriel‘s lids slowly open. "I have never felt so good, Eris. You—fuck!" He throws his head back with a loud groan when Eris curls his hand around Azriel’s cock, stroking him while still moving inside him.

"I?" Eris rasps.

"You fuck like a god." A lazy grin spreads over Azriel‘s face. Eris returns the grin and begins to move a little faster — his rhythm still affectionate and luscious. Azriel’s back arches, knee jerking up and mouth falling open and a deep groan leaves him.

Eris finds himself marvelling at the fully blissed-out look on his mate’s beautiful face and has to grin. This is perfection, he realises.

The feel of Azriel around his cock, the shadowsinger’s sensual noises, the sight provided to him in combination with Azriel’s scent, rich and musky, almost tips Eris’ over the edge, but he needs to be strong just a little longer. He doesn’t want this moment to end too soon. And he wants Azriel to come first.

"Let go, shadowsinger," Eris drawls, stroking him harder.

Azriel doesn’t have to be told twice, he is almost at the edge, barely able to hold back any longer. So he lets go.

His come coats Eris’ hand and his own chest, and this is when all restraints Eris had on himself break.

He bends over Azriel, claiming his mouth in a searing kiss and against the spymaster’s lips, he says, "I‘ve wanted this for so long." He kisses him again. "I have been waiting for this for so long. I have been waiting for you for so long."

Eris‘ knees buckle, a shudder courses through him when he sucks the skin of Azriel’s throat between his teeth. He needs to let everyone see that Azriel is his. They may have not yet accepted the bond, but Azriel is his, and everyone should become witness to that and see the marks Eris leaves on his skin.

The High Lord’s cock twitches at the sight of Azriel writhing beneath him, riding out his own high. The shadowsinger’s can sense his mate’s nearing release and his right hand brushes up Eris’ chest until he places his palm flat above his heart.

"Let go," Azriel whispers. "Fill me up and claim me."

Eris’ muscles tighten, his nerves are on fire, his skin prickles and then the dam breaks and release washes over him like tidal waves of pleasure, drowning him wholly.

But Azriel is there to catch him, to help him swim. The growl that erupts from deep within him rattles the whole Forest House, shaking all of the furniture, the cutlery and the windows.

The High Lord gets no chance to catch a breath. Not when Azriel is on him a second later, kissing him languidly, sloppily and Eris knows that this was only the beginning of their love making. The starter and the main course will be served in a moment.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

Eris is quickly rock-hard again when Azriel’s fingertips trace the dips and swells of his lower abdomen. “How do you want me?” Azriel groans, rocking his hips against Eris’ thigh, letting him feel just how aroused he is while placing a trail of kisses down his neck.

“Just like this,” Eris mumbles and his right leg jerks up the moment Azriel’s broad hand grasps him, calluses adding the perfect friction when he strokes his palm up and down his engorged cock.

“Just like this,” Azriel repeats, grinning into the skin of his mate. He brushes his thumb over the tip, collecting the bead of liquid. “Later I would really love it if you fucked me against—”

Knock!

“My Lord?”

Knock!

Eris almost sends a burst of fire through the door, turning whoever is out there and disturbs him and his mate into dust. But he opts for the more proper response and throws his head back with a groan, then in a voice he tries to keep level, he says — or rather shouts, “Not now!”

“But you have a visitor, my lord.”

“Send them away! I have important business to tend to — I‘ll be available in two or three days.”

“It is really important.” The sentry’s voice trembles and Eris can practically feel how much he hates being outside this door. The sentry knows exactly what they have been up to in the past hours, or days — time has become a blur, and they have lost all sense of it in their frenzied love making.

“It can’t be more important than this,” Eris grumbles and turns his head to kiss the shadowsinger‘s head. “Nothing is more important than this.”

Azriel chuckles lowly, curling his fingers tighter around Eris’ shaft, stroking him hard. His tongue pokes out, collecting the small droplets of sweat on Eris‘ neck

“It‘s your mother, my lord. And your brother. Lord Lucien.”

Everything stops, and even Azriel drops his hand. The shadowsinger doesn’t like Lucien, but he knows how much the clever fox probably matters to Eris.

Eris is his mate, so whatever concerns his brothers will from now on also matter to him. Be important to him.

“I—”

“Go!” Azriel sits up in bed and tilts his head at Eris. “Go see your brother.”

“We‘ll continue that later.” Eris rolls off the bed and hurdles to the dresser for a pair of breeches. “I‘ll—”

“We have all day and all night to make love, Eris. And the following days. I‘ll stay right here, naked and ready for when you return.”

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

Nervousness kicks in at full force the moment the new High Lord enters the throne room through the backdoor.

He is greeted by his mother who immediately pushes up from her chair and runs to him, the edge of her dress bunched and held in one hand.

“He is only gone half a day and this court already seems brighter and more alive,” are the words she says upon greeting her eldest and when a loud sob leaves her, her arms wrap tightly around Eris, pulling him flush to her chest.

He is so relieved to see her healthy and fit. Azriel told him about their journey and her arrival in the Night Court, but he could only fully believe that she was well once he saw her. Now he feels at ease.

“It is over,” she says, her voice trembling while holding him safely. A few teary, and whispered words are exchanged, almost like neither of them can believe that the nightmare is truly over, and the horrors that haunted this house for as long as Beron lived are no longer.

It takes them a while to part, both their face blotchy, eyes swollen and damp, when they step away from each other. She drags in a deep inhale and her gaze shifts to the door.

“I‘ll give you two some space.“ Imale cradles the edge of her dress in her hands. “I know my way around here, Eris, I‘ll find something to do in the meantime.“

She brushes past her oldest, and Eris needs a moment to calm his rapidly beating heart before he can do anything. He has no idea if the sight of Lucien back in the Autumn Court will break him, or if it will heal a part of his soul and he knows he will only find out if he dares to look.

Lucien is still standing in the doorframe when Eris eventually lifts his eyes to him.

They are brothers, and have always been and will always be. But centuries of distance, old cold and open wounds lie between them. You can’t just simply erase that and make up.

His little brother doesn’t give him an answer, only stares at him through one eye that is fine and one made of metal. Eris himself should have torn out Amarantha‘s throat for that, but he was too much of a coward to do so. Just like many times in his life.

“Congratulations on becoming High Lord,” Lucien eventually says, his voice cold, void of any kind of emotion and it breaks Eris‘ heart. In all those years, he should have tried to find him, to check on him, and didn’t do so. He can’t blame his little brother for his indifference now.

“I understand this isn’t easy for you, Lucien,“ Eris says, untangling his fingers and then folding them again. “That‘s why I appreciate you coming here even more.”

Deep inside, though, Lucien knows that his older brother has a good heart and that is why he is here. He wants to see it, wants to see his brother's good heart. Wants to see his brother. Wants to have his brother back in his life.

Lucien takes a few steps inside, his heart pounding in the same rhythm as his footsteps sound on the floor.

Eris is almost shaking — this moment is more intense than he has ever anticipated. He only wants to hug his little brother, explain and ask for forgiveness. Nevertheless, he knows he is not deserving of it.

Eris‘ gaze meets Lucien's with a mixture of longing and apprehension. They are brothers, bound by blood, and yet there are centuries of distance between them.

How do you start anew? How do you make up for all the time that has been missed? How do you forgive?

The brothers' eyes lock, and for a moment, the world around them fades away.

The weight of their unspoken history is palpable, a heavy cloak that lies over both of them and is a heavy weight on their shoulders. The silence is almost unbearable, a tension that stretches between them like an invisible thread threatening to snap.

A flicker of unspoken emotions passes between them, a shared feeling of the wounds they have gotten over the years and the time lost between them.

Lucien takes another step forward, and Eris inhales sharply.

Vulnerability, but also hope is etched upon the new High Lord's features as he keeps his gaze on his younger brother. Little Lucien — now a grown male, strong, powerful. And he has missed all of that. Has not seen him grow into the male he now is.

As their gazes hold, the walls of the Forest House, and the woods outside seem to fade into the background, into insignificance, leaving just the two of them. Eris doesn’t even think about his mate, waiting for him in his bed chamber. This is about his little brother, and no one else.

"I often found myself wondering if you would come here ever again." His throat starts to burn when he sees the pain in Lucien's eyes. His little brother is closer now, and he can sense every little emotion within him.

"You are my brother, Eris."

It is not exactly an answer to what he said, but it is all Eris needs to hear. A single tear rolls down his cheek, the back of his mouth aching. He also takes a step forward, and inhales sharply.

"We've taken different paths, but somehow I knew we would always end up on the same one when we're older again, Eris."

Lucien slowly removes his hands from his pockets, not once breaking eye-contact with his older brother.

"I hurt you, Lucien," Eris' voice trembles, thick with emotion, as if teetering on the edge of tears.

"You ensured I was safe after what…he had done to Jesminda and I had been exiled."

Eris marvels at the strength his little brother has gained, standing before him now, talking about Beron, Jesminda, and about what had been done to him.

"I did, but I should've done better. I should have done more, fought for you to stay, protected you better."

"No," Lucien's voice is resolute, a mix of strength and compassion, as he steps closer to Eris. "You did everything you could."

"No, I should have risked my life for my little brother, Lucien. If you were dying on your knees I should be the one to rescue you. If you were drowned at sea I should be the one to give you my lungs so you could breathe. I should have been the one to keep you warm and safe. I should have protected you with my life." Eris' voice breaks, his hands curling into fists at his sides as more tears stream down his cheeks. But he ignores them and continues. "I should have been the bigger brother you deserved."

A small, sad smile tugs on Lucien's lips, then he scrunches his nose a little and sniffs.

"You can be this brother now. From now on, we'll be carrying each other until we say goodbye on our dying day."

Eris cautiously opens his arms, a mix of regret and longing in his heart. Lucien steps in, his eyes now wet as well, mirroring the emotions Eris feels.

He wraps his own arms around his older brother, and it feels so oddly familiar.

Their hug is like a strong connection, a way of saying things without speaking. Eris holds his little brother tightly, tears streaming down their faces as they find comfort in each other's presence. It's as if the hug is healing the wounds of the past, of the centuries they lost, the centuries without the other one being present.

As they hold onto each other, Eris and Lucien share a moment of understanding, they let their emotions run wild, and allow themselves to be vulnerable..

"Though we don't exactly share the same blood, you're my brother and I have never stopped caring about you. I’ve never not thought of you, or your safety," Eris says, voice weak and shaky.

"No matter who my father is," —Lucien leans back a little, leaving the embrace— "I will always be your brother."

"After everything that has happened?"

He reaches his hand up to grasp Eris' shoulder. His features are stern and slightly cold, but his heart is slowly healing, the wounds finally sealing. “Yes, after everything that has happened, Eris."

"Thank you for coming here, it is a big step, I know this. This place…the memories."

Lucien bows his head, his eyes flickering with unspoken words.

"Will you—" Eris lifts his hand to his mouth, coughing, then clearing his throat. "Will you be staying for longer?"

This time, Lucien shakes his head. "No, no, I won’t. I think I am not yet ready for that."

"I understand."

"It is not only because of this place, Eris, but I‘m an emissary. I need to head to the Mortal Lands for…emissary business."

"That’s alright." It really is. Eris only wants what is best for his little brother, and for him to feel comfortable.

"But I want us to talk again. Talk about everything. In peace. Just the two of us. Maybe in a different place — or court."

Eris exhales a long breath, his chest heavy, although his heart seems to feel lighter after their conversation. He smiles a little when he lets his gaze run over his little brother, who is no longer so little. “We will talk. About everything and I will explain everything to you.” He sighs. “I can’t quite— it doesn’t seem real that you are ready to forgive me and be my brother again.”

Lucien smiles in response.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

“Where were we?” Eris pulls down his breeches, his shirt already discarded.

With a chuckle slipping through his lips, Azriel pushes up on his elbows the moment his mate pulls back the blanket and climbs onto the bed, consequently also on top of him.

“You held your promise,” Eris smirks, lying down atop Azriel, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “Still naked and ready.”

He rocks against the spymaster and manages to elicit a sound he has come to love in the past hours, a sweet and simple moan.

When he leans in, though, to steal another kiss, Azriel stops him by placing his hands on Eris shoulders, then letting them travel up so far that he can cradle his face. “Tell me about your meeting with your mother. And your brother. Tell me everything, High Lord.”

tag list for ACOCD @hnyclover @honeysuckle-daydreams13 @a-frog-with-a-laptop @queercontrarian @fandomsmultiverse @acourtofbatboydreams @chunkypossum @baileybird71 @beckkthewreck @hells-sluttiest-new-arrival @owllover123 @acotarobsessed @goldenmagnolias @honeysuckle-daydreams13 @v3lv3tf0x @talibunny30 @allyhill @popjunkie42 @skyesayshi @going-through-shit @mybestfriendmademe @12334555666 @nickishadow139

general Azris tag list: @azrielsbabyg @lady-riel @moonlightazriel @aayo-whatt @brekkershadowsinger @ladyelain @banasheefan56 @a-frog-with-a-laptop @ofduskanddreams @berryzxx

#acotar #acosf #azriel #azriel x eris #azris #eris vanserra

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dmwrites · 2 years

Text

Breathe in.

There is something timeless about being underwater. It can be as diverse as the land above, with soaring mountains and plunging cliffs, but yet, there is something almost uniform about the endlessness of the water. The shimmering gradients of blue stretch out forever, it feels like.

Breathe out.

xB had never really classified himself as any type of being, really. Some kind of weird fish, maybe? He’d been around too long for it to really matter. There was no one like him anymore, but that was okay. He was okay with that.

Breathe in.

Most importantly, xB didn’t have to leave the water to breathe or eat. He’d always felt safe in the water. Floating along, in a world without time, the water gentle on his skin. It was peaceful here.

Breathe out.

xB often lived amongst the ruins. Places abandoned long ago. He shaped them, made a home for himself within it. But always with friends and loved ones nearby. It is one thing to be by yourself, but another thing entirely to be alone.

Breathe in.

xB was alone. He was stuck in a land of abandoned empires. Everything he touched ached of bitter loneliness. There were no people, and even the animals seemed cold and distant.

Breathe out.

xB had wandered the lands, the buildings echoing his calls for help, for his friends. All that came back was cruel silence. He’d cried out until he had no voice left to speak with. All that was familiar was gone, except for the water.

Breathe in.

And that’s where he went, diving under the waves in desperation. The water was safe. The water was timeless, with currents that caressed his face like a lover. He hung there in empty space and time, the blues and blacks of the only place he could call home now enveloping him. He’d wait a thousand years, if he had to, to find his friends again.

Breathe out.

xB didn’t need to breathe here, under the waves. But it helped.

#November 6 2022 #fic #hc x empires #xbcrafted #just a gentle reminder this evening to breathe #long post

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zorkaya-moved · 6 months

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“ don’t you understand? i love you. and nothing you’ve done, no matter how much of a monster you think you are, is gonna change that. ” from :) kaveh :)

@avaere

It feels like this is something that happened before, but there is dissatisfaction with his words. She does not deny her logical viewpoint of herself from the point of view of a normal citizen of Teyvat, but it’s not something she thought Kaveh would speak of. He is acutely aware of her hidden sides, but she is doing her best to open up because she promised to him to be more honest. He asked to be let in and she does so, bit by bit by trying to open up, expose sides others will never be privy to. He does not see the faux happiness and sunshine she represents before the scholars and citizens of Sumeru or the public of Teyvat. She is known as a sunflower, as a woman with a stubborn streak, bright mind and even brighter potential to help others without asking much in return. Sumeru knows her as the light, as the guiding star, as someone who keeps their happiness and their future bright. A reputation built over more than ten years, hearts won over by lives saved and help offered when it was needed so much as if she knew where issues would start. Beloved silver flower of Sumeru who may show her thorns if someone disturbs or insults her experiments, her job, and the passions she clearly showcases in public.

But Kaveh is allowed to see what happens behind closed doors. He is allowed to step into the house that is her internal world, he is allowed to catch glimpses of reality that is not so bright and sunshine-like. He now sees the sharpness of her tongue, the subtle cold and analytical looks, he knows of her ability to read people and her ability to turn the conversation favorably for herself. The architect is allowed to hear more honest words about those they are surrounded by, the way she may rationally explain why the present rule of Sumeru is not exactly beneficial for the current generation and how she denies being a Sage solely because it will limit her opportunities as a scholar. Kaveh is allowed to see past comedy, he is allowed to learn and know the truth behind Zarina Sokolova.

And yet, as much as he is allowed and let in, slowly studying everything that she is… The words spoken by Kaveh suddenly strike her as odd. The internal denial of her natural skills in reading people makes the metaphorical cup of concern spill, exposing the growing concerns that continue to be ignored to ensure that Kaveh himself will open up. As love meant trusting the other person with everything you are, the learning slope was supposed to be tough, but Sokolova slowly started to notice more and more about her beloved that started to concern her. The switch of topics, the denial of care, the mentions of injuries she hasn’t heard of from Kaveh himself, and more instances that caused her to start thinking on how to properly approach this topic with her beloved as to not push him into anything.

However, the gentleness she usually would attempt to use to approach certain sensitive subjects would be gone for this very moment. Perhaps, the word ‘monster’ caught her attention or perhaps her speaking with several people prior to their meeting today caused her to finally allow herself just a tinge of analysis. Not like she never analyzed Kaveh before, on the contrary: she learned his behavior, she studied his expressions, she memorized his body language, and she knew exactly when he’d wish to be left alone or when he’d need her by his side. Reading him now wasn’t hard, but solely because of that she did not allow herself anything more… breaching. As she did not have the same emotional output as the architect did, she approached his mental and emotional state with more caution because of care. Not that he was fragile, but certain topics may be fragile to him while not being to her. It was a natural deduction, but sadly… Her straightforwardness won today.

“I am well-aware but I’m having doubts you understand that it’s a two-way street, Kaveh,” she tilts her head to the side, not hiding away her confusion. There is no gentleness in her gaze nor is there the tenderness she usually gazes upon him when she tries to gently offer him a listening ear. Zarina doesn’t enjoy arguments with the architect, knowing full well that he sees the world differently from her and vice versa. It does take time to understand his point of view, but when she lacks information, it becomes harder to comprehend. Manipulation is easy because there is no care, but genuine attempts to understand his point of view clashes too hard with her survival of the fittest mindset. “It’s not all about one person, it’s about us learning more about each other, relying on each other, and supporting each other. However, it seems you…”

Suddenly, she snaps out of her deductive state, signing out and closing her eyes to massage her temple for a second. The silverette understands he must have his reasons, but she hopes to at least hear about his well-being in an honest manner. At least, that. Ranting, venting, screaming, crying. It doesn’t matter how negative, but he does and should and must not always show her the positive, he must let her see the negatives as well. Just as she tries, step by step. It’s not something she ever wishes to push him into or force him into, which is why Zarina finds herself letting out a soft groan while trying to word what she means in a better way instead of coldly analytical.

Kaveh said it to be supportive, but that is very much the issue as she comes to a crashing understanding. He doesn’t seem to care enough about himself as he cares about her, and it makes her think she does the same without yet knowing just how indulgent and selfish she is. He gets glimpses, the richness of alcohol, the outfits, the people who speak with her, the accessories, the parties, the attention she obviously basks in now that he had the time to learn of her extravagant behavior for the sake of entertainment. He learns, but will she ever learn more about him? What will he let her see?

Another sigh, Sokolova opens her eyes to study her lover’s face. It makes her wonder if he worries he’ll burden her. Such kind-hearted souls like him always worry about that. But the difference is that others do not matter, but he does. She’s always been told that love is a two-way street where love persists despite, but there is a flicker of concern in those golden orbs while looking at the architect. So now, Zarina reaches out to take his hand in hers. A physical contact to prove she is here and she is not going away, but also to keep him here. (Don’t run away from me.)

“Do you understand that I, too, will love you no matter what, Kaveh?” Her voice adapts that gentle note as well, gaze returning to soften the molten gold and cool it off so it won’t be so brightly shining. “Do you think I expect you to be perfect? I do not, you can't be perfect. There is no perfect human in Teyvat. Anyone who seems perfect is simply good at hiding their negative traits, but we all possess them because we are humans.”

Kaveh seems to never listen to others when they show worry. Not only that, she rarely hears from him where he got his bruises or cuts until she points it out. Why not tell something so important she so obviously can assist with, monitor and check in? His girlfriend is a doctor, but she also does not wish to pressure him which now starts to make her relook at her approach. Perhaps, she was incorrect in ignoring her own deductions and studies. The architect is the only one who knows how he feels and what his pain points are. Maybe being too cautious might actually harm them in the long run, but she still approaches with clear concern and love for him.

“I think you are good at hiding what truly hurts you or worries you,” she confesses, not looking away from his face to see what subtle expression changes will appear. “I think you have things you fear telling me because there is worry that my perception of you will change in a negative way.”

Another silence to linger, to study, to wait out a moment to let those words sit there and become another weight to her attempts at showing him it’s alright… to someday open up. Not even today, but someday. To try. At least, to try. Nothing more. He doesn’t need to do more. An attempt, a try, a wish to try.

“If you will love me even if I might see myself as a monster, why do you act like I will not love you if you do the same to yourself? Perhaps, not a monster, but still something negative,” she does not continue her train of thought, thinking it’s not needed and it’s better left unsaid. Her hands keep his in her tight hold, but also can be easily broken if he pulls away. “I’ve seen the worst in people, Kaveh. And there is nothing you feel, experience, or have gone through that will make me see you in a different light. I only wish to learn more about you, to understand you better, to hopefully offer a listening ear, to be there for you. Because I love you.”

Because I want to be your support where others will never be. “You don’t need to keep this honeymoon phase going, Kaveh. I’m not here to only love your good sides, I won’t leave you no matter what,” her thumb caresses the back of his hand. Does he understand she means every single word? “I want to love you for everything you are. As you are willing to do for me. Can I ask you… to try? To try and trust that I will never, ever see you differently or love you less when you let me in?” It’s simply impossible, it’s impossible to not love him for her. “Not today, not tomorrow. Maybe not this week or this month, but… someday. Because... No matter, I’ll wait for you. I'll wait until you're ready. Because nothing can make me love you less, nothing can make me see you differently.”

There is nothing more she wishes than to give him anything he wishes for. She just wishes for him to show some selfishness, something he wants only for himself. The only time she heard that he said he wanted something was on his birthday when he said he wanted her, out of all things he could ask for, he asked for her. Thus, he'll have her and she'll wait while loving him eternally.

#avaere #i teared up writing this #zarina just wants kaveh to know she'll always be there for him #because no matter what he says to her she isnt changing her view on him #solely because she knows what SHE has done cannot be worse (aside dottore)#so its just!!! she will always remind him he's not a burden and he never is a burden #she may wait for him to open up but from now on he'll be hearing more from her in terms of reassurance and reminders #you are not a burden. you are always welcome to ask for more. i'm here to listen. you will always have a place here.#all of the gentle words and reminders until someday maybe she can dream of him opening up bit by bit #maybe. or maybe he never will but even that won't stop her from waiting because she promised.#IM SO INSANE ABOUT THEM #❄ ― IN CHARACTER. ╱ you breathe by the sun，i breathe by the moon.#﹙kaveh | avaere﹚ ♥ | ― i'll enter the shadows to protect your light. ❞

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soap-ify · 4 months

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simon has a habit of feeling your pulse whenever you’re beside him. his thumb is always gently caressing your wrist, feeling the soft pulse underneath. he even brings your hand up to his face, pressing chaste kisses on your wrist while you giggle at the ticklish feel.

it’s comforting to him, a reminder that you’re safe and alive. sometimes he even just lays his head down on your chest and listen to your heartbeat, memorising the gentle thumps, ingraining them into his brain so he can forever keep your heartbeat within his heart — make you his heartbeat and his breath.

“s’my favourite sound, y’know.” he groggily said one afternoon, both of you lazing around on the bed, his head gently resting on your chest while your fingers soothingly scratched his scalp.

“what sound?” you asked quietly.

“your heartbeat, love.” his brown eyes met yours, filled with undying love. “calms me down.”

and it was true. it was a melody unlike anything else to him.

#you WILL catch him feeling your pulse everyday #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley #simon ghost riley #cod x reader #call of duty #rurufic

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slttygeto · 8 months

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SWEAR IT’S JUST RIGHT FOR YOU. | NANAMI. K

જ⁀➴ synopsis: when you and nanami are equally as obsessed with each other, it creates this perfect balance. you cook for him, and he treats your pussy like it’s a blessing.

જ⁀➴word count: 3,3k

જ⁀➴ c.w: pure filth with a bit of fluff, soft dom! nanami, he turns a bit rough towards the end, rough facefucking, cunnilingus + fingering, dirty talk + praise, riding, multiple orgasms + squirting.

When Nanami praises you, it’s soft, gentle and endearing. His rough palm gently collides with the soft skin of your jaw and his thumb traces your cheek. He is reminding you of how much you mean to him, how he would burn the entire world if it meant keeping you safe and protected. You are his fairy, his delicate girl whom he could never imagine even raising his voice at. When he scolds you, his voice is stern and filled with worry despite the displeased tone, his hand grabs at your shoulder not to hurt you, and you want to caress your thumb over his forehead and get him to stop furrowing his eyebrows so deeply.

“You’ll get wrinkles, Ken.” Your voice pulls him out of his displeased state for a moment, and Kento hears birds chirping outside of the window and the sunbeam caresses your skin—It hits your beautiful eyes and he takes in every detail; your eyebrows, the slight discoloration the bottom of your jaw, the mole that seems to bring out the beauty in you even more, your eyelashes that aren’t curled but naturally have a pretty shape to them and he heaves out a sigh. He is consumed by love wherever you are near.

Heaven knows how much the man craved domesticity. He found comfort in it—a routine, a promise that when he comes home, he gets to take off his brown shoes at the front door, put his keys in the small bowl that has a mirror hanging right above it. He would then look at his reflection in the mirror and look away immediately when he notices the sweat stains as he removes his jacket. He hears your footsteps as you rush out of the kitchen with a pretty apron around your waist. You made bread, and Nanami isn’t sure whether to be infatuated by the smell of it, or the smell of your hair that hits his nostrils as you wrap your arms around his waist.

He wouldn’t care that your hair is slightly damp, but he would breathe out how the tank top you were wearing was going to get you sick if you don’t watch out. And Kento cares a lot about your comfort, he respects you a lot, so when you hug his sweaty self, his hands would gently try to remove your arms from around him and protest that he was dirty.

“It’s all hard work, Ken. I like it.” To which he wouldn’t say much but give in and let you hold him. He understands that to an extent, having a natural smell like this was attractive, he’s always told you that he likes it when you come home complaining about sweating too much and all he says is that it makes you even more attractive. Your flushed cheeks, your hair sticking up in small antennas, your nose scrunching up at how disgusting it feels to have your shirt cling onto your skin—

“Can I join you in the shower?” Which always catches you off guard, but you accept of course and Nanami sets his book down, he removes his glass and folds them neatly on top of the book before following right behind you in the bathroom. You giggle nervously when you see him close the door and lock it before leaning against it, and you let out a small and timid ‘what?’ when he keeps eyeing with the same intense eyes.

“You are beautiful.” He never denies that he is looking at you—admiring you, but instead reminds you every time that nothing in the world can change his mind about his infatuation with you.

And somewhere in between that comforting thought of coming home to you, a show playing on TV in the living room, bread baking in the oven and the smell of a clean home—Nanami dreams of fucking you stupid on the couch. He wouldn’t remove your apron, he wouldn’t let you wash your hands off of the flour—he would simply drop his pants, push your shorts down and spread your legs only to find out that you weren’t wearing any panties.

He feels sick to his stomach at thought, sighs and rubs his forehead at the fact that he was imagining such dirty things to do with you. If it were a normal fantasy like coming home and fucking you on the bed, he wouldn’t feel that bad. But that was the thing about fantasies, they existed in our head without our control, and it was up to us to act out on them or not. Kento cherished you too much to scare you off with his oh-so-called sick and twisted fantasy of his.

He comes home after a long day at work, and it’s a few minutes past seven. The house isn’t quiet, there is a show playing in the background and that was the first thing that had Kento stop dead in his tracks. He chooses to brush it off and simply rids himself of his jacket and shoes, sets his keys on the bowl before the smell of bread hits his nostrils and his lips part in confusion.

Was he dreaming? Did he somehow astral project into another dimension where his fantasy was a reality? It only confuses him further when you come out of the kitchen wearing an apron—in this reality though, you’ve chosen to wear one of his shirts instead, and Nanami doesn’t know if it’s better or worse. He tries to hide it, the way he can feel his cock hardening in his pants as you approach him with his shirt, fuzzy socks and hands that had traces of flour on them.

“You’re home.” Is how you greet him, your cheek resting on his chest and melting against his body as you breathe in his scent, a constant reminder that you get to be greeted with this sight five times a week around the same time. You boyfriend’s hand travels up to the back of your head and his fingers comb through your hair as he hums a tired response.

“Did you miss me?” Obviously, is what you want to say. But instead, when you look up at him and notice his hooded eyes, you feel his other rest on the small of your back and your heart leaps in your chest. All of a sudden, you feel hot and you feel something poking at you and you’re just surprised.

It was normal for your boyfriend to have needs, you were used to the sexual frustration that comes with having such a stressful job—but normally, Kento would avoid initiating anything with you until he’s showered and made sure he was clean. For him to insinuate that he wanted you, and so loudly with those eyes—you could feel your panties getting ruined.

“Pretty girl,” he calls out for you again when he notices your silence and the hand resting on your waist holds your chin whilst the other firmly grabs your hair. “Did you miss me?” He asks again, stern and you nod. You missed him too much, you realize. Because the lack of conversation beside greeting him and telling him he’s home—all of it was intensifying the sexual tension. It was almost like your body was warning you that Kento wasn’t going to go easy on you this time and you felt jittery.

“I missed you, Kento. Did you miss me?” You say as your hands grab onto his blouse in fists. You bring him closer to you, and gasp when you feel his hand travel down to hold your neck. He isn’t trying to cut your air, but when you make eye contact with him and see that his face has darkened, you let out a small noise.

“Let me show you instead.”

On the couch, Nanami wastes no time to attach his lips to yours and kiss you breathless. He was such a good kisser, always so passionate, always making sure to tease the corner of your lips before biting nibbling here and there—and fuck, did he lose his mind every time you tried to suck on his tongue. He would just push you on your back and cage you between his strong arms.

Nanami feels like he is constantly losing his breath whenever you are near, but when you grab onto his forearms and moan, he goes feral. Suddenly, he is reminded of how much weaker you are compared to him—frail, delicate, soft and sensitive to his touch. He is lucky, he is blessed and he makes sure to spoil you and that pretty pussy.

His kisses trail all the way down from your neck to your collarbones, his takes a whiff of your perfume and hums.

“You smell so sweet,” he mumbles against your skin. Instead of removing your apron and shirt, he pushes them up to reveal the cute panties that you were wearing and his finger traces the wet patch that’s already formed.

“Kento,” you call out to your boyfriend breathless, desperate—as though you were on a deserted island and he was the water to quench your thirst. Your legs spread on instinct for the man to settle between them and you feel his hot breath right against your panties.

“But you smell even better here… Right here,” he says and he pushes your panties to the side to reveal the wet mess hiding behind the fabric. You prop yourself up a bit higher to be able to look at Nanami while he eats you out, and you blush when you notice that he’s already staring at you.

“Up.” He pats your ass and you lift up your hips to allow him to remove your panties for you, but instead of throwing them on the floor, you see him take a whiff of the fabric and sigh and your blush darkens.

“Can I keep these, my love?” He asks sweetly, voice so deep you felt like your pussy was embarrassing you with how wet it was and you mindlessly nod. “Is that so?” He knew you wouldn’t say no, but he still wanted to thank you for trusting him with his perverted intentions.

“You’re too good for me.” Is the last thing that you hear from him before he dives between your legs and fuck—he is too good. You know Nanami is good, you don’t doubt that he can make you cum as many times as he wants before reaching his own high, but something about him eating your pussy like a treat, enjoying every drop and sucking on your clit with the intention of making you lose your mind—that was too much.

You feel his lips wrap around your clit and he sucks before smothering his face in your pussy. His nose nudges at your clit while his tongue licks at your folds and you think that for a moment, maybe he is enjoying this more than you do. His hands grip your thighs to keep them in place, and when he notices that your legs are starting to shake and your hips are bucking up, he takes one look at you and his dick almost bursts.

Flushed chest, swollen lips and a fucked out face. If Nanami wasn’t already in love with your beauty, then he feels himself falling deeper for you. You fall apart on his tongue a couple of seconds later, he enjoys the way you gasp, moan and cry as he keeps his lips attached to your clit and you try to push his head away.

“Too much,” you gasp. “Kento!” you cry out when you feel his two fingers nudge at your folds and by this point, you are breathing too hard. You feel his thick finger prod at that one spongy spot almost immediately and your eyes roll to the back of your head.

He presses a hand to your stomach and praises are spilling from his lips like a chant, watching as your soul almost escaped your body with every thrust of his thick fingers perfectly against your spot.

“That’s right baby, you’re doing so good,” “this pussy takes me so well,” “you make me so proud, look at this pussy—fucking filthy,”

The mixture of praise and him losing his composure and cursing has you reaching your orgasm again faster than expected. But this time, you make a bit of a mess and you try to apologize for ruining the couch and his clothes but he is quick to shut you up with his lips.

“You’ve just squirted on me, and you want to apologize?” he mumbles against your cheek, fingers still buried inside you and you whine.

“I made a mess,” you try to reason with your beast of a boyfriend but he quickly retreats his fingers back and delivers a harsh smack to your pussy.

“It’s never been a problem when it’s our bed, has it?”

“Kento,” you call out softly when your boyfriend starts to kiss at your neck again. “Kento, fuck my mouth.” Nanami’s brain short circuits at this and the shock is evident on his features. He doesn’t have time to stop you or protest because you are quick to get off the couch and on your knees for him.

“You’ve been so good to me, keeping me satisfied and happy—I bet you want to fuck my mouth sometimes, don’t you?” Your hands are quickly unbuckling his belt. You don’t remove his pants completely, only enough to free his painfully hard cock from his boxers. Your hand wraps around the base of his cock and you watch as he throws his head back on the couch with each slow stroke.

“You don’t know what you are asking for,” is what he says as he tries to get you to back out of this, but you are determined to let him ruin your life. Him, the only man on this planet whom you would blindly trust with your life.

“I know what I am asking for.”

“I could hurt you,”

“I will tap your thigh if you do,” and then there’s a few moments of silence where Kento just stares deeply into your eyes. When you see him lean down towards you, your breath catches in your throat and your lips part in shock when his hand goes to the back of your head and the other one grips your jaw open.

“Open up.” And when you do, he rests the fat tip of his cock on your tongue. The pre-cum is a bit salty but you don’t say anything as you let Kento handle your mouth to his liking. He tells you to open up a bit more and breathe before he starts to thrust his dick in and out of your mouth at a slow pace.

You’re taking it well at first, but when you notice your boyfriend’s thighs shaking, indicating that he is holding back on you, you decide to take matters into your own hands. Quite literally.

Your hand wraps around the base of his cock and you push his dick down your throat, nose nuzzling against his pubes and he curses out loud.

“Fuck--!” You repeat the same motion over and over again, and by the third time, your boyfriend finally breaks and starts fucking your mouth like a starved man. Your knees burn, and so do your lungs—the couch is moving every time Kento brings your head back on his cock and you’ve braced yourself on his thighs for support.

“Sorry—fuck, I’m sorry baby,” he says between gritted teeth. However, when his eyes catch that you’re rubbing your swollen clit to the same rhythm of your head on his cock, something in him snaps.

He pushes you off of his cock, and any complaint you head is drowned out when he stands up and his cock stands proud. You look up at him from your spot on the floor and brace yourself on his thighs again when you feel him grab your face and push his cock inside your mouth.

“Filthy fucking girl,” he breathes out. “Can’t even let me be sweet to you—shit,” based on how difficult it is to even talk properly, you guess that he is close and so you sneak a hand between his legs and starts fondling with his balls—you squeeze them, and that’s when Nanami finally breaks and cums down your throat with a broken moan.

Even while trying to catch his breath, Nanami’s hands caress your face and neck as he takes a seat and pulls you closer to him. He then helps you get back up on your feet and pulls you on his lap to kiss you. He can taste himself on your tongue even after you’ve swallowed everything.

“Was I good?” You ask when he pulls away from your lips to kiss your cheek and down your neck once again, a pattern that he’s learned always turns you into putty.

“Perfect, my love. You are perfect for me.”

You are surprised at how fast he gets hard again, but you supposed it’s also because you were literally grinding your bare pussy against his dick. Your hands hold onto his shoulders for support as you try to slip his dick past your folds, but you let out a surprised noise when he easily lifts you up and aligns the tip of his cock with your pussy.

“Noticed that you like my arms a lot,” he says and you are obliged to stare at his forearms and good lord—the way they flex as they hold you above his cock, Nanami lets out an amused chuckle when he sees a string of arousal drip directly on top of his cock. “You do like them, huh?”

“Baby,” you whimper and Kento cannot find it in him to tease you any longer. He gently drops you down on his cock and he immediately gets to work. His hand rests on the small of your back and pushes you towards him to press your chest flush against his, his hands then grip your ass cheeks and he starts to slam you up and down on his cock with so much ease.

You sound like a mess. The combination of your boyfriend’s strong arms and the tip of his thick cock abusing your spot turns you into a blabbering mess on top of him.

“So good, so good—fuck, oh fuck,” sounded like music to his ears. Your whines your moans, your fucked out look and your eyes begging him to ruin you—Nanami was addicted to every part of you.

And it only takes a few more messy and sloppy thrusts from him and you cum around him with a loud cry.

“There you go,” he says breathlessly, feeling his own orgasm creeping up on him. “Make a mess on me, baby,”

You shake like a leaf on top of him, hands gripping onto his shirt for dear life and lips pressed against his neck.

“Think you can take a bit more for me? I’m really close, darling,”

“Hurry up,” you say desperately and as promised, Kento thrusts a few more times before he is cumming inside you with a loud groan. He buries his face in your neck, taking in your scent that has now been mixed with his own and a hint of sweat. He relaxes in your hold, hand tracing the small of your back as a way to get you to come down from your orgasm and perhaps even apologize for being a bit rough with you earlier.

All of his worries are brushed off when you pull away from him to press a kiss to his forehead, his nose then down to lips.

“I love you, Ken. I love you too much,” you announce, a hint of sleepiness to your voice and a smile finds its way to his face.

“I love you too, darling. I love you too much.”

2023 ; all works belong to @ slttygeto. do not repost my works on any other platofrm.

#moon's works #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen smut #nanami kento #nanami smut #nanami x reader #nanami kento x reader #jjk nanami #jujutsu kaisen headcanon #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen headers #jujutsu kaisen nanami #nanami kento x reader smut #nanami x reader smut #nanami kento smut #nanami fluff #nanami imagine

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nereidprinc3ss · 2 months

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in the dead of night

in which spencer wakes up in the middle of the night with an overwhelming desire to feel you

18+ (smut) warnings/tags: fem!reader, soft dom!spence (certified nereidprinc3ss classic), sub reader, fingering, piv sex, praise, overstimulation, cr**mp*e (god pls we need a new term) a/n: this is probably THEE most self-indulgent thing i've ever written. but.... lowkey favorite smut i've posted thus far..... i'm such a sucker for disgustingly sleepy needy sex. just.... read it and u will see.... and as usual i love you!!! PLEASE tell me what you think!! MWAH

When Spencer got home around one in the morning, he’d been too dead on his feet to do anything more than get undressed, fall into bed, pull you close, and pass out. Now he’s slightly disoriented as he stirs, pinned between sleep and wakefulness as he realizes how you’ve curled into his side—your face is buried in his shoulder to the point where he’s concerned about your access to air—but each warm puff against his neck assures him you’re breathing alright. One arm is slung haphazardly over his shoulder and your top leg is wound around his. Without thinking, his hand cups the back of your thigh, stroking the bare skin where it presses against his hip. You’re never so soft as you are in sleep; plush, easy, gentle. Spencer realizes with some degree of frustration that he has to fuck you. That’s why he’s awake, and he condemned himself to the fate of it as soon as he touched you.

Sometimes the impracticality of sex becomes so apparent he resents his own mammalian, biological drive to reproduce. It was never like this before he met you. You reduce him to nothing more than a primate doomed to follow its basest instincts. You make him feel stupid.

God, he loves you.

It’s with this in mind he drops his head to kiss your shoulder—a gentle sort of wake up call, as his hand snakes further around to your inner thigh and he presses his lips to your ear.

“Baby?” he murmurs, kneading the smooth warmth of your leg. It doesn’t take much to wake you up. He thought after you’d been staying at his apartment on a semi-regular basis you’d begin to sleep through him getting up and coming home at odd hours, but if anything, you became more sensitive to the floor creaking or the mattress dipping.

“Hm?”

His fingers brush the fabric of your underwear. Your hips twitch.

“Is this okay?”

You inhale deeply, readjusting your arms around him and nodding into his chest.

“I need yes or no, angel.”

“Yes, please.”

The words aren’t desperate. They’re sleepy, mumbled, maybe even a little annoyed that he’s making you jump through hoops. The corner of his mouth twists in amusement at your perfunctory politeness and the way it poorly disguises your habitual impatience.

“Thank you,” he says, rewarding you with his fingers pushing between your folds through the fabric. You say nothing more as he unhurriedly rubs your clothed clit, but he feels the way your breath catches for a moment—before pouring out in one deep tide. He presses slightly harder, transitioning from passes to slow, tight circles that elicit the tiniest, sleepiest moans. This goes on for a while until your hips begin grinding in isolated circles, chasing his hand.

“Touch it,” you beg quietly. He can feel how damp you are through the fabric and realizes he was probably torturing you for several minutes, but sometimes he just gets so lost in touching you it becomes almost meditative. He pulls his hand away and snakes it between your bodies, sliding beneath your underwear and dragging his fingers over your puffy clit. You whimper but he quickly gets distracted when he realizes just how wet you actually are. Spencer sinks his fingers into you and moans lowly at the sound, rubbing at a spot deep inside you and rutting his palm against your clit rather than pumping his fingers.

“Breathe,” he reminds you when he realizes how still and silent you’ve gone. A small amount of air escapes in a tremulous little cry as your hips roll gently against his hand—whether to escape the sensation or get closer is unclear. “You’re all wet, baby. Were you touching yourself before I got home?”

“Mhm,” you hum weakly against him. “Couldn’t come.”

Spencer feels like he could finish at the thought alone—the nightly phone calls while he’s away occasionally devolve into desperate phone sex and he’s gotten off to the image of you playing with yourself in his bed on more than one occasion.

“We’ll make you come,” he promises, dragging his fingers from your soaked heat with bated breath.

He pushes your underwear down first, until you can kick it off your feet (you’ll have to search for it between tangled sheets tomorrow) and then his own, inhaling sharply through clenched teeth as his cock brushes your tummy. Spencer hoists your bent leg further up his body, exposing your cunt a little more and reaching underneath your thigh until he can guide himself between them.

The head of his cock pushes between your folds momentarily before he’s teasing your swollen clit, slipping the underside of his tip over it in lazy, noisy circles until you whine.

“Stop it,” you beg, voice still strained with sleep, “need it inside.”

“You’re right, baby, I’m sorry,” he croons, pressing his lips to your hair as he notches his cock at your dripping entrance and slowly begins to push in. “You’re being very patient—”

He cuts himself off as the two of you moan in filthy harmony. You’re so worked up for him, so defenseless in your half-unconscious state that he slips in with far less resistance than usual.

“Fuck, me,” he groans under his breath, hissing and bucking his hips when you tighten around him and cry out. He shuts his eyes and thinks of the Goncharov conjecture in an attempt to control himself; the i-th cohomology of the complex is isomorphic to the motivic cohomology group—and then he’s fine. He’s at least learned to stop rattling off mathematical paradoxes out loud during sex. “You okay?”

The only answer you have for him is an indecipherable whine that makes his chest ache. He rubs your thigh in sweet, soothing passes.

“I know, I’m sorry.” A thought occurs—he chuckles breathily, seeing stars as you throb around him. “You never let me in that easily.”

“Mm,” you squeak, gripping his shoulder hard enough that it aches and he truly couldn’t care less, “you feel good.”

He exhales shakily, pulling out slightly before grinding his hips even deeper into yours.

“Yeah? So do you, sweet girl.”

“Fuck,” you whimper, and he takes it as a sign that you’re ready to be fucked. Spencer’s not thinking about a whole lot as he withdraws all the way and you clench around him desperately—but somewhere in the back of his mind he’s realizing how much he loves your dirty mouth. When he was younger and dumber, he thought he’d prefer a girl who was soft-spoken and rarely (if ever) cursed. Now that he’s had you, he realizes how compelling and endearing the contrast of your soft voice is when you’re swearing like a marine.

“God, I missed you,” he breathes into your hair as he leisurely finds the right pace and you melt against him. “I missed how soft and wet you get for me,” Spencer admits gently, eyes screwed shut as he rambles from a place of profound affection and not at all thinking clearly, “and I missed how you cry when you need it so bad it hurts, and I missed how sweet you are when you let me fuck you right after I get home and you’re so tired, just like this. You’re always so good, honey, I don’t know what I did to deserve you—” You whine and clench so hard around him it becomes an effort to push back in, and he groans as he realizes you’re already coming. “Good girl, baby. Holy fuck.”

That last part is more so whispered to himself, but he can’t help it as he feels you painting his cock with your release. You’ve never come this quickly before, and he slips his arm beneath the crook of your knee, pulling up and granting himself more access to fuck you harder and faster. You moan brokenly, sinking your nails into his back.

“‘m sorry. That was—I didn’t mean to.”

“No,” he quickly assures you, breathing hard, “that was so good, baby. It was perfect. Don’t apologize.”

It seems the brief window between climax and over-stimulation has passed, and a gasp falls from your dropped jaw, arching into him as your body unconsciously tries to find relief from the sensation.

“Oh, god, Spencer, I—”

“You can take it, we’re getting close,” he promises. Not a demand, but meant as encouragement. “Do you think you can come for me one more time?”

“I don’t know,” you slur, the words rising to squeak.

“I think you can. Come on, show me how you were touching yourself earlier.”

You whimper, but slide your hand from his shoulder and push it between your bodies. A gasp accompanies the jolt of your muscles as you make contact with your clit, probably demanding too much of it. Soon, however, the conflicted mewls melt into a rhythmic string of delicate, short moans, so pretty it’s like a practiced song. Spencer’s brain, usually overflowing with words, is nothing but a void of swirling fog—each of your perfect sounds, a little burst of light. Soon he’s making noises of his own, which you obviously adore if the way you tense around him is any clue. Usually he sublimates them into words, but he’s too tired, and you feel too good. Your combined moans, along with the sound of him fucking you and the sheets moving over skin make for a truly dirty soundscape.

“Will you come inside me?” you beg breathlessly, and he can feel the movement of your hand speeding up as you get desperate. He sucks in a breath through his teeth at your plaintive request—the words bring him that much closer to finishing.

“Yeah, baby. I’m—fuck, I’m not going to last.”

“Spencer—” and somehow, when you say his name like that, he knows exactly what you want. He bows his head and finds your lips, mostly blind in the dark, kissing you messily until that split second where his grip on reality becomes tenuous before the building pressure finally bursts. Multicolored fireworks explode behind his eyes as he moans against your lips and continues fucking you through his orgasm in strong thrusts for as long as he can. Thankfully you finish again just as he’s running out of steam. He rubs the spasming muscles of your thigh deeply as you writhe against him in your typical push-pull style—you don’t know what you want and it’s his job to hold you still and make you take it. After a moment you quiet down, stilling in his arms except for the continued expansion and contraction of your lungs. “Oh my god,” you breathe. “I can’t believe I did that. That’s so embarrassing.” Spencer chuckles breathily—kisses your forehead with his eyes still shut and slips a hand under your shirt to rub your back.

“Why is it embarrassing? I liked it.”

“I have never—it’s never been so fast! It��s not supposed to be!”

“Why not?”

You huff.

“You’re the man. Men come too quickly. Not me.”

“I’m sorry you had to have two orgasms instead of one. Next time we’ll make sure you don’t come so we can even it out.”

You bury your face in his shoulder once more, immediately softening.

“No! I take it back.”

“I thought you might.” His hand slides down your back, squeezing your ass affectionately. “Let's rally. We need to clean you up, angel.”

The pillow muffles your voice as you say, “I can’t. I’m asleep.”

“Can I record you saying that for playback in the morning when you ask me why I let you go to sleep with my come inside of you?”

“Spencer, I am seriously not moving. You woke me up. This is not a me problem.”

That makes him laugh, and he presses his lips to yours softly. After a long moment of his mouth moving slowly against yours, a needy little whine rushes from your nose, and it becomes evident he’s successfully kissed the attitude from you.

“You were so good, honey,” he murmurs against your lips. Another (shorter) kiss. “Did so well. I’m proud of you, baby.”

A second soft whimper from you as you chase his lips and he gives in once, briefly—knowing he can’t make you get up after this. How could he do that to such a sweet girl when she’s obviously completely exhausted? Jesus, you have him whipped. He recognizes that. And he made peace with it a long time ago.

“Go back to sleep. I’ll clean you up.”

“Thank you,” you mumble, already slipping back into unconsciousness like you knew you’d get your way. Knowing your boyfriend, you probably did. “I love you.”

“I love you. Even though you’re a princess.”

You laugh.

Ten-ish minutes later, once he’s done the best he can cleaning you up and is throwing the covers back over both of you, you startle him slightly by speaking. He thought you’d been asleep.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you,” you sigh dreamily, snaking your arms around him once more. Spencer’s cheeks heat up at the memory of the praise he’d shamelessly lavished upon you not long ago. He’s glad you’re barely awake, because he’s too flustered to think of a response.

He loves it when you do that.

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds smut #criminal minds x reader

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cherrymoon4 · 3 months

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Suguru hates the taste of curses. He hates the aftertaste that persists in his mouth, that doesn’t leave no matter how hard he brushes his teeth or how much sickening sweet candy Satoru gives him.

Even when hours pass, no matter how many boiling hot showers he takes, nothing takes away the disgusting feeling that swallowing down curse after curse brings.

He has tried everything, every single thing that comes to mind to not have the aftertaste of a vomit soaked rag stuck to him for hours.

But nothing works, he is sure of that, he reminds himself as he leans over the bathroom sink, trying not to throw up after another “successful” mission and another curse swallowed.

As he takes deep breaths, trying to come up with something, anything, that could help him, he hears a knock on the door, followed by your gentle voice asking if he’s okay.

He’s always seen you as one of his closest friends, the one that is there for when he feels like no one can help him; when he knows Shoko is too busy with her own shit, and Satoru could only try to come up with a joke and probably wouldn’t take him seriously, he knows that the one he can always turn to is you.

Soft, sweet little you. Too kind for your own good, with a heart too big for your petite form. So selfless, always worrying over ‘Sugu’ even when he doesn’t deserve it, even when he pushes you away, not wanting to stain your pure self.

Just like right now, as he contemplates whether to let you in or tell you to leave. He pictures your pretty face in his mind, how it probably is adorned with worry and concern, your doe eyes big and glassy.

His heart clenches at the thought of you walking away all sad after he told you to leave. He can’t bring himself to push you away.

So he tells you come in, he just wanted to reassure you after all. But when he sees you coming in and rushing to check him over for any injuries, clad in your fluffy pajamas and fuzzy socks, his mind fills with images of him doing everything but reassuring you.

And that’s how he discovers that there is, in fact, something that can help him out.

He knows that this is all he needs, your pretty cunt in his face is where he belongs.

Your plushy thighs around his head and your sweet juices smeared on his cheeks are just what he needs to forget everything about curses and the awful feeling that they leave him with.

He reprimands you for keeping your heavenly pussy from him all this time; how could you be so selfish :(

He laps at your folds like a starved man, moaning in your cunt like he’s the one getting eaten out. And he’s so messy too! After all, how could he not be when he finally found the perfect treat to solve his problem?

“Fuck sweetheart, you’re such a messy girl mh?” he grunts, like he’s not the one turning his head side to side to smear your juices all over his face.

“This pretty pussy loves me so much, doesn’t she? Gushin’ around my tongue like that, bet it wants me to fill her up too..” he says as he toys with your puffy pussy and swollen clit, looking up to see you all dumb and stupid, babbling something about how it’s “t-too much!”.

But you clearly don’t know what you need, not when your hole keeps getting wetter and wetter.

“It’s not too much, silly girl. You can take it, I know you can. You want your Sugu’ to be happy, don’t you baby? You wanna be my good girl, yeah?”

And how can you deny him? You do want to be his good girl, his best girl!

So you spread your legs wider for him and let him lap at your messy hole, and you don’t even complain when you feel his thick cock prodding at your entrance, stretching your pussy nice and full :3

hello ^^ ( thank you sososo much for the love on the other posts! send me requests if you want :P )

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yandere-daydreams · 28 days

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Title: Puppy Love.

Pairing: Yandere!Yuuji x Reader x Yandere!Yuuta

Word Count: 2.6k.

TW: Hybrid AU, Puppy!Yuuta, Puppy!Yuuji, Fem!Reader, Non/Con, Somnophilia, Biting, Oral Sex, Unhealthy Relationships, and Obsessive Behavior.

You heard Yuuji, first.

He’d always been the louder of the pair, not that it was a very steep competition. You hadn’t had him for very long, but—well, it was less that he came out of his shell quickly and more that he’d never had a shell at all. It only taken a day or so for him to get used to the idea of living with you and Yuuta full-time, a week for him to start acting like he’d always been a part of your little family, and another month before he started pawing at your bedroom door at night and whining when you reminded him that you preferred to sleep alone (meaning: without multiple two-hundred pound hybrids draped across you). He was energetic, overly friendly, even if you wouldn’t go so far as to call him disobedient or difficult. You figured having a more, for lack of better phrasing, dog-like hybrid in the house would be good for Yuuta, bring out his more instinctive side. In reality, the added stress of an overly hyper roommate had only worked to make him just a little more anxious than he already was, but you still thought it was good for him. If nothing else, Yuuji gave Yuuta something to focus on that wasn’t you, and Yuuta could use more distractions.

But Yuuji, though—He was what you should’ve been focusing on, at the moment. Through the haze of exhaustion, you could hear the door creaking open, the muffled sound of padded feet on carpeting and the tiny, almost inaudible vocalizations Yuuji never seemed to realize anyone else could hear. Soon enough, you felt the foot of the mattress dip as he clambered onto your bed. Any other night, you would’ve forced yourself to sit up and tell him to leave, would’ve called on the dozens of books and hundreds of blogposts you’d read about hybrid obedience training and found the strength to ‘reinforce boundaries despite personal feelings’, but you were tired beyond the point of discipline, and Yuuji didn’t mean any harm. One night of letting him curl up next to you wouldn’t hurt, even if you did make a mental note to show Yuuta some extra affection in the morning – just to keep the scales balanced. For all their many differences, they were both prone to crying favoritism.

You never stirred, but you settled deeper into place, curling into yourself as Yuuji remained at your feet. You might’ve fallen asleep entirely, if Yuuji hadn’t spoken.

His voice was quiet, low, audibly trepidatious. It reminded you of Yuuta’s nervous, stuttering inclination, although not quite as unsteady. “Are you sure it’s alright to…?”

“I am.” You weren’t sure who you expected to answer, but the sound of Yuuta’s voice almost startled you awake. It was normal for Yuuji to bend the rules. Yuuta was supposed to know better. “She’s asleep, right? Just don’t wake her up.”

Yuuji didn’t respond, but you felt the sheets draped over your shift, a warm hand curl around your calf. For as little reassurance as Yuuta had provided, it seemed to be enough for Yuuji.

It was half curiosity and half fatigue that kept you quiet as Yuuji moved around you. Whatever they might’ve been up to, nothing could’ve seemed worse than having to wake up and sacrifice much-needed sleep for the sake of scolding your (usually angelic) pets. At worst, you’d wait until you could catch them in the act or, better yet, grit your teeth and bare it until they left. Anything not to have to deal with this for another eight hours.

You rolled onto your side, twisting your leg out of Yuuji’s hand and letting out a soft groan as you curled into yourself. It wasn’t a subtle position, let alone an inviting one, but Yuuji only whimpered, only edged closer to you. This time, when he touched you, it was to take up your shoulder – his hold gentle and breathing heavy as he nudged you onto your back. Whatever he was doing, he seemed determined to see it through. It might’ve been more admirable, if you hadn’t been so confused.

You felt your sheets pull away from you next, then another hand on your ankle, Yuuji’s rough claws pressing lightly into your skin as his loose grip flexed. You felt him draw your legs apart, and with the corner of your mouth already quirking downward, you started to open your eyes, to sit up and—

Suddenly, you felt something wet and warm press into your cunt, and you stopped moving entirely.

Whatever lingering exhaustion you might’ve felt was swiftly replaced with cold, pointed terror. This time, you forced yourself to hold still, it wasn’t out of confusion or curiosity, but an abrupt and paralyzing fear.

It wasn’t a feeling Yuuji seemed to share. His tongue was already moving across the length of your slit, his drool already soaking into the silk of your panties. He was making those noises, again; deep and throaty, closer to the sounds a prowling animal would make than anything remotely similar to human speech. Both of his hands found their way to your ass, claws biting into the plush flesh as he buried his face in your pussy. He was just as rough with his mouth – his pointed canines ghosting over the inside of your thighs and catching on the material of your panties, his broad togue laving over your covered entrance as if he could taste you through the fabric. It was only when he bowed his head, when the bridge of his flat nose ground against your clit that you started to wonder if he actually could, but forced yourself not to linger on the idea for very long. Thinking about what he was doing, assigning a motive to his actions – that would only make this worse. Thinking at all would only make this worse.

You bit down on the side of your tongue with as much force as you could afford to use, willing yourself to hold still, to not react – a wounded animal, playing dead as to not attract the attention of a predator. You felt Yuuji’s hands shift, calloused fingertips pressing into your thighs, then—

“Stop.”

Yuuta. Wonderful, miraculous, well-behaved Yuuta. You would’ve sighed, if you weren’t holding yourself so stiff. You could hear him moving closer, too – his footsteps feather-light compared to Yuuji’s. You braced yourself to break up a fight (there’d been a few when Yuuji first came home with you, when you first realized that Yuuta had never learned to share), but rather than barking, growling, any of the sounds that came with two animals trying to tear each other apart, there was only rustling fabric, another shift in gravity as Yuuta positioned himself by your side. “Y-you’re doing it wrong,” he stammered, and something deep inside of you seemed to curl up and die. “You have to take her clothes off first. Otherwise, she won’t feel anything.”

It was almost strange, hearing him take charge. In any other context, you might’ve been proud.

Yuuji whined, but obliged. His nails scraped against your hips as he balled his fist around the fabric and tore, making no effort to spare the delicate fabric. The remaining scraps were discarded with just as little care, and before you could fully wrap your mind around what was happening, he was back to lapping at your cunt. With the only barrier between you gone, it felt less like he was trying to eat you out and more like he was trying to eat you alive – his tongue too thick and too long, his hands too big and too prone to groping at whatever was underneath him, the boundless energy you were so used to finding either infinitely adorable or impossibly exasperating sudden not quite as harmless than you’d always considered it to be.

The next time he found your clit, you couldn’t stifle your reactions – little, half-choked whimpers and moans escaping despite your pursed lips. Your hips twitched, and for the first time, you felt Yuuji draw back willingly. He was such a sweet dog. Even with your eyes clenched shut, you could picture him tilting his head to the side, his ears flopping in the same direction and his big, dark eyes going full puppy-dog. Usually, you’d melt at the sight, give him whatever he was asking for and comfort him the best you could, but you didn’t have much comfort to spare, and Yuuta was already answering on your behalf.

“That means she likes it,” he explained, his voice a little quieter, a little more airy than it’d been before. “Keep going, she’ll make more.”

There was a short lapse, passed in silence. For a second, you let yourself believe he’d come to his senses, that he might stop, but it was only for a second. His response was enough to dash any remaining hope you might’ve had. “…will she get louder?”

“Mhm.” And then, with the slightest note of pride, “She does for me, at least.”

And just like that, Yuuji’s head dipped, his mouth latching onto your pussy with a renewed concentration. You willed yourself not to move, not to think, not to do anything that would mean having to open your eyes and acknowledge what was happening, but it was impossible not to feel the heat of his mouth against your cunt, not to let the sounds of saliva and arousal against tongues and skin seep into the back of your mind and tint the pleasure slowly starting to pool at the pit of your stomach with a vicious, sickeningly sweet, nectar-like quality. It wasn’t long before your own pitiful noises were just as difficult to suppress, before your hips were jutting upward involuntarily to meet Yuuji’s mouth, before you could feel a mix of drool and slick and every other ungodly thing pooling on your sheets beneath you. Yuuta shifted beside you, edging close enough for his thigh to press against your arm. “You’re—You’re making a mess, she’ll be mad if—”

His voice cut out abruptly, drowned out by a sudden, bubbling moan from Yuuji. Yuuta tried to catch his attention again to the same result until, finally, there was a low growl. Yuuji yelped has his face was shoved further into the space between your thighs – Yuuta pushing down on the back of his head, as little as you wanted to picture your sweet Yuuta doing something like that – but he didn’t seem to mind. If anything, his lapping only seemed to get faster, more reckless, more wild. You didn’t want to, no part of you wanted to cum because of your pet’s mouth, but you could feel the pressure mounting, the heat building, the walls of your pussy convulsing around his tongue as you reached your climax.

There was nothing you could do to stop yourself from crying out as you came, any hope you might’ve had of making it through this without letting either Yuuji or Yuuta know how much of it you’d been conscious for immediately abandoned. You tried to make good use of your adrenaline, to shove Yuuji away and run, but he’d always been strong, even for a hybrid, and he didn’t even have to pull away to pin your hips to the mattress and nurse you through your orgasm, his tongue now fucking into you unabashedly. He only stopped when the last of your aftershocks had died out, when it was all you could do to lie limp and mutter all the little ‘no’, ‘stop’, ‘please’s that you’d pictured yourself screaming only seconds ago. Even then, the separation wasn’t made by choice – no, it was Yuuta who finally, finally dragged him off of you. Even through the darkness of your bedroom, you could see his fingers knotted in Yuuji’s untamable hair, his knuckles white and his grip steadfast. By the time he let go, Yuuji’s back was straight and he’d gone surprisingly quiet – his dark eyes glassy and fixed on yours. By the time you could force yourself to look to Yuuta, he wasn’t much better. He was focused on you, too, but he didn’t look quite as dazed, quite as mindless. His lips were parted, but his eyes were narrowed, and he was wearing the expression he’d worn when you first brought Yuuji home, all displaced resentment and palpable betrayal. If you hadn’t known him so well, you might’ve called it anger.

Yuuji broke the silence. He whined sharply, slumping forward and kneading down where his hands were still planted on your hips. You opened your mouth, ready to tell him to get down, to get out, but Yuuta cut in before you had the chance to spit anything out. “Turn her over. It’ll be easier if she’s on her stomach.”

Yuuji didn’t hesitate. You felt his hands on your midriff, and then, you were on your chest, Yuuji’s form hunched over you as he ground something stiff and hot and leaking against your ass. You tried to push yourself up, to get away, but you were barely able to get your knees underneath you before Yuuji’s arms were around your waist, his face buried in the crook of your neck and his pointed teeth bared against the side of your throat. He didn’t growl, didn’t bite, but you went still regardless. You didn’t think Yuuji would hurt you, but you never would've thought he would do this, either.

Whatever aggression he might’ve felt faded quickly – as soon as he started rutting against your ass. You could feel him panting against your throat, his breath humid and stifling, and his chest pressing into your back. He was too close. He was too much. When he spoke, it was almost deafening, even if you knew it couldn’t be much more than a mumble. “Hurts so bad,” he muttered, as his cock ground uselessly against your ass, your thighs. “Been hurtin’ so bad since you took me home. I was so happy when Yuuta told me you could help, and—and, that you wouldn’t mind, and—”

His voice cut out abruptly as the blunt head of his cock caught on your entrance and, with a cracked whine, thrust into you. There was no time to adjust, to block out – just a sudden heat inside of you and the immediate, overwhelming fullness of his cock battering the walls of your pussy. “Off,” you half cried, half screamed – your voice a jagged, shaking mess. “Get down, stop, get—”

But Yuuji wasn’t listening. His tongue lapped clumsily at your neck as he fucked into in slow, languid thrusts – his hips slamming into your ass with enough force to bruise. You went limp, sobbing openly into your sheets, but Yuuji was strong enough to hold you up on his own, to not have to care what state you were in underneath him. So caught up in your own misery, you didn’t notice Yuuta moving until he was in front of you, until his hand had worked its way underneath your chin and tilted your head back far enough for your tear-clouded gaze to find his. His expression was that same mix of resentment and pity and bitter, bitter anger. Still, when your eyes met his, the corner of his lips quirked up, some of the harsher lines around his eyes fading into nothing.

“I wouldn’t be this rough with you.” His tone was flat, softened. He ran his thumb over your cheek, leaning down just far enough for his lips to brush against the top of your head. “I would be a good mate. You don’t need anyone else.”

Again, he leaned in, slotting his lips against yours with a feather-light sort of gentleness. At the same time, you heard Yuuji moan, felt his teeth sink into your shoulder, and started to wish you couldn’t feel anything at all.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #hybrid au #yandere imagines #yandere jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #yandere jjk #jututsu kaisen imagines #yandere itadori yuji #yandere yuji #yuji x reader #yuta x reader #yandere yuta #yandere okkotsu yuta

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