❗️This blog contains 18+ content❗️25+ I post things sometimes. The biggest fucking Kaeya simp in the pacific Feel free to rant about Haikyuu, Genshin, or COD to me 🤗
imagine lohen meeting the new recruits of the knights and find out about the medic reader who just happens to have a thing for toxins
Hi Anon,
Lohen's character trailer dropped when I was writing this. Mother, Father, I love him so much. Please Lohen, be kind to me today, and I shall be kind to you. I'll let you top promise. I didn't even write you drinking toxins, so you could be fucked high out of your mind as a sign of respect.
It's a bit daring, even by Lohen's standards, to throw himself so deeply into his role as Vice-Captain of the Fifth Company of the Knights of Favonius. With a title that long, he's practically obligated to go above and beyond. Sure, he's infiltrated guarded hideouts, masqueraded as an auctioneer's merchandise inside a steel cage, and posed as a trainee knight to blend in. But he can't say he's ever willingly ingested poison for the cause, though the green sheen on his knives, courtesy of his own concoctions, does hold a certain allure.
"How do you feel, Vice-Captain? Dizzy? Any numbness?"
There's a voice speaking to him, but it sounds so far away. He knows someone is talking to him, yet he can't quite pinpoint where it's coming from. Did he somehow accidentally take a stronger dose than he should have? His size doesn't exactly lend itself to a higher tolerance, after all. His thoughts are cut off by something cold pressing against his cheek, small and slender- perhaps a finger? Whatever it is, the touch lasts only a second before pulling away. Something scratches against something else before the voice returns, "Hm, your skin is quite cold for someone who looks so feverish. Is it because of your Cryo vision? I can't say I have much experience with Cryo users, and Captain Kaeya doesn't seem nearly as generous as you. Ah, sorry, I shouldn't speak badly about my superiors."
Lohen tries to speak. His lips feel fuzzy when he presses them together, and his eyes can barely stand to open. He hasn't felt this off-kilter since he was a child, still learning how to fight. Regardless, he was never raised to be a quitter, and with a wheezy rasp, he manages to force the words out, "What...d-did you..do?"
The voice doesn't reply immediately, though he does notice the scratching has stopped. There's a bit of shuffling, and Lohen tries to shift his gaze to see what's happening around him. The moment he looks away from the blank white ceiling, his stomach swoops. He squeezes his eyes shut and lets out a quiet groan at the sudden wave of nausea.
"Easy, easy. You don't want to throw up now. That'll only make you feel worse," Accompanying hands gently coaxes him flat on his back against the surface beneath him, "Thirsty? My apologies, Vice-Captain, but any ingestion could lead to choking or aspiration. You'll have to wait until you recover..." A soft chuckle follows, "Hehe... recover."
The hands supporting his head linger, unlike that first fleeting touch, but there's a heavy weight settling over him. He blinks and glances downward, confused, because there's nothing on him aside from the loose cotton shirt he's wearing that's starting to stick to his skin from the sweat. He tries to lick his lips, suddenly aware of how dry they are, but his tongue refuses to cooperate. Instead, he ends up drooling slightly. A bead of saliva gathers at the corner of his mouth before spilling over and trailing down his neck.
"Hm... maybe you overestimated yourself. You don't look so good," The tone doesn't sound displeased, even if the words suggest otherwise. He feels something brush against his throat, tracing along the... sternocleidomastoid muscle? He vaguely remembers someone calling it that. Ugh, a word that long is enough to make his head throb violently. He winces, his eyes squeezing shut once more so he doesn't have to look at the black spots dancing in his vision, and waits for the brief wave of pain to fade into something tolerable.
"...You know, the seniors tell ghost stories about you. About how you always charge headlong into the fray, how you're never afraid of getting hurt. Even Grandmaster Varka praises how tough you are compared to him, and says that whenever you're the one sent out, your team suffers the fewest casualties," The voice drones on, seeming to speak as much to itself as to him. He parts his eyes a sliver, just enough to make out a face beginning to take shape above him. His brain takes a while to catch up, sluggish and fogged over, but he knows that face from somewhere.
"T-This isn't what it looks like!"
You look so startled that he can almost hear your teeth chattering. For a moment, you seem caught between two instincts: staying exactly where you are to hide your spoils behind your back, or scrambling to your feet to salute your superior. The struggle is written plainly across your face, and Lohen finds himself briefly amused by how transparent it all is. Almost feels a bit unfair to be the one standing over you like this.
"Oh? How so?" Lohen smiles, a little indulgent, as he plants a hand on his hip and leans to the side for a better look at whatever had prompted you to abandon such perfectly good flowers. Hm. He thinks he recognizes that mushroom. “It’s not rare, nor particularly dangerous. Still, that is poisonous. With how nervous you look, I'd wager you knew that already. I cannot ignore a recruit collecting it in a way that could be interpreted as an attempt to harm someone."
"I-I wasn't going to use it on anyone! Promise! It's..It's just research! Self-study? Cause-ahem, because, uh... You can't know how to protect the body without learning what harms it? A-And plenty of medicines started out this way! Give the body a tiny, controlled dose, and suddenly the thing that could kill you is helping you heal," The explanation spills out of you, as if speaking too slowly might give him time to interrupt. By the end of it, your shoulders are practically touching your ears. Still, Lohen has to admit there’s a certain logic to it, granted it's messy and overexcited, but logic nonetheless. Not the usual excuse he hears from recruits caught doing something questionable.
"Are you lecturing me, trainee?" The teasing question is meant to lighten the air, but whatever confidence you’d managed to gather evaporates into thin air. Ah. Perhaps he misjudged how strong your nerves were.
"No! I mean- no, sir." Your voice droops along with your posture as you stare down at the dirt caked onto your shoes, "...Does this mean I'm kicked out of the Knights?"
For a moment, Lohen simply blinks. Kicked out? You look genuinely devastated by the possibility, fists clenched so tightly your gloves squeak faintly. He exhales lightly through his nose. A timid thing then, and yet not without merit. Plus, he liked the excited look in your eyes during your rant, and Varka always says he needs to be more lenient to the newbies. Plus...this wouldn't be the first time he's "experimented" with medicinal practices. Being alone as an adventurer requires you to take what you can and learn what your body can resist.
"Come along now, and don't forget to bring those mushrooms."
Your head snaps up at his words, his back already to you, as he gestures for you to keep up.
"Let's see what you can do."
The new batch of recruits... right. He'd originally wanted to test the waters, to see if they were truly ready to become part of the Knights. A new combat medic, the reports had said, the Knights could always use more of those. Funny, he'd expected someone steadier like Albedo or Barbara. Instead, he'd found a little mouse tottering through the fields, uprooting flowers and digging through the dirt in search of toxic fungal mushrooms.
Huh..actually..even with his blurry vision, he doesn't remember your face being this expressive. You look just as elated as he does when he's fighting.
"I know I'm only a beginner, but I really, really want to be the one to treat you. To see someone as strong as you like this..." Whatever you were about to say dissolves into a distant murmur as he sinks beneath the surface, drifting into unconsciousness.
Warnings: Unprotected sex, creampies, p in v, fingering, fingers in mouth
word count: 1.3k
You laid in bed on your back, staring at the ceiling. The early morning light shone through the sheer curtains Shota had hung up a few weeks ago, not doing much to keep the room dark.
The cats could be heard running around the living room, playing with each other and the rays of sun on the floor. Shota's breathing was soft and even, a repetitive sound that brought you comfort these days.
You two were married, but you didn't see each other often anymore. Most nights he had to stay on the UA campus, and you weren't always allowed to stay with him.
Last night he was allowed to come home and spend the night. You two cooked dinner, watched a movie, and cuddled with the cats till you all fell asleep. It couldn't have gone much better in your books.
Shota's warm hand slid up your side, rubbing your hip as he moved up behind you. "Morning" He muttered, pushing his face into your neck and inhaling.
You turn to look back at him, moving your hand to run through his sleep-mussed hair. "Hey" you exhale softly, the pair of you sitting sleepily for a few moments.
His hand slides down from your hip to your lower stomach, his thumb rubbing your skin. His pinkie slides beneath the hem of your panties, but it moves no further.
"Sho..." You whisper quietly, looking back at him.
"Mmn?" He responds innocently. "'M not allowed to touch you?" He asked quietly, pushing himself up and hovering over you.
You look up at him, raising a sleepy eyebrow. "You are." You respond quietly, rubbing your hand up and down his forearm. "But I'm tiiiired." You draw out with a quiet whine.
"Right." He responded quickly, thumping behind you in bed again.
You exhale softly, that was that, then. The pair of you sat in silence a few moments before deciding you weren't content with it ending there.
You roll over to face him, snuggling up beside him. He's laying on his back, staring at the ceiling. You rest your head on his shoulder, your hand rubbing against his stomach beneath his sleep shirt. His arm naturally falls around you, resting on your waist.
Your fingers play with the hairs of his beard as you look at him, a small smile on your lips. "I guess I've woken up, some." You whisper, your hand dragging down his stomach.
"You have, have you?" He raised his own eyebrow, there was a flicker of excitement in his own tired eyes. "Roll over" He exhaled, pushing you by the hips into the position he wanted you.
You laid on your back, he was between your legs. He buries his face in your neck, pressing kisses to the warm skin. He nips your skin, soothing it with his tongue soon after.
You whine quietly, tilting your head to give him further access to the sensitive skin. Your panties were beginning to dampen, his clothed thigh pressed against your pussy.
You pushed yourself against his thigh, a soft moan leaving your mouth at the pressure against your clit. "There you go" He praised, letting your hips grind against his thigh as he tugged at your tshirt.
You lifted your body so he could pull it off, he then took his own tshirt off. His fingers found your clit through your panties, he watched your face as he rubbed circles on your clit.
"Please..." You beg quietly, your hand gripping his wrist.
He clicks his tongue, a smirk on his lips. "You want me to fuck you?" He waited for a response. He huffed a soft laugh as you nodded quickly. "Alright, then." His fingers pushed your panties to the side, his rough and thick fingers teased your hole.
"So wet...just 'cause you rubbed yourself on my thigh..." He noted, sliding his finger into your pussy. His other hand rests on your hip, his thumb reaching down to hold your panties out the way.
"More.." You complain, your hands unsure where to go. They stuttered between his hair, his hands, and your own chest.
He follows your lead, pushing another finger into your pussy and curling upwards, earning a moan from your lips as his fingers begin to move. He moves up your body, leaning down to kiss you.
You moan into his mouth, one hand in his hair, the other on his neck. "Please..." You whine, craving his cock to be inside you already.
For how much he complained about your impatience, he sure did tend to relent to it quickly. "Alright, hold on then." He muttered, pulling back. He pushed his fingers to your lips, watching you suck the taste of your pussy off his fingers.
He stood up and undressed himself, you kicked your panties off. He returned between your legs. He kissed your lips before trailing down your jaw, to your neck, chest, stomach, then crook of your thighs.
"C'moonnn." You draw out, your own handing moving to rub your clit. You were craving his cock deep inside you, any traces of sleepiness had left your body.
"Have patience." He scolded softly, though he leaned back on his haunches and began to stroke his cock with one hand. The other hand stayed on your thigh, squeezing the fat and rubbing it soothingly.
He ran the tip of his cock up and down your slit, notching it against your hole a few times. He loved to hear the way you would whine and beg for him to push in already.
"Please Sho..." You begged, your eyes looked so desperate as they met his. As he finally pushed in, they fluttered back as he pressed himself further inside.
He waited a moment, allowing your body to adjust to him. He tugged your body closer to him, wrapping your legs around his hips. He leaned down to press kisses to your neck then lips.
He began to thrust slow but deeply, a moan leaving your mouth almost every time his hips bottomed out. You squirmed on his cock when he pushed in as deep as he could and stayed there, your nails creating red crescents in his back.
He buried his face in your neck, letting out a low groan as your pussy clenched around him, his hands tightening on your hips momentarily. "Shit..." He groaned, his hips pulled back before thrusting deeply again.
Your head fell back and your mouth opened as he thrusted into you slowly. He took his time to nudge you slowly towards your climax, though you wouldn't have it many other ways. You loved feeling filled up with his cock, as long as you had that, he could take hours with your pussy.
His thumb met your clit, rubbing tight circles as your climax nears. He lets you squirm and write beneath him, the speed of his thumb not matching the speed of his thrusts.
"Fuckfuckfuck--!" You moan out, finally climaxing. Your nails drag down his back, leaving raised red marks on his pale skin. Your pussy clenches tightly around his cock, earning a groan from him.
"'M gonna come..." He warned, beginning to push himself up to pull out. Your legs tighten around his hips as he looks down at you, his hands tightening on his hips. "Inside? You sure..?" He pants, his rationality still managing to shine through.
You nod quickly, looking back up at him. "I wan' it..." You slur quietly, opening your arms for him to lean back down.
He relents once more, entering your arms as he continues to thrust, letting out a low groan as his hips stutter, filling your pussy up. You let out a contented moan, chuckling as he flopped down atop of you.
"Fuck..." He groaned, nuzzling his face into your neck with a contented sigh. "I'm ready for a nap." He sighed, his hand rubbing up and down your side soothingly.
You glance at the clock, reading the numbers on the face. "It's 9:42am." You tease, though your own eyes drooped.
Wanting to spend the night with your husband backfires when he doesn't show up to bed, only to be drowning himself in grading his students' papers. You grow tired of missing his touch and presence until you find yourself at his office, and willing to give anything for the attention you think you deserve.
Long nights alone were rough. Especially when your husband refused to come to bed. He said he had too many papers to grade, and he was never the type to leave shit unfinished (the bags under his eyes were clear evidence).
You, being the lazy being you are, reach out to your bedside table to grab your phone. You start to type.
Come to bed, Shouta.
You stared at the screen. The delivered message taunted you. You should've known better than to think Aizawa would have his phone on him at all times, let alone respond early when he's working.
You groan and reluctantly kick your feet off the edge of your bed, standing to make your way to the closed door of his office.
You stand before it after dragging your feet across the hard wood floor of your shared house. Your head falls onto the door, knocking with your forehead with one loud thud.
"What is it, (y/n)?" His voice grunts from the inside.
With that, you turn the knob, pushing yourself in as if you were invited.
You step in, closing the door behind you, leaning against it as it snaps shut.
Aizawa's head doesn't bother looking up as they focus on the papers laid before him. His fingers steadily wrapped around his ball-point pens, marking his students' papers with bright red ink that make mistakes look worse than they actually are.
You sigh when he doesn't acknowledge your presence, once again gliding your feet toward his general direction.
His eyes finally tear from the papers and up at your pouting face. Your hands are on the edge of the smoothly-cut wood of his desk.
You can see everything clearly, finding everything organized and easily accessible. You swear to god, his organization skills turn you on so fucking much.
"Go to bed. It's almost midnight."
"Hypocritical for you to say such a thing."
You lean further, your chin almost resting on the desk as you watch his brows furrow in slight irritation. But at least you were tolerable, right?
"Don't be like that, brat. You know I have work to do."
"It's Saturday, just do it tomorrow, baby." You whine, proving his pet name to be a right fit for you.
"I don't procrastinate." He says sternly, as if talking to one of his damn students. His eyes start to shift downwards, back to those papers, but your hand snaps to grab his chin.
Now his eyes are narrowed as he looks up at you with tired eyes. "Can't you just enlighten your wife and come to bed?"
"I'm not going to have this conversation with you again, love." His hand wraps around your wrist, slowly untangling from his chin.
You frown, ripping from his grip with a sour expression. His eyes shift in the slightest.
"Fine." You grumble.
He says nothing, sighing before looking back down to his papers before seeing your head pop up between his legs in less than a minute.
You decided you won't just let shit go. You need to win in some way, even if that means falling to your knees and crawling under his desk.
"What're you doing?" His voice didn't betray any emotion that stirred inside of him, but the way his Adams apple bobbed from a hard swallow did.
"Nothing. Keep working."
".. I can't."
"Why not?" Your head tilts in a way where it's almost teasing.
His jaw flexes, "You're being a distraction."
"Already? But I didn't even do this yet." Your fingers are already on his belt, skillfully clicking it, pulling it through the loops, watching it loosen immediately around his slutty waist.
"Stop." His wrists snap on yours, tighter than he wanted, but it was clear he couldn't control himself with you doing this to him.
You stay still, eyes on him, unfazed.
"But I'm working."
"Why're you being difficult?" He mumbles, his thumb shifting over your soft skin, almost trying to rub off the marks his fingers made on your wrist by accident.
"We both got jobs to do." Your hands slips from his, pulling the belt until it hits the floor with a soft clunk.
His hands now rest uselessly by his sides, fingers twitching slightly as you slowly pull his waistband down.
His hips move slightly, almost as if he's helping you access his cock.
His boxers keep the monster contained as it's clearly pressing against the fabric, threatening to make a hole.
He curses silently, head now leaned back, staring up at the ceiling.
You're already grinning, realizing he's finally giving you the reigns you've been wishing for for so long.
Your fingers greedily pulled the material down, letting his hard-on out.
It's so big. Thick. You're already salivating, you panties getting soaked at the hisses your husband is letting out.
You fist his throbbing cock, watching his hands shoot out to cover his face.
You start with a long lick, from the base all the way up to his sensitive tip, feeling the way his quads flex instinctively.
You take him whole, squeezing out grunts and groans from his rough mouth.
His resistance snaps, head snapping down to look at you and take him down your throat. His hand moves to your hair, tucking it behind your ears.
"You're such a fucking brat, you know that?" He grunts, feeling your ridged tongue flick around his tip.
"Taking me whole like a good fucking girl? How desperate you must've- n..ugh..- been.." He speaks, the dirtiness spilling from his lips, hands holding the top of your head, guiding it.
The extra hand cups your soft face, wiping the tears from your eyes, yet you show absolutely no sign of pulling off.
"Sucking like a leech. Are you a leech for me, (y/n)?" He mocks, pulling your head further in, hearing your gags and groans.
His breaths became heavy and scattered.
Your head bobs further, ready to swallow his load before his hand tightens around your hair, forcefully pulling you off before unloading all over your face.
His eyes never looked away from this masterpiece before him. Your face, all covered in juices.
His juices.
"Wanna be a brat, huh?" He pulls you by the collar, twisting you to face away from him, not letting you clean off the semen from your skin as you're bent over his desk.
Suddenly not caring for the organized desk full of papers and pens, only caring about breeding his desperate brat.
It wasn't long before your bottom half of clothes were torn off. His hand pressed against your head, pressing downwards.
You whine, cheek pressed against the wood before feeling a sharp swat on your ass. You gasp, toes (which weren't even touching the ground) curled as he delivers another blow to the opposite cheek.
"Want me to fill that pussy up, huh? Annoyed me just so you could get a little discipline from me, hm? Isn't that right?"
You whimper, shallow breaths. "Y-Yes.. fill me up, baby!"
He lets out a low laugh that seemed to rumble across the office.
"What a dirty whore you are for my cock."
He reaches down, fingers feeling around your hole before plunging in, earning himself a squeal from your throat. "Already soaked for daddy and everything, hm?" His free hand extends to caress your hair as you laid there, taking his fingers.
In such a small instance, his finger was pulled out and replaced with the thickness of his girth.
You screamed out, your hole being stretched gives a white hot pain that quickly turns into pleasure, as your husband thrusts into you.
"Fuck," He curses, leaning down to your ear, hand on your waist to keep you steady. "I forgot how tight your walls close in on my cock, baby."
You can feel him smiling against your earlobe, his heavy breathing syncing with your small moans is music to both pairs of ears.
You feel him hitting the perfect spot, legs twitching from underneath him as he continues his relentless pace.
The sound of skin slapping against one another was genuinely the hottest thing you've ever heard. The wet noises your pussy produced while being bred by Aizawa's shaft.
"I-I.. n..gh.." You sputtered nonsense, and Aizawa was chuckling.
"What? Cock drunk already, brat?" His pace quickened, feeling himself grow closer to the edge as well.
You moan, drool, mixed with Shouta's excess cum, escape your lips, and onto his (now) unorganized desk.
You feel your walls tighten, and so does he. He ends with four more huge thrusts into you before pulling out and shooting his load onto your cheeks. The skin now glazed just like your face.
You groan, body still trembling from the ecstasy you've just experienced.
Aizawa held his grip on the edges on the desk, beside your ass cheeks. He kept himself up, catching his breath while eyeing his students' papers that laid on the floor, forgotten.
He lets out an exhausted sigh, not wanting to think about cleaning everything up, so he shifts his focus back on you, who lay still on the table, also breathing heavily.
"You distracted me,"
You groan in response, shifting up before you're pulled, your back pressed against his chest.
"I hope you know that was just the beginning."
You smiled and tilted your head back, finding your lips against his, clearly unfazed by his 'threat'.
He chuckles at your expression, picking you up into his arms in bridal style.
"Fuckin' brat." He mutters, leaving his office in a scattered mess.
Though, it'll be nothing compared to the mess you'll be creating in the bedroom.
authors note: y’all already know the drill… how would the timeskip heros eat you OUT! (with some nsfw headcans drizzled in bc i am a freak idc)
villain ver: HERE!!
IZUKU
omg i had to do him first, he’s been on my mind since i saw teacher Izuku fanar—…..im getting off topic
✮ he’s so dreamy… SO DREAMY UGHDHDUSV
✮ saw a tiktok where they said he talks you thought it and omg YES!!! he’d be so good at what he does because listens and pays attention to your every noise and move.
✮ loves holding your hand when he’s eating you out (he’s so intimate and cute)
✮ when you grab his hair and pull him closer, he’s instantly rolling his eyes in pleasure because he can’t get over how good this feels for him and how good it feels for you. (like just imagine he’s going in and it feels so good that you grab onto his hair and instinctively pull him closer. his eyes rolling to the back of his head as he mutters “fuck” under his breath, gripping your thighs tighter as his tongue curls deeper in you)
TAMAKI
✮ *taps mic* is thing on? okay.— FUCK the shy guy shit, tamaki is extremely good at eating pussy and honestly idk how.
✮ he’d be all innocent, acting like he’s not even all that good at oral but the first time you suggested he go down on you he had you gripping at his hair in seconds.
✮ now.. don’t get me wrong his shy tendencies do still shine, he prefers to eat you out when he’s laying on his stomach while head is under the cover (so you can’t see him)
HAWKS
✮i need this man rn
✮face sitter!!! president of face sitting!!!
✮ my god his praises when he’s eating you out is chef KISS. he’d tell you how sexy you look 50 times before you even make it to his face.
✮ he’s sweet and an eater that aims to please!! but… he occasionally likes edging you. — he’d act all innocent just when you were about to cum saying “oh were you close baby? i didn’t even know, looks like we gotta start over”— and you do. over. and over. (he’s a little shit that finds you stupidly attractive so he likes to hold you up)
AIZAWA
✮ another man who fucking loves fingering. (not to diminish his eating skills because TRUST it’s there) but no, we’re here to talk about how evil he is when he’s fingering you.
✮you wanna know why he likes fingering you so much? because he gets to use his mouth to taunt you to no end —don’t get me wrong , he loves you and would do anything for you….but he doesn’t make it easy
✮ he loves to have you in his lap, your legs draped over his so that he could control how wide he wants you to be. he keep his lips right next to your ear. taunting you, praising you, talking you through it in a perfect mix that has you soaking his fingers before you even know it.
KIRISHIMA
✮face sitting co president!!! and eating it from the back enthusiast. (an ass man!!!!)
✮ such an eager and obedient eater… like a dog
✮ eats you out for his satisfaction. it brings him peace knowing that you get to finish more than once just by his hands and mouth alone.
✮he’d do it every damn day if he could (he does, or at least he tries. you tell him you need a break every now and then)
DENKI
✮ whines when he eats you out… yeah take a minute and think about that ik i am
✮no seriously though, he gets lost in it, FAST.
✮talk about the definition of greedy. he’s constantly pulling you closer and closer to his mouth as if he wasn’t damn near nose deep in your cunt :P
BAKUGO
✮ oh my god he’s so fucking rough with it.
✮ i don’t want to hype his game up that much but id have to say he’s the best eater on the list..
✮ his fingers were just made to be inside you. rough, yet strategic. gliding his fingertips over n over on that spot that makes you see stars
✮is never satisfied with making you finish only once— in his words “that’s shit’s too fucking weak” and strives to make it 3
TODOROKI
✮ gentle gentle eater.
✮ takes his time to kiss every part of you and work his way down to where you want him most
✮ god he is the most attentive in this damn list, he even has Izuku beat. he listen to your needs so well you barely have to tell him what you need because he’d already know
⟢ boyfriend!hawks who definitely walks with his arm resting on your waist his hand in your back pocket
⟢ boyfriend!hawks doesn’t own a car cause he flys everywhere but loves carrying you so it’s fine. you don’t mind either cause you trust him with your life but you also like teasing him and play with his feathers
⟢ boyfriend!hawks likes when you sit on his lap. if you don’t sit on his lap he has you close to him, arms reach at all times. he always has to be touching you, doesn’t matter where or who’s around. could be his hand resting on your thigh, knees grazing each other’s, arm around you, hands on your waist literally anything; as long as he’s touching you.
⟢ boyfriend!hawks is a softy at home. he loves coming home and laying his head on your lap while you run your fingers through his hair. he even drifts to sleep sometimes.
⟢ boyfriend!hawks is a thigh/ass man for sure. he loves using your thighs as a pillow and will even bite them. he is always touching your ass and smacking it every chance he gets.
⟢ boyfriend!hawks will grab your hands and dance with you around the house.
⟢ boyfriend!hawks will wrap his wings around you if you’re really cold. especially outside, he’ll use them to block the wind/rain from you.
⟢ boyfriend!hawks lets you preen his feathers for him if he’s too tired. is he worked up after and need to fuck you? totally.
⟢ boyfriend!hawks likes taking you out at night and flying to the tops of building and just talking with you. doesn’t matter what the talk is about or what building, just as long as you’re with him.
⟢ boyfriend!hawks feather play.
⟢ boyfriend!hawks is an EATER idgaf. he will always want to eat you out but he loves it when you fully commit and sit on his face. he loves holding you down and eating until your crying.
⟢ boyfriend!hawks i feel will use his feathers to keep yours hands up and/or keeping your legs open.
⟢ boyfriend!hawks is a sensual pleaser. he loves going slow and is real rhythmic. he knows how to use his hips and likes “making love” rather than a dirty fuck (he’s always down for a quick and rough fuck though)
buying hentai and the clerk turns out to be my classmate?! | takami, k.
ꉂ ᵎᵎ cw/tw: 18+, no quirks!au, college!au, upperclassman!book store worker!dom!keigo, sub!fem!afab!loser!virgin!gooner!reader, p in v, pussy eating, breath play, breeding kink, creampie, fingering, nipple play (fem receiving), virginity loss, praise, established acquaintanceship, keigo is VERY teasing, mentions of: cockwarming, noncon, humilation, masochism, somnophilia, petplay (titles of mangas suggest these themes)
ꉂ ᵎᵎ a/n: this is a reblog from my old blog
ꉂ ᵎᵎ synopsis: as you are out shopping for erotic mangas, you find out the hard way that your upperclassman, takami keigo, works part-time at the bookstore. strangely, instead of being disgusted or making fun of you, he gives you his number.
ꉂ ᵎᵎ w/c: ~6.4k
my hot coworker ravishes me after work? but i’m a virgin!
a cheesy title, you thought to yourself as you flipped through the pages of the manga. but, at least the art was good.
i promise i won’t get pregnant by my childhood bully!
based on the last page, which had a mating press creampie scene— you took it that she wasn’t that great at keeping promises.
made to cock warm my tutor as punishment for bad grades?!
huh. not needing much deliberation, you quietly slipped that one onto the growing stack of filth in your arms. satisfied with your haul, your eyes drifted toward the register.
much to your dismay, the clerk was strikingly good-looking — handsome and blond — he seemed almost too normal for a nerdy store like this. with the way he leaned lazily against the counter, scrolling through social media on his phone, as if counting down the minutes of his shift, he, too, seemed well aware of this.
there was something familiar about him that you couldn’t quite put your finger on— but you pushed it aside, telling yourself that his appearance simply reminded you of old high school bullies.
however, as you approached the counter and placed the manga down for him to scan, recognition passed between you two in an instant. it was takami keigo— your upperclassman from university. while he had never participated in the bullying and was probably unaware it had even ever happened, you knew he was friends with some of the people who had. as you stood there, face drained of color, his eyes flicked down to the erotic material you’d set in front of him, and a slow, knowing smile crept across his face as he realized what they were.
how lucky for him, keigo thought. just the other day, he’d been complaining to his friends how he hated that freaky girls were always promiscuous sorority sluts— too pushy for their own good, while sweet, “good” girls were boring and vanilla— always managing to turn him off in the middle of sex. and yet, here you were, practically gift wrapped up and tied with a bow, just for him.
“hey there,” he greets, your last name rolling off his tongue like a sweet candy right after. the customer service etiquette was out of character for him, but you wouldn’t know that. “how are you doing today?”
usually, interacting with anyone made your skin crawl. interacting with someone who knew you — and knew what you were buying — made it ten times worse.
your throat tightened as you forced yourself to answer. “i’m… okay,” you mumble, the words barely slipping past the dry stickiness of your mouth. you adjust the face mask you were wearing, tugging it just a little higher, as if doing so would make you unrecognizable, despite the fact you dressed the same way in the classes you shared. “thanks.”
maintaining his easy, friendly demeanor, keigo leisurely slid the stack toward him, his eyes never leaving yours as he began to scan the erotica. “did you find everything okay?”
“um, yeah,” you mutter.
his gaze then drifted downward, lingering on the titles of the mangas you had picked out. “some interesting stuff here,” he comments casually. “any of it good?”
watching his facial expression as he took in the cover of my best friend gets too curious after i fall asleep! you could only bite the inside of your cheek, shifting your weight from one leg to the other. “uh… i don’t know,” you answer honestly, “the plots just seemed like they would be.”
“plots, huh?”
“yeah...”
“well,” he says, holding up one of the books, “tell me your review of this one when you get to it, okay? seems like something i'd like.”
as your eyes flick up to the hentai he's displaying for anyone passing by to see, the cover reading, how i turned the nerdy loser girl into my personal pet dog! a heat rose to your cheeks, and your stomach twisted with embarrassment.
yet, all you could do was shrink into yourself and mumble, “that’s not funny, takami.”
a soft laugh escapes him, amused with your timid nature. “wasn’t trying to be,” he replies. “i just never pegged you for the kind of girl to like these things.”
fiddling with the sleeve of your oversized hoodie, you kept your gaze fixed on the floor as humiliation flared up inside you. a sharp pang of fear then stoked the flames. “you’re not gonna tell anyone, are you...?”
for a moment, he pauses, pretending to think it over. “depends,” he says at last, slipping the manga into plastic sleeves before placing them in a paper bag for you. “are you going to give me your number?”
your head lifts, wondering if you misheard him. “my number?” you ask, voice tinged with disbelief, hoping he’ll clarify.
“yeah, your number,” he repeats with a breeziness, “or is there a boyfriend i should know about that wouldn’t like that?”
“well, no, but— why do you want my number?”
keigo just laughs, his charm effortless. “so that we can be friends, of course. i never knew how similar our interests were. i feel like we’d get along— don’t you think so?”
“you want to be friends with… me?” you ask hesitantly, the offer sounding too good to be true.
“well,” he admits, a faint grin tugging at the corners of his lips, “to be honest, i’m hoping to be more than just friends, but i think it’s a good starting point.”
your head feels like it's spinning, one thought bouncing off the other as you try to process everything. noticing your trepidation, he chuckles again, and glances at the till. “$42.90. is that going to be cash or credit, sweetheart?”
“card,” you mumble, your face burning as he casually shifts the subject, and you can’t help but think he’s been teasing you the whole time. you fumble with your bag, fishing out your credit card. after he finishes the transaction, he hands it back, but pauses before giving you the paper bag with your things.
“how about this,” he proposes, grabbing a sticky note from the pad on the counter, and scribbling something down on it, “you give me a call if — or whenever — you ever want someone to… talk about these sort of fantasies with… or maybe even help you live them out… okay?“
your eyes follow his hands as he slips the scrap of paper into your bag, and you finally take your manga once he’s done. “um… okay,” you murmur, your voice barely audible over the ringing in your ears. as you then turn on your heel, stumbling towards the door, your legs feel like they’re made of lead, making you almost trip over your own feet. with his eyes never leaving you, keigo simply smirks at your nervous exit, his fingers tapping lightly against the counter in quiet anticipation for your eventual call.
the thing about keigo was that, beneath his carefree exterior, there was a perceptive, almost calculating edge to him. he knew you wouldn’t call that night— or even the next. but he also knew that eventually you would, even if you kept avoiding him around campus after that day. it wasn’t hard for him to imagine that the sticky note he’d given you was pinned above your geeky gaming setup, clinging to the wall like some sort of talisman while you tried to work up the nerve to dial his number, only to chicken out at the last second.
still, when it took you only three and a half days to finally cave in and call him, he was… honestly a little (albeit, pleasantly) surprised, as he expected at least a week.
sitting on your bed, your hands trembling as you typed his number into your phone, you stared at the screen for a moment, letting your heart hammer in your chest, before you finally pressed the “call” button. instantly, every instinct was screaming at you to hang up before it was too late. but then, his voice came through — steady, yet curious, like he was wondering if this was some sort of scam call — and you forced yourself to stay on the line.
“hello?”
“um, hi senpai,” you begin, incredibly formal, mentally scrambling through your millions of rehearsed lines, “it’s me—”
“oh, hey,” keigo interrupts, his tone warm as he instantly recognizes the mouse-like quality in your voice. “i’ve been wondering when you were gonna call. was getting worried.”
“worried?” you ask, confused and caught off guard.
“yeah— i was starting to wonder if you were going to have to read through your entire collection before you finally decided you were gonna give me a call.”
at his teasing, you were grateful he couldn’t see how red your face had got just from that one comment. “i wasn’t reading… i, i was just… busy,” you stammer, the explanation seeming almost unbelievable.
“oh,” he chuckles lightly, “so you would’ve called sooner, then?”
“uh… um— no, i, well…”
as you fumble for words, you hear the subtle rustle of clothing on his end. “so…” he changes the subject, voice low and lazy and tinged with mirth, all as if he were resting his head on a propped hand, “what’s up?”
you let out a quiet sigh of relief as he relented from his teasing, though your chest stayed tight, the realization that now came the hard part washing over you. as you forced out the words, your fingers fumbled nervously with your phone. “um… could you, would you— uh… you know your.. your offer? at your job?”
“yeah?”
“do you think we… um… you could…”
when your words trail off, he steps in, clearly amused with your attempt to ask. “when do you want me to come over?”
“uhm… when are you free…? i-i, i know you have a lot of friends and you’re really busy, so, like… um, we can work around your schedule and whatever…”
“well,” he says slowly, as if testing the waters, “what about tonight?”
“tonight?! i, no— my room isn’t clean and i don’t—”
“i’m not free any other time of the week,” keigo cuts you off with a sigh. “i also don’t mind a dirty room. plus, isn’t it better than waiting in anticipation until the day of?”
for a moment, you go quiet, letting his words sink in, and your head spins with a jumble of thoughts. “uh, i guess…”
“great— send me your address and i’ll be there around 8:00 pm, okay?”
before you can even respond, he hangs up, and texts you the most expectant little smiley face ever.
after a few minutes of hesitation and a resigned groan, you decide to just bite the bullet, sending him your apartment address, and simply accepting the reality that you only had three hours to clean up your place before he arrived.
and yet, somehow, despite the small time frame you had, you managed to clean up the countless wrappers, empty plastic water bottles, and dirty dishes scattered around your home. the weeks-old crusty crumbs that clung to the corners of your couch, sticky streaks smeared across your coffee table, and half-empty takeout containers had been finally dealt with. you even managed to take a shower, slathering yourself in floral oils in a desperate attempt to mask any lingering smells from your daily gooning sessions.
however, when the doorbell rang, a jolt of panic shot through you, twisting your stomach into tight, anxious knots. as you shuffled towards the door, your hands went clammy, sweat slicking your palms. and then, just for a moment, you froze, gripped by the gnawing suspicion that you’d forgotten something important, before finally forcing yourself to turn the doorknob and let keigo inside.
“uh… hi,” you murmur, bowing your head slightly out of respect, your eyes flicking to the way he stood there so nonchalantly, casually just radiating confidence. “thanks… for, uh, coming. you can, um, sit on the couch, and i’ll… get you some water.”
he simply nodded, slipping off his shoes, and following you into the living room without a word. as he settled onto the couch, his gaze wandering over your apartment, you practically sprinted to the kitchen, rifling through the dishwasher for a recently rinsed glass. grabbing one, you then poured water into it from a plastic water bottle, trying your best to make it seem deliberate and refined. at last, teetering slightly with each step, you carried the glass back to him, heart hammering in your chest as you prayed you wouldn’t spill a single drop, and reveal just how clumsy — and utterly ridiculous — he probably expected you to be.
“thank you,” he says, taking the glass from you and taking a sip, “you look pretty.”
the casualness of his compliment, rolling off his tongue with ease, made it feel easy to believe, and despite not being totally sure if it was sincere, a blush spread across your cheeks. instead of your usual baggy sweatpants and oversized hoodie, you were wearing some thin sleep shorts and a tank top— having put in some effort in the hopes of looking “seductive," or at the very least appealing. you sank into a sofa seat near him, mumbling “thank you,” as you folded your legs and began fidgeting with your fingers. “you look… pretty too — uh! — i mean, handsome, or…” — sigh — “yeah…”
as you rub your face with your hands in embarrassment, letting out a sharp exhale through your nose, a gentle laugh escapes him. setting the glass down on the coffee table, keigo's eyes traced your curves, before taking in just how nervous you were. “why are you sitting so far away?” he asks curiously, easily defusing the awkwardness like it was never there. “c’mere.”
almost looking reluctant about it, thanks to your sluggish pace, you pushed yourself to your feet, feeling like you’d forgotten how to walk for a brief instant. when you finally sat beside him, there was still a stiff bit of distance between you two. noticing this, he slipped an arm around your shoulder and eased you closer, his hand sliding down to settle at your hip. “so,” he asks smoothly, “how was your day?”
his voice was low, almost hypnotic in the way it brushed against your ear, and the weight of his hand on your side made your breath hitch. you weren't used to being this close with a man — or anyone for that matter — and the sensation of his warmth beside you made you a bit dizzy. your eyes darted to the floor, your thoughts further tangling the moment his thumb idly brushed the fabric near your waist. “uhm… my day? it… it was okay,” you manage, your voice wobbling. “what about yours…?”
leaning back so his feet rested on the coffee table, he spoke with that same calm and collected cool. “it was fine,” he replies, picking a lint off your shoulder. “your call made it better, though.”
your eyes follow the random fiber as he flicked it away. “it did?”
“yeah.” he answers, giving you a smile. “i’ve been excited to get to know you better, y’know? and the sort of things you were into.”
“i’m, i'm into a lot of things,” you stammer truthfully, picking at your cuticles.
“yeah? what sort of things? what have you done before?”
“not much,” you sigh, jaw tensing at a memory. “my only boyfriend ever was online, so…”
“so…” keigo works out, “you’re a virgin?”
“is, is that a problem?” you ask, looking up at him with wide, nervous eyes, voice quiet like you were worried he'd leave.
he chuckles, giving your hip a pat. “no, no— of course not. i’m just surprised you developed your interests without any… field work, that’s all. you must’ve done a lot of… talking with your boyfriend.”
“ah, no… he was…” your words trail off, and you let out another soft sigh, looking to the side.
“boring?” he asks, tilting his head and finishing your sentence for you, his eyes studying your expression.
“kinda... he thought i was a freak for the stuff i liked.”
“ahh,” keigo tsks, leaning back with an all-too-knowing look, and eyes glancing around the room as he thought about how to articulate his thoughts, “life’s too short to be vanilla...” after a brief pause, his gaze slides slowly back to you, curiosity lacing his voice. “speaking of which… where are your little mangas?”
“uh… they’re in my room… why?”
“well... i just remembered i wanted to see your collection. can i?”
briefly, you hesitate, tongue darting along your teeth to wet the inside of your mouth, unaware of your leg bouncing nervously. “…you’re not going to make fun of me, are you?” you ask, eyes flicking up to meet his.
the man only offers you a shrug, mirth curling his lips into a teasing smile that he didn't exactly want to hide. “not in a way you won’t enjoy,” he replies, before shifting to stand, expecting, and knowing that you’ll lead him to your room.
his answer and delivery makes your thighs clench. you rise from the couch, legs wobbling slightly as you do, and a faint lightness creeps into your head. “okay,” you murmur, your voice barely audible, muffled further as you bite the inside of your cheek, trying to steady yourself. “um… my room is this way…”
each step toward your bedroom feels heavy and your mind races through every possible judgement he might pass on how nerdy — or childish — your space might look. once the two of you are standing outside your room, your hands tremble slightly as you fumble with the doorknob, taking a deep breath to calm your racing heart. awaiting what you imagine he'll have to say, your eyes stay glued to the floor, dreading whatever mean comment may come.
as you hold open the door, keigo's gaze sweeps over the countless posters, comics, and anime figurines that crowded along the walls and shelves. “i thought you said it was going to be dirty,” he finally remarks, before sliding onto the edge of your bed. his eyes narrow when they land on a body pillow of some green-haired shonen jump character.
“i cleaned it,” you murmur, tugging a large box out from under your bed and setting it beside him. when you lift the lid, the man's eyebrows shoot up in surprise, and he lets out a soft laugh at the sheer amount of hentai crammed inside, spines bent and covers slightly worn from frequent reading.
“wow,” he says, picking up a copy, flipping through the pages, and shaking his head in disbelief. “i know you bought a couple at the store but i didn’t think you’d have this much already. masochism… humiliation… a lot of cnc here... you like being forced to do stuff you don’t like?”
your lips pursed as your cheeks flared up with heat again. “i was bullied a lot during high school,” you confess, rubbing your arm in comfort while you sat on the opposite side of the box from him. “i guess it’s a way for me to cope because at least the guys in these are actually good looking…”
he lets out a light hum at that. “which one’s your favorite?” he asks, eyes meeting yours.
“uhm…” you shuffle through the erotica, fishing out one at the bottom. “this one…”
handing him the title reading, pushy senpai teaches me all about sex!, you weren’t sure whether to watch for his reaction or look away.
“that’s cute,” keigo smirks, tilting his head, and studying your posture. “you like older guys or something?”
“not that much older,” you explain, fingers twisting in your lap as you avoid his gaze. “i don’t like guys, like, old enough to be my dad…”
“hm. lucky i’m your senpai then, huh?”
you don’t say anything in response, partially because you were too busy trying to tidy your collection of degeneracy back into the box, and partially because you were too embarrassed by his observation. as you reach to take the manga in his hands from him, he stops you, holding it firmly. “why don’t we read this one together?”
you bite the inside of your cheek, pausing for a long beat, as your gaze darts around the room as if searching for an excuse to say no. you could feel the blush blooming across your face again. “....you want to read that?” you ask, not meaning to sound so doubtful.
“i’ve never been really interested in these sort of things,” he explains. “i like videos— it would be my first time reading one.”
after a few more moments of hesitation, you finally give in, forcing yourself to move closer and sit beside him as the two of you settle against the headboard of your bed. out of the corner of your eye, your body pillow tempts you with a silent offer of comfort as he opens the book.
with every flip of the page, you can’t help but study him— how his eyebrows lift, the slight curve of his lips, or the way his shoulders relax or tense. your chest tightens each time his gaze lingers on a panel, and you find yourself wondering if he’s judging your taste or just genuinely amused. your fingers twitch, fiddling with the hem of your shorts as you try to occupy yourself while your mind races.
“her ass is huge,” he mumbles at some point, the crude comment cutting through the silence momentarily as he examines a scene where the female protagonist trips over due to her own clumsiness, her skirt riding up to reveal her panties. you simply nod in response, waiting for him to get to the part where the romance starts.
a few scenes later, the male protagonist is pulling the female to sit in his lap while they study in his bedroom— and before you realize it, keigo mirrors the move. as your back presses against his chest, a shiver runs up your spine, and your stomach flutters with nerves.
“what are you—?”
“hold it,” he cuts you off, handing you the manga, a carefree smile tugging at his lips, “keep on reading.”
doing as he says, your hands clutching the book a little too tightly, your breath hitches when his warm hands glide beneath your tank top, caressing the soft skin of your waist, just as the guy does to the girl in the manga. “t-takami,” you call out shakily, the name slipping out involuntarily, not even really quite sure why you said it.
“what are they—” he asks, leaning forward so his chin rests on your shoulder, as if getting a better look will jog his memory, “childhood friends? you can call me ‘keigo’— makes it immersive, yeah?”
“keigo…” you breathe out, your trembling words trailing off when you feel his fingertips graze the swells of your breasts, too busy squirming to continue. following the storyline, he begins to leave open-mouth kisses against your neck, each one making you whimper.
“if you do all that,” he murmurs coyly, as if not the reason, his breath brushing against your sensitive skin as he palms one of your breasts in his hand, “i’m gonna have a hard time seeing what to do.”
“y-you’re not even looking…” you whine, nearly dropping the manga when his thumbs flick your nipples.
“well, describe what’s happening for me then, hm?”
with a quiet assent, you exhale sharply, forcing yourself to return to the erotic material. a heat immediately floods your face as you verbalize the next scene. “he’s… um, he’s… putting his hand up her skirt…”
your gaze follows as one of keigo’s hand trace a heated path down to the waistband of your shorts, before slipping under to trail the clothed slit of your pussy. reactively, your legs clenched around his wrist, the grip in which he easily and gently pulls apart. “relax, babe,” he murmurs.
“b-babe?”
at your reaction, keigo lets out a soft chuckle, and gives the fat of your cheek a chaste bite, relishing in the following pathetic noise you make. “it’s just bedroom talk— okay, pretty girl? you don’t mind, right?”
given a moment to think about it, you shake your head, trying your best not to crumple the pages of your beloved hentai. “keep going,” he urges once you answer, his voice low and encouraging.
nodding shakily again, you continue. “o-okay, he’s, uhm, he's... telling her that.. he’s gonna... gonna play with her f... with her folds now...”
“folds,’ huh?” he questions with a snicker, the word choice flowery and unusual in his opinion. “wouldn’t have ever thought to call them that…”
despite knowing exactly what was coming, as you feel his fingers pull your panties to the side, and come into contact with your bare pussy, you can’t help but quiver under his touch, letting out a breathy moan. “o-oh my gosh...”
as a generous amount of slick collects on his fingers, his eyebrows knit together for a brief moment. “it’s really… creamy,” he notes carefully, a bit puzzled about how velvety everything was even though he had only done some light foreplay. “have you played with yourself today or something?”
a whimper slips past your pursed lips as he circles your entrance, your pussy fluttering around nothing, wanting to pull him in. “y-yes,” you nod, suddenly feeling very honest, “i, um — haha — i do everyday… is that, is that weird?”
“nah,” he replies, the corners of his lips curling slightly at your answer. his fingers continue to dance teasingly along your slick folds, hovering so, so, so tantalizingly before your entrance, refusing to plunge into your aching heat just yet. “just means you got a high libido. it’s cute. you use any toys?”
with another nod, you begin to ramble as you try to distract yourself from his ministrations. “mhm— i used to, used to use my fingers… but then it wasn’t enough, so then i bought a dildo… and then a vibrator… and— ah…”
keigo’s cock twitches almost painfully within the confines of his jeans as he listens to you go on about your degeneracy, his jaw tensing in restraint. “damn,” he mumbles under his breath, “that sounds hot. you’re a bit insatiable, huh? i almost feel a little bad for you— only being able to use plastic toys to get off… can’t do it with just anyone because you’re a straight up pervert… real big shame… ‘cause sex feels really fucking good.”
as he whispers the last part into your ear, followed by a teasing nip to your lobe, his skilled fingers finally slip inside your dripping pussy, and he watches as you abandon your manga to the side of you two. throughly enjoying your every reaction, when you cling onto his arm for support, his other hand slips down from it's perch beneath your top, and comes up to wrap itself around your throat, giving you a gentle squeeze.
the thought of him choking you out short-circuits your brain, making your pussy clench around him— the exact effect he knew his simple action would have on you. “can, can we do it? please?” you gasp, utter desperation coloring your voice as you need him so badly.
he chuckles softly at your begging, releasing your neck, and uses a finger to tilt your face aside so he could look at you. “you’re cute” he says, pressing a brief kiss to the corner of your lips. “you really wanna have sex with me?”
before you even have the chance to try and kiss him back, your teeth sink into your lower lip at his playful question. however, when his fingers curl to tease the roof of your sex, you promptly answer him. “oh my gosh— yes! please, please, please!”
keigo bites his own lip at your response, finding it increasingly difficult not to rush things with you. there was just something truly so sexy about how a shy little nerd like you was a total degenerate, and that you were so desperate for his touch, and so honest about it too— it made him want to keep dragging things out. but, knowing that he was ridiculously hard right now, he decided to compromise with his own impulses.
pulling his fingers out of you, your pussy weeps at the loss of warmth. you watch as he brings his glistening digits to his lips, licking them clean, and looking as if he was savoring every trace of your arousal. noticing the blatant hunger in your eyes, he chuckles. “wanna taste?” he asks, before lowering his coated fingers mere inches from your parted lips, and beckoning you to let him in your mouth. shakily, you obey him, leaning forward, and easing your jaw open.
as you suckle his fingers, tasting the mixture of your juices and his spit on them, letting him play with your tongue, keigo lets out a shameless groan. convinced that if he took any longer his dick would explode, he pulls away, wiping his hand dry against his side before letting it and it’s twin rest on your hips. “lets take off our clothes, okay?”
although you nod rather absentmindedly, a quick pang of self-consciousness cuts through the fog. “okay, let me just turn off the lights…”
however, before you could slip off the bed and do what you intended, he stops you, rising to his feet quicker than you. “i can do it,” he says. “this one, right?”
“yeah…”
the switch clicks, and the room dissolves into darkness. against the sudden black, you blink, trying to locate him in the shadows.
you nearly yelp when your back suddenly meets the mattress— your wrists gently pinned above your head. keigo's nose brushes against your temple, and a chuckle ghosts your skin at how startled you were. “you need to invest in some LED lights,” he says, almost scolding you as he tries to hide his amusement, “you don’t know what could be hiding in the dark.”
languidly, his hands trail down your body, and the only audible sound in the room is your trembling breath as his touch leaves fire in its wake. with an agonizing slowness, he peels off your clothes— first, helping you pull your tank top over your head, and sliding it over your arms. as your now bare breasts meet the nippy air, you move to cover them, and the action makes him smirk. subsequently, his fingers find the waistband of your shorts, before deftly pulling them down your quivering legs and off.
now that you were fully bare in front of him, keigo then takes a step back, his gaze never leaving yours as he moves to take off his shirt, tossing it aside carelessly. when he finally gets to his belt, undoing it before kicking off his jeans, your eyes flick to the bulge in his briefs, knees coming together at the sight. “j-jesus,” you choke out without thinking, “you’re as big as my…”
“as your toys?” he grins, finally stripping himself of his last article of clothing, his dick slapping against his lower abdomen with its departure. “that’s nice of you to say.”
you nod in agreement, swallowing your nerves. although it was dark in the room, you could see the faint outline of his heavy swollen balls that rested at the base of his dick contrasting the sight of the delicate pink crown that sat on top it’s long shaft with furious beads of pre-cum trickling down from the slit. as you ogle him, keigo motions for you to scoot back on the bed so he could climb back on to it. you comply, and before you know it, he's laying in between your spread thighs, settling on his stomach to take a quick look upon your dripping sex. when you instinctively try to close your legs, he holds them open, eyes flicking up to yours, wordlessly telling you to relax.
as his hot breath ghosts over your inner thighs, drinking in the sight of your sticky, swollen folds, he mumbles, almost reverently, “god, i just gotta…” before taking a long lick up your slit. when it's not enough to satisfy him, his mouth latches onto your mound, and his tongue swirls around to get every drop of your slick.
“o-oh my gosh!— that feels so good,” you cry out, writhing underneath him. your hands tangle in his hair, tugging lightly as the never-before-felt sensation overwhelms you.
he finds it almost funny how you squirm. after finally getting a substantial fill of your taste, he pulls away, but not without leaving a sloppy kiss to your clit. noticing how your thighs twitch in anticipation, he gives the fat of your pussy a few pats as if to tell it to be patient, before sitting back on his heels. “let me get a condom and we can finally get to the good bit, okay?”
before you can even think about it, your hand shoots out to his arm, fingers trembling slightly as you hurriedly speak, your eyes avoiding his. “w-wait, i… i’m not on birth control, but i bought plan b, so, um…”
keigo’s tongue darts out to wet his lips as he takes in what you were telling him, a short laugh escaping him. “you’re crazy, you know that?” he asks, yet he’s crawling back onto the bed, settling in front of you again with a lopsided grin on his face. “you really that desperate for a creampie you bought a morning after in advance?”
“it… it was for protection…” you half-lie, your face burning.
“sure. or, maybe,” he suggests, pulling you by the hips close to him so that the plush head of his cock poked at your slit, before slowly rubbing his length against your folds, “you just wanted to feel every fucking inch of a real dick— am i right?”
when you nod honestly, he lets out a groan, continuing to tease your pussy with his movements, your pooling slick coating the underside of his length. “you excited?” he asks, watching the way your eyes stay glued to where the two of you meet, your breath hitching everytime he's juuust right about to slip in.
“mhm… pl-please…” you whisper, shivering as your pussy flutters against him, your body crying for the delicious and hot stretch you’d only ever imagined until now.
unable to keep his composure any longer, keigo finally stops toying with you, and lines himself up properly. the two of you then watch as the tip of his dick disappears into your heat, before sinking himself deep inside in one smooth thrust.
“ooh, big stretch, yeah?” he cooes, until a groan escapes him from how your walls grip tight around him. he lifts up your hips, so that the underside of your thighs rested on top of his, watching how your tits bounce when he does. “good girl, fuck— fucking suckin' me in…”
from the start, keigo sets the pace hard and fast, knowing that you could take it, and that you were craving it. each stroke was intense, and the moment his cockhead kissed what felt like was your cervix, you quickly made up your mind that sex was infinitely better than any toy you could ever use. the heavy weight of a body behind deep thrusts, with rough hands holding you down as you were used for your partner's liking, all while mean words were whispered into your ears, had you gripping the bedsheets above you in an effort to ground yourself as you realized that you were going to get addicted to this.
“oh my god— you’re so, sho deep!” you babble, back arching as his pelvis grinded against your clit, legs wrapping around his waist in hopes he could somehow go deeper.
he laughs as you begin to rock back to meet his thrusts, leaning down and wrapping his hand around your throat like he did before. “you like it?”
a noise in between a whimper and a moan rips itself out of you at the gentle pressure, your mind going blank, and your hands reach up to the firm chokehold he had on you as if begging for him to keep his grip there. “oh my god— yesyesyes! i, ah…”
another groan escapes him, this time at the sound of your voice, and he feels you gush and flutter around his pistoning cock like he thought you would. “you like being treated rough? like my hand around your neck?”
“yes, yeah— please!”
“please what, baby?”
as his balls slap against the underside of your pussy, your eyes shut tight, pleasure beginning to build deep in your core. “i, please, please make me cum— i’m really close, please, don’t stop!”
“you wanna cream on my cock?” keigo laughs, the sound breathless as he sees the way your tongue lolls out your mouth, drool dribbling down your chin, making you look like a dog. “gonna make a mess f’me?”
you nod frantically, letting out a squeal when he hits that spongy spot inside, babbling some more. “keigo— c-cum in me, please cum in me…”
“such a good fucking girl,” he hisses, teeth sinking into his lower lip as your walls begin to spasm around him, his dick pulsating inside you as he nears his own orgasm. “you want me to cum inside you? fucking breed this little pussy of yours?”
“yes, ah— i’m cumming! i’m—” you cry out, your nails pressing crescent moons into his wrist as ecstasy crashes down on you, the high more brutal than you anticipated.
“fuck,” is all keigo manages to grit out, his grip moving down to your hips as he releases thick warm ropes deep into your womb, the sensation making your toes curl.
collapsing forward, his forehead comes to rest on yours as the two of you catch your breaths, sweat-slick bodies twitching as the aftershocks ripple throughout you two. noticing the way your half-lidded eyes stare at his lips, he smirks, brushing them against yours.
as the two of you share tender, soft kisses, albeit, bad, due to your inexperience, he eventually pulls out his softened length from you. when the semen inside you threatens to spill out, he gently gathers some on his fingers and tenderly pushes it back into you, plugging you up just as you would want. finally, he then comes to lay next to you.
“was it good?” he asks, seeing your blissful expression, clearing his throat when it’s more croak than question.
“yes…” you mumble, caught a bit off guard when his arm wraps around your shoulder to pull you close to him.
he chuckles, letting you rest against him. “i’m glad. now, which of your little mangas should we read next?”
ꉂ ᵎᵎ a/n: yes it is a izuku body pillow i missed him while writing this
My mind keeps going back to the little blurb I read where Qifrey and reader get caught making out by the girls and how they never get time to actually do anything fun(if YK what I mean) bc the girls always need him or Olruggio somehow catches them , I find it hilarious and I was wondering if you could do a fic like this bc the creator said that the blurb would probably never be continued
I would highkey give you my soul if you did this (but ofc if you don't wanna that's understandable!)
I seriously love your Qifrey fics tho 🤍🫶
hey, so i took way longer on this than i should have and i wrote far more than i needed to, so congratulations LMAO
We Interrupt Your Regularly Scheduled Program
Summary: You would have to take a crowbar to Qifrey in order to pry him off of you. Hilariously, there are four children in the house who know the exact moment to interrupt you.
Pairing: Qifrey/Reader, Qifrey/Original Female Characters
Genre: Romance/Humor
Rating: T/M
Word count: 3239
Monday, 5:32pm
The kitchen is quiet, the children you just finished feeding are now off playing in the fields that surround the atelier. There’s a soft hum coming from one of Qifrey’s water spells as it rolls dishes within its sphere. You stand with your gaze towards the window, watching the birds catch the evening breeze. Every so often you hear laughter echo from the fields, the girls’ voices filled with nothing but amusement.
You’re drying plates over the sink but your hand stills when you feel an invisible weight bare down on your shoulders.
Hm, he’s staring again.
Qifrey sits behind you at the table, like he always does when a meal is finished, and watches. If he doesn’t need to start a lesson or have a pressing matter to attend to, he waits for you to finish. You adore it, truly. It gives you uninterrupted time with him, a moment to talk about the day and, well, gossip a little.
But right now, he didn’t seem to have the energy to chat but he did have the energy for other things.
Qifrey very rarely shows intimate affection publicly, even within the home he keeps it limited. A kiss on the cheek here, a hug there. Things that would be done in passing. He is…passionate, yes, but he has an excellent way of communicating his needs without outwardly expressing them. He’s all looks and innuendos and when spoken in that smooth cadence of his you melt every time.
He does have his moments, however, where his own desires become so overwhelming that they spill from him like a broken faucet. Running into a glass that can never be filled. And when that happens, he can’t help but act on them.
You never mind when he does, you quite like it when he loses a little control.
You feel Qifrey’s hand smooth over your hips and settle on your stomach. He presses into your back, his chest molding against you as he rests his head on your shoulders. He plants a kiss at the junction, his teeth skimming your flesh. You pull away, but only half heartedly, as you laugh, “Qifrey, enough. I need to finish this.” There is no bite in your tone.
Qifrey persists, his lips ghosting your ear as he chuckles. You feel a chill shoot up your spin. “You look beautiful.”
You snort, “I’m covered in cooking grease and smell like flour dough.”
“Still so very beautiful,” he mutters, trailing kisses down your neck and across your shoulder, pulling down your loose top so he can access it easier. You make no move to shove him off. You even lean into it, actually.
When you place your last dish in the clean pile beside you, you lay your towel down and turn to face your husband. Your hips rest against the stone counter, cool in comparison to the Qifrey’s heat.
The simple motion only fuels him more, and he pushes forward. You laugh and hold him back, “What has gotten into you!” He mutters something low and desperate and suddenly your lips are covered by his. You melt immediately, and curse your own weakness. His touch is hot and relentless and a soft moan leaves you when Qifrey’s hands float up and down your sides. Your hands rise to his face, cup his cheeks and you curl into him as he surges. You’re pressed so closely together that if you weren’t careful you would mold into one. Honestly, you wouldn’t complain if you did.
When he pulls away for a split second, you gasp, “Q-qifrey, what in the world—ah!” You gasp when he hikes up your right leg, leaving you unbalanced for a second before he wraps it around his waist. You rotate your hips to keep from falling, and he tucks his head into the crook of your neck again. You hear him groan as he adjusts and hooks the two of you together.
You feel his hand dance down the side of your curled leg. His fingers hovering before finding the end of her long skirts and slipping them beneath the layers. He pushes fabric up, inch by agonizing inch, revealing your embroidered stockings beneath. His hand searches and searches until he finds your warm thigh hidden beneath it all. His long lithe fingers wrap around your leg and squeeze. You jerk and scold him, “Qifrey!’ He does it again but this time it’s slow and tactile. You feel each pad of his fingers press gently into your skin before he caresses the side of your thigh. Outer, then inner, far too close to the heat of your body. You feel him smile when you whine.
Your head falls back and you let him do as he wishes, pushing and pulling against your body, biting steadily into your flesh. The one hand not supporting your weight against the counter finds purchase in his soft hair, you twirl the strands between your fingers, each light tug eliciting a sigh from him, his hands are creeping further up, tucking beneath your—
“Mama!”
The two of you scatter like there is a fire at your feet. Qifrey turns away from the door, covering his face as he hunches his shoulders. You can see the blush on his cheeks and the crazed daze in his eyes. His hands tremble and he cups them against his mouth.
You scramble to adjust your skirts, kicking out the bunched up layers and folding down your apron. You rush to pull your top back over your shoulder, just now realizing that the side of your chest was almost entirely out.
“Yes, Coco?” you smooth down your wild hair, and feign a calm demeanor. You hear feet pad against the wood and the small girl turns the corner.
She has dirt on her cheeks and leaves in her hair, a clear sign of her outdoor adventures. She’s a bit breathless but otherwise looks fine. She, unsurprisingly, has three brush buddies stacked on her person, two on her shoulders and one on the top of her capless head. That one’s eyes narrow as if it knows what you are up to. Perverts, it accuses. You ignore it.
“The brushbuddies got out again.” Her voice is light but clearly concerned.
You sigh, wiping your hands on your apron. Ever since Qifrey made a sanctuary for them they’ve managed to find every way to escape. Security spells be damned, nothing seemed to work. You glance at Qifrey and he’s suddenly found interest in one of the kitchen cupboards. He’s rearranging bowls that don’t need to be rearranged. The tips of his ears are red.
“Alright, I’m on my way. Make sure they don’t cause any trouble, okay?”
Coco smiles and nods, “we’re going to gather them all!” she goes to turn on her heel but pauses, “Oh, hello Master Qifrey!”
Qifrey turns to her, and you watch as he puts his hands behind his back to hide the trembling. “Hello, Coco,” he says gently, but there is a hitch in his voice. “Better hurry before our friends get lost.”
Coco gasps, “Right!” and she’s gone as quick as she arrived, taking her little companions with her.
You look at Qifrey and smile slyly, “Are you okay, Master Qifrey?” You tilt your head innocently. “You seem a bit…disheveled.” Qifrey looks at you from over his glasses, those bright blue eyes intense.
“Perfectly well, my dear.” His gaze roves over your figure and they linger on the marks he’s left along your neck, you subconsciously move to cover them better, “you best catch up to the girls, they’ll need your help.”
“Of course,” you leave, fighting the urge to look back.
You can still feel his gaze on you. You always do.
Thursday, 11:46pm
It’s dark out and the atelier is silent. The girls were sent to bed nearly two hours ago and the brushbuddies, surprisingly, stayed sheltered in their domicile.
You’re standing in front of your bedroom mirror, a hand carved piece that was made by a craftsman in town. There’s a seal on the back that makes the edges of the glass illuminate with just a tap.
You see Qifrey is already settled in bed through its reflection. The candle light beside him flickers languidly. He’s focused on a book in his hands, flipping through pages slowly. Your gaze falls to his fingers, nimble and precise as you remember how they felt on your legs. You shiver, and adjust your gown, pulling it off the shoulders casually. The cool night air raises your flesh.
You stalk towards him but he makes no indication that he’s noticed. His lips move silently as he echoes the words in his book, his eyes trail each line. Left to right, left to right, as he flips to another page. There is something ethereal about him in this light, the way it shadows his chin and highlights his cheeks. It brightens his eyes in an intoxicating way.
You prowl around to your side of the bed and he, intuitively, lifts the sheets for you. When you crawl under them but do not lay, he pauses. He suffers from regular bouts of insomnia, so you waiting up for him to rest was not frequent. There have been nights you have slept with him reading and woken to him doing the same. The book he started with finished and another already began.
He looks at you curiously, “is something the matter?”
You say nothing as you pluck the book from his hand and straddle his waist. He doesn’t protest and he doesn’t pull away, but his eyes darken. He looks up at you as you shuffle closer, knees bunching the fabric at his hips. His chin rests on your collar as you tilt his head back and you lean down for a very deep and very anticipated kiss.
The first thing you notice is that he smells like lavender, and he tastes like mint. He moans, low in his throat as his hands travel to cup the back of your thighs. You jolt at the coolness of his touch but settle when you feel his hands find purchase just below your bottom.
You both rock into one another, it’s a steady rhythm. Slow, patient and practiced. Qifrey was never one to rush things in the bedroom. He said it wasn’t right, and that he always needed time to take you in. Savior you. He wanted you both to melt into each other before dissolving into the sheets.
You lean in, as close as your body will allow, lips pulling away just slightly to rotate your head and repeat it all over again. Tongue and teeth and nothing but heat are exchanged between the two of you. He’s louder than you are, and you smirk when he whimpers.
Your hands are glued to his face keeping him there but he doesn’t protest. He never does. You pull back for a split second to catch your breath and just as you push forward again—
“Master Qifrey? Mama?”
You hold back a groan of frustration as Tetia’s voice is heard on the other side of your door. Qifrey’s hands slide to your waist and you rock back to rest on his lap as you pull away. “Yes, Tetia?” Qifrey calls, “what’s the matter?”
“I-I can’t sleep—“ she sounds defeated and despite your clearly unsatisfied state your children’s needs always come first. Tetia has been having nightmares for the better half of the month. After a particularly nasty accident with a new spell falling asleep, and staying asleep, have been far more challenging than any new lesson.
You throw back the sheets and roll onto your side of the bed before leaning against the headboard. There’s a part of you that is irritated, you’ve been interrupted enough this week but the other part of you can’t be mad about it. The girls come to you and Qifrey with most of their troubles and you wouldn’t want to ruin that by turning them away.
You’d just have to act like a wild teenager on a different day of the week.
Qifrey sighs and stands, slipping his feet into a pair of slippers Agott made before shuffling towards the door. In one swift movement he opens it and Tetia barrels into his waist white knuckling his shirt.
“Tetia…” he tries to pry her hands off to get a look at her but she only buries herself deeper into his stomach.
“I keep seeing it,” her voice is muffled, “and I hate-e it but it won’t go a-away.”
“There, there,” Qifrey pats the top of her head as he closes the door. He leans down and picks her up, supporting her under her legs. She wraps them around his waist and her arms circle his neck before he waddles back to bed. She’s certainly too big to carry, but until Qifrey is physically incapable of doing so he will always hold them.
You lift your arms in invitation, and Qifrey gently places her in your embrace. You hum as you bring her close, moving aside her braided hair and adjusting her pajamas to lay comfortably. She clings to you like a kitten.
Qifrey settles on the other side, pulling the blanket over the three of you. You smile gently as Tetia nuzzles in closer and Qifrey offers an apologetic smile. You shake your head, the chimes outside of your window only emphasizing the movement. It’s okay, you say silently, she needs us more.
He turns and removes his glasses before delicately blowing out the rest of the candles, the room dips into a familiar comforting darkness and you further situate Tetia against the pillows. She curls into you instantly.
“Good night, girls.”
“Goodnight Master Qifrey,” Tetia whispers sleepily, you’re surprised she’s still awake. She’s usually out as soon as her head hits the pillows.
“Goodnight, my love.” You press your lips lightly to Tetia’s forehead, “I’ll see you in the morning.”
Friday, 6:21pm
Qifrey rattles the table. Pushing every non-vital tool to the ground. Pens and paper scatter as he lifts you up and lays you across his work station. Your legs dangle, just barely brushing the floor as he shadows you. He’s moving so quickly you’re struggling to keep up.
“Don’t move,” he mutters against your lips. You hum and wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him in. You’re hidden beneath him but can still feel the warmth of the sun poking through the wooden window panes. Jars of ink slosh beside your head and you worry for a second that they will spill on you. Qifrey moves them away with one hand while his other cups your cheek, keeping your focus on him.
When every inanimate object is no longer in the line of fire, his hand tucks underneath the hem of your shirt, fingers brushing your navel. You gasp and squirm, laughter following when he bites your bottom lip. You try and sit up to push into him but he keeps you secured to the table, you opt to deepen the kiss from below.
You don’t know how it escalated to this. Really, it was all very quick. Okay, well maybe you do. But, what can you say? It’s been a long long week.
You’d both been sitting casually in his study only a few moments ago. You read quietly, happy to just be in his presence, while he sketched out new sigils on the large circular table. Qifrey was working diligently and you had found your way to his side. You’d needed a break, the chair was making your back ache after just a few hours of lounging.
You watched him over his shoulder, admiring the way his muscles moved with each steady stroke of his hand. When you stepped closer, hands held innocent behind your back, breath just ghosting over his ear, he snapped. The pen in his hand splintered in half and he pulled you under him.
Now you’re here. Flat against the table, hands exploring him with no thought other than his mouth molded to yours.
He’s got you so tied up in his affection that you don’t have the opportunity to do anything but cling to him. You know your lips will be swollen by morning and there'll be plenty more marks across your person to match the already fading ones.
“All week,” Qifrey mutters against your lips, “all week and this is the only time we have been able to—”
There’s a shuffle from the other side of the door, before you hear a placid, “What’s for dinner?”
Qifrey curses and buries his head in the crook of your neck. You hold back a laugh as you thread your fingers through his hair. Neither of you move, you don’t need to, the door is locked.
“Richeh, honey, I’ll be down to cook in a minute.” You’re a little breathless but manage to keep a steady tone.
“But we are—”
“Girls, how about we go out to eat. Your teacher is busy and needs your mother’s help.” You feel Qifrey’s shoulders relax as Olruggio’s voice floats under the door. He must’ve come by early, he usually joins the family for dinner this time of the week.
There’s a series of cheers and the sound of padding feet as the girls run to get their things. You’ll have to pay him back, those girls can eat their weight and then some when they’re hungry. Dinner won’t be cheap.
You hear a thud as Olruggio leans against the door, “You two owe me. We’ll be back in a few hours. Take advantage of that.”
“Thank you, Olly,” You say. Qifrey has already started kissing up the side of your neck. Biting every few paces. You grit your teeth to keep from making any sounds and tug at his hair to stop him. “J-just—Qifrey wait a second—hey! I said wait!” You yank his head back and snort at his expression. His pupils are blown out and there is a glaze over his eyes, but they’re honed in on you. He looks drunk and predatory at the same time. His eyes track every shift of your body. How your lips move when you speak, how your chest raises and lowers with each breath and how you glance at the door. Qifrey grumbles, fighting against your grip, desperate to get back to you. “Just let me know how much it is.” you finish, ignoring the ravenous man above you.
You’re impressed that he’s not moving without a command. He’s far stronger than you are and could easily break free. He’s simply not doing so out of respect, and well, obedience.
“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Olruggio mutters, “just get it out before we get back.” His footsteps fade but you can hear the pointed instructions he gives the children.
When the main door chimes its closure in the distance Qifrey takes it as a release and pounces.
“Now,” he pants, looking down at you, arms on either side of your head. All you see is him. Your chest heaves and he smiles slyly as you push yourself up on your elbows, tilting your chin towards him, so close your breath mingles, “where were we?”
What if someone at a market mistook Qifrey and Reader of the parents of one of the girls. Who would be the one to go along with it to escape, who would try and quickly correct them or would one or both of them be having an internal freak out.
This could work for both them being in a relationship or before hand
Qifrey and Reader getting mistaken as parents by a vendor!
Qifrey x reader
cw: none
AN: I'm alive, at least I think I am. After having to write my diploma which is 70 pages of nothing but science this was such a welcome change you have no idea. it's still just a blurb as I'm getting into writing fics again. Thank you for the request Anon and for being so patient with me 🤍🤍
"If it meant being with you"
The morning air is bright in that particular way it only ever is on market days—cool enough to wake you fully, warm enough to promise something sweet later. You can hear the town long before you see it: chatter spilling over itself, laughter ringing like little bells, the clatter of carts rolling over stone.
Behind you, footsteps shuffle.
“Teacher, wait—no, not like that, you’ll step on—”
A soft thud and a sharp “Ow!” follow, immediately answered by a chorus of panicked apologies.
You turn just in time to see Qifrey pivot gracefully on his heel, catching Agott by the sleeve before she fully collides with a stack of wooden crates. His movements are as precise as ever, a quiet magic to them even without a spell circle in sight.
“Careful,” he says gently, though his tone carries its usual edge of amused reprimand. “The market is not an obstacle course.”
“I stopped because you ran,” Coco adds, half exasperated, half delighted, her eyes already darting toward a stall selling ribbons dyed every color imaginable. “Teacher Qifrey said not to get separated!”
Tetia nods vigorously beside her, clutching the strap of her bag with both hands. “It’s so crowded… but also so fun!”
You smile at them, the expression coming easily. It’s rare to see all of them like this—relaxed, buzzing with curiosity instead of tension or fear. Market days are one of Qifrey’s few indulgences for his students, framed as “practical observation of everyday magic,” but really… it’s just a day to be kids.
Qifrey straightens, then glances toward you.
“Shall we proceed?” he asks, offering a hand in your direction—more habit than necessity, but you take it anyway.
His hand is warm. Always is.
You fall into step beside him as the group moves forward, the students fanning out just enough to look at everything while still staying close. Stalls stretch endlessly ahead: jars of glowing ink, bundles of herbs tied with twine, enchanted brooms leaning lazily against walls, pastries dusted with sugar that sparkle faintly under the sun.
Coco gasps every few steps.
“Look at that quill!”
“That bread is floating—!”
“Is that a charm for faster knitting?!”
Qifrey answers questions as they come, patient and attentive, but you can feel the shift in him today. He’s… lighter. Less guarded. The rigid line that often defines his posture softens as he walks beside you, shoulders easing, steps unhurried.
At one stall, Tetia tugs gently on your sleeve.
“Um—can I show you something?”
You lean down as she points to a tiny glass orb filled with swirling light. “It’s beautiful,” you say honestly. “It looks like a captured sunset.”
Her eyes light up. “That’s what I thought too!”
Qifrey watches the exchange, lips curving faintly.
For a while, everything is perfect.
Then it happens.
You’re stopped near a fruit stand—Agott arguing (politely, for once) with the vendor about the authenticity of a charm carved into the scale—when a woman nearby laughs softly.
“Oh,” she says, nudging the man beside her. “Look at them.”
You glance up, confused, just in time to hear her add warmly:
“What a lovely family.”
The words settle into the air like pollen.
Your brain catches up immediately.
Qifrey’s… does not.
You feel it through his hand before you even look at him—the sudden tension, the minute tightening of his grip. He stiffens, posture snapping back into that familiar, composed line, as if bracing for impact.
“P-pardon?” he says, polite smile strained just a fraction too tight.
The woman gestures vaguely toward the students, who are now clustered together, comparing fruit sizes with great seriousness.
“Your children,” she says. “They’re so well-behaved. You must be very proud.”
There’s a beat.
Then two.
You feel Qifrey freeze completely.
Oh.
Oh.
You bite back a laugh—not unkind, just… fond.
Before Qifrey can respond (or combust), you gently squeeze his hand and step forward, offering the woman an easy smile.
“Thank you,” you say lightly. “They’re a handful, but they mean well.”
The woman beams, satisfied, and turns back to her shopping as if she hasn’t just dropped a social spell of unprecedented power.
The moment she’s gone, Qifrey leans toward you, voice low and flustered.
“Y-you didn’t have to—!”
“It’s fine,” you murmur back, still smiling. “Really. It’s an honest mistake.”
He opens his mouth, closes it, adjusts his hat.
“…I see.”
His ears are pink.
The students, oblivious, continue their debate.
“Teacher Qifrey,” Coco says suddenly, “can we get these? They’re only a little enchanted!”
Qifrey clears his throat. “We’ll discuss it.”
Agott narrows her eyes. “You’re acting weird.”
“I am not.”
“You are.”
You step in before that turns into something else. “How about we find lunch first?”
That settles it. Food always does.
You walk on, the market swallowing you up again—but something has shifted. Qifrey is quieter now, thoughtful in a way that pulls his gaze inward. His hand remains in yours, though, and he doesn’t let go.
Not once.
Lunch is eaten on the edge of a fountain, the students sprawled around with bread and fruit and far too much energy. Coco chatters about spell theory, Tetia shares bites of pastry, Agott pretends not to enjoy herself but absolutely does.
Qifrey watches them with a softness he rarely allows himself.
You watch him.
Eventually, he stands. “I’ll… be right back,” he says. “There’s something I need to check.”
You know better. It’s an escape, not an errand.
“I’ll come with you,” you say, rising smoothly.
He pauses, then nods.
You leave the students under Coco’s very earnest supervision and slip away down a quieter side street. The noise of the market fades to a hum, replaced by the soft creak of wooden signs and the distant call of gulls.
For a moment, neither of you speaks.
Then Qifrey exhales.
“…I apologize,” he says suddenly.
You blink. “For what?”
“For being… unsettled earlier.” He adjusts his gloves, fingers precise but restless. “I should have corrected that woman.”
You tilt your head. “Did you want to?”
He stops walking.
Sunlight filters through the awnings above, painting his mask in soft gold. When he turns to face you, his expression is unusually open—unguarded.
“I was caught off guard,” he admits quietly. “The implication was… unexpected.”
You smile gently. “It happens. People assume things.”
“Yes,” he says. “They do.”
There’s something else there. You can feel it, hovering between you like a spell not yet drawn.
You wait.
Qifrey hesitates, then sighs—long and honest.
“…I did not dislike it.”
Your heart stutters.
He meets your gaze fully now, voice low but steady.
“The idea, I mean. Being seen that way. With you.” A pause. “As something… shared.”
The market breeze carries the scent of apples and ink and warm bread.
You swallow. “Qifrey—”
“I know it’s foolish,” he continues, quickly now, as if afraid to lose momentum. “And inappropriate, and I would never allow such assumptions to affect the students, but—”
You reach out, fingers brushing his sleeve.
“Hey,” you say softly. “It wasn’t foolish.”
He stills at your touch.
You smile, small and sincere. “If anything, it was kind of sweet.”
His breath catches.
“…Sweet?”
“Yeah.” You chuckle. “I figured brushing it off was easier than making it a whole thing. They didn’t mean anything by it.”
Qifrey studies you, searching your face.
“And… if they had?” he asks quietly.
You hold his gaze, steady.
“Then I guess I wouldn’t mind either.”
The silence that follows is full—not empty.
Qifrey’s shoulders relax, tension draining from him like a released enchantment. When he smiles, it’s soft, genuine, and just a little shy.
“…If that title meant being together with you,” he says, barely above a whisper, “I believe I would welcome it.”
Your chest warms.
You don’t rush it. You don’t need to.
You just step closer, resting your forehead lightly against his mask, laughter and market noise distant and irrelevant.
“Well,” you murmur, “we’d better get back before the kids adopt a goat or something.”
He laughs—quiet, real.
“Yes,” he says. “Let’s.”
And together, you turn back toward the sound of your very not-children waiting for you.
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note: thank you for the support on my previous post! i received some requests for more qifrey headcanons and i am here to deliver – if you haven't seen the first iteration and would like to, you can check it out below
Part 1: Qifrey NSFW Alphabet
18+ mdni !!
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the sign
a discreet way he tends to let his partner know he wants to meet them in the bedroom is through a small, lingering touch
ex. after dinner as he’s gathering the dirtied plates, he might reach out to drag a slow finger across his partner’s shoulder on his way to the sink
it never fails
doting kisses
big fan of taking his partner’s hand to his face and kissing it while holding eye contact just to watch them flush
also when positioning his partner's legs around his hips, will press a soft kiss to the inside of their foot/ankle before continuing
soft spoken
likes to whisper in the shell of his partner’s ear as a form of teasing both before and during sex
soft and tantalizing
usually follows it up with a nip to the earlobe for good measure
hands in his hair
adding on to the previous post, he absolutely melts when his partner scratches his head or runs their hands through his hair
like borderline has him purring
just for him
will leave small hickeys/nip marks but only on areas of his partner’s body hidden away when clothed
his personal favorite is by the hips or inner thighs — he’s sure to keep it tasteful, just enough to remind them he was there
a contradiction
thinks his partner looks irresistible when their hair is mussed and wet, either from the rain or after a shower
bonus points if their clothes are a bit damp and stuck to their skin
strange considering his irritation with water as a whole, he doesn’t know why and doesn’t care to explain it
adoring
loves to grab his partner’s chin
both in a charged way or just affectionate way when looking at/speaking to them
“just let me admire you for a moment”
a time and a place
the only time he kisses sloppily is when working across his partner’s body; wet and hot over the slope of their shoulder, down their navel, across their hip bone, between their legs
never on the mouth though; kisses on the mouth can be equally if not more passionate, but not sloppy — he has some decorum
unexpected consequences
sometimes needs to hear his partner say his name for him to come
this does have an unfortunate side effect outside of the bedroom that has, uh, caught him off guard on occasion
appetizing
when feeling particularly experimental, he will bring food into the bedroom
ex. honey for something sweet and a little messy, whipped cream for teasing, ice to make them squirm, cinnamon/mint for hot and cool touches
he’s open to suggestions/feedback, much like he might be with his regular cooking
sweet control
will use a blindfold if requested by his partner, but never on himself as it thrusts his body into a panic when he’s unable to see
despite his partner likely not caring in the slightest, he can’t help but feel guilty about the double standard
results in him subconsciously giving more praise whenever his partner’s eyes are covered
he knows best
will use his body to manipulate his partner for their own good
now hear me out
he withholds sex if he notices his partner neglecting themselves
ex. if they’ve been staying up late working or not eating enough, he will give them the ultimatum that he won’t take them to bed/they won’t take him to bed until they’ve had some food or gotten some rest
“i will not take advantage of you in such a state where your mind and body are unsound”
grins smugly as he says it, knows exactly what he’s doing
hard and soft (no, not that kind)
on days where he’s more pent up or stressed his grip can be a tad rougher
but he’s sure to sooth those spots with small circles of his thumb every so often while in the heat of it all as a reminder that he cares
power complex
something about his partner getting on their knees in front of him sends a delicious thrum down his spine
he’s reluctant to admit his inclination for dominance at first because of the subordination it implies — he doesn’t like thinking of himself as one who enjoys having power over another in that way
but, through his partner’s reassurance, he allows himself to indulge it in the bedroom
why choose when you can have both?
speaking of his preference towards dominance, he is still a switch and can enjoy being in a submissive headspace for a partner he feels very safe with
he knows its good for him to relinquish control now and then, and admittedly likes getting fucked silly
and he gets the best night of sleep after
divine timing
when he gets close, his head slightly cocks to the side, his eyebrows furrow together, and his breathing becomes uneven
he does his best to time his orgasm with his partner’s — both for the intimacy of it and also because its much hotter that way
how idealistic of him
quite the utilitarian
doesn't feel the need to stop after the first orgasm, especially if his partner asks for a second round
he usually will ride out the high of an orgasm to the brink of overstimulation
never too far, just enough to where not a moment of pleasure is wasted for him and his partner
touchy feely
despite his avoidant tendencies, he can be physically clingy
ex. partner might wake up one morning to find his arms slid under their shirt and wrapped around their torso to hold them close, or his palm resting beneath their waistband
not in a sexual way, he just wants to feel their skin on his — its easier for him to confess his need for closeness without words
note: there is a surprisingly small amount of explicit qifrey headcanons out there and i’m determined to fix that — apologies in advance if anything i’ve listed is contradictory or doesn’t line up with the story, i’m only a little bit into the manga as of writing this
Part 2 is here! >> Qifrey NSFW Headcanons (pt. 2)
Olruggio version >> Olruggio NSFW Alphabet
Easthies version >> Easthies NSFW Alphabet
18+ mdni !!
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A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)
he does NOT play about aftercare, he's pretty regimented and thoughtful so the aftercare would be planned well before foreplay even begins — soap and towel on the bathroom counter ready for a bubble bath, favorite food/snacks/drinks prepped and on standby, clean blankets to replace the ones he’s sure to ruin
he secretly likes to be pampered every now and then too but doesn’t expect it, although whoever he loves enough to take to bed would likely pick up on that and make sure he is treated to it
with no exception, his partner will be sleeping in his arms or vice versa the rest of the night
B = Body part (their favorite body part of their partner’s)
eyes (in a perverted way) and mouth/neck (less perverted way)
VERY into eye contact (ironic, i know) likes seeing that twinkle in his partner’s eye when he first sinks into them or they sink into him, likes watching them get teary-eyed from the pleasure, and likes watching their eyes roll back when they are close
does like to stick his fingers in his partner’s mouth now and again ngl, but mainly loves the mouth and neck for kissing; delicate, rough, needy, teasing — the options are endless and they all produce different results, he loves to experiment to see what gets under their skin, what makes them tick
C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)
has a fascination with it tbh, he views it as soul binding in a way, so if he trusts someone enough to fuck them, he's coming inside (with permission of course) or vice versa as a way to seal the connection — definitely some possessive undertones there that he would never admit to
he especially loves just watching his partner come, its raw and visceral in a way he doesn’t typically allow himself to indulge
prefers not to come on his partner’s face unless requested but does enjoy when his partner comes on his LOL idk when he does it to his partner it feels blasphemous but when they do it to him its just hot
D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)
has thought about the potential use of forbidden magic in the bedroom for pleasure — purely theoretical, never put into practice
E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)
has had very few partners, but there was plenty of intimacy with each that has brought him a decent amount of experience, but admittedly not as much as most people
he is observant and patient though, so give him a little time and he will figure anything out
F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)
lotus or spooning
also appreciates missionary, can’t go wrong with the classics
G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)
his lighthearted demeanor is still there but his focus can make him come off more intense, he appreciates the human nature of sex and doesn't let his partner get embarrassed when things dont exactly go according to plan
he’d smooth over mishaps with kisses, like if his partner slipped or knocked their ankle on the bedside table he’d press a kiss to it as he continues, very sweet and attentive
H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)
well groomed but not hairless unless preferred by his partner
I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)
perfect mix of psychological and physical, he knows that appealing to someone’s fantasies is the quickest way to succeed in the bedroom
romantic in the way that he is a very devoted and sincere lover, filthy in the way that he gets completely overtaken during sex, his usual composure becomes something still controlled but more depraved and daring
also big on holding hands during sex, he doesn’t care how cliché it is
J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)
does not have time to do it as much as he should, ends up pent up more often than not
if he has a keepsake from his partner, he will sometimes jack off while holding it in his other hand, ex. a pendant, a cap ornament, a piece of clothing (bonus points if it smells like them)
and he will feel guilty about it every time
K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)
already kind of dropped a few but here’s some more: bondage, kneeling, begging, praise, worship, aphrodisiacs, cockwarming, multiple orgasms, temperature play/wax play, sub/dom dynamic
he’s definitely a switch but prefers being dominant because its an easier headspace for him to be in — specifically soft dom/pleasure dom or a mix of both depending on the day
every now and then can enjoy some mild verbal degradation but only at his expense, never his partner’s
heavily into foreplay, wants to make sure he’s fully there with his partner in mind, body, and soul, nothing less
also has some very mild sadistic/masochistic tendencies that he refuses to examine too closely
L = Location (favorite places to do the do)
prefers doing it at home using a soundproofing spell, other than that as long as its somewhere private that provides him the space and time he needs to get him and his partner off he’s open to it
M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)
when his partner moans his name, having his hair pulled/tugged on, love bites, starting foreplay over clothes, undressing each other
really enjoys teasing, it makes the inevitable that much more rewarding
a nice perfume/cologne can also get his blood pumping
N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)
anything dangerous or too irresponsible is probably a no-go
very much needs explicit consent, anything less is a no to him
O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)
likes giving oral more than receiving but is not opposed
very good but agonizingly slow, he draws it out on purpose just to see his partner squirm and beg
occasionally likes to make them come from his mouth alone first, likes to get them all worked up again for a second or sometimes third orgasm before he’s even had his first, his patience knows no bounds
although he’s skilled with his mouth, he’s even better with his hands — long, dexterous fingers in tandem with his sharp observation and adaptability make him an expert at building his partner up and breaking them apart
P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)
kind of toxic of him but depends on his stress/mood
the more stressed he is the rougher he gets (with consent ofc), rough pounding and harsh grip but usually paired with lots of kisses and sweet nothings/praise, ex. “you are doing so well/you take me so well” and “you are so beautiful” or just “i love you”
when’s he’s less stressed, he’s more composed and measured, taking his time, sensual and loving but pacing himself until him and his partner are on the verge of insanity, when like this his words can be more teasing/toying, playfully frustrating, lots of “what was that? i couldn’t quite make that out?” and “you must ask politely” or “beg for me”
he’s funny like that
Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)
not opposed, but he usually finds that its more difficult to be spontaneous than it is to simply plan in advance
R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)
risk in the sense of experimentation — absolutely
risk in the sense of actual danger to ones health or livelihood/something irreversible — probably not
S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)
high physical stamina and even higher mental stamina
confirmed sleeper build so he can go multiple rounds no sweat if him and his partner so desire and has a mental fortitude that is nearly unbreakable unless he wants it to be
despite that, he can sometimes come quicker than expected if he hasn’t seen his partner in a while — but that does not slow him down, if anything it spurs him on further
T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves)
oh yeah, it practically comes with the territory of being a witch considering all the useful gadgets and tools they create
assuming magic sex toys aren’t forbidden, he might even have a small journal dedicated to the spells used on different toys he comes up with and what type of stimulation they produce, notes which ones his partner seems to enjoy, etc.
U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)
LOVES to tease his partner, almost unfairly so
he knows exactly what words to say to get his partner hot and bothered, how to say them, and what small touch to accompany it for maximum effect
he likes being teased too but he’s not very easy to crack (and is secretly prideful of that fact)
V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)
oh he wants to hear every single sound his partner makes, will sometimes stop mid fucking to explicitly say so if he senses them holding back
he also will be vocal but more through words (ex. talking you through it) and low moans, maybe the occasional whimper if he’s really letting himself relax
W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)
despite his need for privacy, he once had a wet dream in which him and his partner were strolling about the great hall and his partner decided to hide under his robe to pleasure him, when he woke up, he had never been so hard in his life — he sometimes revisits the fantasy when masturbating
on a related note, he really enjoys lazy wake-up sex
X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)
slightly longer than average, pretty pink tip, i’ll let you imagine the rest
Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)
higher than one might expect, but definitely a quality over quantity type of person in the bedroom
Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)
an avid enjoyer of pillow talk but once the conversation settles he tends to get wrapped up in his thoughts, not always in a negative way, he’s just a naturally contemplative person
usually likes to watch his partner fall asleep first, it brings him a sense of peace that makes it easier to drift off himself
Ghost glanced at his sergeant, grunting as he sat down, leaning down to untie his boots.
"Fed 'er." He grunts, undoing the knots. "Was cookin' one of my mum's recipes, felt like it."
He pulls a foot free. "Smell must'a wafted over to 'er 'ouse. She was my neighbour at the time." He explains, Soap listening intently. "Well, not too long later I hear a knock at my door. I check and there's this pregnant bird standing there, askin' if she can have some o' whatever I'm cooking."
Ghost looked up, standing to take his pants off now that his feet are free. "'ow could I say no to tha'?" He scoffs slightly, throwing the balled up pants into the basket in the corner. "Sweet thing like 'er coming up to a man like me? Mum would've come back from the dead if I did."
Soap chuckles a bit, pulling a fresh top over his head. "So ye fed a pregnant lass and she stayed?"
"Aye." Ghost nods, top off, mask pulled off as he begins wiping the eyeblack off his face. "Couldn't refuse even if I wanted too. She was a vision, mate. Big belly, glowing cheeks, and..." He trails off, remembering how cute you'd been, standing at his door, heavily pregnant and hungry for that delicious meal that lured you into his home.
"Lt?"
Ghost grunts. "Kept feedin' 'er. Like a damn cat, she kept coming 'round." He mutters. "Was there when our daughter was born. She put my name on the birth certificate and I knew I wasn't letting 'er go." He says, opening his locker, pausing as he took in the photo taped to the back.
You and your little girl, only a few months old.
From behind him, Soap hums.
"Think if Ah make my mum's pie Ah'll get a pretty lassie too?"
The club had stopped being fun twenty minutes ago.
y/n had reached their limit somewhere between Soap trying to dance on an elevated platform, Gaz losing a bet and getting dragged into karaoke, and Price pretending he was not standing in the corner like a divorced father at a wedding reception.
The music was too loud. The lights were flashing in a way that made his head hurt. Someone had already spilled a drink near his shoes. And worst of all... Ghost had disappeared. Not actually disappeared. Just drifted off somewhere in the club.
Which was, somehow, more irritating.
Y/n stood near the bar with a drink in one hand and an increasingly unimpressed expression on their face, scanning the crowd until Y/n spotted him.
Black shirt. Broad shoulders. Skull balaclava shoved up just enough to drink. Massive frame leaning against the wall like he owned the place and hated every second of it.
Ghost looked perfectly content to stay there for another hour.
Y/n, however, was not. They marched across the room. Stopped directly in front of Ghost.
Ghost looked down at them lazily.
Y/n looked up at him with that calm, pretty expression that always meant they was one inconvenience away from violence. "I'm leaving." Y/n said.
Ghost: "Didn't ask."
Y/n stared at him for one flat second. Then reached out, grabbed Ghost by the front of his belt and waistband and yanked.
Ghost, who could probably deadlift a small vehicle, actually stumbled forward half a step.
"Move." Y/n said, already dragging him.
Ghost stared down at the hand fisted in his belt.
Then at Y/n. Then at the crowd they were now forcing through and instead of resisting like any normal man with dignity might...
He went. Just went. Like a giant, armed, heavily traumatized dog being led out of a public park by a shorty who'd decided walk time was over.
People actually moved out of their way. Partly because Ghost was terrifying. Partly because Y/n looked like they might bite.
Soap was bent over laughing by the time they made it halfway to the exit. "Oh my God." he wheezed.
"Like a bloody pet." Gaz choked on his spit.
Ghost let himself be dragged through the crowd with the same blank expression he wore into gunfights, but there was something deeply wrong with the fact that he was not fighting this at all.
Y/n tugged him again when he lagged. "Keep up."
The cold night air hit them the second the door swung shut behind them, muting the bass and chaos from inside.
Y/n finally let go once they were out on the sidewalk.
Ghost looked down at him.
Y/n crossed their arms. "I told you I didn't want to stay long."
Ghost considered this. Then gave one slow nod, like that was somehow reasonable. "Fair enough."
Y/n exhaled sharply through their nose and looked away, already annoyed all over again.
Ghost stood there beside them, hands in his pockets, like being physically hauled out of a club by his trousers was a perfectly ordinary part of his evening. "You always this bold after ten p.m.?"
Y/n: "I'm always this bold when I'm irritated."
"You were dragging me out like a misbehaving dog." Ghost mumbled which could've came out like a whine.
[Notes: I’m going insane over this little dude, I adore the goofball energy. He’s easily become a new favorite of mine, so enjoy some headcanons as I process the fact I had a CT scan a few days ago and learned I actually have problems, minor ones, but regardless. Either way- ENJOY!!]
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[General Headcanons]
Abel is literally Fall Out Boy, I personally think it’d be funny if it’s his actual band. His band is surprisingly popular in Heaven, his shows get a lot of attention, almost as much as his fathers band.
I like the idea of Abel having piercings, whether they’re just ear piercings or even lip piercings, like snake bites or a lip ring, things I actually draw him with. He just feels like the type to have them.
NOT ONLY does he have piercings, he fidgets with them when he’s anxious, sometimes he does accidentally pull too hard or roll one which causes him to pinch a nerve.
Honestly I feel like Abel has a punk aesthetic, or at least a light one, he’s the type to wear band tees and ripped jeans. Maybe I’ve just seen too much fanart of him wearing it, but I like the vibe.
Abel’s wings aren’t as big as Adam’s but they’re far larger than an average winner, and it takes way too long to preen them, it takes hours and he used to have his dad help take care of them, but now he has Emily and Saint Peter help instead.
Speaking of wings, they are insanely soft, perfect pillows or blankets, and with him being larger than most angels, he usually is the center of any cuddle piles.
Him, Emily, and Saint Peter have cuddle piles, they now also invite Sir Pentious. It’s wonderful, they usually fall asleep.
This man is a goddamn insomniac, I can see his eye bags, he has trouble sleeping and he hasn’t told anyone.
He still has sheep in heaven, most would assume he has a home in the city, but no, he has a little farmhouse where he can keep his sheep. They all have names because he doesn’t have a reason to slaughter them for food now.
I feel like he won’t actually eat anything made of sheep because sheep were part of the reason he was killed, and now he can’t look at the meat the same.
I know a lot of people have the headcanon that Abel smokes weed or something but I don’t think he does, and that is mainly because I fucking hate the smell of the stuff, so, inflict him with it too.
[Romantic Headcanons]
This man is chubby and by god it is wonderful because he is the type of chubby that is also insanely buff. It does not matter how big you are, he will lift you with his hugs, he’s a bearhugger.
Abel absolutely loves any and all physical affection, especially kisses, pepper the kisses on his face and he will melt, he will also do the same thing to you. He will become a blushy mess though, good luck getting him coherent after so many kisses.
He would be the type to have matching necklaces or bracelets, he likes having a reminder of you when you aren’t together, especially when he becomes overwhelmed, it helps ground him.
Abel does not discriminate, big, tall, short, skinny, everything and anything in between, he will adore you with his entire being.
I always do nicknames in these posts so let’s get on with it, they are either the basic, like “Babe”, “Baby”, two of his favorites are “Sweetheart” and “My Angel”, or they’re some of the cheesiest yet cutest names he could come up with at the moment, like “Sweetie Pie” or “Sugar Plum”.
Like I said, this man cuddles, good luck getting up in the morning, cause once he’s out, he’s out like a light, and he’s not letting you go. He also sleeps shirtless most nights, he overheats fast because of his wingspan, so no shirt at night.
Abel works out often, and he actually invites you to watch him work out, or even join him. It does still fluster him when you watch, but he likes talking to you more than listening to music.
If you’re an angel, he will absolutely help you with your wings, they can be a hassle to take care of.
Now, if you’re a sinner, that’s a different story because that relationship would likely be looked down upon, especially if it’s during season one, if it’s after season two, Heaven would be more lenient, Hell…not so much.
Abel likes to spoil his partners, which can get him into some trouble, especially if someone tries to take advantage of it, but unfortunately for them, Abel is not naive, he’ll break the relationship right then and there if he realizes he’s just being used for money or status.
When he’s having a bad episode of insomnia, he likes when you stay awake with him, but he also feels bad, he wants you to rest but he also doesn’t want to be alone, so it’s best to try and comfort him when he starts getting in his own head about things.
SIMON "GHOST" RILEY // established relationships, f!reader, unprotected p in v, big dick!simon, a little awkward and worried!simon
“Okay, I'll just… I'll just make ya a nice cuppa.”
A nice cuppa.
“Simon.”You stopped him as soon as he reached the counter and touched the kettle.
You had no idea why he was acting like that. The evening was wonderful, even very much so. The music was muted in the restaurant, your pasta wasn't too salty, and Simon even fed you a piece of his steak. You refused a glass of wine because he was driving, and you wanted, needed to kiss him without feeling guilty afterwards.
And now you were standing in the middle of his kitchen. In your heels, in the thin-strapped dress you bought especially for this day. For Valentine's Day. Because you knew that your boyfriend would make this day memorable, you didn't even have to ask, he arranged everything himself.
But why hasn't he touched you yet?
Every time your kisses got too hot, your tongues intertwined more tightly, and Simon squeezed your hair against your scalp, causing you to moan, he immediately pulled away. He would run his thumb over your lower lip and gently release you, changing the subject or going into another room altogether. Like now, when he wanted to make tea.
Damn tea.
Simon looked over his shoulder, his brown eyes shining in the kitchen light, his shoulders tense.
And then you reached up with your palms, and, gently pulling the straps off your shoulders, let the dress fall down, right to the floor, settling in soft folds. Your nipples, touching the air, immediately hardened, and you felt goosebumps run all over your body from the realization that you were standing now only in panties and shoes.
Simon exhaled sharply, his eyes slid down your body, over such a perfect body, and then one of his palms clenched into a fist on the counter. He was restraining himself. Been holding himself back so much, trying not to cross the line, not to succumb to your temptation. God knows how much he wanted you. How he wanted to touch your body, to know all the places where a kiss made you moan, wanted to feel you inside…
But he was afraid of hurting you.
And here you were, standing in front of him, almost naked, offering yourself to him, literally wanting him to touch you. So that all these weeks of interrupted moments would finally end.
And the dam broke.
He crossed the kitchen in a couple of steps and scooped you up in his arms, ramming his lips into your mouth. You squeaked in shock, and Simon took advantage of it by thrusting his tongue into your mouth. His hands immediately closed under your ass, squeezing your soft cheeks in his big palms, feeling how it made you press against his torso even harder, rubbing your tits against the fabric of his shirt.
“Fuck...” Simon exhaled, pulling away from your mouth for a second, and immediately heading into the living room.
Your shoes fell off your feet, lost somewhere in the hallway, but you didn't pay any attention to it. Not when Simon clung to your neck, covering your skin with kisses and sucking on the place where your neck and shoulder met, leaving small but sensitive hickeys. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pressing your pussy through the fabric of your panties to the bulge of his pants, which made him bite your skin slightly.
It was what you wanted, what you yearned for so much. To finally feel what he had been running from, what he had been rejecting, what he had been silently saying no to. To feel how really hot and domineering he can be, hungry for your body, weak before you.
“Simon...” You moaned as, still holding you up, he jerked his hips up, rubbing against you.
You were getting wet, so damn wet that if you were sitting down, you'd immediately squeeze your thighs. But he wouldn't let you.
Your nipples were next at the mercy of his lips. You were already in the living room, and, lowering you back onto the upholstery of the armchair, Simon lowered his mouth lower, enclosing your aureoles in his mouth. He played with each of the sensitive nipples in turn, his mouth caressing one while he stroked the other with his thumb. It made you squeak and squirm in his arms, feeling the pleasure grow inside your stomach like wildfire.
But it wasn't enough.
“Please… Please, babe...” You whimpered, running one hand through his hair to get his attention.
Simon was a pussy eater. And if it hadn't been for the pleading in your eyes, if it hadn't been for “babe,” which almost made his cock straighten in his pants, he would have reached down and munch on his dessert. But you wanted something else.
And who was he to turn you down?
Simon gently pulled down your panties (the damn excuse of a panties, in reality a lacy thong), sliding his palms over your thighs. But when, unbuckling his own belt and fly, he paused and looked into your eyes again, and you beat him to it.
“With no condom. No condom, Simon, please, I...”
“Luv.”
He wasn't worried about the damn condom. He was pleased that you trusted him to take you bare, but he would have taken one out of his wallet anyway if you hadn't said otherwise.
“Luv.” That's not what Simon was worried about. “I don't wanna hurt ya.”
It got you confused. You furrowed your brows, still breathing heavily, and looked into his eyes. Hurt? How could he think he could hurt you? All these months that you were together, all these dates, walking through Christmas shopping streets and hiking, you never once felt like he could hurt you.
Simon was a big man, no doubt about it. His broad shoulders, with which he sometimes brushed against doorways, his big arms, which easily wrapped around large bottles, and incredibly huge feet…
“You will never hurt me.” You said. You reassured him.
And Simon couldn't put it off any longer.
He pulled his pants down to his knees, which were touching the floor, and pulled the elastic band of his boxers down. His cock popped out like a long-held, joyful puppy by the bedroom door, and straightened up, reaching Simon's navel.
Your eyes widened and you swallowed loudly. Big man. Big in every sense. Simon's cock was slightly bent to the left, apparently from where he had so often tucked it in, and three veins intertwined with each other from the base to the head.
“Ya alright?”
You looked up at Simon. The worry was clearly visible in his gaze, and it was only now that you realized exactly what he meant when he said he didn't want to hurt you. He didn't want to hurt you with his size.
Instead of answering, you spread your legs wider, overhanging them over both armrests of the chair, and lowered one hand down, gently spreading your labia with two fingers.
That was all the invitation Simon needed. He immediately took hold of your calf with one hand, and with the other took his cock by the base, moving closer to your pussy. He gently rubbed the head of your folds and pressed, adjusting to the entrance.
The burning was instantaneous. You pressed your lips together, feeling him gently penetrate inside, stretching you. It was probably because you haven't had sex in a long time. You refused to believe that the reason was the size, that Simon might not fit you in any way. Your muscles stretched with tenacity, letting him in slowly, inch by inch.
“Just a lil’ more, luv. One big stretch.”
To hear him whisper reassuringly encouraging words to you, while all this time he didn't take his eyes off the place where you were joined… You let out another moan as he pulled his hips back a little so then he could push all the way in. You arched your back, feeling the muscles burn below, as he pressed his thigh bones into your ass, and bent down, covering your chest and neck with soft, soothing kisses again.
Simon Riley was big. But that didn't mean you weren't able to take him in any way.
