Tumgik
#wrote this at 1 am
givemequeen · 13 days
Text
lap dance: spencer reid x reader
Tumblr media
a/n: another fic inspired by someone's (thirst) post. hope you enjoy it!
warnings: nsfw, unprotected sex, lap dance, sex in front of a mirror
You were wearing just the white hotel bathrobe when Spencer knocked softly on the door. He had waited the usual hour after everyone said goodnight before sneaking towards you room.
"Hey there." he whispered as he entered your room. "Did you just step out of the shower?" his hands were on you the second the door closed; both hands on your waist, squeezing you against him,
You pulled him down for a kiss "Mmhm." you hummed against his mouth.
He was still wearing his work clothes; brown trousers, light blue shirt, and dark blue tie. He had rolled up his sleeves up to his elbows, exposing his arms and all the veins that popped out.
Fuck, he looked sexy.
You stepped back, getting a good look at him, and, pulling on his tie, walked backwards towards the armchair situated in the corner of your hotel room. Grabbing his shoulders, you sat him down. He raised his eyebrows in surprise.
"What's going on?" he asked, adjusting himself in his seat. He was relaxed, his arms resting on the side of the chair.
You said nothing. Slowly, you tugged on the robe's belt. Spencer watched as the white garment fell to floor, pooling around your bare feet.
"Oh." he breathed, sitting up straight. He reached out, his warm hands flattening against your hips, and pulled you towards him. His mouth was on you in an instant; kissing your stomach, your breasts, your thighs. Anywhere he could reach.
"You look perfect." he groaned. "Is this all for me?" he tugged on the band of the black, lacy lingerie set you had bought last weekend.
"Yeah." you finally said. "Do you like it?" you knew he did, it was dumb question, but you wanted to hear him say it.
"Like it?" he scoffed. "I love it." he let go of the thong's strap, it snapped against your thigh. You let out a small moan at the feeling. "You like that?" he said, his words echoing yours.
You nodded.
"Turn around." he leaned back on his chair, the removal of his hands hand in hand with the loss of his warmth.
You did as he asked, turning around to give him a full look of your set. He whistled, clearly approving of your outfit choice.
"Shit, you look amazing." he swore, pulling at the knot at his neck and undoing his tie. He reached out to grab you once more and moved to pull you onto his lap.
You obliged, sliding against him like a puzzle piece snapping into place. He was already hard and you could feel him pressing against your legs. You rolled your hips, moaning at the feeling of him. He kissed you, hard.
Spencer took your lower lip between his teeth, tugging at the soft flesh and the swiping his tongue over it. You ran your fingers through his hair, tugging slightly just how he liked it. He placed his hands on your ass, kneading it.
"Wait." you placed your hands on his shoulders and pulled away.
"What is it, babe?" he asked, chasing your lips.
"I have a surprise for you." you got off of his lap and stood in front of him.
"Another one?" his tone was eager.
You nodded and walked over to your phone that lay on your nightstand. You hit play; a low, seductive song began playing high enough that you two could hear it but low enough that your hotel neighbours wouldn't.
You reached down and pulled on your left tight that had rolled downwards. Spencer licked his lip, eager for whatever was about to unfold.
You stepped towards him, swinging your hips and fighting the urge to cover up. He wanted this, he loved your body. And if him telling you so didn't convince you, the raw lust and hunger in his eyes surely did.
When you were stood in front of him, you spun around and lowered yourself onto his lap. He placed his hands on your hips, not guiding you, just resting there. You rolled your ass on his crotch, feeling your arousal grow at his very obvious one.
You placed your hands on his knees, spreading your legs wide. Your back arched, pressing yourself further into him. Spencer groaned, moaning your name.
"God, you're an angel." he whispered.
You pushed off of him and spun around. You placed your right leg on his left knee and made a show of tugging your tights up, snapping the sheer, black material against your thighs.
"I've been waiting for you all day, Spence." you said, keeping your voice low and steady. "Been thinking about you all day. About what you would do to me." you leaned down and kissed him, grabbing his cheek.
When you pulled away, he leaned forward, cashing your lips.
"What do you want me to do to you?" he asked, licking his lips.
"Lots of things, Spence. Dirty things." your placed your hand on your breast, your finger tracing circles around your nipples. Slowly, you slid your hand down your body, stopping at your belly button. "I want you to touch me. Here."
"What else?" his eyes were getting darker. You could see how he was holding himself back, his arms gripped the chair.
"I want you to fuck me." you said innocently. "Hard." you added. His eyes sparkled.
"How?" he asked.
"However you want."
"I want you to ride me. Can you do that for me, darling?" he leaned forward and grabbed your waist.
"Yes. I'll do anything for you." you leaned down and finally kissed him, relishing in the way he hungrily kissed you back. You moaned against his lips, he slipped his tongue into your mouth.
You rolled your hips against his erection, hands frantically reaching for his belt. Quickly, you undid it and with some struggle, you pulled down his trousers and pants. Your fingers quickly undid his shirt, leaving it on but exposing his chest. You went to take off your own underwear but he stopped you.
"No." one of his hands wrapped around both of yours. "It stays on."
You swallowed and nodded. His hands slid over the curve of your ass, guiding you towards him. He reached between you and pulled your underwear to the side. Once you were lined up, he pushed the head of his cock into you.
"Fuck." you hissed, gripping onto his shoulders.
"C'mon baby, I know you can take it." he looked up to your eyes and raised an eyebrow, daring you to prove him wrong.
You looked into his eyes as you relaxed and slid him into you. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as he bottomed out. He stretched you in the nicest way possible.
His hands were on your waist, guiding you as you rocked your hips against him. He tugged your left cup down, revealing your breast. His mouth on your breast was like heaven. His tongue and lips skilfully licked and sucked just where you needed him the most.
Your head fell back, eyes closed tightly. You bounced on his cock, your grip on his shoulders was so tight you were scared it would harm him. But Spencer only encouraged you, praising you.
"You're doing so well." he moaned. "Fuck, you do it so well. You take me so well. I knew you could."
His words only made you go faster. Your tits bounced as you sped up. Your hand reached between the two of you, quickly finding your clit.
"Are you close, baby?" he asked, his hands on your waist helping you as you bounced on him.
"Yes, fuck." you rubbed harder. "Are you?" you popped open one eye and stared at him.
Spencer was looking down, between the two of you, as he slid in and out of you.
"Shit. Look." he ordered, slowly you down. "Look at how well I fit inside of you. Look how well you ride my cock." he grabbed your chin and made you look down.
You moved your hand and watched as his cock slowly slid in and out of you.
"Spence." you panted. "The bathroom. There's a mirror." you gestured behind you with your head, towards the open bathroom.
In one swift move, Spencer hooked his arms around your thighs and picked you up. He, while still buried deep inside of you, shuffled over to the bathroom, setting you down on the counter.
"Shit. You look so good." he rolled his hips against you. "Your ass looks amazing." he grabbed it, squeezing it gently.
Spencer picked up his pace, fucking you quickly as you both chased your high. From this angle, he could reached between you; you always preferred his fingers.
The pad of his fingers pressed against your clit as he quickly fucked you. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him as close to you as possible. Your torsos were pressed flush against each other. You rested your head on his shoulder, biting down on it and you got closer and closer.
Spencer was looking over your shoulder, staring at your ass as you moaned his name.
"Fuck, yes, I want to hear you moan my name while you come." he leaned back and stared into your eyes. "Are you close?" he asked.
You bit your lower lip and vigorously nodded. You were so close.
"Come for me." he sped his movements. "Look at me." he said when your eyes rolled to the back of your head. "Say my name."
You didn't need to be told twice. You moaned his name like a prayer as you stared into his deep brown eyes. His pupils were blown wide, eclipsing the familiar colour.
"Fuck me. Shit. Don't stop. Spencer, fuck-" you moaned, your orgasm crashing into you like a wave.
You pressed your lips against his, teeth clashing, as fireworks exploded behind your eyes. You squeezed his cock, pushing him over the edge. He pushed into you once, twice, three times, as his cum filled you.
The heel of your foot pressed against his lower back, keeping him in place even after you both came down from your high. You pulled back from the kiss, panting, and smiled.
"That was so good." Spencer whispered, pressing his forehead against yours. He gave you a small kiss and began moving backwards.
You wrapped your legs around him tighter.
"Wait. Not yet." you said, not wanting to feel that overwhelming sense of emptiness just yet. "Wait a minute."
Spencer laughed, a deep rumbling laugh, and kissed you gently.
"Anything you want, baby."
Tumblr media
709 notes · View notes
sad-emo-dip-dye · 11 months
Text
Me trying to figure out how Akutagawa explained his whole ‘I can’t kill for 6 months’ deal to the rest of the mafia, like, ‘sorry boss I know you gave me a direct order to wipe out this opposing organization, but I cut a deal with my enemy/partner/rival/crush to not kill anyone for 6 months so that I can impress him with my superior skills and then immediately kill him, so you’re going to have to select someone else for this mission, sorry.’ Like-
925 notes · View notes
zorishy · 14 days
Text
Reclaimed Bur/Tropesona lore post
🟢DSMP
Casper’s origins 💙🩵💛🩶🖤
Casper isn’t actually Wilson’s ghost.
When Wilson died, Kristin saw how devastated everyone was. So, she took a small piece of Wil’s soul and used it to create a guardian angel to watch over the family and fill the void left by Wilson. Unfortunately, that didn’t end as she intended.
Kristin sees Casper as her one true son, a being she created all on her own with her powers over death. She even gave him some of her traits such as her motherly nature and propensity for alcoholism (that also did not end as she intended).
Casper is still a ghost but he is also his own person. He is less of a ghost in the traditional sense and more like a kind of Holy Spirit.
He was made in Wilson’s image and their souls are connected but they are not the same person.
7 notes · View notes
itsthislake · 2 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
“Icarus.”
it's all about freedom really
Credit goes to An Sifakah for the poem. Enjoy!
Support me on Ko-fi maybe?
3K notes · View notes
naffeclipse · 3 months
Text
Cold Scales
Naga!Moon x Reader. Sickness.
The first sign of your fever hits you with a pulse of heat. You brushed it aside, believing the sun had been beating on you too long, and the jungle warmth was simmering your blood. Sun leads you to the cave come nightfall. The buzz of mosquitoes fills the air with a menacing hum.
Sun has always been warm to you, even when he told you that you are warmer. His melting yellow and golden jewel tone scales, his cornflower blue eyes, wide and endearing, fit alongside the heavy humidity in the afternoons. The small scarlet markings on his throat and hips are metal-red hot, too. He always kept you warm.
Moon is cool. You’re not sure if that’s due to the cold tones of his scales, gray-blue on his belly and along his arms, and deeper into midnight blue along his back and on top of his hood. He hides in the darkness after sunset. His red eyes, even darker still, only flash once it’s too late for his prey. You’ve seen how fast he strikes—before, when you were acting foolish and trying to escape their aid, and after, when you watched him and Sun hunt a meal.
You slip out of Sun’s embrace. His arms fall away, lethargic from the day you both put your energy into scavenging for berries and nuts and small mammals. A soft hiss leaves his lips. You wait a moment to ensure he doesn’t stir, though his coils unconsciously tense, searching for the little human he was holding.
Sun had mentioned you felt warmer than usual, but you convinced him you were only tired and worn out from the hot day. Still, he frowned when you laid down beside him on the cool cave floor.
The fever pulses deep within you. You feel it burn across your forehead with a ripple of sweat. Staggering out of the cave, what strength you have is quickly sapped by whatever attacks your body. You need less heat. You need to be cold and imagine gulping down icy water to soothe the dryness infecting your throat.
A small trail that’s been trampled by your feet and the width of snake tails leads you through the trees. Even in the dark, under the delirium of a fever, you find the edge of the glinting water reflecting the canopy of thick verdant leaves overhead.
You kneel, almost collapsing forward before you manage to catch yourself with both hands splashing into the pebble-bottom stream. The heavy breaths in your chest heave in and out. You sigh and tell yourself you’re being a baby—one little fever, and you’re struggling to concentrate on the water before you.
In the reflection of the stream, you catch two red eyes glowing above you, leaning out of a tree to survey your feeble attempts to quench your burning thirst. A hood of midnight and diamond yellow stars surround the visage. 
“It’s nothing, Moon,” you whisper to the water. Slowly, you cup your hand and carefully bring it to your lips. The crisp coldness douses your heated lips, filling your mouth with a jolt due to the sharp contrast of cold and fire within you. When you swallow, you shiver.
The softest rustle echoes. A few branches quiver, then, you feel his presence behind you, cool as a tree’s shadow. 
A large, blue-gray hand snakes around your forehead. Knuckles press against your temple, and you sigh in relief at his blissful, fresh touch. 
“Fever,” Moon rasps, carrying the end of the word with a soft hiss of disdain, as if saying it with a curse will make it no longer reality.
“I just need a drink.” You cup your hand in the lazy flow of water again. “I’m fine.”
“Too warm,” he says when you greedily gulp another mouthful. 
Water spills cut down the corners of your mouth. He presses closer to you. His thumb smoothly wipes away the drips falling off of your chin, then he shifts. Your mauve shirt with the sleeves cut off allows his frosty arms to offer a barrier against the next wave of heat crashing against you. He’s never felt so cold before—or have you never felt this feverish before?
“It’ll go away.” 
You try to get to your feet but Moon’s hand on your waistline stops you from rising.
“Come here,” he rasps. “Let me see you, orchid.”
You would have given him a look at the pet name, but you don’t have the strength to muster the effort. He eases you back against his chest. His palms slide and cup your shoulders, his sharp fingertips slipping slightly under the frayed edges of your shirt and resting on the end of your collarbone. Is that a shiver from the elicit touch or sickly chills beginning to take hold?
“You’re flushed,” he hisses softly. A slight slip of his tongue, forked at the end, peeks out of his mouth as he leans closer. You moan unwittingly at his cool, flat cheek pressed against your clammy face.
“It was hot today.”
“You’re sick,” he decides.
This time, you groan out of refusal rather than relief. 
“I’m not sick.” You slowly shift, managing to get to your knees to face him. The fever forces your shoulders down. You bow under the exhaustion taking hold. 
Moon hisses in an amusement yet concerned note. His long tail drapes behind him, cutting across the ground like the connections of a constellation. It’s black in this lowlight, but in the day, when he sleepily shows himself, you’ve caught the iridescent indigo and jeweled blue tones of his beautiful scales. 
“If you keep denying it, I will take drastic actions. Do you want that, orchid?” his tone lowers to a menacing threat, all dark cords and hisses, but you’ve learned to tune your senses to his hands and expression. He looks only at you, a slight frown playing along his wide mouth. His eyes are narrowed, displeased with your condition.
“No,” you shake your head, “You and Sun are so dramatic.”
“Says the stubborn flower,” he touches your cheek. You nearly collapse into his palm. The rasp of his laugh stings your pride as much as it soothes your aching chest. 
“I’m not a flower,” you mutter as you feel his arms lower slightly, coaxing your hands over his shoulders. He rises higher on his tail, lifting your feet off the ground without effort, and you slump over his shoulder, little more than a child being carried to bed. Moon hums a low, hypnotic sound (that you’re sure is part of his allure, his power).
“Of course not,” he gives with amused demean.
You work up a growl at your throat that sounds weak even to your own ears. Moon shushes you with a soft stroke of his claws against your spine. The shudder that follows through your body is both cold and hot, and you hate that he silences you so simply, and that you like how he strikes back against your harshness.
“Easy, easy,” he murmurs as if calming a tiger. You want to snarl at him again but the brief spark is quickly smothered under an internal infernal cooking your core.
No one agitates you and reassures you as much as Moon.
He glides across the ground to his tree—it’s wide and high, thick with strong boughs and leafy but not too leafy. A perfect tree for a naga. Moon tends to lounge up there when he wants to escape the shadows of the cave you usually make your bed in. You wonder how he intends to hold you through the night up in its verdant limbs, but Moon hooks a hand behind your head and lowers you softly to the cool, moist ground at the base of the trunk.
“Moon?” For a piercing moment, you’re afraid. You refuse to let go of his arm as he draws away. Where is he going?
“Hold still,” he gently hisses.
You let go. You wait for him.
Slowly, his coils gather, curving in loops close to you. He draws himself around you, his long body following. The darkness shimmers. He takes you into his arms once more and guides you to his chest where he fully embraces you. The end of his tail drapes across your waist, sealing you within a deliciously cool embrace of the naga’s scales.
“Shush,” he says when you groan, soaking in his invigorating presence. “Sleep, orchid.”
You almost tell him that you can’t, or that you won’t, but the comfortable weight of his body surrounding you, the chill of his arms against your burning skin, and the soft tuck of his chin upon your sweaty head chases away the last of your resistance. You might have pressed back—saying you don’t need his help, but it’s hard to resist the frost-gentle relief of his presence. It’s hard to be stubborn when he feels so good.
“Close your eyes,” he murmurs against your hair. “You’ll feel better soon.”
The sweet caresses of his cool touch across your forehead eases your ache. Against your will, your eyelids flutter. He hums low, a lullaby you can’t name, and it soothes you gently into a dreamless sleep, comforted by a cool cradle of scales and songs.
576 notes · View notes
l3viat8an · 3 months
Note
Roooo! It’s your favorite Mammon simp I’m back again!!! and all I’ve been thinking about lately is pussy drunk! Mammon 😩🥰🥰🥰
Nsfw!
okay this ask is kinda old I’m sooo sorry 😭 But Pussy drunk Mammon is sooo hot nonnie ugdhgs-
Pussy drunk! Mammon is always thinking about you(r pussy). Like he’ll be spacing out in the middle of class thinking about how good it feels!!!- Anything from eating you out tasting your cum on his tongue, to feeling your pretty pussy squeezing around his dick, Mammon just needz it!! and once he actually gets his hands on you, you’re both done for-
Mammon will be desperate, by the time you get home! Practically dragging you into his room as soon as he can and pushing you against the door as he sinks to his knees in front of you, mumbling “Need to taste ya…..been thinkin about it all day.” tugging your pants off on his way down, then just as quickly pulling your legs up to rest on his shoulders as his lips wrap around your clit. his warm tongue licks and laps at your clit, getting it all wet with his spit, as his index and middle fingers push as deep as they possibly can into your cunt.
And…he just doesn’t can’t stop- you don’t think he knows how to stop, it doesn’t matter how many times you cum, one, two, four times-
Mammon can’t stop even if you’re whining and telling him it’s too much- it’s almost like he can’t even hear you begging him to give you a break.
It’s just no use, really all he hears is the squelching sounds that your pussy makes and the lewd sucking sounds he’s making.
it’s just Mammon and his pretty pussy-
Afterwards tho Mammon is so sweet!!! Treating you to a nice bath and some of the best cuddles ever!!! He even lets you ‘yell’ at him for not listening- even if you both know it’ll happen again next time~
953 notes · View notes
willowser · 23 days
Text
Tumblr media
ᴅᴏᴡɴ ᴏɴ ᴀʟʟ ғᴏᴜʀs. werewolf kiri au.
Tumblr media
you wake up under a mountain of furs.
light comes flickering from the hearth and, warm and welcoming as it is—you've no idea where you are.
you don't recognize the inside of the cabin; it's certainly not yours, nor is its layout that of any you’ve seen in the village. it's rather plain, with a singular window and table and chair and small fireplace, empty enough that you wonder how anyone could live comfortably with so little.
outside, the winter storm rages on, and there's a howl that cuts through the air that strikes bone-deep.
all at once your memories come back to you: dragged through town with bound hands and ankles, in only a thin night dress, screaming with all your might as the physician that delivered you into this world tied you to an old pine, along with the priest and the man that sold you blueberries in the spring.
people you knew and loved. had trusted.
the memories become hazy after a while, darkening with the night that crept in. you remember your body losing its feeling, but not its fear. you remember the violence of the storm, breaking trees and branches and uprooting the forest floor. you remember the horrible and hulking shape of something rising in the moonlight.
the door shoves open then, with enough force to send you scurrying back into the corner of the room. the blizzard tries to rush inside, but a man stands in its way, leaning back against the wood to keep the wind and snow out where it belongs. he's—big, as tall as the frame and just as wide, with thick hair that he's tied back, messy and low.
he's rosy in his cheeks and on the tip of his nose, as bright as the eyes that snap to you the moment you dare to breathe.
he doesn't say anything, at first. the bag of firewood he sets at his feet settles as he turns to you in interest, eyebrows raised. the clothes he's wearing look—old and worn, certainly not suitable for the storm roaring outside, with the holes and tears in the fabric. the boots he has on, however, seem heavy, have his steps echoing when he moves further into the room.
you pull your knees up to your chest and try to shrink away; beneath your thin dress, your skin has pebbled up, reminding you of just how vulnerable you still are.
your fear translates; the man stops on the other side of the little table, breathing in deeply before raising his hands up in what reads as surrender.
"hello," he finally says, and when you don't respond, he places a thick hand to his dark-haired chest and introduces himself as, "eijirou."
he nods emphatically and then repeats himself, as if to reinforce the name. you only grant him a small nod in return—and he smiles. it's wide, stretching across his face, and friendly, authentic enough that you question whether you're as damned as you thought, or perhaps saved.
how did you even get here? the question finally thaws out from the recesses of your brain and you take another look around the room as if the answer lies between the wood or nestled into the furs. this place looks too hand-crafted, you realize, all of it—and the man before you looks like he could move mountains, if he wanted to.
the chains that had bound you were iron-strong and didn't once budge in all your thrashing, before things went dark—but now you are inside by a well-maintained fire, warm and free, and all that remains of your ill fate are the indentions worn into your wrists.
he's still staring at you, the man. eijirou. he's not moved any closer, either, and when you meet his curious gaze, his lips twist and his eyes narrow. a thoughtful noise comes out of his mouth, like he's thinking of what to say or how to say it, and you're reminded that you don't recognize where you are, nor do you recognize him in the slightest.
big as he is, you don't think he could have carried you too far in a snowstorm such as the one still raging outside; are you still somewhere deep in the forest? in a cabin at the heart of the wood? saved by a man that somehow survives with so little out in the middle of nowhere?
"eijirou," you test the name on your lips and he perks up at the sound, attention snapping back to you instantly. you don't know if it's winter seeping through the floor, or if it's in the way that he watches you, that makes you shiver.
finally, he asks, "cold?" and when you nod, he slowly makes his way over to you, carefully, as if approaching a deer ready to run.
—and then he sheds his shirt with a quick shrug and holds it out to you.
you should want to look away, for decency sake, but you're—stunned by it, by him. there's a litany of scars that paint him in odd and worrisome places, but he stands tall and strong before you, unbothered by his own state. unbothered by the eyes that run over the expanse of his bare shoulders, the dark, thick trail of hair running down from his belly button, the ripples of muscle his loose shirt did well to hide.
you take it from him carefully and it's so warm, almost hot, that you press it to your face immediately to chase away the chatter of your jaw. the material itself, however ragged, is big enough to drape over your curled form like a blanket, and so you do just that. it carries the earthy smell of the woods, deeply woven into the fabric; pine and musk and something smoky.
with your cheek still pressed to his shirt, you look up to thank him, at last, but the words still in your throat at the minute changes of his face: still smiling, though sharper now, somehow, and his eyes are still wide with that keen, rapt interest—but the crimson to them has set like the sun and they've grown just as dark as the night outside.
365 notes · View notes
harbingersglory · 4 months
Note
hii could i req an soft dom arlecchino x sub/fem reader?? something w a really needy whiny reader n maybe like a mommy kink or thigh riding IDK tysm for ur time !
Tumblr media
{☆} characters arlecchino {☆} notes drabble, fem reader, sub reader {☆} warnings 18+ content
"Slowly, doll. We're not in a rush." Arlecchino reprimands lightly, squeezing your hips with just enough force to keep you unmoving on her thigh– she was still being gentle, but the subtle warning in her tone spoke to how easily she could push you against the desk and turn you into such a mess that you couldn't even remember your own name..just that you were hers.
But the barest hint of stimulation from her slacks pressed against your throbbing cunt had you twitching, barely able to form words. All you could think about was the scorching, twisting need building in your stomach, desperation for relief slowly climbing until you'd think she was doing this on purpose to drive you mad.
"Please– 'm a good girl, right? I've been good.." You choked out, only to be met with the rough, husky laugh echoing in your ear that made you feel dizzy with a rush of need, her nails gliding along the skin of your hips as she pressed you down even more firmly– you couldn't see her face but it was easy to imagine the crooked smile twisting her lips at the way you inhaled sharply and tried to buck against her thigh.
"Shh. I know, doll. I've got you, just relax." She murmured in that sickly sweet tone that always had your knees buckling, the raspiness of her voice sending shivers down your spine. It was almost impossible to relax with her so close, the notes of metal lingering on her skin despite how well she presents herself– but you trusted her, despite how you know you shouldn't.
"There we go. Good girl." Arlecchino's grip on your hips loosened just enough for you to move if you so wished, and oh did it take every ounce of restraint to not do just that..she hadn't said you were allowed to, and you weren't about to spoil her good mood by being a brat. Not tonight, anyway. "Do you want to cum, doll?"
The fervent nod you offer in place of words draws a laugh from her lips, one that is almost mocking, making your face flush in embarrassment– but the sudden tap against your hip makes your mind go blank to the point you forget it all together, focused only on the feeling of her thigh rubbing against your cunt as you bucked against her thigh, the fabric slick and wet against your inner thighs. You'd have half the heart to be embarrassed about that, too, if not for the sudden brush of her thumb against your aching, neglected clit. Just that small touch has you speeding up your movements, practically drooling as you whimpered like a dog in heat.
"That's more like it, doll. Such a pretty girl." Arlecchino hummed, her other hand trailing up your stomach, between the valley of your breasts and ghosting across your throat before settling on grabbing your jaw in a firm, yet almost tender touch as she tilted your head to the side just enough for her to pull you into a burning kiss. It left you lightheaded, grinding down against her thigh as she claimed your mouth as her own, her thumb still ghosting over your clit sporadically.
She'd spent so long teasing you, constantly touching you but never where you needed her, that you already felt like you were going to snap like a wire. She must've been in a really good mood, then, when she pulled away from the kiss with an almost predatory lick of her lips, yet she settled on pressing kisses to your skin rather then the usual sharp bite of her teeth as they sunk into the curve of your shoulder.
"Are you close? Go on. I want to see your face when you cum– you look the prettiest when you finally break apart, doll." Arlecchino mused idly– as if she wasn't talking to you while you continued to rub your aching cunt against her thigh, chasing your own release through shaky, strained breaths. Her thumb swiped over your lips, brushing strands of hair stuck to your skin from your face– at the same time as she swiped her thumb more firmly against your clit, creating a vicious contrast that had you both melting at the barest hint of almost softness from her and the touch of her hand between your legs, dragging you into an orgasm that leaves you trembling and, had she not shoved her fingers into your mouth, screaming, tears pooling in the corners of your eyes.
"All done, little doll. Take it easy." She murmured, voice so quiet you almost didn't hear it, thumb swiping across your cheek to wipe away the stray tear, her hands pulling away to settle on your sides. "You did well– good girl. Let me take it from here."
433 notes · View notes
Photo
Tumblr media
Hello may 31th anon! Look at that, another year behind us and a new one to come. Have a nice day! ₍՞◌′ᵕ‵ू◌₎♡
#may 31th anon#hello friends!! (。’▽’。)♡ how are you!! I missed you so much!#I'm sorry that once again i have not been posting but I did that thing again where I got scared of posting#I do not know why but it is the same with physical paper diarys#I have 3 diarys and they all have 1 entry#I think one just says 'I am ten'#what have you been up to!! did you do something fun? is it summer too where you live? c:#my tumblr messages seem to be broken! I'm sorry if you wrote something :C it just says 'no new messages' despite also saying new messages#not a lot has happened here! I got a tomato plant and then I got very invested into the tomato plant and I have eaten three tomatos so far (#my roses are also doing well!! I just got a new yellow rose and since she got here she only made orange flowers#I do not know the meaning of that#but I am very thankful! ( ˊᵕˋ )♡ I love it when things are orange!!#I've been trying to buy an orange shirt for the past 2 weeks but they always sell out before I get to them#I'm also thinking about buying a jean jacket#I have not worn a jean jacket for at least 15 years because one time in 7th grade  tthe girl behind me said#that I was wearing a cool jean jacket and I just assumed that this was bullying for no actual reason#but maybe she just thought that it was an acutal cool jean jacket#we'll soon have out 10 year school reunion#maybe I should ask her#is anyone else going to a secret Sherlock phase again#I just want to see that silly little hat again#would sherlock holmes wear a jean jacket#have a nice day everyone!!#see you soon hopefully!!#♡^▽^♡
1K notes · View notes
I'm going to force you to play the joke FNAF dating sim my friend and I are making
505 notes · View notes
localratwithcowboyhat · 6 months
Text
She blackbox on my warrior
till I collapse with steven jonson syndrome on the er floor
413 notes · View notes
Text
envy’s death might just be my favorite scene in all of fullmetal alchemist?? it’s so brilliant every time i see it. this evil character who has done nothing but harm has such a heartbreaking end. envy, who looked down on humans. envy, who finds joy in the pain of others. envy, who could never understand human foolishness. he was jealous of them all along. and he couldn’t handle being understood by the same beings he was envious of. and in the end, he’s crying!!! he is the one who destroys his own philosopher’s stone, because he can’t bear being understood by what he loathes so much, and he can’t let himself be killed by them. in the end, unlike the humans he was so jealous of, he wouldn’t keep fighting. he gave up. he’s the opposite of his brother greed, who accepts his true desire for friendship and connection, and leaves the world feeling content. instead envy is cowardly and leaves the world in such a miserable and sad way.
505 notes · View notes
delulufortoji · 7 months
Text
HOW MANY TIMES? - toji fushiguro
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
pairing: toji x fem!reader
summary: you and toji have been together for over a year, but every time you say you love him, he never seems to be able to say it back…
word count: ~3k
content: 18+, modern au, established relationship, oral, overstim
notes: i was sick, tired, suffering from jjk brain rot, and it was like 1 in the morning when i wrote this so it might seem like some straight bullshit 😅 and this is like the first jjk fic i’ve ever written, so yeahhh
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
You still remember the night you two met, the memory ingrained clearly in your mind: it was a stormy afternoon, nature raging outside with branches scratching against your windows and leaves beating on the glass. The sky above darkened, the warm drizzle mixed with the humid breeze. Gray clouds drifted overhead, bringing a sudden chilling wind and shower with them, causing water to flow down the pathways and pool into puddles. The air itself carried an earthy scent, and the wilting leaves from the trees gracefully descended to join the wet ground. The soothing sound of rain trickling down the window added to the enchantment of the moment.
And then, there he was, behind your door, a strikingly toned and towering figure, utterly drenched, his hair clinging to his face, hands tucked in the pockets of his pants, and a subtle, intriguing smile playing on his lips. “Hey, can I stay here for a couple of days until the storm blows over? I ain’t got anywhere else to go.” He asked, his voice low and laced with a hint of vulnerability.
You could feel your jaw drop, your cheeks flushed with a mixture of shyness and amazement. This man…he was undeniably handsome—his bold and quiet confidence, his voice, his charming smile, all of it made your heart throb. “S—Sure…” you muttered, “ you can stay here.”
“There’s no need to be shy,” he chuckled, “I’ll be gone and outta your hair in a couple of days.”
The blush in your cheeks deepened. “Yeah, okay,” you replied shyly, avoiding his icy gaze, “go sit by the heater to warm yourself up. I’ll go get you a towel so you can shower.”
“Alright, then.” The man said with a sly grin.
You don’t quite recall how, but somehow “warming up” took on a different meaning than intended: you soon found yourself entangled with him, your body sweating underneath his touch, his hips meeting yours in monstrous thrusts. The room resonated with the sounds of your moans and his grunts, the intensity of the moment overwhelming both of you.
“F—Fuck Toji…slow down…” you gasped amidst the pleasure.
“Shh,” he whispered, silencing you by plunging his digits into your mouth, “the only sound I wanna hear is the sound of your pussy purring.” Toji's pace intensified, his grip on your hips growing more possessive. You couldn't contain your ecstasy, climaxing as fire surged through your body. His thrusts grew erratic, and his breath quickened in tandem with your movements.
On a high of both pleasure and euphoria, you did as Toji said—you let your pussy talk for you, breathlessly blurting out: “I love you, Toji.
“...Heh, do ya really?” A response less than what you expected. But the wave of pleasure that coursed through your body was too much for you to inject, to express your dissatisfaction at his answer.
As the days turned into weeks, and weeks into months, Toji's presence became a permanent fixture in your life. He moved in, sharing the burdens of rent and groceries with a part-time job, allowing you to take more breaks. Yet, amidst this peaceful coexistence, there remained a lingering issue—those three words you so desperately wanted to hear repeated. Each time you uttered "I love you," Toji's response fell short, often met with laughter or a casual "Okay," leaving your heart yearning for the affirmation you craved.
You glance at him now from where you are: in the dimly lit room he sits, his eyes stuck on the dull glow of the phone in his hand. On instinct, you make your way over to Toji, settling into his lap, your fingers delicately toying with the fine ends of his hair.
A soft chuckle escapes his lips as he meets your gaze, curiosity dancing in his eyes. “What’s wrong, doll?”
You offer no answer, instead, you continue to run your fingers through the strands, captivated by the finely sculpted features of the man before you: his features seem meticulously crafted, each detail carefully considered in the making of Toji’s face, from the angular lines of his cheekbones to the gentle slope of his chiseled jawline. His pale, pink lips curve perpetually in a sly smirk, and his dark eyes hold an untamed intensity that ensnares your attention. You can’t help but be enamored, can’t resist the urge to confess, "I love you."
Another light laugh escapes his lips. "I know."
A heavy silence envelops you, leaving you taken aback by his lackluster response. Toji, still engrossed in his phone, finally asks, "Is there a problem?”
You can't help but press further, frustration building. “How many times do I have to say it before you say it back?”
"Say what back?"
You scoff. "You know what I meant." A hint of frustration colors your tone as you shift in his lap, turning away from him.
Toji pauses for a moment, carefully considering his words. "Baby, you know how I feel about you," he eventually concedes, though it seems more like a half-hearted attempt to soothe your emotions.
He doesn’t mean to be disingenuous, doesn’t mean to hurt you with his lack of a response. You know him well enough to know he isn’t one to verbally express how he feels, nor is he one to blurt “I love you’s”, but part of you had hoped that would change after a year of being together.
A frown etches itself into your features as you stand up, turning to the door. "You don't mean that."
“Where are you going?" He calls after you, a slight layer of concern evident in his voice.
"To sleep."
Determined not to let you go, Toji follows you into the room, pulling you closer by your waist. “C’mon baby. You know I ain’t mean to make you mad.”
“But you did.”
“I’m sorry, baby,” he croons, resting his forehead on the nape of your neck, pressing light kisses to your skin. “My bad.” He turns you around so that you’re facing him, arms crossed.
“What do you want?” You ask.
A slight smirk plays on Toji’s lips as he inches closer—by now, you two are stuck in an intimate proximity, his breath tickling your face. Just being this close to you is enough temptation for him to pull you into a deep, passionate kiss, his rough hands cradling your face. “Let me make it up to you.” He whispers, his warm breath mingling with yours.
His lips curve into a smile on yours as he presses you down onto the bed. Toji positions himself between your thighs, his lips never leaving yours, not even for a second. His touch ignites a passionate fire as he explores your body, his tongue tracing a scorching path from your lips, down your neck, and further, leaving you breathless with desire.
“Toji…keep going…” As your pleasure mounts, you can't help but moan his name, encouraging him further. His hands explore your inner thighs, spreading his warmth, his kisses become more insistent. His tongue moves lazily down your panties, the subtle friction from the stubble on his chin heightening the sensations. Your breath quickens, and your thighs quiver as he slowly slides his thumb over the moist fabric of your underwear before deftly moving it aside.
Toji's breath, hot and tantalizing, teases your sensitive flesh, his lips hovering mere inches from your core. His eyes, heavy with desire, meet yours for a fleeting moment, and a mischievous smirk tugs at his lips. "Still shy, even after all this time?" he teases, his voice a low, seductive rumble. "C'mon, girl, put it on me."
“Stop talking,” You say, dropping yourself down his face, wrapping your legs around his neck, “just make this quick.”
“I’ll make it anything but.” His response is a wicked promise in itself. You barely manage to hold back a whimper when Toji dives into his task, latching his mouth onto your pussy, his tongue exploring every inch of your pulsating walls.
“Toji…” you moan, gripping his hair, pushing his head further down.
You lose yourself to the sensation, clenching from the pace of his tongue. Your hips begin to move on sheer instinct, riding his face—your fingers are tangled up in his hair, your fists tugging on his soft locks. You’re grinding on him, your body craving every sensation, every touch, every flick of his skilled tongue, and twitching every time something grazes your folds—Toji is so damn ruthless with his tongue that it has you feeling high, like you’re on cloud nine. His every touch, no matter how brief, drives you to the brink, leaving you in a blissful state of disarray.
“To–Toji…more…” Toji’s nose-deep now, the tip of it rubbing against your sensitive clit. He brings his head up, taking a moment to breathe. He’s gasping for air, his face is slick with your essence. He swallows and then after a couple of seconds, he goes right back to sucking.
He’d almost forgotten how good you tasted—a few minutes was enough to get him hooked on you all over again, getting hard at the sound of your whines echoing through the room. His tongue is running laps like a track star, only gaining in speed with each moan you emit. Each gasp, each whimper only pushes him closer to the brink of his desire.
He needed more of your moans, more of your sweet taste, more of you—he had lost himself in his cravings, only desperate for you. His strong hands trace your inner thigh, savoring the taste as he lavishes your pussy with his saliva, worshiping your wetness with his mouth. He laps at your cunt like a starved man–like the taste of you is all the nutrition he needs.
“I’m—I’m gonna…” you gasp, but he ignores you and just keeps going, his tongue working your clit, just the way you like it. He let his eyes close in ecstasy, feeling you as your hips bucked up into his mouth, groaning at the sensation. “Toji, please…” you whimpered, your need reaching its peak. He’s still going, making you wait until he’s finished eating, until you’re a fucking mess—until you’re quivering, reduced to incoherent pleas just to come. After a couple more minutes of teasing you, of edging you, he finally grants you the release you crave. As he lifts his mouth from your pulsing core, you can only grip his hair tighter, gasping his name until you can finally come down from the intense high.
He slides his mouth up to your lips, his mouth smooth and buttery on yours—the sheer thought of tasting yourself on his tongue right after he had just eaten you out was disgusting, but you can’t be bothered when Toji feels this good.
He stares at you, a grin playing on his lips. “You forgive me now?” he asks, a glint of mischief in his eyes.
You shake your head, huffing out the words: “Sh–shut up, Toji.”
He looks at you with a cocky smirk, his hair matted to his face, his breathing heavy, but his dark blue eyes, normally cold and distant, are now aflame with longing and desire—he said without words what he rarely admitted with him.
“Open wide.” He says, his voice a low, sultry rumble.
You take off your shirt and lie down on your back, legs spread out—you look so fucking hot for him, sprawled out like this, your pussy soaking wet and on full display. You’re an irresistible vision of his desire, every curve of your form a masterpiece in his eyes. God, he can almost feel himself stretching you out and you clenching, tightening around him, and he’s not even inside you yet.
He can’t bear to wait any longer, can’t bear to hold it in—he’s throbbing, desperate to plunge into you, to be buried deep within your warmth. He needs to be balls deep inside of you, right fucking now. Toji brings out his cock with a groan, and god, is he full and aching to be inside you—only you could ever get him this hard.
He pulls your hips closer to him, dick poised at your entrance. “C’mon girl,” he says with a slight grunt, a hint of impatience in his voice. That’s when he slowly begins his descent into you, inch by inch—he’s not even fully in, but his tip alone is enough to steal a small gasp from your lips.
You stare at him and whimper, feeling him as he forces himself deeper. He is so big—his thick, rigid shaft glides within your velvety folds, leaving you trembling and powerless to resist. You bite your lower lip to stifle your cries, completely lost in the waves of lust that crash over you. “To…Toji…” You’re already babbling as he buries himself balls deep into you. Toji’s hips slap against yours once—a single thrust already has you moaning, salivating at the sensation, arms wrapped around his neck.
With your hand pinned above your head, fingers interlocked with his, Toji rocks into you with an intensity that borders on primal. His forehead is nestled in the crook of your neck, his ragged and hot breath caressing your soft skin, his free hand claiming every inch of your skin as his own. He’s pistoning his hips with a purpose, stretching you open with each thrust, the physical sensation and the raw intimacy between you both like a potent drug. Toji focuses on the tight heat of your walls around his cock, the way your hips meet his rhythm, the delicious way you clench around him as his dick stretches your pussy out. It should be illegal how good you feel to him right now.
“Fuck, you feel so good.” Toji murmurs in your ear, his voice a husky, sensuous melody that rings through the room. “Keep doin’ what you’re doin’.”
His words are so provocative, so disgusting, yet so fucking hot—they make you want to continue, to keep teasing him with the way you feel to the point where his cock is twitching, throbbing inside of your wet heat, to the point where he can’t thrust into you anymore.
“M-More.” Your whining intensified—his movements are becoming sloppier, his thrusts beginning to lose their pattern as he loses himself in the melody of your cries and the intoxicating sensations you provide. His tip is just attacking your sweet spot, stealing those beautiful noises out from your mouth. Toji can’t focus anymore, can’t maintain his rhythm—you’re just too damn loud for him to think about anything else but you: the way your lips part each time you moan, the way your nails dig into the muscles on his back, the way you writhe under him.
The pace of his hips quicken, the beautifully lewd sound of his balls slapping against your ass and your moans filling the room. “Fuuuckkk—” Toji grunts. Just one round with you has him in disarray—his black strands are a mess, drenched with sweat, his ruffled hair obscuring his vision with how it fell over his eyes. But even in this fevered state, he’s fucking you like there’s no tomorrow, his relentless thrusts making your throbbing core scream for more.
“Toji…Toji…” His dick throbs each time his name falls from your beautiful lips in breathy cries, saliva dripping from the corners of your mouth. His lips find yours in fervent kisses, his navy blue eyes locked onto yours as his hips meet yours with increasing urgency.
He’s so damn rough with you, but he can’t help it, especially when you feel like a slice of heaven—he’s ruthlessly fucking you into the bed, grunts escaping his mouth every time he does so. You’re stuck in a passionate trance, each strike to your core, vigorous and accurate—fuck, it’s got your throbbing pussy yearning out for more.
“Goddamn, Toji—” You stammer, rendered incapable of finishing your sentence, shuddering with the hypnotizing movement of Toji’s hips, with the intoxicating feel of him inside of his body. His thick cock is being engulfed by your sheer warmth, each pulse only stretching you out more. “S–so good.”
Toji grumbles, and you whimper as his base repeatedly strikes you, his every thrust taking you deeper. You're lost in the heady pleasure, your core gripping him tightly, refusing to let go, making him push harder and faster.
The repeated sound of his skin slapping against yours becomes a relentless symphony of pleasure: slap, slap, slap. He’s losing himself even more, completely drunk off of you—he just can’t help himself. You’re like a drug. And fuck, did you look pretty beneath him, giving him the most spectacular view of your body. Tits on full display, your eyes rolling back each time he hits your sweet spot. He can’t help but breathe heavily when he looks down at you naked under him. Bites and hickeys cover your flawless skin, and shit, did the sight of those marks drive Toji wild.
Toji’s brows furrow together, and the pace of his hips begins to slow for a brief moment. He chuckles softly and brushes a strand of hair from your eyes, his voice carrying an unexpected tenderness. “Hey–I love ya. I really do. Our feelings are mutual.” It’s not the confession you were hoping for, but still, it was his own unique way of confirming what you had been longing to hear—his own way of confirming that he had never felt for anyone the way he felt for you.
With a contented sigh, he releases a thick load, and you feel it deep within you, your inner walls stretching to accommodate his passion. You laugh lightly and pull him closer, your eyes rolling to the back of your head and your nails digging themselves deeper into Toji’s back. "F–faster, Toji... k–keep going..."
“So needy.” He obliges, pounding his cum deeper into you. He sighs gently, his lips curling up into a smile against the curve between your neck and shoulder. “Anything for ya, baby.”
Tumblr media
497 notes · View notes
apdreadful · 8 days
Text
Chimney stood staring out at the ocean as the sun set.
“Who would have thought it huh?” Chimney asked
“Both of us married to Buckleys” He gave Tommy a wry look. “I guess this makes us family now”
Tommy’s smile got even broader. “I guess it does”
Chimney turned to him “Two of the luckiest sons of bitches in the world if you ask me”
Tommy nodded. “I’m inclined to agree. I feel pretty fucking lucky”
“Thank you Chimney” Tommy said softly “I wasn’t in the best place back when we worked together. And I know that I was a pretty big jerk”
“But today, standing up there marrying that man..That day you saved my life, it’s like you gave me a new one. And aside from the obvious that I would be dead if it weren’t for you. That day changed me, it started me on a long, not always smooth journey to becoming a man worthy of Evan. And there will never be enough words to thank you for that. For showing me what the real measure of what a man is”
Chimney swallowed “Goddamn it man” his eyes suspiciously wet. “You’re welcome”
313 notes · View notes
birbmanman · 5 months
Text
So in episode 5 of md, N reads about golden retrievers and says they’re known for having gentle mouths, and that they’re great with kids. that and N is almost universally associated with dogs, particularly golden retrievers.
Tumblr media
I feel like this is saying that N has a gentle mouth, or more accurately that he has gentle words.
Multiple times in the show, he’s shown to reassure other characters like Uzi and V, and when he does, his tone of voice becomes slightly lower and softer, and his word choices are more honest and straight.
In episode 4, he openly admits to Uzi that it was scary without Uzi there with him, and he assures her that they’ll stick together, his words being enough to make open her wings up and be cheered up.
Tumblr media
In episode 5 after N puts V glasses on her, he tells her “I got you” in a softer tone, which is enough to joggle her memory about the dog book.
Tumblr media
He is so good with the people that he cares about because he knows how to use his words in a comforting or reassuring way. Through moments like these, V and Uzi (particularly Uzi) improve as characters as a result of his influence on them. Uzi becomes softer and more vulnerable, able to more openly express her love. N almost acts like a therapist in how he improves others flaws.. almost like a loyal dog :3
also his lil mouth here reminds me of dogs, it’s real cute 💕
Tumblr media
313 notes · View notes
osamusriceballs · 9 months
Text
Last-Minute Plans
Ushijima x fem reader
Warnings: NSFW (cockwarming, rather soft)
Words: ~ 1,5 k
About: Wakatoshi got a ring for you, and he needs to make sure it fits.
A/n: Happy Birthday to our beloved Wakatoshi-kun~
Tumblr media
"It fits,"
he mumbles with a sigh of relief, one he hadn't realized he was holding. He looks contently at the jewelry now adorning your ring finger.
Ushijima knows that he's late with this. He should have attempted this plan a long time ago; he despises last-minute actions. Lately, however, you've insisted on waiting until he returns home late from practice due to extended training sessions just before the crucial match, making it impossible for him to secretly slip that ring onto your finger to see if it fits. He's aware he hasn't been giving you the time you deserve lately, but he's determined to make it up as soon as he can. He intends to spoil you as soon as the match is over and his schedule finally allows him to have more free time, treating you like the princess you are.
He had nearly abandoned the idea of trying the ring on your finger. He considered simply hoping for the best, planning to alter the ring quickly after proposing if it didn't fit. He knows you wouldn't have minded, but he wanted this moment to be perfect. The first difficulty he had encountered, however, was that you had rings in various sizes in your jewelry box- probably for different fingers, but even after sorting through them, he was still not convinced that he chose the right size.
Relief washes over him as he sees the ring fitting comfortably, and for a short moment, he envisions your future together. He dreams of having you sleep beside him every night, of going on the vacation you've always dreamed of, and of giving you the beautiful wedding ceremony you've always wanted. He's already asked Tendou to be his best man and informed his parents of his plans. He even decided to send his father a notice that his son will be getting married soon—hopefully.
The ring looks stunning on your hand. It's noticeable yet subtly elegant. He's confident you'll love it; you've often praised his taste, describing him as simple in his choices, which you adore.
His gaze drifts to your peaceful sleeping form. You must be exhausted not to have woken up yet. Normally, you'd wait until he returns or awaken when he quietly lies down beside you, an act he's yet to master. You'd always greet him with a tender kiss, a gesture he cherishes most during his days and misses the most when he's away. Yet, you sleep soundly, your face soft, breathing steady. You're wearing one of his shirts, the old Shiratorizawa jersey you claim is the comfiest—adorable on you, he agrees.
He's fairly certain you're wearing only flimsy panties beneath, but he'll take his sweet time tomorrow to explore every inch of your body.
"Toshi," your sleepy voice pulls him from his daydreams, and he quickly hides the ring, clutching your hand in his. You stir, turning towards him, brows furrowing as you reach out blindly.
"Y/n, go back to sleep. It's late," he murmurs in a soothing tone, knowing you find his voice calming.
"I missed you," you groan, squinting your eyes as you try to make out his face in the dimly lit room.
"I missed you too," he replies, smiling softly and leaning down to press a tender kiss to your lips. You smile in return, bringing your free hand to his cheek, a bit clumsily—almost slapping his face, but he doesn't mind; he is simply happy having you close.
"You haven't shaved today," you mumble as you caress his cheek. He hums in response. "I forgot. Does it bother you?"
"No, it doesn't. But you never forget to shave. What was on your mind today?"
You, he thinks, but for once, he refrains from sharing his thoughts. He needs to distract you, to take back the ring unnoticed. How you haven't noticed it so far surprises him.
"I was thinking about…" he begins, his voice trailing off, unsure how to respond without you getting suspicious.
"Wakatoshi, come to bed. You seem really tired," you yawn, and he suddenly knows what he needs to do.
Ushijima leans down to kiss you again, this time deepening the kiss with more passion. He feels your response, your body arching into his touch, your lips moving in sync with his.
"Toshi," you're already breathless after a few kisses, and he finally feels your hand relax, fingers intertwining with his with the metal still on your finger. He typically holds your hand more firmly, but now he keeps his grip gentle, ensuring you don't feel the ring on your finger. With his free hand, he traces the hem of your shirt, his fingers gliding beneath the fabric, encountering the softness of your skin.
"Want you, but I'm tired," you whisper against his lips, prompting him to nuzzle against your neck. "Should I pleasure you? Should I make you feel full?" You moan softly and weakly nod, your eyes barely open in the dark room. Unbeknownst to you, a wave of relief washes over him. This may not be going exactly as he planned, but making love to you with the ring already on your finger is better than he could have imagined.
He quickly runs through potential scenarios in which he could smoothly slide the ring off your finger, deciding to position himself behind you while maintaining a hold on your hand in front of your body. Shifting his body weight, he maneuvers behind you until his chest presses against your back. He skillfully settles beneath the blanket without releasing your hand, making sure not to tighten his grip around your fingers. His lips find your neck, where he places the gentlest kisses against your skin, earning the softest, most beautiful moans from your lips. His hips begin to rhythmically move against your backside, and he feels how he hardens in his pants.
You contently hum while you lean into his touch, raising one leg to allow him to slip his thigh between yours. "Feels good," you murmur as he starts a grinding motion against your pussy. He feels his growing need, a nearly instinctive response to your body. His earlier suspicion about you wearing only his shirt and panties appears accurate; that much he notices when his shorts ride up and his bare thigh grinds against your cunt. As much as he wants the feeling of your bare skin against his, he knows that undressing might raise too much suspicion. Instead, he guides his free hand downward, gently tracing circles against your clothed center.
"You're so perfect. So beautiful. I love you so much," he whispers into your ear, causing you to shudder in his arms. Your grip on his hand tightens, while your other hand softly clutches the sheets. He understands your needs. Grateful that he's still wearing the soft shorts, he pushes them down slightly, quickly freeing his cock.
"Should I use some lube?" he asks, concern lacing his voice, worried about hurting you since he hasn't fully prepared you yet—a truly challenging task when ensuring your hand remains held and he can only use one hand properly.
"Think I'm wet enough," you mumble, and he dips two fingers between your folds to confirm, and he is rewarded with enough arousal to forget about his worries.
As much as he wants to ravish you right now, he knows you would probably drift off to sleep if he makes love to you tenderly—so that's precisely what he does. He gently spreads your legs further with his thigh, allowing his cock to rest between your legs. It has almost become a routine for him to set aside your panties and gradually ease his cock inside you- a practice that you often do after he comes home late from his practice sessions.
A breathy moan escapes your lips at the stretch, and he feels his own body tensing at the sensation of your soft walls around him. He continues to push until he's fully inside of you. You always take him so well—it feels breathtaking to be buried deep inside you. He still hopes you'll succumb to sleep in this embrace, even though he's surely wide awake himself.
"Feels good," you hum, your breathing gradually returning to a steady rhythm. He pulls you closer, inhaling the soothing flowery scent of your hair- a scent that always brings him comfort and calms his mind when he can't seem to rest. You might not fully grasp how much he loves you—how every fiber of his being yearns for you, how he wishes for you to be happy and to be his. This is precisely why he plans to propose to you tomorrow and to place the ring back on your finger. You wouldn't refuse him on his birthday, would you?
"Sleep well, my love."
508 notes · View notes