CringeMultiverse.XO

🐌 She/they 11/17 Totally awesome sauce 😛⭐️ I share hot men edits 😋

[cringemultiverse]

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

Haii..!!😋 my name is Ai🌟

I post edits of hot men.

My boyfriends:

Dylan O’Brein

Matthew Gray Gubler

Devon Bodstick

Robert Pattinson

Cillian Murphy

Hayden Christian

Tom Blyth

AND MORE‼️‼️‼️‼️

✧༺💜༻∞ ✧༺💜༻∞ ✧༺💜༻∞ ✧༺💜༻

[leviathil]

Ur belphegor art was so awesome!! Could u draw mammon?

THANK YOU SM ANON !! Here's mammon, pls ignore realistic mc

[anginophobia]

𝔻𝕠𝕦𝕓𝕝𝕖-𝕋𝕣𝕠𝕦𝕓𝕝𝕖

𝕊𝕪𝕟𝕠𝕡𝕤𝕚𝕤: Do you know what would bring two enemies together? A movie day!

𝕋𝕣𝕚𝕘𝕘𝕖𝕣 𝕎𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤: pure smut, nothing else-

𝕎𝕠𝕣𝕕 ℂ𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕥: 2,122

𝕊𝕠𝕝 𝕩 ℂ𝕣𝕠𝕨𝕖 𝕩 𝔽𝕖𝕞!ℝ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕖𝕣

𝟙𝟠+ !!ℕ𝕆 𝕄𝕀ℕ𝕆ℝ𝕊!!

ℕ𝕠𝕥𝕖: ℙ𝕃𝔼𝔸𝕊𝔼 ℝ𝔼𝔸𝔻: I was making this while I was sick before (I got over being sick only to freaking become sick AGAIN!) But it's not that bad this time. It's what happens when you have a horrible heart and a bad immune system TvT

I wrote this because I needed practice for my smut scenes so...

✍️(◔◡◔)

Anyways, here you go, for all my Sol and Crowe fans!

Enjoy!!~

You’ve had… better ideas than this.

Much better ideas than this. And regretted a few. But you couldn’t decide if this was a regrettable decision or the best decision you’ve ever made. All you tried to do was to get your two guy best friends to get along, is that too much to ask?

Apparently it is.

That morning, you had texted both of them separately, asking them to come over around noon for a movie you bought the day before. Sure, you didn’t say that the other one was coming as well, but there wasn’t any harm in a surprise, was there? At least you didn’t think so.

Crowe was the first to show up, ten minutes early. Not that it had bothered you. You had told him to wait on the couch while you finish getting everything ready. And he did just that, waiting patiently, thinking that it would be only you two. Until there was another knock on the door five minutes later, and it was none other than Sol. Who else would it have been, really?

But as soon as the two guys saw each other, the room felt… tense. You could probably cut through the air with a knife from how suffocating it was.

You were sitting in between them on your couch, the movie playing in front of you three, but no one was watching it. Sol was busy throwing glares in Crowe’s direction. Crowe was trying to focus on the movie, but obviously couldn’t because of Sol. And you were just.. there. Right in the middle of their… whatever this was they were doing.

This was so bad. You just wanted them to get along for one afternoon.

You reached for the popcorn on the coffee table, picking it up and offering some to Crowe first, being polite, trying to break the very uncomfortable silence.

“Would you like some popcorn?” You gave him a gentle smile that made his heart skip a beat. Of course he took some, because it was you that was offering it to him. But the death glare Sol gave him didn’t go unnoticed from either of you.

You turned and offered some to Sol. “Popcorn?”

He tore his gaze from Crowe to you, a gentle smile on his lips the moment he looked at you. He shook his head, not voicing his answer before going back to glare at Crowe for even existing in your presence.

And with that, the tension is back. You tried to ignore it, eating some popcorn of your own until Sol grabbed your wrist suddenly, making both you and Crowe look at him.

“Pumpkin, your fingers are dirty,” His red-orange eyes flicked to Crowe for a brief moment, as if making sure he was looking before looking back to you. “Let me clean you up.”

You blinked in confusion, unsure of what he meant by that. “Sol, what are you–” Without letting you finish your sentence, he brought your index and middle finger up to his mouth, his tongue darting out to lick the pad of your fingertips, tasting the buttery and salty goodness of the popcorn and you.

Your face burned as he licked and gently sucked on your fingers, his eyes closing as he savored the taste, humming softly around your fingers, the vibrations sending shivers through your nerves. The warm and wet feeling of his mouth making gentle sucks sent a soft yet audible shudder through your body.

Sol finally pulled your fingers out of his mouth, a string of saliva connecting from his lips to your wet fingers, breaking as he opened his eyes, his face left flushed. Yet his eyes bore into yours, his pupils dilating the longer he looked at you.

Crowe’s expression was horrified at the sight before him. He couldn’t form a single thought other than the image of Sol’s mouth on your fingers burned into his brain. Was Crowe going to let this stand? No. This was war.

You felt Crowe gently grab your jaw, turning your head to face him. He gave you a gentle smile, his eyes seemingly darker than you remembered them being before.

“Starlight, you have a little something right–” He leaned in, his hand on your jaw tightening slightly, ensuring you wouldn’t pull away. “There.” His tongue licked the corner of your mouth suddenly, making your breath hitched from the contact.

Crowe gazed over to Sol, noticing how very closely Sol was watching. Sol’s eyes narrowed at Crowe, but it didn’t scare him. Not one bit.

As soon as Crowe pulled away, Sol let go of your wrist and took your face in his hand, turning your face to him a little too roughly before his mouth crashed into yours, muffling your gasp. Sol never looked away from Crowe as he kissed you, watching as Crowe’s face crumbled from watching you two.

It was a war. A war of taking turns on kissing them, of who would get your attention more than the other. And the kissing soon turned into groping and grabbing, a race to see who would be able to take your clothes off first. A race to get you into your bedroom while trying to kiss and touch you.

It was happening so fast that you didn’t know how to process everything, didn’t know who to touch first, who to kiss back. You thought you could feel one of them biting your skin, but you couldn’t tell who it was, not with both of their mouths on you.

When you felt them pulling you down on your bed, Sol tried to take over first, kissing you deeply, his tongue slipping into your mouth, letting you feel his pierced tongue exploring yours. Then you felt Crowe’s tongue on your body, his smooth and wet tongue running up your ribcage until his mouth found your nipple—capturing it and giving it a gentle suck, making you cry out against Sol’s mouth from the feeling. It was an intense sensation yet you didn’t want it to stop.

That would be a crime if they stopped now.

Sol’s hand slid down your stomach, then lower, before dipping between your legs, making you gasp as his middle finger rubbed up and down your slit, gathering enough wetness before bringing that finger up to his lips, pulling back from you to lick his finger. The soft hum of approval made your stomach clench from anticipation.

Crowe noticed your attention wasn’t on him, making him gently nip at your wet peak, making it ache more before he soothed it with his tongue. You groaned, tearing your gaze from Sol to Crowe, feeling him dragging his tongue from your hardened nipple and up to your neck, gently starting to suck on the hollow spot near your collar bone.

Sol watched for a moment, watching how the person he hated most left a dark red mark on the person that he loves most. It was unacceptable. 

He moved down on your body, placing wet open-mouthed kisses along your stomach, moving lower until his head was between your legs. His hands opening your thighs more for him, fingertips digging into your skin as he buried his face into your wet cunt, his tongue licking up your wetness.

“Ah!~” You tilted your head back on your bed, your legs instinctively moving to close around Sol’s head, but he kept them open as he ate you out—licking and swirling his tongue as if trying to taste all of you, inside and out. As if he was eating something for the first time in a long time.

Crowe lifted his head up from your neck, smashing his lips into yours, nipping at your bottom lip before letting his tongue slide into your mouth, muffling the sounds you were making. The sounds you were making because of Sol.

It was so… erotic. How they fight over you, your attention, your lust. You wanted more, to see how far you could take them before they break. Before they tried to tear each other apart before either of them got inside you.

You leaned into the kiss, one hand coming up and into his hair, kissing Crowe back deeply and desperately. He groaned against your mouth, one hand coming up and gently grabbed your hardened nipple in between his index finger and thumb. He gently twisted it, making a moan rip from the back of your throat, arching into his touch.

Sol noticed. Of course he did. You wanted him to notice.

Sol doubled his efforts, moving his tongue inside you, fucking you with it, making you feel the ball on his tongue gently scratching you in the most pleasurable way imaginable.

You tore your lips from Crowe’s, a moan breaking free, a moan that made both Sol and Crowe’s cocks stir in their pants. Crowe gently grabbed your face again, turning you so you could kiss him again.

“Pay attention, my Starlight.” He whispered against your lips, but Sol heard. And he hated it.

Sol got up then, his mouth and tongue no longer giving you the pleasure that you so desperately wanted. He shoved Crowe a little but still hard enough to make him stop kissing you to look at the angry man.

“Hey, be careful.”

“You. Why can’t you just go away? Why are you always around like a damn fly?”

Crowe gave him a confused look, unsure what he meant, but Crowe didn’t really care right now. He turned back to you, seeing the rise and fall of your chest, your flushed and pouty face before looking back at Sol.

“Hate me all you want, but I only care about her.” He gently cupped your chin, squishing your cheeks a little, making you look even more cuter to them. “You can either continue what you were doing or move out of the way and let me do it. I have no doubt that after a few licks from me she’ll cum sooner.”

If Sol didn’t hate Crowe before, he definitely does now.

As if taking his challenge, Sol leaned down and pushed his tongue back into you, making you whimper from the wet sensation again. Crowe went back to what he had been doing; teasing your aching breasts, kissing you breathlessly.

The sensations were too much, too much for your mind to comprehend, too much for your body to adjust and to handle. Especially all at once. But then Sol’s tongue found your clit, using the ball on his tongue to tease it, flicking against it.

It was overstimulating. You didn’t know when or how it happened so quickly; your body became tense, tilting your head back as a hoarse cry came out of you as waves of pleasure crashed into you, seeping deep into your nerves and bones. And the evidence of it was all over Sol’s mouth and face.

Your body went limp on your bed as Sol leaned upwards, licking his lips with another hum of approval. You panted heavily, feeling Crowe’s fingertips dance along your burning hot skin. Teasing your nerves.

“I think that took a lot out of her.” You heard Crowe say, his voice soft and gentle, like a warm blanket after a cold shower.

“It looked like it did… but I think she can handle more.”

You lifted your head when Sol said that, looking at him as if he was crazy. Well, he was insane. For you. They both were.

Crowe looked down at you, gently cupping your cheek, making you look up at him.

“Can you handle more, my Goddess?”

The way he asked that, the way he worded it made you want to submit to whatever they wanted. To anyone else, it may have seemed like he was giving you a choice. But you knew you didn’t, but Crowe wasn’t the type to take like Sol was. He wanted you to say it. To voice that you want more from them, to take whatever they wanted to give to you willingly.

“Y-Yes…” You stuttered out, despite your core aching and your body in bliss. You still wanted more. You wanted all of them.

Crowe’s lips twitched as he tried to conceal his smirk, moving a hand down to undo his dress pants.

“Whatever my sweetheart wants.~”

You felt Sol’s hands running up your thighs, moving to grip your hips and suddenly pulled you down closer to him. You whined at the feeling of his bulge in his jeans pressing against your wet core.

In that moment, you knew that you did indeed have a bad idea making them come over for a movie. But it wasn’t regrettable. No. Far from it.

𝕀𝕥 𝕨𝕒𝕤 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕓𝕖𝕤𝕥 𝕞𝕚𝕤𝕥𝕒𝕜𝕖 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕔𝕠𝕦𝕝𝕕 𝕙𝕒𝕧𝕖 𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕣 𝕞𝕒𝕕𝕖.

[mammonspuppy]

okay but sucking mammon off and then spitting his cum on his face. he looks up at you all wide eyed and dazed, still coming down from his orgasm, his own cum dripping down his flushed cheeks and onto his chest. then you like, tease him, all "awhh, sucha messy boy. want me to clean you up?" and then licking it off his face, and, and like tongue kissing him so he can get a taste of it too, and he's whining about it cause he's soooo embarrassed but his dick is twitching and leaking on his stomach, and he's sucking your tongue clean every time you shove it in his mouth... ... ahhhhh

[vyxcondessa]

Intimacy scared him before you came along.

This sort of intimacy, despite all odds, somehow became the thing Peter's best at.

"Don't move, baby... that's it." Peter feels your whimpers all over his body, quivering and trembling his cells with the very frequency of your breath or lack thereof. He hums to himself, pleased, adjusting the weight of his torso, which is glued onto your back, aligning himself even better with your body and pulling you impossibly closer.

He's buried deep inside you. Both of you lie on your sides, and Peter's hugging you like—well, like a spider, and you're the prey in his webs. He moves his hips just a fraction, just to hear...

"Peter..."

"Shhhh."

He enjoys feeling the reverberations of the words you muffle against the skin of his arms. There's a distinct kind of peace to being sweaty with you, to having your bodies entangled as one and his head buried in the crook of your neck, knowing that outside, everything is as messy and chaotic as before. Not here.

Not inside you.

Peter can move his hips back and forth as much as he needs and wants to—nothing will change your devoted surrender in his arms.

When he moves his hips again and hears your cry, your chest shaking inside the grip of his arms, Peter places a kiss on your neck and nuzzles his head against it, comforting you and himself at the same time.

He knows that— "Feels so good, Peter." The confession, being perfectly timed with his inner babble, makes him smile and moan back, pushing his hip forward with more force this time. He bucks his hips as deep as they go, burying his cock until the hilt, and is rewarded by your cry being out loud.

Felicity — your roommate — is going to murder both of you in the morning.

"Peter."

He'll die a happy man.

There's the whisper of your name, placed right in the shell of your ear, which he nibbles on, enjoying the mix of it all. Sweat, slick, spit, fuck—Peter would web your wrists this very second if you knew that sort of fluid came out of his wrists, but he'll take this one for now. He'll take you cockwarming him for an hour during a movie and then fucking you as slow as he needs, as slow as you craved for and begged him to an hour earlier, as slow as the clock finally ticking inside his brain.

Peter keeps on fucking you, slowly, surely, until he feels your bodies are glued as one and he can breathe. Then — and only then —, he reaches down with his hand to touch your clit and make you cum with him as he empties himself inside you, drowning in the whispers and pleas of his name on your lips.

[iyayadonna]

✑ 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝒾𝓇 𝓀𝒾𝓃𝓀𝓈 ꩜ 𝓈.𝒷𝓇𝓊𝑔𝓂𝒶𝓃𝓈𝒾𝒶 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒿.𝒾𝒸𝒽𝒶𝒷𝑜𝒹

— sol x gn! reader and crowe x gn! reader

𝓉𝒶𝑔𝓈: sol x gn! reader · crowe x gn! reader · smut · kink exploration · 3am reading vibes · short & sweet headcanons · playful teasing · canonical + headcanon mix · reader as observer · light dom/sub undertones · spicy content · slightly unhinged fantasies

𝓈𝓎𝓃𝑜𝓅𝓈𝒾𝓈: Ah, kinks—everyone’s got ’em, especially us fanfic addicts. Soft, spicy, or delightfully unhinged, there’s always that one thing that hits just right. You know the vibe: it’s 3 AM, you’re scrolling AO3, Tumblr, or Wattpad, hunting for that one trope that makes your brain and heart go yep, that one. Guilty? Same.

For this little experiment, I mashed a bit of canon with my own headcanons for Crowe and Sol—because why not? This time, I narrowed it down to just four kinks, short, sweet, and spicy.

Buckle up—it’s gonna be a fun ride.

𝓌𝒸: 19k

Starting, I’ve noticed that TKATB fans have their unique preferences when it comes to Sol or Crowe.

For example, fans who gravitate toward Sol tend to enjoy the idea of him being dominant—whether it’s being in control of him or just envisioning him taking charge. It’s that mix of power and intensity that gets people excited. You know who you are, you freaks!

On the other hand, fans of Crowe are drawn to his reliability, his deep understanding, and his caring nature. He’s willing to guide you through anything, offering both emotional support and strength. It’s comforting, isn’t it? And yes, I’m a freak too—I get it.

✑ 𝒸𝓇𝑜𝓌𝑒

Naturally, I had to start with the man himself—Jericho, or Crowe, as he's known. Though the details are still unclear, he exudes a mysterious, almost savior-like presence. I WANNA KNOW SO BAD.

His style is effortlessly sharp, and his quiet confidence makes him instantly trustworthy. Reliable, steady, and composed, Crowe is the perfect support when life feels overwhelming. His charm is subtle, blending good looks with an alluring personality—irresistible, without ever being flashy. 

Now, let’s address the question: Can you see Crowe as kinky?

At first glance, no. Not. To a stranger, he’s too put together, with not even the faintest hint of anything unconventional beneath the surface. But as you get to know him, that answer begins to shift. Slowly, subtly, he reveals a side of himself that hints at complexity—an edge just beneath his polished exterior. However, don’t expect anything extreme or overtly wild.

What he does reveal is never too much but always just enough to leave you captivated—and maybe, just maybe, a little curious.

✑ Vanilla (Soft Dom…) 

For Crowe preferences!!

He's the ultimate soft, warm partner. Like, you just know he's all about the quiet, comforting vibes. No crazy power dynamics or rough kinks—he's all about that steady, affectionate love. It's Vanilla, but in the best way possible, full of layers. He’s not rushing anything, just enjoying the little things, taking his time, and making sure you feel heard and cherished. 

When you're with him, it's all slow and gentle—he’s not here for intense extremes. His love is patient, thoughtful, and wrapped in warmth. Every touch, every word, is like a soft caress, just so deliberate and tender. 

And honestly? There's no need for anything crazy. Crowe's happy to explore your connection, build that trust, and just savor the passion that grows naturally between you two. It's the kind of love that builds and lingers long after. 

Now… Crowe might be a soft dom—nah he IS A SOFT DOM.

Crowe’s not the type to push you past your limits just for the thrill of it. He’s not into playing mind games or testing how far he can take things. No, Crowe’s power is the quiet kind, the kind that makes you feel safe without even having to try. He knows the real strength is in taking care of someone, not in forcing them into anything they’re not ready for.  

When you’re with him, it’s like he’s always tuned into you, always listening, always aware of exactly what you need. He’s the guy who doesn’t take, but gives—gives you everything he can, with a level of care that’s almost overwhelming. And even though he’s gentle, don’t get it twisted—he’s still a tease. He’s the kind of man who’ll leave marks on your skin, a subtle reminder that you're his. But it's all in the way he leads, in that steady hand that takes yours, guiding you through every little moment.  

There’s nothing loud about Crowe—other than his moans and whining. I SWEAR he has pretty moans.

He doesn’t demand anything and doesn’t rush you, but he has this way of making you feel like you’re the only person in the room. When he touches you, it’s with a confidence that leaves you breathless but also comforted. He’ll press his forehead against yours, his hand guiding yours down to your stomach, just so you can feel his bulge inside you,how much he wants you, how much he’s thinking about you at that moment. 

There’s no need for words—just that connection, that intense eye contact that says everything.  

But yeah, he’ll also let you think you have the upper hand for a minute. Let you believe you’ve got him cornered, like you're finally taking control… only for him to flip the switch, regaining control without you even realizing.  

With Crowe, it’s not about begging or pleading for pleasure—it’s about your happiness, your satisfaction. His version of dominance is the kind that wraps around you like a warm blanket, soft and cozy. He just wants to see you smile, hear you laugh—moan, and whine under him, and know that every moment spent with him is full of happiness.  

So, if you're into a soft dom who values deep emotional connection, tenderness, and affection, Crowe’s your man! He just wants you to trust him, to let go and let him care for you. Let him be there for you in every single way, in every moment. 

And in that, he gives you all the security you’ll ever need.

✑ Praise (giving + receiving)

Crowe is all about Praise, and affection through words. Imagine him pulling you close, whispering in your ear while his fingers gently trace patterns along your skin. 

“You’re such a good girl for me, look at how well you take me, love. That’s my girl, always so ready for me, aren’t you?” His words make you feel safe, wanted, and cherished.

He doesn’t wait for you to ask for reassurance—he gives it freely, letting you know how much he appreciates having you around, and how much he loves seeing you smile. And when it comes to your body? He knows every inch of it like he’s got a personal map of your every curve and spot. He might even joke, “No one will ever know you like I do. I’ve ruined you for everyone else, haven’t I?”

Crowe has this vibe about him, like he’s always hungry to make sure you're feeling amazing, but don’t forget to show him some love, too. He thrives on hearing you praise him, especially when you whisper how much you need him, and how much he’s doing for you. The sound of your voice, the words you say—they get to him, melt him down until his heart's pounding.

Now and then, he’ll pull back, checking in on you, “You okay? Am I pushing you too far?” It’s not just about the rush for him. He wants you to be comfortable, to be in sync with him as he takes you through everything, slow and steady, giving you all that love. “That’s it, you're doing so well,” he’ll say, his voice smooth like syrup, making sure you know you're adored.

But here’s the thing: if you keep praising him, or if you’re the one in control, just wait. Crowe’s mouth? It’ll get filthy. AND I MEAN FILTHY. He can’t help it, don't be mean now...

I mean, you can. You giving him head? Taking his cock deep inside your throat, feeling he's about to cum, then you pulled back, teasing him. He'll say, "Please, my love, you were doing so good on my cock—please, please, keep going, I need that tongue of yours."

One of his favorite things is when you’re so into it that he can just forget what you say and speak directly to you, but in a way that’ll make your body react before your mind even catches up. Like, he’ll whisper, “God, you taste so damn good. Missed me, huh? Just wanna be filled up, don't you?”

His words drip against you, his eyes dark with heat, like he's speaking to your body, not even acknowledging your moans. “Such a good fucking pussy. Always making me feel so damn good. Want me to stuff you full, hm?”

And when it’s all done? Crowe doesn’t just drop it and move on. He’s got aftercare down to an art. He’ll guide you through it, keep you close, making sure you’re okay, settled, and cared for, getting ready to do it all again whenever you’re ready!

✑ Experimentalist

Crowe is the kind of man who never wants to leave any stone unturned, especially when it comes to experiences.

There was something about him that screamed experimentalist—like he needed to try everything, no matter how wild or unconventional. When it came to relationships, he was always up for anything, which meant he'd probably had more relationship experiences than most people you knew. 

His mind is open, impossibly so, and he had an insatiable curiosity that could never be satisfied. He’d never form an opinion on something without diving in and getting his first-hand taste. If there was something new to try, something out-of-the-box—Crowe was there, ready to explore. 

And honestly? He didn’t even need you to ask twice. If you suggested something wild, he’d be all in—his enthusiasm infectious, his curiosity never-ending.

However, he's pretty vanilla when it comes to experimenting, so don't expect him to go TOO hardcore. If there's a kink suited to his taste and he masters it? Oh, Babe, you'll feel it—so much in fact.

Take ropes, for example. Blindfolds? Handcuffs? Oh, he is intrigued. But, again, don’t expect anything brutal. He isn't the type to be into floggers or paddles; no, pain isn't needed for his skills. It is his anticipation. The slow burn of him carefully tying you up, not in a rush, but with the kind of patience that made every moment last longer. 

When his hands hovered over your skin, it wasn’t just touch—it was electric. He’d make sure to linger, let his fingers graze over every inch, just enough to make you shiver, your breath hitching in the air between you. It wasn’t about hurting you, not at all. No, it was all about the build-up—the moment when the ropes or restraints were placed just so, tightening the tension between you both until it was practically unbearable. 

And then? When you finally let go, it was a release so sweet and steady that it left you breathless. No rushing, no quick fixes—just a slow, fulfilling pleasure.

Adding on, Crowe loved the idea of restraint. Whether for fun, for art, or for that extra little spark of excitement, there was something about having you completely at his mercy. 

And if you ever flipped the script? If he was the one getting tied up? Like I said, Crowe will be just as filthy when he lets his guard down. 

✑ Dacryphillia

Okay, hear me out. I know what you’re thinking—"Crowe? He would never hurt me. Why would he want to see me cry?" And I get it, really. This is one of those wild ideas but just stick with me for a second.

You know how he’s all about emotions and deep connections, right? Get it?

He gets this deep fascination with what you feel and show, especially when it’s raw. Here’s where it gets interesting: Dacryphilia. Yeah, I’m talking about that thing where someone gets... well, aroused by tears, by the sound of you sobbing, the whole mess of emotions. 

So, let’s imagine this: You’re begging him, pleading for more. Your face is a mess of emotions, eyes watery, tears rolling down your cheeks. And yeah, he’s gonna ask if you’re okay because that’s the kind of man he is—always checking, always making sure. But if you keep begging for more? Oh, that’s when it gets dangerous. 

Each desperate plea of yours, each tremor in your voice, just fuels this fire inside him, an all-consuming fire. His eyes? They’re practically glowing, deep blue, and locked on you like he's drowning in you, in every little thing you’re feeling.

You can feel him there, so close you can almost taste his breath on your skin. His lips brush against your ear, a soft, teasing whisper sending shivers down your spine. "So desperate for me already, huh? We haven’t even gotten to the fun part yet..." His voice is low, and dangerous, like he’s savoring every second of this.

You know he’s enjoying this. Every inch of him is hooked, and once he has you like this, there’s no going back.

Crowe’s could be teasing you for what feels like hours, driving you wild with a mix of pleasure and frustration. He’s pulled every bit of sensation from you, your body trembling with each orgasm, each touch—until you’re left aching for more. You’ve come undone on his fingers, his tongue, but now, you’re desperate in a way that makes your chest ache.

You need him, inside of you, filling you up, but he’s holding back. Just barely, he brushes against you with his cock, grinning at the whine that slips from your lips.

His fingers tease your entrance, and you can’t stop yourself from begging, voice shaky, "Please... Please, please." You repeated. Tears burn at the corners of your eyes, blurring your vision as they fall helplessly. The emptiness without him feels unbearable.

Crowe tilted his head, the smirk on his face practically dripping with playful mockery. “Just please?” He dragged the word out slowly, eyes twinkling with mischief. “Tell me what you want, love. What is it you’re begging for?” His hand slid up your stomach, hand pushing down lightly as if testing the waters. 

A soft moan released from your lips as he leaned in, his breath hot against your ear, the playful glint in his eyes shifting into something darker, more calculating. “You want me to fill you up, don’t you?”

His soft gin stretched wider as you stumbled over your words, desperate and disordered, pleading for more. He could tell you were unraveling, and it only pushed him further, each whimper was like a small victory. 

“You’re falling apart, love,” he murmured, his voice low and dangerous. “Don’t worry, I’ll give you what you need... just say the word.” You could barely focus as the desperation built into your chest. His control over you was unnerving, yet exhilarating. The tears running down your cheeks were a mix of frustration and need, a silent scream for him. 

“I need you, Crowe. Please...” Your voice was broken, but he was the one who was in control, studying the way you reacted like a willing experiment.

Crowe’s hand lifts gently to your cheek, his thumb brushing away the tears streaming down your face. He gives you a soft grin, his voice low and teasing. “Already crying for me, huh?” he murmurs, almost amused. His thumb slips past your lips, letting you taste the salty remnants of your emotions. "We’ve just started," he adds, a soft chuckle escaping him. 

Before you can respond, his hips jerk forward, pushing into you with one swift, forceful motion. The shock of it makes your breath catch, and Crowe can’t help but smirk, his eyes glinting with that dangerous, experimental gleam.

Every move, calculated and deliberate, is part of his twisted exploration. And you? You’re the willing subject.

✑ 𝓈𝑜𝓁

Sol is described as a “stinky basement-dwelling yandere”—ngl, this alone made me laugh. He’s a quiet kid, the one who lingered at the edges of every room, observing, never quite fitting in.

Beneath his reserved exterior was a complexity most couldn’t fathom. He’s incredibly smart, with a sharpness that slipped through his words when he spoke, though he rarely bothered to. His talents leaned toward the arts, paintings, and writings.

And yet, at the end of the day, Sol isn’t exactly smooth. He was hopelessly inexperienced when it came to relationships. He gets no bitches, and honestly, he probably doesn’t even try. But in his inexperience is a certain rawness, and once you did get to know him, he’ll flirt or charm you. But before, he just watched and wanted.  

Now, let’s address the question: Can you see Sol as kinky?

Yes, let’s not sugarcoat it—he is kinky asf. Of course, he is. There was no way someone as quiet and repressed as Sol didn’t have a horny side, one he tried to keep buried but couldn’t fully hide due to his love for you. 

✑ Switch (A Pervert…)

Now, about Sol’s... preferences. 

From reading his relationship information card and playing the game. He is a paradox, a Switch in every sense of the word. He didn’t neatly fit into the mold of “always dominant” or “forever submissive.” Oh no, that would be far too mundane for someone like him. He's not a standard yandere people.

Sol is a man of extremes, a “pervert” in the most endearing, shameless sense of the word. He believed in living freely, without the shackles of societal expectations or traditional constraints. Ethics, morality, conventional roles—he’d toss them aside without hesitation if they stood in the way of his desires.   

When he takes the reins as Dominant, Sol is the type to lean into theatrics, pushing boundaries with a devilish grin and that mischievous gleam in his eyes. He had a talent for making the experience unforgettable, for making you feel as though the entire world had melted away, leaving only the two of you. But when the tables turned, when Sol found himself in the more submissive role, he’d throw himself into it with equal fervor. 

He’d challenge you to prove your worth, tease and push until you stepped up to the plate, and then—when you finally did—he’d surrender so completely that it'll feel like a victory worth savoring.  

To Sol, sex and relationships weren’t just about power dynamics or tradition. They were a playground for exploration, a place where the only rule was to follow what felt right. With his “anything goes” mentality, Sol turned every interaction into a kaleidoscope of passion and unpredictability. 

As mentioned, Sol, can’t help himself when it comes to you.

Let’s say he has this thing—Voyeuristic Disorder, to be precise, a fancy word for being a pervert. Dosn't care to see anyone else naked. Only you he wishes to see. He was obsessed with watching you, whether you knew it or not. In public or private, it didn’t matter.

He just liked being there, lurking in the shadows, soaking in every moment. Watching you do the most intimate things, completely unaware that he was there. 

There was something so exhilarating about seeing you—your bare skin, the way you moved, the little things you did when you thought no one was watching. He couldn’t resist. The way your body reacted, the sounds you made when you didn’t know he was there—it was all he needed. 

Deadass, I’m shocked that the creator of the game never added a specific scene where you were taking care of yourself in bed—you freak, oblivious to him sneaking a peek from the window, his hand on his cock, jacking himself off, doing exactly what he does best. Watching. 

He didn’t let societal norms dictate how he expressed himself or who he loved. He was unapologetically himself—messy, chaotic, and a little too intense for most people’s taste. But for those brave enough to step into his world, you, well, if you picked him, that is.

Sol will offer an experience unlike any other: one filled with unrelenting honesty, unbridled passion, and a love that refuses to be anything less than extraordinary.  

✑ Praise (Receiving)

Sol isn't the type of man you’d peg as desperate for validation—at least, not at first glance. His sharp, confident exterior gave the impression of someone who had the world at his feet, who didn’t flinch under pressure or crack beneath judgmental stares. 

But peel back the layers of this supposed nonchalant and cool type of man, and you’d find a truth that was much more human, much more raw. Sol craved praise. Why? Perhaps it was the lack of it throughout his life. His track record for romance was, let’s say, less than impressive. Not because he lacked charm or good looks—he had both in spades—but because his overbearing aura and unapologetic eccentricities tended to drive most people away. 

They didn’t understand him, couldn’t see past the way he challenged conventions. He wore his "loser" title like armor. After all, who cared if he didn’t have admirers lined up at his door? He didn’t need anyone... right? Yet, when someone, such as you, did manage to offer him an honest compliment, something sincere, it was like watching a dam break. 

His confident smirk would falter for a second, his eyes softening, betraying the vulnerability he worked so hard to conceal. Sol wasn’t accustomed to receiving love—real, genuine love—and when it came, it hit him like a truck

✑ Masochist

The first time you noticed Sol’s tendency to endure pain, you’d thought it was just his stubborn nature. He’s always been the type to wear his emotions on his sleeve when it came to you—raw, unfiltered, and unapologetically vulnerable. But as time went on, you began to see something deeper beneath that tough, rebellious exterior. 

Sol wasn’t just someone who endured pain; he seemed to embrace it…? almost thrive on it, especially when it comes to you.

Sol is, without a doubt, a masochist. Not in the twisted, sadistic sense, but in an almost heartbreaking way. He’d do anything to please you, to earn your attention—even if it meant enduring the unendurable. 

He could never be a sadist. No, he loved you too much to ever inflict pain on you, physically or emotionally. The very thought of hurting you would make his stomach churn. Instead, he channeled all his devotion into being by your side, no matter the cost.

There were moments when his tendencies became painfully obvious. Like he gets into fights back to back, defending himself or you—for example, the movie theater bathroom or the Campus library (With or without.)

You hadn’t/have even been there to witness it—Sol hadn’t wanted you to see him like that, bruised and bloody. But when you found out later, he brushed it off with that crooked grin of his, the one that hid just how far he’d go for you. “It’s nothing,” he’d said, wiping the blood from his lip. “They deserved it for talking about you like that.”

Or that time with Crowe. It had been an innocent moment, just you laughing at something Crowe said, but to Sol, it might as well have been a dagger to his chest. He clenched his fists so tightly that his knuckles turned white, nails digging into his palms until they drew blood. He didn’t want to feel that way—jealousy mixed with self-loathing—but he couldn’t help it. Watching you walk away with someone else, even for a moment, was unbearable. 

It wasn’t that he enjoyed the pain; it was just that he could handle it, even when it tore him apart inside.  

And in the quiet, intimate moments, Sol’s masochistic streak became something else entirely. If you picked him willingly, He’ll trust you, and loved you, enough to let down every last defense he had. He didn’t just endure pain; with you, he could find meaning in it. 

A sharp bite, nails dragging down his back—he shivered under your touch, his body responding in ways he didn’t fully understand but didn’t question. For him, it wasn’t just about the sensation; it was about the connection, the way it brought him closer to you.  

Masochism, for Sol, wasn’t about pain tolerance. It wasn’t about how much he could take. It was about the way he found a strange, twisted kind of comfort in it. The pain wasn’t the point; it was the context, the giver—you. Sol would never seek out pain for its own sake, but if it was for you, if it meant being close to you, he’d endure anything.  

Even in the game, he seemed to attract hardship like a magnet, always the one taking the hits—physically and emotionally. Whether it was the bullies who thought he was an easy target or the way he seemed to hurt himself just to prove his devotion to you, Sol carried it all with a quiet, unshakable resolve. Because, at the end of the day, it wasn’t about the pain. It was about you.  

And he’d never stop. For Sol, loving you wasn’t just a choice—it was a part of who he was. If being close to you meant enduring the worst the world could throw at him, he’d take it all with a smile. Because that’s who Sol is. A damn masochist.  

And he wouldn’t have it any other way.  

✑ Somnophillia 

It was inevitable, wasn’t it? Everyone could see this coming from a mile away—there was simply no other possibility. Sol, in all his twisted complexity, had long blurred the line between obsession and affection, his love taking on forms most would never dare to comprehend. 

Some might accuse him of holding darker urges, like necrophilia, drawn to the lifelessness of the dead. But no, that isn’t Sol. Despite his obsessions, there was a deep-rooted sentimentality within him—a refusal to let go, to lose. If anything, he had made it clear in his own hauntingly poetic way: he’d rather die with you than live without you. 

Yet, that didn’t mean his desires were any less unnerving. No, Sol’s particular brand of affection manifested in somnophilia, a fascination with the vulnerability of sleep, the beauty of your unconscious form. To him, those moments were sacred—your body relaxed, your mind adrift in dreams. It was when he felt closest to you, unguarded and free from the chaos of the waking world.  

Before your relationship, it started innocuously enough—or so it seemed. He’d find ways to end up at your apartment, invited by some pretense or perhaps even through sheer charisma. And then, ever so subtly, he’d lace your drink with something to make you drowsy, to keep you from suspecting as his fingers ghosted on you. 

You lay there, utterly still, utterly serene, your chest rising and falling with the kind of peaceful rhythm that seemed to still the chaos of the world around you.  

It was maddening, the way you looked so untouched by the noise that haunted him, your lips slightly parted, the barest whisper of breath escaping them. Every exhale was a siren call, soft and unassuming, but it gripped him like a vice.  

His gaze wandered, helplessly drawn down the curve of your cheek to your lips. They looked soft, and inviting in a way that felt almost cruel. He wanted to press his own to them, to taste whatever peace you’d found and see if he could borrow just a fraction of it for himself.  

But it wasn’t just your lips. His eyes traced lower, following the lines of your body, the way your clothes clung to you, hinting at the form beneath. He shouldn’t be thinking like this—he knew he shouldn’t. And yet the thought of you, warm and pliant beneath him, invaded his mind, unrelenting.  

He swallowed hard, trying to shake it off, but the more he fought, the more vivid the thoughts became. The sound of your soft sighs, the way you’d move under his touch, how you’d look at him—not like this, not sleepily and unaware, but awake, wanting.  

God, he was losing it.  

Sol leaned back, running a hand through his hair, forcing his gaze away from you for a moment. But it didn’t matter—your image was burned into his mind, and there was no escape. Watching you sleep was his guilty pleasure, though his guilt barely lasted long enough to stop him from pressing further. 

Once the two of you were together, the dynamics shifted, but only slightly.

Sol’s obsession deepened, and the lines of consent became more of a gray haze in his mind. To him, love was devotion—complete and all-encompassing. And if you loved him, shouldn’t you accept him entirely? Shouldn’t you trust him to care for you, even when you weren’t awake to see it? 

He was careful, always so careful with you, so don’t worry! 

His lips found their way to the sensitive curve of your inner thigh, his movements slow and deliberate as if savoring every second of this quiet moment. You stirred faintly, a sleepy whimper escaping your lips as the warmth of his mouth brushed against you, teasing and tender.

Sol’s hands gripped your hips gently but firmly; his fingers splayed across your skin to hold you in place. You tried to shift, your body instinctively responding to the soft, wet pressure of his tongue on your needy cunt, but his strength was unyielding.

“Shh,” he murmured, his voice a low, gravelly whisper in the stillness. One hand slid up to brush a stray lock of hair from your face, his thumb lingering for a moment as he marveled at the serene expression you wore, so unaware of the devotion he poured into every touch. “You’re even more beautiful like this,” he breathed, his words an intimate confession meant only for the dark.

To Sol, this meant everything. 

This was the essence of love itself—intimacy beyond words, a bond that transcended anything others could hope to understand. He wasn't like anyone else; he knew that, and perhaps that’s what made this feel so special.

So sacred.

There was a quiet possessiveness in the way he worshiped you, a deep yearning to etch himself into every corner of your being, to ensure no one else could ever touch the part of you that belonged to him.

And as you stirred again, a soft moan escaping your lips, Sol smirked against your skin, the faintest edge of smug satisfaction curling at the corner of his mouth. You might not fully wake, but you’d feel him—his touch, his adoration, eventually his cock. You’d know, even in sleep, that you were his world.

To be with him, you’d have to accept all of him. Even the shadowed obsession that came with it. 

♤ — 𝓉𝓀𝒶𝓉𝒷 𝓂𝒶𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉

iyayadonna, all rights reserved. — ⋆˚ ᓭི༏ᓯྀ ꩜ 。⋆ .ᐟ

[meowmewmews]

𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 | 𝐬𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐧 𝐛𝐫𝐮𝐠𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐚 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

minors don’t interact!!!!! 18+ only mature content under tab

synopsis : sol was obsessed with you the moment he laid eyes on you. you were his soulmate. he’d make sure no one else would touch you. he is the only one who can satisfy you. don’t you know that?

warnings : yandere, masturbation, obsessive behavior, stalking, somnophilia, cnc, dubcon, predatory behavior, smut, long word count, drugging, grinding, penetration, very rough sex, whiny submissive Sol at one point, and dominant Sol at another point.

author’s note : if you just want to read smut skip to sections with the 🍋 icon

long word count (11.7k+ words) i mean this might as well be split into different chapters but i don’t want to do that, also i decided to change him referring to you as pumpkin to something else sorry. gave him a tongue piercing because it sounded fun >:3 also i hate tumblr formatting so read on ao3 if you want . (gloomy_kitty)

also not 100% lore accurate

thanksss to my friend who proofread this for me!!

Sol was obsessed with you and had been since you first arrived at the school. The moment his scarlet eyes landed on you something strange was awakened within him. It felt like love at first sight—no it was love at first sight. Did you remember your first encounter? No, it was so long ago you probably hadn’t. He did though, he remembered how he felt so vividly. His heart pounded in his chest, butterflies fluttered in his stomach, and his breath hitched making it difficult to breath the moment he had seen you. That cute library assistant that worked on campus. He remembered how he had walked up to you at the counter, asking for a book for class. How you went out of your way to help him find it, not complaining a single time.

“You absolutely need this book for your class right?” You asked him, sighing in defeat after nearly an hour of searching the library.

“Yes, but if you can’t find it don’t w-“ Sol began, a bit irritated that this was required for his passing grade. But he’d just ordered it online and prayed it arrived on time before finals.

“No. I know we have it. Don’t worry I’ll find it. Just give me another day. Here write down your info and I’ll give you a call once I do.” You said determinedly, sliding a sticky note and pen towards him. “O..okay.” He mumbled and wrote down his information. He fully expected you to not ever find the book or just forget to call him to let him know of your findings. But the very next morning he received a call from an unknown number. “Hello?” He answered.

“Hi this ______ from the school’s library. I found the book you were looking for. It’s reserved at the front desk. If I’m not here just let whoever is at the counter know your name.” You said, he could tell that you were quite happy.

Sol’s eyes widened in shock, you really found it. He responded back with a simple thanks and during a free period he went to the library. There he saw you shelving away books, a content expression on your face. Awkwardly he walked up to you clearing his throat, when he realized you had an earbud in. You jumped in surprise, dropping the book you were holding. Then, at the same time you and Sol reached down to grab the book. Your hand on top of his for a brief second before you pulled away. It felt like a bolt of electricity shot through him. “Whoops! Oh hey you’re the guy from yesterday!” You laughed quietly as he handed you back the book. With that you checked him out reminding him that late fees would occur if he didn’t bring it back on time. You explained how you stayed over an hour after your shift to find what he was needing, then it turned out it was in the completely wrong genre! A historical book tucked away with comics, how egregious!

When Sol asked why you did that you shrugged, simply saying, “I don't want anyone to fail their first semester because I was too lazy to find a book for them. It’s my job after all.” You flashed him a smile. As you handed it over your fingers brushed over him for another brief moment. That same electric feeling coursed through his body. It was that moment something had awakened inside Sol. He was obsessed now.

That memory played in his head for over a year, he had found out your first name. One day when sitting in the library “studying” he overheard you telling a blonde girl about how excited you were for your art class in the fall then you explained what period it would be. Since there was only one introduction to art class that fall semester for the period before lunch, he was going to enroll in art class regardless so might as well make sure he was in yours. Everything had been planned out. Sol didn’t leave any detail forgotten.

He got to class early, sitting in the back of the classroom. He placed his backpack on the chair next to him and anyone he tried to sit next to he glared at, causing them to scurry away. Now he just needed to wait for you to arrive, you’d have to take the only available seat open next to him in a full class.

Like he planned There were no more seats left in class, you had arrived a bit late, only barely beating the bell. He watched as your eyes darted around the classroom looking for somewhere to sit, then a relief look washed over your cute face when you spotted the open seat next to him. Quickly you made your way over pulling out the chair, “Is this taken?” You asked him, already beginning to slip off your backpack.

“N..no.” Sol replied avoiding your gaze, he was focused on his sketchbook, his pencil tapping against the book as he tried to control his breathing. “Oh thank god.” You sighed in relief, finally taking your seat. Rummaging through your backpack you pulled out all the essentials you’d need for art class. It worked. His plan went perfectly!

Sol found it difficult to concentrate on the professor’s words as he discussed basic art fundamentals, he just kept glancing over at you. Your perfume smelled so intoxicating, it drove him wild. The way you studiously jotted down notes was so adorable. Then class ended much to the man’s horror, he hadn’t written down a single thing but most importantly you gathered your things to leave without saying a word to him. He lingered in the classroom a bit, slowly shoving his sketchbook back into his backpack.

A couple days passed before he could see you again, and the whole time he found it difficult to think about anything else other than you. Sol was a bit angry at himself for not even speaking to you, that was his chance to reintroduce himself. He would talk to you next time, he promised himself.

The next class came and you were once again in the same predicament as last time. Arrived to class right before the bell went off and the only seat opened was next to the same guy as before. Not that you minded, he seemed nice enough. “Hey.” You greeted him quietly as you sat down before taking a seat. “Hi.” He returned your greeting quietly. He once again didn’t speak to you and that cycle went on for some time, before finally he had an excuse for the two of you to speak. He wasn’t sure why he kept shying away from you. Shit, he could barely even concentrate in class.

Then the next class came. “Everyone, please pair up with the person beside you, I want you and your partner to discuss today’s chapter.” The professor mumbled as he took a seat back down at his desk, immediately kicking his feet onto the desk and tapping away on his phone.

Turning around with a sigh you looked at your partner with a smile, “Hi. Thanks for always saving me a seat. I’m ______.” You introduced yourself, then gave the dark haired man an encouraging nod to speak. I know what your name is. He thought. Sol rubbed the back of his neck, nervously avoiding your eyes, his gaze fixated to the side. “Yeah it’s no problem. I’m..Sol.” He introduced himself back, hoping that maybe you remembered him.

“Nice to meet you, Sol.” You chimed in reply, holding your hand out. He looked at your hand, then back at you before he shook your hand back. “Yeah, same.” He said, a small smile making its way to his pierced lips. The moment your hands touched, he felt his heart do a leap, and without meaning to he held onto your hand for a bit longer than usual. Though upon realizing that, he quickly pulled his hand away. Either you didn’t mind or just didn’t notice it, as you immediately turned your attention back to the textbook. So you didn’t remember him, that was okay it’s not like he ever went out of his way to speak to you at the library.

“So, this chapter…” you began as you pushed the textbook to the center of the table so you both could share. Sol didn’t speak too much, he was more interested in what you had to say, he nodded attentively and hummed in acknowledgment when he agreed with something you said. The professor didn’t seem too interested in teaching class, so the reminder was spent just conversing. You giggled as Sol said something as you playfully slapped his arm, “What, no way? You did not!” You quietly exclaimed as Sol told you a story. He nodded, “Yeah I really did. It’s embarrassing but it’s the truth.” He laughed softly. Every single fucking thing was so adorable about you; your name, laugh, appearance, personality, every single thing was so adorable. Then just as Sol was about to open his mouth to speak again, the bell rang.

Jumping up in your seat, you pushed the chair back, quickly gathering your belongings. “I gotta go, Sol. But you’ll save me a seat again right? I really enjoyed talking to you.” You asked, looking at him with the cutest expression. “Yeah of course.” He reassured you. “Thanks, you’re the best!” You said and with that, you rushed out of the classroom.

As Sol finished gathering his own belongings, he noticed something sitting on your chair. Your jacket was left behind. He grabbed it and quickly walked out of the classroom to see if he could catch up to you, but of course you were nowhere to be seen. ‘I’ll hold onto it. Give it to her next class.’ He thought to himself.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

“Woah, that's a cute jacket! You seeing a cute girl?” Hyugo asked his friend. The pair sat at their usual spot on the rooftop eating their lunches. Sol rolled his eyes, “No. The girl who sits next to me in art left it, I’m going to give it to her next class. I just didn’t want it to get lost.” He explained as he continued to eat. He could bring it to you at the library where you worked part time but no, he just wanted to hold onto a bit longer. It was a cute jacket, he couldn’t lie - it was black with striped sleeves and an adorable black cat patch was ironed onto the front. It suited you perfectly.

“Aren’t you so sweet?” Hyugo teased, causing his friend’s face to heat up. Sol grumbled under his breath as he just ignored the comment and continued to eat, only causing the other to laugh. As the bell rang, signaling that their final class of the day would begin and marking the end of their lunch break, the pair stood up. Sol gathered the bento boxes, placing them in his backpack.

“Are you doing anything after class?” Hyugo asked before they parted ways. Sol wasn’t, but he needed to spend some time alone, there was an issue he needed to take care of. “Yeah.” He simply responded. “Aw okay, I’ll just go to the arcade by myself then.” He shrugged before walking off.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

It was dark already when Sol arrived back to his small studio apartment, the short winter days meant it would always be night when he got home. The dark haired man sat his bag on a chair, taking out the bentos to wash. He remembered your jacket was still in his hands, so carefully he placed it on the top of the couch. And so he did his usual evening routine; cleaning dishes, cooking dinner and lunch. The television was playing a show he really had no interest in watching, but it was good background noise.

But he just couldn’t stop thinking about you, eyes flicking to the jacket on the sofa as he prepared his and Hyugo’s lunches. Sol felt the crotch of his pants tighten uncomfortably against him, he swallowed the lump that formed in his throat as his heart rate accelerated. But he remained focused just hurrying to finish dinner as soon as possible so he could shower and lay in bed. Tomorrow was early classes after all.

Finally after some time Sol had showered and flopped onto his bed, an exhausted sigh escaping his lips. He closed his eyes as he tried to focus on anything other than you. But his boxers were so incredibly tight, his erection wouldn’t go away no matter what he tried to do. It felt wrong to touch himself to you, so resisting the urge Sol finally fell asleep. Tonight at least he was able to resist the urge.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ 🍋

The next day of classes came and nothing extraordinary happened. Sol couldn’t spot you anywhere, he supposed he would have to wait until tomorrow to see you and return the jacket. His evening routine was more or less the same, but as he laid in bed tonight, the urges were getting harder and harder to resist.

Sol tried to squeeze his eyes shut, trying to think of anything else other than the raging erection in his pants right now. His gaze kept flickering to your jacket, he was reminded of how amazing you smelled. He just wanted to smell the perfume again, there was no harm in that…right? Quickly getting out of bed, he snatched your jacket from the couch, immediately pressing it to his nose. Oh god, you smelled so fucking good. He was intoxicated by the scent, his eyes rolling back as he took in your smell, and without even realizing what was happening, his hands trailed down his torso until they slipped under the waistband of his boxers. His long slender fingers immediately wrapped themselves around his erection.

Sol began to pump his cock, a whimper leaving him as his thumb grazed over his tip. Precum was already pooling at the slit, his face still buried in your cute jacket. He could only imagine what it would feel like to have his face buried in your hair, neck…your pussy. He fantasized how amazing you would taste as his face was between your thighs, he’d make you feel so good. He had wanted you for so long now.

“_____…._______….” Sol whimpered your name, scarlet eyes fluttering shut as his pace quickened. At this point he was panting heavily, a complete mess and if your mere scent was doing this to him, he couldn’t imagine how he’d act during the actual act. His cock twitched in his hand and legs trembled; he collapsed onto his knees. He was now thrusting himself eagerly into the palm of his hands, precum lubricating his cock. Sol’s moans echoed throughout the apartment and he felt the warm sensation building up in his core, then with one final thrust he came loudly. “Oh fuck ______!” He cried out, his cum making an absolute mess of his boxers.

Riding out his orgasm he finally came to a stop and dropped the jacket onto the floor. His chest moving up and down as he tried to catch his breath, the whole of his body was a hue of red and warm to the touch. Dark hair sticking to his face from the beads of sweat that had formed. He made sure to toss your jacket onto the couch before he removed his hand from his boxers. A wave of embarrassment and guilt washed over him when he saw sticky cum coating his hand. I shouldn’t have done that. It felt so good though. He thought with a sigh as he stood to his feet. I should go wash up.

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Class was the next day, and that meant Sol could finally see you, he could return your jacket. He waited until after class, when you both were in the hallway. A part of him debated on not giving it back, he wanted it forever, to always have you with him, but he decided against it and it was worth it. The look on your face when he had handed you your jacket back was worth it. “Oh my gosh, Sol. I was so worried I had lost my favorite jacket forever. Thank you so much!” You exclaimed as you hugged him briefly, before you slipped it back on. “Yeah..of course. I tried looking for you yesterday to return it but I couldn’t find you anywhere.” He explained. A tinge of red evident on his pale features as he was reminded of what he did the night before with it. He violated your poor jacket, but of course he would never tell you that.

You shook your head, waving your hand dismissively, “Sorry about that! I was in such a rush to leave. My other job needed me to cover a shift.” You explained. You had another job besides the library?

But he didn’t mind; he was just glad he could keep your jacket safe from anyone else. Fumbling in the pocket of your pants you pulled out your cell phone, “We should exchange numbers! Just in case one of us needs to get into contact with each other.” You suggested, swiping your finger across to unlock the device. He watched as you typed away on the screen before handing it to him.

Sol’s heart was beating so quickly now, you were really asking for his number? He looked a bit uncomfortable, like he was rejecting your offer, because you began to pull away your phone looking at the floor embarrassedly. “S-sorry. I shouldn’t ha-“ you began but he cut you off, gently snatching the phone from your hand. And within seconds he typed in his number, he already noticed you made a contact name for him. Sol ☀️

But something else caught his attention as he felt the phone vibrate in his hand.

Crowe 🐦‍⬛ : You’re still coming over tonight, right?

Something inside of the dark haired man awakened when he saw that text. He froze in place, his blush that tinted his features now went away. Who the hell is Crowe? He thought bitterly. Your boyfriend or a coworker? He only snapped out of his thoughts when you retrieved your phone back, your thumbs danced across the screen then he felt his pocket vibrate.

“Did you get it?” You asked curiously, tilting your head so cutely to the side. “L-let me check.” Sol quickly said and pulled out his phone. His boring black phone background was illuminated with your text.

Unknown: hii! it’s ______ :D

Without a moment of hesitation he saved your contact. ______ 🌙

His contact was saved with a sun by his name so it only made sense that you were the moon. With that, you two said your goodbyes and Sol watched as you walked down the hall, he stood in his spot with a small smile on his lips.

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It was the weekend which meant Sol would do his weekly cleaning of his apartment. Loud music echoed throughout the apartment as he cleaned, humming softly to himself. Something caught his eye as he was vacuuming under the couch, a small piece of rectangular plastic glittered as it caught the light from the ceiling fan. Crouching, he picked it up and his eyes widened instantly when he realized what it was. Your ID had fallen out from the pocket of your jacket, he assumed. And all of your information was on it.

“______ ______..” Sol whispered your full name. He didn't know what it was before. Your address was there too, and it looked recent, judging from the picture and expiration date. The card shook ever so slightly in his fingers as he was practically salivating that he would now be able to find so many more things about you.

Halting his cleaning for the day, he shut off the music and instantly opened up his laptop to begin searching your name online. Hours had passed, day turned into night. Sol’s scarlet red irises were glazed over, his lips dry and mouth a bit parched. He hadn’t left his laptop screen in hours, too engrossed with finding out every single detail about you. Your social media wasn’t private, how foolish of you. And he scrolled through the dozens of pictures you had posted, finding out everyone you associated it with. The page refreshed and a new picture was posted. You are with a group of people at what looked like a bar, with the caption: Love my friends!! Tonight was so fun, let’s do it again!! :D

Sol remembered the text from this “Crowe” earlier and he began to examine the picture, trying to find out who this Crowe was. His eyes narrowed when he saw the man next to you in the picture. A long haired brunette with tan skin, he swore he had seen that face before. This Crowe was behind your frame, hands resting on either of your shoulders. To anyone else they would have assumed that you and the man were friends, nothing in the pose indicated anything romantic, but to Sol it was too much. He didn’t want to see another man behind you touching you like that. Standing up he slammed his laptop shut and decided he needed to go to bed before he got too consumed by his jealousy and anger.

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As days turned into weeks, then eventually into months, Sol and you grew closer. You were regularly texting and hanging out. He had found out that your lunches consisted of junk food, and that was even if you brought lunch to campus. So he decided to start prepping your lunches, and even dinners as soon as he found out you ate cup noodles nearly every night. God, you were cute albeit a bit useless, he didn’t mind cooking for you, it only made him feel wanted - and the look on your face every time you ate his meals just made him filled with so much joy.

You were so kind and introduced him to your friend group, Crowe was kind enough and he kept his hands off of you in Sol’s presence. But he knew that man looked familiar, and Crowe looked at him with suspicious eyes and a fake smile. Sol only remained cordial with your friends though, if they made you happy he’d pretend to be friendly with them. But the man never returned your ID, it was his now. You complained about having to buy a new one, but he made sure to slip some extra cash into your backpack one day when you weren’t looking. The text he received that night was so adorable. “Omg Sol I found some cash at the bottom of my backpack. I’m eating good tonight! >:3”

It was so worth it. But Sol had a dirty secret that he couldn’t tell a living soul. He was slipping sleeping medication into the dinners he made you, he made a copy of your apartment key, and he was letting himself into your home every night. It was all in an attempt to make sure you were safe!

“My neighborhood is so unsafe. I really need to find somewhere else to live. There’s been so many recent break ins and assaults, and I live at ground level.” He remembered you complaining.

“You can stay at my place, _______. It’s a decent neighborhood. Lots of old people, so it’s quiet.” He offered.

“Sol! No, I can't do that. You already do enough for me. I got new locks on everything and alarms.” You retorted with a pout. He knew you wouldn’t change your mind, you weren’t that type of girl. You were independent, but that was okay. Sol would still keep an eye on you. Knowing you kept a spare key hidden away, he found it and while you were at work he had a copy made, then placed the key back without you being none the wiser.

Tonight wasn’t any different, Sol waited until you were asleep and he slipped into your quiet, dark apartment. He could navigate your home in the dark. That's how familiar he was with the layout, but the dim street lights also did aid him. Your bedroom door was slightly ajar and he quickly made his way in.

The streetlights illuminated your room, he saw your sleeping form on the bed, one hand hanging off the side of the bed and your blankets messily thrown on top of your body. In fact, the blankets barely covered any of your body. You wore an oversized t-shirt and the cutest panties - the shirt was raised and exposed your bare torso. “Were you waiting for me dear?” He whispered as he knelt down at your bedside. Folding his hands on the edge of the bed, he rested his chin on top, his gaze was so loving - but there was something so dark about the way he looked at you. Raising a hand up, Sol’s slender fingers brushed aside the hair on your face. “So cute…” he breathed out.

You shifted, your eyes squeezing shut as a quiet groan left your lips. When you moved through, your shirt lifted just a bit more, revealing your breast partially. Sol felt his face grow warm and he tried to avert his gaze, but it was like you were practically begging for him, looking so cute and innocent. He choked back a moan as he felt his dick get hard, his fingers wrapped around the wrist of your limp hand and he placed his cheek into your warm palm. His eyes fluttered shut as he let out a content sigh, “You're asking me to do something, huh dear?” He mumbled. That had to be it or why else were you wearing such an outfit is that why you left your bedroom door opened? You were inviting him in, right?

Sol leaned down to press a kiss to your exposed neck, he nibbled softly at the skin. A quiet whimper escaping you as your brows furrowed. So cute. He thought, still nipping at the skin, leaving a faint red mark. His hand trailed down your neck until his fingers reached your breast, he gently massaged it for a brief moment. Another quiet whimper came from you. He let your hand that was cupping his cheek fall onto the bed for a moment, as his fingers fumbled with the belt of his pants and with a swift motion his dick was out. Already hard from anticipation, he positioned himself in your hands, he laced both your and his fingers together. He let out a moan feeling your fingers wrapped around his dick.

His whole body shuddered in pleasure at the feeling, and he buried his face between your breasts to quiet his moans as he began to rock his hips back and forth. His sensitive tip fucked your palm as he moaned out your name from between your breasts. Tears pooling at the corner of his closed eyes as pathetic needy whimpers left him.

“You’re mine. Mine..you’re mine ______. I love you so much.” He cried as he felt himself about to cum. Then, with another thrust he came hard into your and his laced hands. As he calmed his breathing down he slowly lifted his head up, you were still asleep, oblivious to the lewd act he just made you do. “You’re so beautiful, dear. You feel so perfect.” He whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips.

Standing up he pulled his pants back on, then walked to the bathroom to wash his sticky hands. Grabbing a rag he wet, he walked back to clean up the mess he left on your hands. “Crowe..the paper...” you mumbled in your sleep. Sol’s scarlet eyes widened in shock at the name, why were you talking about him when he was right here. His fists clenched and eyes narrowed, a dark cloud casting over his face. “You really ought to stop talking about him, dear. Crowe doesn’t deserve you. He doesn’t understand you like I do.” He hissed through gritted teeth. You were just confused - that’s okay, Sol was patient. He leaned down to press a kiss against your lips once again before wishing you a good night. With that, he quietly slipped out of your apartment.

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The final day of class before winter break came the next day. You and Sol sat in art class together, sketching your final assignment. The classroom was quiet as everyone worked. You kept glancing at the dark haired man next you, a faint blush on your face as you remembered the brief dream you had of him last night. You dreamt that he was having sex with you, you heard his moans as he fucked you. Then, just before the dream actually got good, your mind decided that all of a sudden you were going to dream about you and Crowe finishing up your finals paper for English class that you had done earlier yesterday. God! Why did his stupid pretty face have to ruin the best dream you ever had!

Class couldn’t end any sooner and the Professor motioned for everyone to turn in their assignments. He reminded the students to check their emails during the winter break to see their grades. You quickly stood out of your seat, the chair nearly falling back as you fumbled with putting your things away. Sol noticed that something was off about you, you wouldn’t look at him at all. Surely you didn’t know what he did with you last night, right? He slung his backpack over his shoulder as he watched you as you zipped up your backpack. “Want to go to the arcade?” He asked you suddenly, “Hyugo and I are going since classes ended early today. Like right now.” He added.

Snapping your head up, you actually looked at him for the first time today. Your eyes meeting his, “O-oh…umm. I’d love to but I don’t have any…money.” You mumbled, voice trailing off at the end. “Campus library let go of all the part timers a few weeks ago, remember? And my other job cut my hours. So it’s tight right now.” You sighed sadly. “I wasn’t asking you to pay. I just asked if you wanted to come with us?” He said.

Sol noticed a strand of hair hanging in front of your face so reached a gentle hand up to brush it aside, tucking the strand behind your ear. “I’ll pay. You know I’ll always take care of you, ______.” He reminded you with a kind smile that made your heart flutter. It was something he always told you, you weren’t sure why he was so kind to you when you had nothing to offer him in return. You were a broke college student who couldn’t even cook your own meals. A faint blush dusted your cheeks as you shyly looked away, “O..okay. Then yes, I want to go.” You shyly said as you tugged at the sleeves of your favorite jacket.

“Alright, good. Here I’ll carry your bag. Hyugo should be waiting at the entrance.” Sol said, taking your bag from you with a swift motion. You tried to protest but he was already walking ahead so you were more focused on catching up to him.

The walk to the arcade didn’t take long, but you were shivering from the cold winter breeze. Sol noticed you shivering and he wrapped an arm around your shoulder, bringing you close to him. You looked up at him before looking away shyly. Once inside the arcade, the three of you played games for some time. You pointed at a claw machine, wanting to win the cute cat plushie, you tapped at the glass before looking back up at Sol with big pleading eyes. “Aw, it's so cute. Do we have enough coins to win it?” You asked excitedly. Sol patted his pockets and sighed, shaking his head. “No, but I can go get some more if you’d like?” He asked, he just wanted to see you happy.

Hyugo nodded, “Yeah let’s play some more games! Oh, let’s get some food too. I’m starving!” He exclaimed, nudging Sol’s side. Sol looked at you, waiting for your answer. “That sounds good to me. While you two do that, I’m going to head to the bathroom. I’ll meet you back here.” You said. The pair nodded and with that you went your separate ways.

You found the restroom. It was located in the back of the arcade and once done, you hummed quietly as you made your way back to the claw machine with the plushie you wanted. But you unbeknownst drew unwanted attention to yourself; you hadn’t even stepped a few feet back out of the bathroom when you were immediately cornered by a much taller and bigger man than yourself. He backed you in between two large pinball machines, leaving you trapped. “Hey sexy. You got a boyfriend?” He slurred, it was obvious he was drunk. He had both of his arms on either side of your head so you could barely move. “Not interested.” You spat as you tried pushing him away, but to no avail. That seemed to only anger him more as he lowered his face to be at eye level with you. “Come on, don’t be like that. I’ll treat you nicely.” He said, though this time his voice was much darker. The stench of alcohol lingered with every breath he took. You turned your face to the side, but that seemed to only anger him and this time he grabbed your jaw roughly in his hands, forcing you to look at him.

“Don’t turn away, sweetheart. Just come on let me sh—“ he began, but suddenly his hand was ripped away from your face and you closed your eyes, fully expecting to get hit. You heard shouting and skin hitting skin, you still kept your eyes shut, flinching with every sound. The noise of the arcade was too loud and you slid down the wall, covering your face with your hands as you buried your face against your knees.

“Don’t you fucking touch her! I’ll kill you!” You heard a familiar voice shout, it was then you uncovered your face and your eyes widened in shock as you saw Sol fighting with the man, both with bloody noses. Hyugo pulled Sol away while a random person held back the other man. The two men were still shouting curses at one another, though you were so overwhelmed you could barely understand what they were saying. You noticed Hyugo was having trouble holding back Sol, so you quickly scrambled to your feet and stepped in front of the dark haired man, pressing your hands against his chest. “Sol! *Enough!*” you pleaded, tears forming in your eyes. The drunk man had lost his balance at some point and fell to the floor, but he was still threatening you and Sol. The man called you every name in the book, and he was mocking you - but you didn’t care. You just wanted to get out of here. There was a terrifying look in Sol’s scarlet eyes and it turned your blood cold. “Sol *please,* let’s just go.” You pleaded with him once again.

As soon as Sol heard your voice waver, he stopped and his eyes widened in a mixture of horror and guilt as he realized that you were crying. He cupped your face in his hands, shaking his head, “No, no, no. Please don’t cry. I’m done. We can go.” He said in a panic, “He didn’t hurt you, right? He didn’t touch you?” He asked. You shook your head, “No. I’m okay.” You reassured him, just wanting to leave. Your lip quivered as you looked up at him and you simply nodded, taking his hand in yours as you dragged him out of the arcade. Though when Sol was certain you weren’t looking, he turned back to the man and spat at him before he followed you out.

Once outside you wiped your tears away with your jacket sleeve, smearing your makeup a bit in the process, but you didn’t care. You didn’t dare let go of Sol’s hand, afraid that if you did he would turn back and actually kill the man. Hyugo sighed, rubbing his temples, “We should leave before the cops get called.” He mumbled. Sol clicked his tongue in annoyance, “We didn’t do anything wrong. That low life touched ______. I just defended her.” He spat back. You tugged Sol’s hand, “I want to go home.” You sniffled. “I’ll walk her home. You go ahead, Hyugo.” He said. The blue haired man raised a brow, by the way he looked at his friend you sensed that maybe he didn’t want to leave him alone. “You’ll call right? As soon as you dropped ______ off at home?” He asked, his brows furrowing.

Sol had already wrapped his arm around your waist, your and his backpack slung over his shoulders. “Yeah, I will. See you later.” He said pulling you along to walk off in the other direction. Hyugo just nodded watching as you two walked off.

Sol didn’t let go of your waist for the whole walk home, he held you protectively, glaring at anyone who looked in your general direction. Once you arrived back at your apartment you fished around in your jacket pocket for your keys, eventually finding them and unlocking the door. “Do..do you want to come in?” You asked Sol shyly. You were really inviting him inside! He felt his heart skip a beat and he swallowed nervously, “Sure.” He smiled and stepped inside after you, setting down the bags onto a stool by the door.

You untied your sneakers and left them at the door before you looked up at the tall man. “Do you want tea? Coffee?” You asked him.

“What do you want? I can start the water.” He asked you back.

“Tea sounds good. Something relaxing.” You replied, motioning him to follow you into the kitchen. You poured water into the electric kettle on the countertop as you reached into the cabinets to grab two cups. “Make yourself comfortable. I’m going to change real quick.” You smiled before walking off towards your bedroom to change. Sol already knew where everything was located, so he grabbed two tea bags, setting them into the ceramic mugs as he waited for the water to boil. Then a thought ran through his mind as his hand absentmindedly rested on his front pocket. You didn’t get to eat the dinner he made you for tonight which meant you wouldn’t sleep well.

So before the water was done boiling he pulled out a small bag in his pocket, and broke apart the sleeping pill, letting it dissolve in the hot water. He just wanted to make sure that you’d be able to sleep tonight was all.

When you walked back out of your room, your tea was already made and Sol was sipping on his as he leaned against the wall. He looked at your outfit, did you wear something like that on purpose to tease him? You wore tight shorts, a tank top, your favorite jacket unzipped, and the cutest bunny shaped slippers. “Thank you so much, Sol.” You smiled at him as you held the mug in your hands and slowly sipped on it. He nodded, “Of course. Anything for you.” He said returning your smile. You chatted with him for a while it was obvious that you were just stalling, you didn’t want him to leave. You were still shaken up from earlier, from both how Sol reacted and to what may have happened if he wasn’t there to save you from that man.

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You sat on the couch, legs crossed as some random show played quietly in the background. Sol sat across from you, you both had long finished your tea. He could tell you were getting a bit more sluggish, “I’m sleepy, Sol.” You yawned. “You should go..it’s getting late. Hyugo is probably worried about you.” You mumbled, rubbing your eyes with your sleeve. Sol frowned, “It’s okay. I don’t mind. I want to make sure that you’re okay.” He replied back, he didn’t want to leave you alone.

“I’m okay. I just don’t want to be alone..” you sniffled. “I think someone has been breaking into my house.” You then said, flicking your gaze up to look at him with a worried expression. Sol froze, his breath hitched in his throat. “W..what? Why do you think that?” He asked, trying to remain calm. Folding your hands together in your lap, your eyes darted around before landing back on him, “Sometimes things are out of place.” Is all you said, “So please don’t leave me alone.” You then pleaded, suddenly leaning over towards him on all fours.

Sol’s eyes flickered to your face and to the gap between your shirt, he could see you weren’t wearing a bra and he shifted awkwardly in his spot on the couch as he tried to remaining eye contact with you. Placing a hand over his crotch, he let out a cough, a dark red blush making its way to his pale features. “Okay. I won’t. I’ll stay as long as you want me to.” He responded, a look of desperation in his eyes. You smiled, feeling butterflies in your stomach when he said those words. Then your mind wandered back to the dream you had last night, you sat back legs now folded underneath you.

“Can you come lay down with me in bed?” You asked him, looking away shyly. “I don’t think I’ll be able to stay up much longer. Plus it’s more comfortable than staying out here.” You added. Sol found it hard to even speak now, he nodded and bit his lip. You stood up and began to walk towards your bedroom, turning off the lights along the way. Before you rounded the corner you noticed that he was still sitting on the couch, “Are you coming? You don’t have—“ you began only to be cut off by him springing up, “I am.” He mumbled shyly as he followed you into your familiar bedroom.

Your bedsheets were messily strewn about on your bed, like always. Clothes tossed haphazardly throughout the room, he watched as you shrugged off your jacket, tossing it on the vanity chair and you kicked off your slippers. You crawled into bed, pulling the sheets over your cold body. “What do you usually wear to sleep, Sol?” You asked him curiously, waiting for him to come lay down as yet another yawn left you.

“My..boxers.” Sol replied shyly, rubbing the back of his neck as he avoided your cute gaze. “You can sleep like that here. I don’t mind.” You mumbled motioning with your hand for him to come lay down. “A-are you sure?” He stammered, already unbuckling his belt, his hands shaking a bit in anticipation. “Mhm.” You hummed reassuringly, squeezing your legs together tightly. Sol wasted no time in taking off his clothes, it was a shame the room was so dimly lit so you couldn’t see him. He sat at the edge of the bed, still unsure of what he needed to do.

You tugged at his wrist, “Lay down with me. Under the blankets.” You encouraged him in a sleepy voice. He let you pull him down onto the bed, his heart was racing so fast he found it hard to breathe. As you both now laid under the covers he could feel your body heat, you were so close to him. Your bed wasn’t big by any means, so your bodies were practically touching. “I really like you, Sol.” You suddenly said, you weren’t sure why you blurted that out, maybe it was your drowsy drugged state that made you say something you didn’t mean to.

Sol’s eyes widened in shock as he turned his head to face you. He could make out your soft features from the dim city streetlights that peaked through the curtains. Your hand now was on his chest, you could feel how fast his heart was beating. “You take care of me. You’re so kind. I’ve never had anybody care for me like you do.” You mumbled, leaning over until your noses touched.

Sol raised a shaking hand to cup your face, his thumb caressing your cheek. “I’ll always take care of you, ______. I’ll be here. No matter what.” He whispered back. His words were so kind and gentle, yet there was darkness in which he spoke. You blushed and looked away, your eyes closing shut as you finally closed the distance between your lips. You were a bit unsure on how to kiss him, not wanting to mess with his lip rings too much, but as soon as your lips met something clicked inside the raven haired man.

He returned your kiss desperately, not wanting to stop. Were you really doing this? Was this seriously happening?! He thought. It was a shame you were half asleep, but it still didn’t stop you from your next move. You rolled onto of him, your legs straddling his waist as you cupped his face in your hands, kissing him with inexperience. It wasn’t like Sol minded though, he was also just as inexperienced. His hands were on your waist, fingernails digging into your soft skin as he let out a needy whimper when he felt you grinding against his dick.

“Do you like me, Sol?” You asked him, breaking away from the kiss for a few moments as you continued to grind against him. When he took too long to answer you paused and lifted yourself up about to get up. Feeling utterly rejected by him, humiliated. But his hands slammed you back down on top of him. A crazed look on his face, “Y-yes I do. I like you. You’re my soulmate, ______.” He desperately spoke, his eyes flickering trying to read your expression. All you heard was “yes”, as you began to fade in and out of consciousness, despite desperately trying to stay awake.

“G..good.” You mumbled against his lips, beginning to grind against him again as you cupped his face. Sol returned your kisses as he let out whiny moans of your name, begging you for more. He wanted to feel your pussy, god knows how long he had waited to fuck you. His hands let go of your hips and now tugged at the waistband of his boxers. He managed to slip them off and when he felt how wet your panties were a pathetic whimper left his lips. He pushed your panties aside and now he could really feel how wet your pussy was. His dick pushed between your folds, you shivered as you felt his tip slide over your clit. “S-sol.” You whimpered his name.

Oh god, just you saying his name so lewdly was almost enough to push him over the edge. “A-ah.” He cried out as he felt your pace quicken. He loved the way you were using him, like he was nothing more than a toy for you to hump to reach your orgasm. The head of his dick was so sensitive and he felt your clit rubbing against it. “I..I’m gonna cum.” He warned you. Sol’s fingers digging into the plush skin of your thighs as he bucked his hips upward. “I-I wanna fuck you…please. Feel your pussy…please.” He begged, biting your lip. But you ignored him continuing to grind against his hard dick as your moans became a bit louder, your thighs shaking. You could feel yourself about to cum, but Sol suddenly let out a yell. “A-ah ahh ______.” He cried as his hot cum shot out. He threw his head back, eyes squeezing shut as tears pooled in the corner of them, his back arched, and fingernails scratching your thighs enough to leave a mark and draw some blood. His body shook under yours.

You felt the warm sensation rising from your core, your clit becoming more sensitive by the seconds. Sol’s thick cum now providing more lubrication. His whimpering of your name and pleading was enough to push you over the edge and moments later you joined him in his orgasm. You cried out his name as you buried your face in the crook of his neck, holding onto him tightly as you rode out your orgasm. Honestly you weren’t sure if you were or not, your mind was so hazy. Then you suddenly came to a stop, your body shaking a bit as your eyes closed shut.

Sol caught his breath, his hands rubbed up and down your back and he realized you had fallen asleep. The medicine had taken its full effect. He wrapped his arms tightly around you pressing a kiss on top of your head a content smile on his lips. “You’re mine. Mine…you’ll never have to be alone again.” He mumbled against your hair. His scarlet eyes gazing at the ceiling as you were fast asleep against his chest. At some point he fell asleep still holding onto you, with his dick between your thighs.

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You had awoken the next morning a bit groggy, you realized you were in bed with someone and you stared down in horror as you realized that you had slept with Sol. You only remembered bits and pieces of the nights before, and your sticky panties confirmed that you two had been intimate in some way. You wiggled out of his strong arms as quietly as you could and rushed to the bathroom, grabbing your phone careful to not wake him up.

After you cleaned yourself up and changed, you sat on the ledge of the bathtub typing away rapidly on your phone.

Crowe I NEED YOU NOW!!!!

What’s up? You okay?

NOOO. I think I just messed up. I think I ruined a friendship.

Woah calm down, ______. Is this about him?

YES. Can we meet up at the cafe? Please. Right now.

Yes. I’ll be there in a few.

Thanks.

With that you clicked your phone shut and quickly got dressed into your clothes from yesterday, not wanting to disturb Sol’s sleep. You peeked into your room and still saw him resting. You left the house getting your wallet and keys and tossing them into your jacket.

Sol woke up not long after you had left the house and when he didn’t feel your presence he immediately shot up in bed, panic beginning to set in. Where were you?! He grabbed his phone getting ready to dial your number when he saw a text appear on the screen.

I’ll be back soon. :3

He calmed down a bit, laying the phone in his lap as he ran a hand through his messy hair. Why didn’t you tell him you had somewhere to go? Why would you leave alone in the morning after everything that had happened last night? It was then he felt a bit angry, wondering why you were sneaking around. Snatching his phone back up he called you but you kept ignoring his calls, finally though you answered.

“Hello.” Your voice came through on the other end, there was also another voice on the other end too. It was one he recognized. It was Crowe. He felt himself grow even more angry as jealousy filled him. Why the hell are you with him?!

“Who are you with?” Sol asked, his voice as sickly sweet.

“Shhhh be quiet. Yeah, hi Sol, I’m with a friend. Don’t worry, I’ll be back home soon.” He heard you shushing Crowe. His grip tightened on the phone, if he squeezed any harder he may have shattered the screen. “When will you be back? Where are you?” He asked, this time his tone wasn’t as sweet.

“Sol…please don’t worry about it. I promise I’ll be back home soon. I gotta go.” You reassured him before hanging up.

Sol was furious, he slammed the phone face down onto the night stand, the glass screen shattering. Why is he interfering? Why does she keep hanging out with him? Doesn’t he know ______’s mine?! So many jealous thoughts flowed through his head as he quickly got dressed. He freshened himself up before he left your apartment, storming on the busy streets. What you hadn’t known was that Sol had installed a tracker on your phone many nights ago. He was really trying to give you the chance to tell him where you were without having to resort to using the tracker, but you wouldn’t tell him. He had no other choice but to use it, and make sure you were okay. He had to make sure that filthy Crowe wasn’t touching you. And he needed to show the brunet who you belonged to.

It was a rainy day and he didn’t care if he got wet, he was determined to find out where you were. The tracker led him to a busy coffee shop where he saw you and Crowe sitting near the window. His scarlet eyes met bright blue ones, belonging to the last person he wanted to see. Sol’s eyes narrowed, and all the brunet did was return a sly smirk before mouthing something to you. You whipped your head around just as Sol stormed into the coffee shop, immediately making his way to the table you two sat at. He tried to maintain his composure, his chest rising with every deep breath he took as he glared at the man sitting across from you.

“Sol? H-How did you know I was here?” You asked him in shock. He ignored your question continuing to glare daggers at Crowe, who sipped on his coffee nonchalantly. “Hey there. Care to join us?” He asked with a polite smile, motioning with his hand to the available seat.

“No. ______, we’re going home. Now.” Sol demanded, now turning to look at you. He grabbed your wrist and you tried to jerk away, “Ow, Sol!” You cried out, which caused him to immediately drop your hand. “Are you okay?” He asked, his angry expression now etched into worry. You frowned, rubbing your wrist, “Y..yeah. I told you I’d be gone later. Please stop this.” You pleaded, looking at him with big eyes.

“You should be gentle with her, Sol.” Crowe scolded half heartedly. “______, you should go. Don’t keep him waiting. We can talk soon, I have to get to work anyways.” He smiled warmly at you.

“But I—“ you stammered, but the brunet cut you off with a wave. “Seriously, it’s fine. Just remember what we talked about, okay?” He winked, it was purposeful, he was trying to get under Sol’s skin and it was working.

Sol grabbed your wrist a bit more gently this time as you stood up, “We’re leaving. Bye.” He spat, glaring at the man as he dragged you out of the coffee shop. All the while Crowe watched with furrowed brows and a forced smile. He didn’t like Sol, he didn’t like him at all. But whatever made you happy, he’d tolerate.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ 🍋

Sol was dragging you down the street as you squirmed under his tight grasp on your wrist. The whole time you demanded to know what had gotten into him! This wasn’t the Sol you knew. Ever since the arcade, you noticed a sudden shift in his personality, it was instantaneous. As you two arrived back at your apartment, he shoved you inside with a forceful hand, slamming and locking the door shut. “What the hell is wrong with you, Sol?!” You screamed at him as you tossed your phone, keys, and wallet onto the kitchen counter.

Sol’s eyes were narrowed still as he walked towards you, instinctively you stumbled backwards until you found yourself with your back pinned against the wall with nowhere to go. His tall frame towering above you. “What’s wrong with me? You’re the one sneaking around with that bastard.” He hissed as he slammed his palms on either side of your head, pinning you between his arms. “I’ve tolerated him long enough. Doesn’t he know you belong to me?! I’m the one that’s caring for you and protecting you. While he does nothing.” He snapped angrily.

You cowered beneath him, beginning to grow a bit scared, “Y-you’re scaring me, Sol.” You whimpered. He clicked his tongue in annoyance; he didn’t like you pretending to be innocent in all of this. Perhaps you and that bastard needed reminding of who you belonged to. Sol crashed his lips against yours roughly, you felt his tongue trace the bottom of your lip. But when you were tightening your lips together to deny him, he bit your lip causing your lips to part open in surprise and with that his pierced tongue forced its way into your mouth. One hand on your jaw forcing your head to tilt up. You tasted like coffee and sugar, he didn’t mind at all though. It suited you.

You cried against him. He was being so forceful it was terrifying. He pulled away panting heavily, a string of saliva connecting your and his lips. His hand was still firmly holding your chin. “I don’t think you realize, dear. That you’re mine. No one else can have you. Ever. I won’t allow it.” He muttered. He noticed that your eyes were watery and a sympathetic smile made its way to his pierced lips. “Aww..please don’t cry, baby. I don’t want to make you cry. I promise I’ll make you feel good. You just need to be reminded that you’re mine.” He said in a gentle voice as his thumb wiped away your tears.

“I’m scared.” You whimpered.

Sol leaned down to press a much more gentle kiss to your lips, “You won’t be for long. You’ll be feeling so good in a minute.” He purred and with that he picked you up holding you so gently in his arms bridal style as he continued to kiss your lips. Once inside the bedroom he tossed you onto the bed and hovered over you beginning to tug at the waistband of your pants. “N-no Sol.” You whined but your arousal said otherwise. The truth was you were so turned on by him. You had wanted him in this way for so long.

Sol ignored your pleas and within a couple minutes he had you stripped of your clothes. You laid on your back on the bed as you looked at his nearly naked body, he stood only in his boxers. And now with the sun peeking through the blinds basking the room in a bright light you saw just how big Sol was. His body was well toned, just perfect. You saw the erection in his pants and you swallowed nervously at just how big he was. You weren’t sure if he was even fully hard yet.

You didn’t get to stare at him for too long though as he got to his knees, kneeling in front of your legs. “I’m going to make you feel so good dear. You won’t ever think of anyone else but me.” He said it almost came out as a warning. His slender hands pushed your legs apart and the look of pure lust was on his face. You tried to cover yourself up with your hands but he wouldn’t let you. “So pretty.” He whispered. God, he dreamt for so long to be buried between your thighs eating you out.

You jumped when you felt Sol’s tongue licking your pussy, the muscle dragging slowly between the slit. You felt the cold metal piercing drag along sending a shiver up your spine. He let out a moan as he tasted you. God, you tasted better than he could have ever imagined. He pushed your legs further apart and spread open your pussy, you squirmed a bit at being so exposed. Your hands balled up the fabric of the bed sheet beneath you as you felt the ball of his piercing roll over your clit, causing you to let out a loud moan. You knew you messed up when you gave him that reaction, because he immediately began to suck at your sensitive clit, rolling his piercing over it every single time causing you to moan louder. His tongue moving from teasing your clit to probing your wet hole. He wanted to taste every bit of you, this was pure bliss for the raven haired man.

“So good.” Sol praised. It was hard to focus as he sucked the sensitive bud, your head spinning as your legs quivered. He wouldn’t let you close your legs, no matter how much you tried. His tongue worked so expertly, he knew exactly how to get you whimpering under him. “Sol!” You yelped when you felt his tongue enter you, causing your hips to buck and your back to arch. It was such a strange feeling but god it felt so good. He was trying to fuck you with his tongue. Your hands tangled in his dark loose hair as you tilted his head back up to focus on your clit. “I-I’m gonna..” you gasped, squeezing your eyes shut as the warm sensation began to build more and more. Your breathing became more frantic and with another roll of his pierced tongue against your clit, your legs closed, Sol’s face still between your thighs as you held him there cumming all over his face. You were practically screaming his name as he continued to suck on your overstimulated clit. You begged him to stop, so he did and instead decided to clean you up.

Sol’s tongue lapped up every last bit of your juices, you tasted so amazing. He was drunk off of your scent—taste. Everything about you drove him crazy. He could spend the rest of his life buried between your thighs, licking your pussy and letting you cum all over his face. He was yours to use. “N-no more. Please.” You begged, your body falling limp.

Sol gave you one last taste, his tongue swiping up the full length of your pussy before he sat up. He licked his wet lips, “See..I’m the only one who can make you feel this good, dear.” He said matter of factly. He stood up pulling down his boxers revealing his hard dick. When you looked at him you nearly choked on your own spit. How the hell were you supposed to take him? He hadn’t stretched you out with his fingers to prepare you. “I-I can’t take you without—“ you began. But Sol leaned forward kissing you, shutting you up. “It’s okay. I’ll be slow.” He mumbled against your lips.

His tall frame towered above you, it was so intimidating, the way he looked at you with half lidded eyes and a small smile on his face. His arms were on either side of you pinning you between him. You felt the tip of his dick poke at your entrance. Sol continued to gently kiss you as he pushed himself inside you, he let out quiet whimpers as slowly filled you up. His body shuddered at the sensation, your tight pussy was everything he had ever dreamed off. “Fuck…oh god you feel so good, ______.” He moaned as he sat up now. Placing his hands on your inner thighs, he spread your legs apart as far as he could without hurting you. He wanted to see how well you took him.

Inch by inch Sol sank into you, it was agonizing how slow he went but by the look on his face he was savoring every moment. He was panting quietly trying to control himself, he did want to hear his soulmate after all. You squirmed under his strong grasp as he filled you up beyond belief. You weren’t ready to take him, he was so big it hurt. “S-Sol.” You cried, tears pooling in the corner of your eyes as you felt the tip hit deep inside, causing you to flinch in pain.

“It’s okay. You’re doing so well, dear.” He praised you. And without warning Sol snapped his hips back and slammed back into you, causing you to yelp. He couldn’t resist himself as he began to roughly fuck you. His fingernails digging into the soft skin of your thighs and quiet moans left him. He stayed quiet because he wanted to hear your sweet sounds.

He watched the face you made as every single time he hit that sweet spot of your pussy. The way your lips parted as you moaned his name and the how your back arched as he fucked you. The way your breasts bounced up and down with each thrust. He noticed the creamy white ring forming on the base of his cock. You felt so perfect, it was as if..”We were made for each other, ______.” He whispered. Sol let go your thighs, confident that you’d keep your legs spread out. He now cupped your breasts, fingertips lightly teasing your perked nipples as he watched you shudder under his touch.

Sol frowned, “Something’s missing.” He said in between pants as he continued to relentlessly fuck you. His pace was not slowing down at all, you were exhausted already, your pussy ached from how hard he was slamming into you. You weren’t sure you’d even be able to walk in the morning. “W-what?” You asked confused by what he meant but he didn’t answer you, instead leaned down to bite your neck. You cried out in surprise. He actually bit you. He nipped and sucked at the sensitive skin on your neck, not caring if he hurt you. After all, everyone needed to know you were his.

Your hands tangled in his hair as you squeezed your eyes shut, tears now running down your face. Your legs wrapped around his waist as he slipped one hand between your thighs. You body twitched when you felt the pad of thumb rub your clit, all the while he never stopped fucking and marking you. He let out a low laugh when he felt your body twitch underneath him.

Sol could tell you were close to coming, by how your breathing became more erratic, how you held him closer. “Are you going to cum for me, dear?” He asked. You didn’t say anything, which annoyed the dark haired man. He sat up, ripping himself from your grasp and stopped rubbing circles against your sensitive clit. “You need to answer me.” He growled and just to emphasize the point, he pulled nearly all the way out before he snapped his hips forward. You cried loudly, biting your lip and nodding eagerly, “Y-yes. I wanna cum for you, Sol.” You whimpered, looking up at him with the cutest expression.

Sol smiled lovingly at you, satisfied with your answer, “You’re so cute when you beg, dear.” He spoke gently and with that he returned to stimulating your clit. Your mind was hazy as you felt your orgasm building up, you were only focused on one thing and that was coming. Your hands reached up to dig their fingernails in the skin of his bicep. “You’re so close. I can tell. Just cum for me. Please. I want to feel it so bad.” Sol begged in a whiny, desperate tone as he quickened his pace. And just like that you practically screamed his name, your body shaking as you came around his cock.

You orgasming and screaming his name was the most beautiful thing Sol had ever witnessed. He had dreamt of this moment for so long, it was better than he could ever imagine. He felt your pussy tighten around him and soon after he was coming too. Sol threw his head back as his dick twitched, coating your insides with thick cum. He was buried deep inside you, holding your thighs firmly so he could adequately fill you up. “You’re so beautiful. So pretty, full of my cum.” He mumbled, gazing down at you now.

Sol gently pushed your legs apart as he pulled out of you and watched in awe as his cum leaked out of your tight pussy. It was a heavenly sight. He sighed in satisfaction, flopping down onto the bed as he wrapped his arms around your tired body, pulling you onto his chest. You buried your face into the crook of his neck as you clung into him tightly. “No one will ever make you feel this good, dear. You were made for me. We’re soulmates.” Sol said barely above a whisper as he gazed at the white ceiling. “You’re mine. I won’t ever let anyone come between us. Ever. I love you so much, ______.” He said, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. His embrace tightening around you when he said that.

There was something threatening about the way Sol spoke. You were a bit scared, but you had no reason to be, right? He just loved you and you loved him. “I love you, Sol.” You sniffled. Sol just smiled at your words. He finally had you all to himself.

[perpetuallyuninspired]

Sol...... bedroom scene

(๑>؂<๑) hes so icky i love him #needthat

full images: Perpetually Uninspired (@perpetual_block) / X

[kunaiiikittennn]

freak like me

syp: mdni cw; stalking, noncon, mentions of somnophilia—use of 'doll' no betaᝰ.ᐟ𖹭

it always starts the same, he's just going to look—not touch.

and every night he breaks that rule.

he doesn't mean to, really, but there's something so alluring about you when you're sleeping so peacefully. so vulnerable and open. ripe for the taking. can you truly blame him when you wear such short sleep shorts, your ass practically falling out into his open, waiting palms?

the floorboards creak in the otherwise quiet house, setting his nerves alight—praying that no one wakes up. the rickety lock remains broken. untouched. unchanged. lucky for him. it gives him the—easy—access he needs to see you, to smell you.

simply put, it's an addiction. you consume his thoughts like a thorn in his side.

to think all it took was seeing your smile sent in his direction would make him fall so quick, he's so pathetic that he just had to follow you—a desperate puppy craving your attention. an impulse decision to trail after you, hiding in the shadows to learn the street you live on, which house you reside in, and finally which room is yours.

mapping out your house was easy, a cake walk. he takes the familiar turns until he's outside your bedroom door, taking a deep breath before slowly, carefully twisting the knob. the door glides open, faint streams of moonlight peeking in through the curtains, highlighting your sleeping form beautifully. a true to life angel. he shuts the door, locking it behind him, ensuring that they'll be left alone. can't have anyone interrupting our bonding moment.

the bed dips as he settles in beside you, the way a lover would upon returning home; practiced and intimate, your cute nose scrunching up, twitching like a bunny as his scent wafts over you. a mix of a dark cologne, vetiver and oakmoss—the scent that clings to your sheets but could never find the source of—it wraps around you in the same way a snake would, tangling and twisting into a strangling grip.

for awhile he just watches you; the steady rise and fall of your chest, squirming in your sleep as you toss and turn. until his fingers start to twitch, a deep-seated need, burning hotly under his skin. he'll die if he doesn't feel the smoothness of your flesh under his fingertips.

"hi, doll." he murmurs softly, brushing his fingers along your jaw, watching in fascination as your lips part slightly.

his thumb toys with your bottom lip, dipping into your mouth and back out again. the digit glimmers in the dim light, he sucks your saliva clean off, suppressing a moan. whole body shuddering when he finally gets a taste—slightly minty from your toothpaste.

hesitantly, his hands ghost down hovering over your breasts, your nipples are pebbled, poking through the thin camisole like headlights. begging for his attention. his mouth waters, eyes scanning your face for any signs of stirring when he finds none his hands are on you; groping hungrily at your fleshy mounds, squeezing harshly until you squeak. a breathless little noise, almost a moan, your back arching off the bed.

his eye light up, glowing with tiny hearts, cock twitching in his pants. his touch gets rougher, greedier, palm sliding down your stomach, bunching your top up with an urgency. the most perfect sight greets him, your perky tits on full display and he has to bite his lip violently, almost breaking skin.

his dick is straining painfully in his shorts, freeing himself and hissing as the cool air hits his over-heated cock. lazily stroking up his length as he drinks in your figure, his free hand tugs at your shorts, pulling them down your thighs. fuck. you're not even wearing any panties, your folds shining in the moonlight, it's like you knew he was coming.

he lines himself up, rubbing the blunt head of his cock against your slit, collecting your slick as you squirm underneath him. he wonder what you must be dreaming of, it's too much to hope that your subconscious mind would choose him, but he wishes for it nonetheless. he'll make you remember him—one way or another.

your pussy flutters with every sloppy grind of his cock into your clit, gushing down your ass and staining the sheets. god, you feel even better than he imagined. so hot and wet. so perfect. he rocks against you with slow, desperate thrusts that has his cock leaking, pre-cum mixing in with your juices.

it sounds downright filthy, that squishy squelch of your bodies meeting in sinful tandem. his eyes watch the steady bounce of your tits, the way your face is screwed up tight, tiny gasps leaving those pretty lips of yours.

oh how he wishes he could see your eyes when you realize who's toying with your cunt.

his thrusts get quicker, digging his hips down to feel the throb of your clit, bucking like a wild animal to reach his release. he pictures it, your voice broken and needy as you cry out for him—the tight grip your sopping cunt would have on him as he splits open you wide. the way you'd claw at his back, arching into him like he's the only one who can make you cum. his sweet little doll, his to fuck and use as he pleases.

his eyes shoot open as he hits his peak, spurts his hot, sticky load land on your stomach and drip down onto your puffy folds. he adores the sight, awestruck like he created a masterpiece. you stir and he takes that as his cue to leave, hastily tugging your shorts back into place. he adjusts his pants, tucking his softening cock back into their confines, taking one last look at you before dipping out the window and into the night.

and in the morning you wake with dried patch of something clinging to your skin, confused as to how it got there...

⤷ touya todoroki, tomura shigaraki, hitoshi shinso, kazutora hanemiya, wakasa imaushi, rindou haitani, shinichiro sano, kenma kozume, suna rintaro, soshiro hoshina, narumi gen, bachira meguru, itoshi sae, solivan brugmansia (yes i had to add him) ++ your favsᝰ.ᐟ

kunaiiikittennn 𖹭 please do not repost, copy or steal my trashᝰ.ᐟ

[bambambibambambi]

♡Anniversary gift♡

Idea: Sol decided to get you a little gift for your anniversary 3 years together, a frenum piercing.

Paring: husband!sol x reader

Warnings: NSFW, bitting, frenum piercing, cunt devouring,no protection(reader takes birth control), short af

Note: sorry this took so long! I had lots of things to do, well this is definitely the first nfsw I've written on here!

Request: @powowplayinghooky

"Perfect!" You cheerfully exclaimed looking down at the dinner you'd spent hours making for your anniversary, usually you two went out so it was a bit different this year, but you didn't mind it much. A thought popped into the back of your mind when you realized Sol was yet to arrive, you're used to him being on you most of the day, kissing you, touching you in places that get you all hot and bothered.

you shake the strange thoughts away quickly, this should be a wholesome moment! You turned around to see your dear husband, something was strange....he was walking a bit weird, you've noticed it a week ago after that one conversation you two had about his piercings. "Are you okay?" Was a question you'd ask a lot, but he always had some excuse or some pretty damn good lie to pull, by now you know very well how he is when he lies. It probably would have worked before you two got married, but too late for that. You knew him like the back of your hand. No escaping this time for him.

Sol raised an eyebrow once you stood before him. "Pumpkin..?" He muttered, tilting his head a bit curious and confused. "Pants off." You stared into his eyes with a smile as warm as the sun.

"What" Sol started at you now too shocked to even speak, it was so random and sudden that he didn't even get a moment to process it. After stuttering an excuse, he ended up giving in after all you were his goddess, the reason he even stands there breathing, you wanted something you'll get it.

Pulling him into the bedroom, you were shocked by the decoration. Last time you checked there wasn't supposed to be Any. Your line of thought was cut off by a hand slithering around your waist and pulling you close, the familiar tingling feeling shot down your spine as he murmured into your ear, his warm breath tickling your ear and neck. "I did it all for you, pumpkin" his voice was quiet and soft yet full of need for you, even a slight touch would please him.

You didn't even get to reply or express your appreciation before his lips crashed onto yours. It was gentle at first, then it got more desperate as his hands glided up your shirt. His kisses moved under your jaw as if he were trying to devour you, every part of you. He was rock hard, and God, it was getting harder to not ruin you on the spot; it was your anniversary, so he believed he must go slower. Sol's hands gently laid you down on the bed, his kisses didn't stop as he finished removing your shirt. Slowly down your chest to your nipples, looking up at you, watching your reaction to every nibble, kiss, and the way you tremble. His mouth went lower, he stopped right where your pants were. Sol's eyes moved towards your face, a plea for consent. As soon as you nodded, your pants were gone.

He takes his time. Traces slow circles on your inner thighs with the tip of his tongue, making you jolt, breath catching, and he moans softly into you. One hand on your stomach, holding you down. The other gripping your thigh, spreading you open so he can get deeper.

He sped up making out with your pussy at this point, he started Feeling your legs clenched around his head tightly and back arched off the bed he knew you were getting close and didn't stop, continuing the speed of his tongue swirling it around using his finger pushing it into your gummy entrance. Once you finally came and were calming down from your high, he sat up on his knees, his face covered in your arousal and release, he licked it off his lips with a smirk. Sol removed his pants and slipped off his boxers. You were looking up at the ceiling and had barely heard the sounds of him moving around. Suddenly, you felt his tip pressing against your gummy entry, slowly pushing in. You simply couldn't get used to how large he was, and it took you a bit to get used to it. After lying there for a few minutes, feeling the stretch get slightly painless, you felt something scratching you inside as he moved, and strangely, even with the pain, it felt so good. Your head tilted back into the pillow once more moaning like a bitch in heat brought a smirk to his lips knowing the piercing was a good idea seeing how you were a lot more responsive than usual. "Fuck...keep making those pretty sounds for me"

Leaning on your chest as he held your thighs up to thrust deeper into you, biting your neck as your eyes welled up in tears. Your hands were gripping the bedsheets so tightly that it made you seem like your life depended on it. "You're taking me so well, pumpkin.."

A/n:...I gave up since the power keeps turning off and I have zero energy but I wanted to post this soon so it had been cut short sorry!

© 𝔅𝔞𝔪𝔦ℑ (all rights reserved. do not share, modify, translate and re-upload my work outside of tumblr)

[milkpup]

cough.s...... can i req dom sol with a kittygirl!reader with a breeding kink.....

₊˚.༄ this was actually really fun to write! i wanted to try and do something a little interesting w/ the “plot” so I hope you like it! it’s a bit silly, but just go with it! :3 thank you for the FIRE request, anon! ♡ also lowkey, jealous hyugo part 2????

જ⁀➴ when the bell chimes ⁺ . ✦  tags ── ♡ ˚⊹︰mdni (18+), slight dubcon, HUGE breeding kink, body transformation, drugging (unknown substance), heavy alcohol use, nekomimi, catgirl!reader, dom!sol, sadism, sadist!sol, biting, blood, thigh fucking, hyugo is lowkey in on it, roommate au, face slapping, degradation, verbal abuse, praise, humiliation, collar kink, cúnnilingus/eat me out!(EMO), piv, come/cum eating/swallowing, fingerfucking, possessive!sol, jealousy, possessive sex, reader is a virgin ⁺ . ✦ wc. 3,473

sol was obsessed with you. from the very first time he laid his eyes upon you, from the very first time his eyes feasted upon your form, he has been utterly fixated on you. it started as a simple friendship. you would meet in the library between classes, talk about books or draw together, and then walk to your next class together. spending time together as classmates turned into friends, which turned into something more.

he would never let you leave. once his claws had sunk into you, they could never be let go. he kept you inside, under lock and key, hidden away from the outside world. why do you need to go out? he can get everything for you. why do you need more friends? is he not enough? why do you need to talk to others? does he not amuse you? he can take care of everything you could ever need, and more. why would you ever want more? why would you ever be greedy like that?

he was clever. he had convinced you to “save your money”, to stop living on your own, to just live with him to ease the financial burden of just existing in this economy. and, trusting your friend, you thought it would be a wonderful idea to be roommates. he never made you pay anything. he would hardly even let you cook or clean around the apartment. he did everything for you. he would always do anything and everything for you, no matter what.

you’re not sure when it happened. perhaps you were too drunk one night, or not thinking very clearly, or whatever else impairment that comes to mind. the fact of the matter is— something changed in your relationship. you saw him differently. you wanted him differently. you wanted more. why? to be honest, as nice as he is, he’s a bit creepy. so why do you suddenly find yourself yearning for him? why do you think about him at night, before bed? why does it make you feel hot and warm and fuzzy?

your relationship quickly turned into more. you were dependent upon him for everything, physically and mentally. and honestly, it wasn’t that bad at first. but then he wouldn’t let you go see your friends, he wouldn’t let you do anything on your own, and eventually he wouldn’t let you leave at all. he kept you inside, and you obeyed, not wanting to provoke or upset him.

were you dating? by some definitions, maybe. were you partners? not necessarily. being someone’s partner implies a sense of equality, a sense of mutual recognition and respect. and while sol “respects” you, he saw you more akin to a pet, to property, to something to be owned.

it was autumn again, a year since you moved in. halloween was fast approaching, and you had managed to successfully convince sol to dress up with you. he even agreed to take you out to spend time with hyugo, your mutual friend, and you were ecstatic to say the least.

he hadn’t quite decided upon a costume, and chose to just wear his usual attire, citing himself to be some “2000s emo boy or whatever”. it was boring, to say the least. your costume was a bit more interesting, albeit simple. fluffy cat ears sat perched atop your head with a small bell collar accompanying it. it sat comfortably along your throat, jingling with every movement, every action, and every breath. the rest of your outfit was simple, a cute black dress along with some black boots completed the outfit. you didn’t have much time to prepare and buy a costume, and honestly, you’d rather wear something simple over an itchy, uncomfortable piece of fabric that you would wear for only one night.

you walked out of the bathroom after putting the finishing touches on your makeup and spraying perfume. his crimson eyes widened at your figure. sol watched as you presented yourself, showing off your outfit, beaming with excitement at the idea of seeing hyugo and finally getting out of the house.

“you look nice,” he says as his eyes rake across your body. he’s definitely taking in every inch of you right now, assessing, observing, and devouring. he smiles softly, his eyes matching the warmth. “i love the collar.”

a blush creeps across your features. “thank you,” you murmur, trying to distract yourself with the hem of your sleeve.

“ready to go?” he asks, walking past you to grab his keys. he catches a whiff of your perfume, and warmth spreads throughout his body. like liquid magma, it heats his entire body and core, threatening to make him explode. he needs to control himself, at least for a little while longer.

“yes, i can’t wait to see hyugo!” you share as you turn away from him to grab your bag. the bell jingles, alerting him of your movements. you miss the look of dissatisfaction, jealousy, and even envy as you mention your excitement to see hyugo.

—

“you look cute today!” hyugo says, giving you a hug as you walk through his front door. this was the first time you’d ever been at his place, and it was exactly what you had expected. neat and organized, everything was in its place.

“thank you, hyugo,” you say, smiling at him. you set your bag down on some random side table, forgetting about it for now. you just want to spend some time with your friends, and mayyyyybe have a drink or two.

“and i see mr. sunshine didn’t really choose to dress up today, what a vibe killer,” he says, his attention now pointed at sol. at least hyugo tried to dress up. sure, he was totally giving “performative male” with his baggy jeans, wired headphones, and carabiner keychain, but it was at least something. maybe you could be the three musketeers of mediocre halloween costumes. surely, if there was a mid costume competition, you three might be the finalists. sol would be the winner, though.

“i’m very much ‘giving’ 2000s emo, didn’t you realize that?” sol retorts.

“you literally look that always. you’re supposed to dress up, be something that you’re not on halloween!” hyugo points out, his voice teasing.

“i’m not emo,” sol replies, annoyed.

you chuckle slightly.

“okay, emo boy, whatever you say,” hyugo says, winking at you and leading you two deeper into his house.

“there’s food, drinks, and god knows whatever else you might want. it’s a three-man party though, so there’s more than enough.” he grins, pointing at the delicious spread of food on the table and gesturing to the liquor racks. on a small table beside it, you see various powders and pills scattered about. what the hell is hyugo up to? and why is there so much of it?

—

you’re not sure how many shots you’ve had. you lost count after the 8th. sol and hyugo laugh at some inside joke, sitting besides each other. you sit on the other side of sol, almost isolated. there was a time when you might have sat between the two of them, but sol would never allow it anymore. he never lets you get close to hyugo.

you down another shot as the room spins. you might have had too much, but who cares. you never get to go out like this, much less get a chance to get fucking wasted. and hyugo has some good fucking shit.

hyugo gets up, leaving the room, muttering something about making some drinks for the three of you. you’re keenly aware of sol’s presence now that you’re alone. the feeling of your thigh pressed against his has your already flushed face burning up even more.

“enjoying yourself?” he asks, looking at you, concern spread across his features.

“yesssss,” you reply, unaware of just how bad you were slurring your words already. you sink into the cushions of the couch, enveloped in the warmth and comfort of the plush cushions.

it feels like an awkward eternity before hyugo returns, setting 3 glasses in front of you. you grab the one closest to you, taking a huge gulp of the cocktail.

“this is sooo good, hyugo, what is it?” you ask, practically chugging the cocktail.

“just a new recipe i’m trying,” he replies, not looking at you but instead meeting sol’s gaze. they exchange an odd look, like something only the two of them would understand. he smiles at you. “i’m glad you like it, i’ll have to make more for you,” he says, that cheeriness in his voice on display again.

“are you superstitious at all?” hyugo asks, charging the conversation as he watches you from the rim of his glass. he sips from his cocktail, eyeing you.

“maybe a bit… i don’t know,” you say, shrugging. “what about you, sol?”

“not particularly… i mean, it has to all be fake. but also… what if? maybe it’s better to believe just in case.” he says.

“who knows? maybe magic and spirits and all that is real. who knows what could happen,” hyugo chimes, focusing his attention on a tree outside the window. his eyes are fixated on the breeze rustling brown and red leaves.

but you don’t reply. you feel heavy, you feel tired, and the room is spinning. you think you’ve had way too much to drink, and whatever hyugo made, it was too damn strong.

—

it’s dark when you wake up. you’re in an unfamiliar room, some sort of bedroom in hyugo’s house. you stretch, feeling almost refreshed after your nap. usually drinking too much would result in a hangover, but not this time? and just how much did you drink to end up in a room by yourself, knocked out, and fucking naked? what the fuck did you do?

you scratch your head, yawning, when you notice a new sensation. some fuzzy, soft, warm petting sensation. your fingers run across your head, noticing a distinct triangular object jutting up. you feel yourself petting what you assume to be… ears? they were exactly like your headband… but real? you could feel every sensation, and it felt kind of nice, actually.

as you rub your head, you feel another soft, warm flick between your legs, a new sensation altogether. you move the covers of the bed to reveal a fucking tail? what is going on?

and then you notice it— a crimson eye illuminated by a sliver a moonlight dances among the shadows. a dark, brooding figure in the corner of the room. you know it’s sol without even seeing him.

“sol…” you start. “what’s going on?” confusion and worry overwhelms you, scaring you.

he steps out of the shadows, towards the bed, a huge smile spread across his features. “are you scared?” he asks. “it shouldn’t hurt. do you hurt?”

you shake your head. nothing hurts, but you’re still stressed about whatever changed in your body.

“how…?” you ask, gesturing to your newfound ears and tail.

“who knows?” he replies, still smiling. he definitely knows, but he would never tell you. he’s in front of you now, bringing his calloused hand to your hair and petting you.

a low, rumbling sound involuntarily escapes your throat as he runs his fingers through your hair, along your fluffy cat ears. it feels so good.

“feel good, huh? you like being pet like that?” he asks, peering down at you and his hands caress you so perfectly.

“y-yes…” you say, looking away in shame. your tail flicks around, uncontrollable and with a mind of its own. your collar chimes with the movement, which only adds to your embarrassment.

sol leans closer, his face next to yours, as he whispers, “good girl.”

a shiver runs down your spine, like electricity traveling through your entire body. he sits on the side of the bed, next to you, and pushes you against the headboard. a hand towers above you, as the other is placed along the grooves of your neck and collarbone.

if you weren’t already wearing a collar, you think his hand might be an even more perfect necklace. his hand softly grips you, adding delicious pressure along your throat.

sol leans forward, his mouth meeting yours. there is no affectionate kissing, no playful teasing, only full-on devouring as he nips and bites and sucks.

his tongue pushes into your mouth, invading it and tasting every inch. he wants, no, needs to taste every bit of you he can. he tugs at your lip and bites once more, drawing blood, and licks that up. both of your spit mixes with the coppery, metallic taste of your blood. it tastes so fucking perfect, he thinks.

your lips are bruised, puffy, and red by the time he’s done. but his onslaught has only just begun. every spot he kisses along your soft skin is now a bruise, a mark of his devotion and ownership. he takes his time, sucking every spot, leaving evidence of his presence.

you whimper beneath him as heat pools between your legs. he kisses along your skin, marking his way down your body.

his mouth takes a nipple in, sucking on it, eliciting a moan from you. he plays with it, licking and sucking it, making you practically mewl beneath him. confident you’re not expecting it, he gently nibbles on it, sparking a pleasurable sort of pain through your body.

you gasp, your breath evading you. a sharp hiss escapes your mouth as he does it once more, and your hand reflexively moves to the top of his head, trying to move him away. but he’s like some immovable object, your attempt at pushing him does not effect him whatsoever.

he relents and pulls away, but not without a slight tug at your now sensitive nipple. he resumes his movement downwards once again, before settling between your legs. sol pushes them apart with ease, revealing your soaked sex. his crimson eyes shimmer at the sight, as if transfixed.

“fuck… you’re soaking the sheets,” he says, not looking away. that’s the last thing that comes from his mouth before he pushes his face into your cunt, his tongue exploring every nook and cranny.

his wet muscle grazes across your clit, sending a wave of pleasure throughout your body. you whimper as he licks you, concentrating his attention on that sweet spot.

your tail flicks about beneath you, and his hand reaches for it, gripping it. your breath catches in your throat as he caresses it, gently running his fingers along the soft, fuzzy extremity. it’s like he put you under some sort of spell, removing any rational thought. an overwhelming sense of pleasure shoots through your body as he licks your cunt and gently rubs your tail.

you can’t form coherent thoughts, you can only succumb to the intense ecstasy that overrides all of your senses.

his tongue flicks faster, rubbing against you so perfectly you might cry out in pure joy. you feel warmth spread through your body, like it’s on fire.

his free hand grips a thigh, before moving closer to your already quivering cunt. a finger grazes the entrance to your hole, sending electricity through your body. he wastes no time before plunging it straight in, stuffing you full with just a single finger.

he’s confident you’ve never taken anything before, and a thrill of being your first tickles his brain in the right way. damn right, he should be here first. and ideally, the last.

his digit fucks into you, curling against your walls and stroking that perfect spot inside as his tongue continues its onslaught.

he slips another finger in, feeling you stretch around him, already struggling to accommodate the two digits. if it’s this tight, how will you ever take his cock?

his fingers stroke you, stuffing you full as he licks you with even more dedication. you feel a knot snap within you, unlacing your very existence. your head spins as you struggle to catch your breath.

sol pulls away from you, moving on the bed. he grips your hips, and pulls you onto your back.

he’s already unbuckling his belt and pulling his pants off, undressing himself. he angles himself between your legs, pulling your legs up against his chest and squeezing them together.

he doesn’t fuck you just yet, instead choosing to squeeze your thighs together, and slide his angry, leaky cock in that tiny pocket created by your thighs and wet cunt. he slides against you, as he hugs your legs, gripping them against him. he groans as he fucks your thighs, feeling the wet slick of your needy cunt rub against him.

he could cum just like this, using your thighs like a fucktoy. but another part wants to take you, fully. he needs to feel you.

his cock effortlessly slides into your cunt, slipping from your thighs right into the needy hole. you gasp as it stings between your legs. he gives you no time to adjust as he thrusts into you, relishing in your pain just a bit. he thinks the look on your face as it hurts so good is the most erotic thing on the planet. he would do anything to see it again.

he fucks into you with determination, stretching your poor hole to its limits. “fuck— ah… you’re so tight,” he says, between soft moans. “i think i might break you,” he says, taunting you. “poor little girl can’t take me, can she?”

you moan beneath him, the pleasurable sensation of being stuffed mixing with the stinging pain of losing your virginity. his cock stretches you to your limits, threatening to tear you apart.

your collar chimes with every thrust, jingling with every lewd movement of your bodies.

his hips jut against yours, fucking into you even deeper. his free hand wraps itself around your tail once again, tugging at it gently and stroking it.

pleasure overrides pain, sending waves of ecstasy through your body. he fucks into you with such vigor, such power, it might actually break you. but you don’t fucking care. it’s like you were made to take him.

his grip around your legs leaves little bruises as he uses you for leverage. his cock slams into you, pushing against your very being. he fucks into you so hard you’re sure it’s slamming into your brain, fucking every thought, idea, and even word straight out until you’re a dumb, pathetic, drooling mess.

your moans only encourage him to fuck you harder, faster, deeper. “you’re doing so well, aren’t you? taking me like such a good girl. aren’t you glad I’m your first? you’re all mine.” he says, almost talking to himself.

“you’re fucking mine. and I’m going to stuff you so full of my cum that it leaks out for days,” he says, rutting into you with reckless abandon.

“you want that, huh? tell me. cmon,” he says, a hand moving to lightly slap your cheek. “cmon. say it. you want to be mine,” he growls at you.

“please, sol, please take me,” you whimper, your words tumbling out of your mouth.

“say it, you dumb whore,” he spits at you, fucking into you harder.

“i’m yours alone, please, sol—“ you say, feeling him slam his throbbing cock deep into you.

he shudders as you submit your body to him. his cock throbs inside of you, his cum gushing out. “i fucking love you,” he says between breaths. his body shakes as his cock pumps his thick cum into you, breeding you, stuffing you so full of cum you might definitely get pregnant. there’s no way you can’t, with the sheer volume of it all. “such a good little kitten,” he purrs.

he pulls out of you, and that’s when it comes gushing. he was like the seal, and with his cock now gone, his cum starts rushing out like a dam that just burst.

but this will not do. he scoops as much of it as he can with a slender finger and shoves it back into your cunt. he will not let it go to waste.

you yelp as he leans between your legs once more, his tongue finding your sensitive clit once more. he slips his finger out for a brief second, collecting some of the cum, before plugging it once more. his tongue trails your cunt, making a mess with his cum everywhere. he flicks his tongue along your clit once more, and the sheer depravity of it all has you spiraling towards orgasm once more.

your body shudders against him. he pulls away with a grin, a mess along the entire lower half of his face. he wipes away what he can with his hands, before getting off the bed.

“let me get a towel,” he says, his demeanor switching to care and affection.

now, you really will be his pet. ♡

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[miz04]

Good boy..

[redactedsangelsyndrome]

by flesh, by fate, by forever -REDACTED X G.N Reader nsfw

14 DAYS WITH YOU is a 18+ visual novel Minors don’t interact!-

Words: long

Genre: Smut

If you find mistakes I’m sorry I did not proof read

(Reader is G.N)-(This one-shot is nsfw!)

Summary : To distract REDACTED, you suggested looking at his damn sports motorcycle, Who knew- this would end up in..fuck

Trigger Warnings (TWs) and Content Warnings (CWs):

Trigger Warnings (TWs):

Graphic Sexual Content (NSFW, explicit descriptions of sex)

Breeding Kink & Possessiveness (mentions of ownership, possessive language)

Past Childhood Trauma (emotional distress, implied separation trauma)

Body Horror Elements (scarring, burns, detailed injury descriptions)

Overstimulation & Aftercare (exhaustion, body weakness post-sex)

Content Warnings (CWs):

Heavy Dom/Sub Dynamics (praise, possessive language, submission)

Affection & Intimacy Themes (nose kisses, hand-holding, childhood romance)

Food Play/Feeding Kink Lite (feeding partner cake, describing sweetness)

Emotional Vulnerability (crying, reassurance, romantic declarations)

It happened too fast, too slow, exactly as it should’ve. That day—you saw past the lie, past the face, past the teeth bared in something not quite a smile.

And today, they’re yours. Almost. A heartbeat away from fiancé, a lifetime away from certainty. It took time. God, it took time.

You wore the ring that day, but not for love, not for promises, not even for the pleasure of peeling back the layers of REDACTED like rotting wallpaper. That’s a story for another day, sweetheart. For now—

You love REDACTED more than Ren, more than the mask they made to hold the world at arm’s length. You love the rot beneath.

Realistically? A few years. Maybe forever. Maybe never. Ren’s been rewriting himself since before he even knew how to spell his own name, shaving down the edges of REDACTED into something soft, something pliable, something digestible. Someone lovable.

Because Ren, as he is, isn’t enough. Can’t be. He learned that young, learned it deep, learned it so well it’s a reflex now, a gut reaction. A knee-jerk flinch into being whatever you want, whatever keeps you looking at him. But REDACTED—ah. They don’t care. They don’t need to. They know the truth, and the truth is cruel:

You like a lot of things. You like a lot of people. But you’ll never like him enough. Not really. Not the way he wants. And he’s made peace with that.

Ren is Haruko, and Haruko is sweet. Haruko stumbles over words and tries too hard. Haruko is a puppet carved from borrowed smiles and practiced stutters. But REDACTED—RED is sharp, cruel, jagged in a way no one wants to hold. Cold, empty, tired in the bones. If he ever learned love, it was an imitation, an echo—flat, distant, never quite right.

The blushing? Real. The sweating? Also real. The stammering, the nerves, the pathetic little slip-ups? All him, honest and raw, because fuck, he never expected to have this. Angel wasn’t supposed to see him. Ren was supposed to be background noise, an afterthought, a whisper of a person that never solidified. But fate had different plans, and now he’s in too deep.

And this? This is life now. A life built on strings and careful calculations, on the soft lie of Haruko and the hard truth of REDACTED bleeding through the cracks. And you—you don’t know if it’s guilt that keeps you here. If it’s sympathy, or pity, or something worse. You don’t know if he even wants saving.

He’s shit in the saddest way possible. But he doesn’t care. Never has. Never will.

It’s all just—ah.

You’ve accepted REDACTED now, right? Last time, they held you through it—your own personal shield against every jump scare, every flicker of something too fast, too wrong in the dark. You screamed, clung to them like a lifeline, like a fucking lifeblood, fingers digging in, breath caught, and they—cool as ever—just patted your head. Like you were some trembling stray curled up in their lap.

Now? You’re a pro. A veteran. An unshakable force of—no, fuck that, you’re still scared. Still clutching them like a goddamn koala, half-buried in their chest, gripping the fabric of their hoodie like it might save your soul. And they let you. One hand still in your hair, absentminded, rhythmically soothing, the other loose on your thigh like they aren’t watching people get gutted on screen.

Both of your rings—the rings, the childhood ones—sit snug around your fingers. Like wedding bands. Like something binding. Like something permanent. Ah. Cute.

“Scary f’ ya?” REDACTED barely glances at the screen, more interested in the way you’ve tensed up, knuckles white against the blanket. “Want me t’change it?”

“Shut the fuck up.” You don’t even look at them, eyes locked on the too-dark hallway stretching across the screen, waiting for something—anything—to lunge. Your fingers tighten in their sleeve like you’re bracing for impact.

They huff a quiet laugh, all amusement, all smug, before shifting. Heavy. Comfortable. Head dropping onto your lap like they belong there. “Suit yourself.”

Their warmth sinks into you, grounding. Distracting. You don’t relax, not completely, but you loosen just enough to card your fingers through their hair. They hum, pleased, tapping lazy fingers against your thigh.

You flinch at a sudden jump scare.

They don’t even pretend not to notice.

They hum again, but this time, it’s different—deeper, slower, something deliberate curling at the edges of their voice. The kind of sound that sends a shiver through you, pooling low in your stomach. Their fingers, lazy against your thigh, trace an absentminded pattern, dipping beneath the hem of your shirt, just barely grazing skin.

“Y’really that scared?” they murmur, turning their head just enough to glance up at you, half-lidded, half-smirking. “Ain’t even watchin’ the movie no more.”

“Maybe ‘cause someone won’t shut up,” you fire back, but your voice is softer than you meant it to be, breath catching when they press their face into your stomach—right there—like they know exactly what they’re doing.

“Mm.” They exhale slow, warm, lips brushing fabric. “Or maybe y’jus’ need a better distraction.”

Their fingers ghost higher. Their grip tightens, just a little. Your heart skips.

Yeah. Fuck the movie.

Their lips are warm—almost searing—the weight of them pressed against yours stealing the air right from your lungs. It’s slow at first, teasing, like they’re testing the waters, but the second you start to lean in, the second your fingers curl in their shirt, they take it as permission to devour.

“Mm—” You barely get a sound out before they tilt their head, deepening it, a slow, deliberate slide of lips and tongue that has heat creeping up your spine. Their hand finds the back of your neck, fingers pressing just firm enough to make you shudder.

“Y’kiss back real pretty,” they murmur, breaking away just enough to speak, their voice dipped in amusement, something smug curling at the edges. “S’good f’me, yeah?”

You barely get the chance to respond before their teeth catch your lower lip—a sharp little nip that sends a jolt right down to your gut. Your grip on them tightens.

Then your heel catches on the floor, and suddenly, you’re tilting back, balance slipping—

But they’re already moving, already got an arm wrapped around you, holding you steady before you can even process the fall.

They click their tongue, half-laughing, half-scolding, pulling you flush against them like you belong there.

“Clumsy,” they chide, and you can hear the grin in their voice, the way it stretches, smug and sharp. Their fingers trace slow circles against your lower back, dipping just under the hem of your shirt. “Y’like bein’ held this close, huh? Don’t even gotta ask—jus’ throw y’self at me next time, sweetheart.”

Your face feels like it’s on fire. The warmth creeps down your neck, settling deep in your chest, and you hate—hate—how easy it is for them to get you like this.

“I—shut up,” you grumble, voice barely above a whisper, but it comes out embarrassingly shaky. You’re still pressed against them, still close enough to feel the steady rise and fall of their breathing, and god, their hand hasn’t moved from your back.

They hum, tilting their head, eyes scanning your face like they’re drinking in every little reaction. “Angel, y’okay?” The nickname comes soft, almost reverent, but there’s something else in their tone, something knowing. They’re enjoying this—your flustered little stammers, the way you can’t meet their gaze for too long without feeling like you’ll combust.

“I—I’m fine.” You try to sound steady, but it’s hard when their fingers drag slow, featherlight up your spine. A barely-there touch, but enough to send another shiver rolling through you.

“Mm.” They don’t sound convinced. If anything, they sound amused. “S’that so?” A pause, and then—"Y’look real cute like this, y’know.“

You whimper. Actually whimper.

And they hear it.

Their grin stretches, slow and lazy, all dimples and sharp teeth. "That a little sound y’jus’ made? Cute.”

“Shut up,” you try again, swatting at their chest, but they just catch your wrist, bring it up between the two of you. Their fingers curl around it, thumb smoothing along your pulse.

“Y’really nervous, huh?” Their voice drops, honey-smooth, coaxing. Their grip is loose, easy to pull away from, but you don’t. You can’t. Not when they’re looking at you like that.

“…No,” you mumble, and it’s a horrible lie.

They chuckle, and before you can think, before you can even breathe, they bring your wrist to their lips, pressing the softest kiss against the inside of it.

“You’re adorable,” they murmur against your skin, and it’s unfair, unfair how easily those words send your heart into a frenzy. “Y’don’t gotta be shy with me, angel.”

You’re going to combust.

You barely have a second to catch your breath before REDACTED tilts your chin up, their lips grazing yours again—slow, deliberate, teasing. They’re watching you, gauging every little twitch, every sharp inhale, every way your body reacts to them like it’s the most fascinating thing in the world.

“D’you want more?” Their voice is low, a lazy drawl against your mouth. “Y’gotta tell me, angel.”

Your fingers clutch at their sleeves, grounding yourself. The way they speak—it’s like they already know the answer, but they want to hear it. Want to pull it from you.

You swallow, heat curling in your stomach. “Yeah.”

A quiet hum vibrates against your lips before they press another kiss there, just as slow, just as consuming. Their fingers slip under the hem of your shirt, gliding over your waist in a touch that barely lingers but leaves fire in its wake.

“That feel good?” They murmur between kisses, voice dropping an octave. “Tell me where.”

You almost forget how to breathe, arching just slightly into their touch. Their hands are so big, so warm, and when they drag their teeth along your lower lip, you can’t stop the way your fingers tighten in their clothes.

They chuckle, the sound deep and pleased. “Y’can’t even think straight, huh? S’cute.”

Your face burns hotter, and you bury it against their shoulder for a second, trying to compose yourself. But they’re not having that. Their hand slides up your back, pulling you closer, their lips brushing your ear.

“I don’t think y’can take all of me, angel.” Their voice is velvety, teasing, full of that patient kind of amusement that only makes it worse. “You’re practically stuffed full already.”

A whimper catches in your throat, and their hand tilts your head back, forcing you to look at them.

“Mm. Look at you.” Their thumb brushes over your bottom lip, and their eyes flicker down to where your lips are definitely a little wet from their kisses. Their smirk turns downright sinful. “You’re droolin’. Feels that good, huh?”

You can barely get a word out before their lips are back on yours, deeper this time, and—god—they’re not letting you go anytime soon.

REDACTED’s mouth is still warm on yours, their breath mixing with yours in a way that makes your head feel light, like you’re toeing the edge of something sharp. Their hands don’t leave you—not yet, anyway. A thumb tracing lazy circles at your hip, a palm firm against your lower back. Secure. Unmovable. Like if they let go, you’d slip away. Like they don’t want that.

But your brain is drowning, so you do what you do best: open your mouth and let words spill out like you aren’t just trying to distract yourself from the way they have you pinned.

“…You have a motorcycle.”

A beat. Then, a slow blink.

“…Yeah.” Their voice is still low, still rough, like they haven’t quite left the moment behind. But their brow lifts, bemused, like they’re trying to understand how this is what you’re thinking about right now. “What about it?”

“I wanna see it.”

They stare at you. Like you just asked them to pull the moon out of the sky and hand it to you on a silver platter. You don’t think you’ve ever seen them look so…confused.

“It’s just a bike.”

“It’s your bike.”

Another pause. You watch the way their mouth twitches, some unreadable thought flickering behind their eyes. “You’re not thinkin’ of ridin’ it, are ya?”

You scoff, dramatic. “What, you don’t trust me?”

“Not even a little.”

You gasp. They smirk. The moment is broken—mostly. Their hands are still on you, after all. Their voice still has that drawl, like they’re tasting every word before they let it leave their mouth.

“Fine,” you huff, shoving at their chest (not that it moves them).

“…Alright,” they say finally, giving you one last kiss—slow, lingering—before pulling back. “Let’s go.”

REDACTED takes your hand like it’s second nature, like they don’t even think about it—just interlaces their fingers with yours and leads you through the mess of their garage.

It’s a wasteland. A graveyard for things they once cared about and then didn’t.

You see the car first, buried under dust, the tires slightly deflated. You remember when they bought it—thought they drove one, figured they might need it for you. But you should’ve known. A car was too…normal. Too practical.

The motorcycle, though—that fits them like a second skin.

Sleek black, polished even though they barely take it out. It suits them in a way the car never could. The sharp edges of it match the sharp edges of their jaw. The deep black mirrors the ink on their arms, the piercings that gleam under dim garage lights. And then there’s their eyes—blue, cutting through the dark like high beams. Jesus.

“I knew you’d be into it,” they murmur, watching you take it all in. There’s that teasing lilt in their voice again. The one that says they know what you’re thinking.

You roll your eyes, but your fingers twitch at your sides. You wanna feel it.

So you try to climb it.

And immediately almost fall on your ass.

REDACTED catches you like they knew you’d do that too.

“Whoa, whoa, easy there, angel,” they laugh, hands firm at your waist, pulling you up like you weigh nothing.

“I got it!” you insist, except you don’t because this thing is heavy as hell, and you don’t know the first thing about handling a bike like this.

“Uh-huh,” they hum, clearly not believing you at all, but still helping you settle onto the seat anyway. Their hands linger at your hips, warm, grounding. They lean in, just a little, just enough for their breath to brush against your cheek.

“Y’look real sweet up there,” they murmur, lips just barely grazing your ear. “Too sweet.”

You swallow. Your heart does something weird in your chest.

“…Are you gonna show me how to ride it or just stand there flirting?”

They grin, slow and sharp. “Can’t do both?”

REDACTED chuckles, low and warm, like they heard the sound you just made—like they felt it vibrate against their chest.

They climb on behind you, and suddenly, you’re caged in. Their legs bracket yours, their arms reach past your sides, hands covering yours on the handlebars. You feel the weight of them, solid and unshakable, and then—

Their hands slide to your waist. Adjusting. Correcting. But fuck, they don’t have to be this slow about it.

“S’posed to sit like this,” they murmur, pressing you back against them, firm, like they know you feel everything. Their breath is warm at your ear, their lips barely brushing skin as they lean in to reach the ignition.

The bike rumbles to life. You feel it first in your fingertips, then up your arms, then—oh. It sinks into your thighs, a steady hum between your legs, and you swallow down the noise that threatens to escape.

REDACTED notices. Of course they notice.

“You feel that?” they murmur, voice all honeyed amusement. Their grip on your hands tightens just enough to make your breath hitch. “S’nice, huh?”

You nod, maybe too quickly, because their laughter comes slow and smug against

You turn. Maybe too fast, maybe too eager, but REDACTED doesn’t seem to mind. If anything, they welcome it—because the moment you do, their hands are already there, steadying you, holding you like they knew you’d come to them.

And then—

Their lips.

Soft. So much softer than you expected, given everything else about them—the weight of their body, the roughness of their hands, the way they talk, lazy and deep, like they’ve got all the time in the world. But this? This is different. This is gentle.

Like they’re savoring it. Like you’re something to be tasted slow, something they don’t want to rush.

Your back meets the sleek body of the motorcycle, and they follow, leaning in, caging you in, their weight pressing into you in all the right ways. You feel them—all of them—towering over you, surrounding you, drowning you in their warmth.

And then their fingers curl under your chin, tilting your face just right, deepening the kiss, making you feel it, and fuck—

They break away first. Just barely. Just enough to let you breathe, but not enough to let you go.

“Y’taste sweet,” they murmur, thumb brushing slow over your lower lip. Their eyes are half-lidded, like they’re already thinking about going back in. “Knew you would.”

You’re breathless. Maybe a little dazed. Maybe a little—

Their lips ghost over yours, teasing, like they want to make you beg for it. Like they want to hear you say it, admit how badly you want them. Their hands? Firm on your waist, thumbs stroking slow, deliberate circles against your skin, like they’re mapping you out, like they’re memorizing the feel of you under their touch.

“Y’should see yourself,” they murmur, voice like a lazy drawl, all heat and hunger and patience that makes your skin burn. “Spread out on my bike like this. Look so fuckin’ pretty.”

The way they say it—like they own you, like they’re claiming you—it sends something hot curling low in your stomach.

Then their hands slide up, up, teasing under your shirt, knuckles dragging against bare skin, slow enough to make you shiver. “Feel good, angel?” They dip lower, fingers playing at the waistband of your pants, like they’re waiting for permission.

And then—fuck—their teeth. They nip at your jaw, trailing open-mouthed kisses down your neck, sucking just enough to leave a mark. You feel the way they smile against your skin, feel the way they hum in satisfaction, like they love marking you up.

“Want my hands on you?” A little squeeze at your hips. “Y’gotta tell me where.”

Their fingers press in slow, teasing, just barely skimming where you need them most. It’s intentional, the way they hold back, the way they make you feel every inch of the wait.

“Fuck,” you breathe, hips twitching, chasing the contact, but they don’t give in. Not yet.

They chuckle, low and dark, a sound that sinks into your skin. “So impatient,” they murmur, dragging their knuckles up your inner thigh, agonizingly slow. “Y’been thinking about this, huh? How long?”

Their words feel like a game—like they already know the answer but want to hear you say it anyway. You swallow hard, your breath uneven as you try to focus, try not to let them see how wrecked you already are.

Their lips return to your throat, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along your pulse, while their hand—fuck, their hand—finally moves where you need it, fingers pressing firm and knowing. A sharp gasp leaves you, your head tilting back against the bike, exposing more of your throat to their teeth, their tongue.

“That’s it,” they murmur against your skin, voice thick with satisfaction. “Take what y’need, angel.”

And then they press in deeper, their touch turning slow and deliberate, coaxing out every little sound they can pull from you. Their other hand drags up your side, pushing beneath your shirt, fingers spreading wide as if they want to feel every inch of you.

It’s overwhelming—the heat of their body against yours, the steady rhythm of their touch, the way they watch you, like they want to memorize every reaction, every shudder.

“You feel so fuckin’ good,” they rasp, pressing their forehead to yours, breath warm against your lips. “Could keep you like this all day.”

And from the way they’re touching you—like they have no intention of stopping—you’re starting to think they mean it.

You’re not sure when you started shaking. Maybe it was the moment they first pressed you down against their bike, the cold metal sharp against the heat pooling in your stomach. Maybe it was when their lips barely grazed yours, teasing, promising, making you desperate. Or maybe—fuck—maybe it was when their hands started to roam, those strong, practiced fingers dragging slow over your skin like they were memorizing every inch of you.

And now? Now you’re undone.

They’ve got you caged in, their body flush against yours, their hands firm but patient as they press against your stomach, fingers spreading wide, palms warm as they pull you closer like they don’t want a single inch of space between you. Their breath is heavy against your lips, teasing, tempting, but they don’t kiss you yet. Not properly. They’re waiting. Watching.

They love watching.

“Y’know how fuckin’ pretty you are?” they murmur, dragging their fingers lower, pressing into the soft dip of your stomach, just enough to make you feel the possessive weight of their hands. “Could spend all night just lookin’ at you like this.”

Their words make something tighten low in your gut, an embarrassing whimper slipping past your lips before you can stop it. Their smirk sharpens, dangerous, and their hands move—one sliding down to squeeze your thigh, the other trailing up to your wrist, fingers brushing against your palm before lacing with yours.

Yeah. They love your hands too.

You feel the press of their lips against your knuckles, slow and deliberate, their tongue flicking out just slightly before they sink their teeth into the sensitive skin. Not enough to hurt. Just enough to mark.

“Mine,” they murmur, voice a little rough, a little distracted, as if the word just slipped out without them meaning to say it.

Fuck.

Your breath stutters as they lean in, their teeth dragging over your throat, nipping at the skin before soothing it with their tongue. They don’t stop there. They trail lower, their mouth finding your collarbone, then your chest, their hands still mapping you out, still pressing and teasing, like they want to touch everywhere at once.

Their grip tightens on your thigh as they spread you wider, their other hand still locked with yours, fingers squeezing tight. Their lips move lower, kissing a slow path down your stomach, mouthing at the sensitive skin, sucking, leaving marks, branding you as theirs.

“Y'feel so good,” they breathe against your skin, voice thick with something raw, something real. “So soft. So perfect.”

Their breath fans over your stomach, and they press another open-mouthed kiss there, their tongue flicking out to taste before their teeth sink in, leaving another mark—deeper this time. You shudder, a helpless moan slipping out, and they groan at the sound, their grip on your thigh tightening.

And then—fuck—then you feel it.

The cool metal of their piercing drags against your skin as they mouth lower, teasing, biting, before pressing their hips flush against yours, letting you feel everything. The sharp contrast of heat and steel makes you gasp, your fingers tightening in theirs, and they smirk, pleased with your reaction.

“You like that?” they ask, voice pure sin, hips rolling just slightly to let you feel the full weight of their arousal against you. “Y’like feelin’ how fuckin’ hard you make me?”

You whimper, head tilting back against the bike, but they don’t let you escape. Their grip on your hand tightens, grounding you, making sure you stay right here with them.

“Tell me,” they murmur against your stomach, lips brushing over each mark they’ve left, soothing, worshiping. “Wanna hear you say it, angel.”

Your breath shudders, your free hand moving to tangle in their hair, tugging just enough to make them groan. “EH- REDACTED? I love it.”

Their reaction is immediate. Their hips press against you again, firmer this time, more deliberate, letting you feel the piercing drag against you as they grind down slow, savoring it. Their mouth trails up, capturing your lips in a deep, heated kiss, their tongue teasing past your lips, taking, tasting, claiming.

“Good,” they breathe between kisses, pressing their forehead to yours, panting against your lips. “Gonna make you feel so fuckin’ good, angel. Just lemme take care of you.”

Got it. Buckle up.

The metal of the bike is cold against your burning skin, but you barely register it over the heat of him. [REDACTED] has you spread over his lap, thighs trembling where they bracket his, hands gripping the handlebars behind you for balance. You can feel him, hot and thick, stretching you open inch by inch—again. Your legs are shaking, overstimulated from how long he’s been toying with you, but he just won’t stop.

“Y’make the most lewd fuckin’ sounds..“

His voice is a slow, honey-thick drawl against your ear, and then—fuck

You try to turn your head away, but his free hand is already gripping your jaw, keeping you locked in place.

“Nuh-uh, angel.”

He pulls you down hard against his lap, forcing every inch of him deep inside you, dragging that metal along your walls just like before. The sound you let out is shameless, and he groans at the way you squeeze around him.

“There it is,” he murmurs, smug as sin, pressing a kiss just below your ear. “Knew I could make y’sing like that again.”

His hips roll slow, lazy, dragging out every second of your torment. You can feel every piercing along his cock, the cool bite of metal making you jolt, overstimulated and desperate, but he’s barely even paying attention to you—like he’s just using your body for his own pleasure.

“Look at how fuckin’ good y’look on my cock,” he drawls, watching your reflection in the mirror across the garage, watching your lips part and your lashes flutter as he thrusts up again. “You were practically droolin’ before. Y’must love bein’ stuffed full, huh?”

You whimper, but that’s not enough for him.

“Go on. Say it.”

He punctuates the command with a sharp snap of his hips, grinding you down so deep you feel him press against that perfect spot inside you, and your head thumps back against his shoulder.

“I—I love it,” you gasp, back arching, thighs squeezing around his waist.

His chuckle is low and dangerous, and then his mouth is on you—kissing, sucking, nipping at the base of your neck as he starts rolling his hips in earnest.

“My angel always does such a good job,” he purrs, barely above a whisper. His hands trail down your thighs, squeezing, teasing, spreading you open just a little wider. “Y’already know that, don’t you?” His fingers dip between your legs, pressing just where you need it most. “’Course y’do. Can feel you squeezin’ around me right now.”

Your fingers dig into his arms, nails leaving little half-moon imprints in his skin as you rock against him, chasing your high, but he tsks, stopping all movement entirely.

“Ah-ah. Not yet.”

You whimper, hips stuttering in desperation, but he just smirks.

“Be patient, angel.” His hands slide back up to your chest, pinching, teasing, making you whine. “Y’can cum when I say so.”

And if you start rutting against him for friction, panting and desperate, he just chuckles, smug and infuriating.

“Look at you. Y’just can’t help yourself, huh?” His breath is hot against your ear, teasing, taunting. “S’alright. S’what I made you for, ain’t it?”

And when you finally fall apart—when you finally shudder and break, crying out his name as your whole body trembles—he groans, dragging you down hard against his cock, pushing himself as deep as he can go.

“Fuck,” he rasps, breathless for the first time all night. His hands slide up, one tangling in your hair as the other grips your hip, keeping you locked in place, making sure you feel everything. “Y’took me so fuckin’ well.”

His lips press against the curve of your jaw, almost tender, before he murmurs, “Y’did so good for me, angel. So, I’ll let you pick.”

His fingers trail down your stomach, teasing, possessive.

His words curl around your brain like smoke, thick and intoxicating, clouding out anything but him. Your breath stutters—just enough hesitation for his smirk to sharpen.

“Aw, angel.” His voice is a slow, rolling drawl, lazy and smug. “Y’can’t even pick, huh?”

His fingers drag along your stomach, teasing, possessive. The motion sends a shiver straight down your spine, your overstimulated body twitching in his grip. You’re still stuffed full of him, stretched wide and trembling, but he waits. Like he enjoys watching you struggle to speak, to even think through the haze he’s wrapped you in.

“Tell me,” he murmurs, pressing his lips against your temple, deceptively soft. “Which d’ya want more?”

Your mouth opens, but all that escapes is a shaky breath. His fingers flex against your hip, gripping, kneading—waiting. And then, slowly, deliberately, he rolls his hips.

The noise that leaves you is barely human.

“Fuck—”

The sound of his chuckle is all teeth.

“There it is.”

His hand slides up your throat, tilting your chin so he can watch you—your dazed eyes, your parted lips, the way your body twitches at every lazy, deliberate grind of his hips. His gaze is half-lidded, burning, drinking in every inch of you.

“Feels good, don’t it?” His voice is syrup-thick, dragging down your spine like a physical thing. “Being stretched open like this, takin’ everything I give you…”

You swallow, barely nodding—too lost in the heat, the weight, the slow, devastating drag of him inside you. And he sees it.

His grip tightens.

“Y’can’t even fuckin’ talk, can you?”

You shake your head, eyes slipping shut, body keening against him. He hums, low and satisfied, kissing just below your ear.

“Don’t worry, angel.” Another slow thrust, dragging against that perfect spot inside you, making your whole body jolt. “I’ll decide for you.”

He shifts, pressing deep, locking you against him—and stays there, buried to the hilt, his breath warm against your neck.

“Be good,” he murmurs. “And take it.”

And then—heat. Possession. His arms tighten, his breath shudders, and you feel him let go—deep, slow, branding you from the inside out.

He groans against your skin, dragging his teeth along your pulse, and fuck—he doesn’t move away, doesn’t pull out, just keeps you there, completely filled, his cock still throbbing inside you.

“Guess we gotta keep goin’ till..“

His fingers trail down, smearing sweat across your skin, touching and teasing as he shifts beneath you—still hard, still inside.

And from the way his smirk curls against your jaw, he has no intention of stopping anytime soon.

His hands are everywhere—gripping, kneading, keeping you exactly where he wants you. Your whole body shudders as he grinds against you, still buried deep, his cock twitching with every shaky breath you take.

“Fuck, angel,” he groans, voice thick with heat. “Takin’ me so well—so fuckin’ deep—”

His hips roll, pressing just a little further, like he’s testing how much more you can take. The stretch is already too much, your body trembling against him, but the way he stays inside, stuffed to the hilt, makes you feel—

“Bet y’d look so good like this all the time.”

Your breath stutters.

He hums against your skin, slow and teasing. “All full of me. Carryin’ my cum inside that pretty little hole, leakin’ down your thighs…”

His fingers dip lower, just barely brushing over the mess he’s already made of you. A whimper slips out, and his smirk sharpens.

“Mm. Maybe I should make sure it sticks.”

You don’t even have time to process before his hands are gripping your hips tight, tilting you just right—before he thrusts up in one slow, filthy motion, grinding deep, making sure every drop of his cum stays right where he put it.

Your whole body jolts, overstimulated and trembling, but he just grins.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, dragging his teeth along your jaw, pressing lazy kisses to your flushed skin. “Think I wanna see you full of me all the fuckin’ time.”

He rolls his hips again, still slow, still teasing, but his breath is coming rougher now, his grip tightening.

“You’d let me, wouldn’t you?” His voice is a low purr against your ear. “Let me fuck you open every night, make sure you’re stuffed full—”

His fingers trail down your stomach, possessive, like he can already see it, like he wants to see it.

“Y’gonna let me breed you, angel?”

Your whole body clenches around him, and his groan is pure sin.

“…Yeah,” he breathes, voice all heat and hunger. “That’s what I thought.”

And then he moves.

Slow, deep, pushing you down to take him as he fucks his cum further inside, groaning at the way you twitch and shake, overstimulated but still so needy. His hands roam, pressing you close, dragging his nails down your sides like he’s marking his claim.

“Gonna fill you up every fuckin’ time,” he murmurs, lips trailing over your pulse, your throat, the corner of your mouth. “Till y’can’t even think of anyone else.”

"But, I- only think of you all the time..”

His grip tightens instantly. The second those shaky little words leave your lips, he stills—buried deep inside you, chest rising and falling against your back, hands locked around your waist like he needs to hold you there.

“…Say that again.”

His voice is lower now, rougher. Almost dangerous in how sweet it sounds—like he’s barely holding himself back.

You swallow, thighs trembling where they bracket his. “I—” Your breath hitches as he grinds against you, slow and deep, like he’s savoring the way you squeeze around him. “I only think of you—only you—all the time.”

That does it.

A sharp, ragged breath escapes him, his fingers digging into your skin. His control—his usual lazy drawl, that smug, taunting dominance—cracks.

“…Fuck.”

And then he moves.

Not slow this time. Not teasing.

This is needy.

Desperate.

Like you just shattered something inside him, and now he needs to prove it—to seal that claim inside you, make sure you never even consider anyone else.

His pace turns messy, all deep, rolling thrusts and ragged groans against your ear. He’s so worked up, so fucking sweetly possessive, whispering between every shaky breath:

“Mine.”

“You’re mine.”

“No one else gets you like this.”

“Fuck—no one else even knows you like this—”

His hands roam, clutching, nails scraping your thighs, your hips, your stomach, like he wants to mark you with every touch. His lips are everywhere—on your neck, your shoulder, pressed to the shell of your ear, murmuring between ragged gasps:

“You’re made for me.”

“Fuck—feel that? So deep inside you, fuckin’ claiming you—”

And then he loses it.

He slams into you, grip tightening, burying himself as deep as he can go—and he breaks, moaning into your skin as he spills inside, body shuddering with the force of it.

But even after he’s spent, even when his breath evens out, he doesn’t pull away.

He stays inside you, keeping you full, arms wrapped around your waist as he nuzzles against your neck, still murmuring in that soft, wrecked voice:

“No one else.”

“Only me.”

“You promise, angel?”

And when you nod—when you whisper, “Only you, always,”—he sighs, pressing a kiss against your pulse.

“…That’s my good fuckin’ angel.”

His breath shudders against your skin, lips tracing the curve of your jaw as he stays inside you, keeping you locked against his chest, filled, owned. His hands, still trembling from the aftershocks, roam your body—soft now, reverent, like he’s memorizing every inch of you.

And then, in a voice so quiet, so wrecked it barely sounds like him, he murmurs:

“We belong to each other, don’t we…?”

His grip tightens, pulling you closer, like he needs to hear you say it—needs you to confirm what he already knows.

You nod, dazed and pliant against him. “Y-yeah…”

But that’s not enough.

He tilts your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes in the dim light of the garage—dazed, dark, utterly consumed by you.

“Mind,” he whispers, pressing a kiss against your temple.

“Body,” another kiss, lower now, lingering against your cheek.

“Soul,” a gentle bite against your pulse, like he’s branding the words into you.

Then, lower—his hands sliding down your stomach, possessive and warm, pressing against the soft swell where he knows he’s still buried deep inside.

“…Everything.”

He groans, grinds against you just to feel it again, to make you squirm in his lap. His voice turns desperate, aching as he breathes against your ear:

“Your hole—fuck—your whole self—”

He kisses you then, messy and hungry, like he wants to swallow you whole, drag you even deeper into him until there’s nothing left between you.

He’s obsessed with watching you. The way your eyes flutter, the way your breath catches, the way your body reacts to every little thing he does. It’s intoxicating. Addictive. He needs to see it—needs to know exactly what makes you shudder, whimper, beg for more.

That’s why his favorite positions always keep you close. Always let him watch.

Missionary, but with your wrists pinned above your head, fingers entwined as he rolls his hips slow, deliberate, drawing out every little noise you make. He’ll whisper filthy things against your lips, drinking in every reaction, every quiver, every desperate squeeze around him.

Lotus, with you straddling his lap, chests pressed together, his arms wrapped tight around your waist. He loves the way you tremble in his hold, loves how deep he can go like this, how your body reacts so perfectly to every slow, deliberate thrust. Loves when you bury your face in his neck, whimpering, biting down to muffle the sounds—he always grins when you do, his voice a husky tease in your ear:

“Y'don’t gotta hide from me, angel. Wanna hear every fuckin’ sound y’make.”

And when you do let go, when you whimper his name in that breathless, wrecked voice—that’s when he loses it.

It’s never just about the act for him—it’s about you. About making you feel so thoroughly ruined that you never want to be anywhere else but here, tangled up with him, hands clasped, bodies moving as one.

His voice is a breathy, wrecked whisper against your lips:

“Look at me, angel. Wanna see your face when you fall apart for me.”

The second the words left your lips, the moment that trembling, breathless “I love you, [REDACTED]—” spilled from your mouth, everything changed.

His rhythm faltered, hips stuttering, chest heaving against yours like you’d just knocked the air from his lungs. For a second, just a second, he didn’t move—just stared, eyes blown wide, lips parted, the slow realization of what you said crashing over him.

Then he broke.

A shuddered breath, a groan, and suddenly his arms were around you, crushing you against him, face buried in your neck. His body trembled—he trembled. His breath came in ragged, uneven pants, and then—fuck—he was whimpering, voice cracking as he choked out,

“Say it again.”

His hands tightened—one gripping your waist like he never wanted to let go, the other threading through your hair, pulling just enough to make you arch against him. His lips pressed to your skin, open-mouthed and desperate, his breath hot as he begged,

“Say it again, angel. Please.”

Your fingers curled against his back, nails digging into his skin, and you gasped as he rolled his hips deep, so deep it sent white-hot pleasure curling through your core. And even though you could barely breathe, barely think, you still gave him what he wanted.

“I love you,” you whispered, voice shaking. “I—I love you, I love you, I love y—ahh—”

He snapped.

A sharp, choked sound spilled from his throat—half-groan, half-sob—and then he was fucking you like he was trying to ruin you, like he wanted to carve your words into his soul. He didn’t care about pace, didn’t care about teasing, didn’t care about anything except chasing that feeling, that overwhelming, all-consuming rush of belonging that had his vision going hazy.

“You—fuck, you love me—” His voice cracked, rough, wrecked, like he couldn’t even believe it. “You—you really—ah—”

You felt something wet against your shoulder, and that’s when you realized—he was crying. His body shuddered with every thrust, every ragged breath, every desperate whimper he tried to swallow down. His fingers laced with yours, squeezing tight, grounding himself in the feeling of you.

“I love you,” he rasped, voice breaking as he slammed himself deeper, dragging you closer, closer, closer. “Love you, love you, fuck—I need you—”

And then he ruined you.

The sheer desperation in his voice, the overwhelming emotion in the way he held you, the way his body trembled with each ragged thrust—it sent you over the edge so hard you screamed. Pleasure crashed over you in an electric wave, body convulsing against his, vision going white, mind shattering as he fucked you through it, chasing his own high.

The moment you tightened around him, he broke completely, moaning your name like a prayer as he buried himself deep, shaking, gasping, tears hot against your skin as he came hard, filling you with everything he had—everything he was.

For a long moment, neither of you moved. Just tangled bodies, heaving chests, skin slick with sweat, breathless, wrecked.

He held you through the aftershocks, pressing kisses to your damp skin, hands tracing soothing patterns down your back. And when his breathing finally evened out, when his heartbeat slowed, he exhaled shakily, voice hoarse when he mumbled:

“Gonna make you say it every time, y’know that?”

A smirk tugged at his lips as he nuzzled into your neck, voice still thick with tears, still so incredibly soft.

“Need t’hear it. Need t’feel it.”

Then, with a slow, teasing roll of his hips, he hummed,

“Think y’can say it one more time for me, angel?”

He came for the last time…

His cum is thick, dripping slow and warm from between your legs, and [REDACTED] watches with a lazy, satisfied smirk, eyes half-lidded as he traces a slow, possessive hand down your stomach.

“Look at that,” he murmurs, thumb dragging through the mess he made before pushing some of it back inside. “S’like your body don’t wanna let me go.”

His voice is deep, wrecked, still tinged with the aftershocks of pleasure. He’s barely moved, still pressed against you, still inside you, his cock twitching at the way you whimper from oversensitivity. And even though you can feel him softening, you know he’s not quite done with you yet.

Because when he finally pulls out, slow and deliberate, he groans at the sight of his release leaking out of you, thick and white, dripping down your thighs. His fingers spread you open just a little, just to watch, to admire the way his cum still clings to your hole, and he lets out a quiet, breathy chuckle.

“Bet y’didn’t know that was one of my favorite sights,” he drawls, smug and easy, but there’s a hunger beneath it, something darker and deeper that makes his breath hitch. His fingers tease at your entrance, gathering up what’s spilling out before pushing it back in.

“Gotta keep you nice ‘n full, angel.”

Your body jerks, overstimulated, but he just leans down, kissing your temple with something achingly tender.

“S’my favorite way to mark you,” he murmurs, dragging his tongue across your jaw, pressing another slow kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Better than hickeys. Better than bruises. ‘Cause even if no one else can see it…” His breath fans warm over your lips.

“You’ll know it’s there.”

His hand lingers for just a second longer before he finally sighs, pressing one last kiss to your forehead before rolling

“Stay put,” he orders, voice soft, indulgent, like he’s speaking to something fragile.

You hear the rustling of fabric, the quiet drip of water, and then—warmth. A damp towel glides over your skin, gentle and slow, as he wipes away the evidence of everything he just did to you. His touch is careful, reverent, like he’s memorizing every inch of your body all over again. And when he finally deems you clean enough, he brushes his knuckles along your cheek, tilting your face toward him.

“Y’good?”

His voice is quiet now, searching, scanning your features for any hint of discomfort. And when you nod—when you lean into his touch, pressing a sleepy kiss to his palm—his lips twitch into something almost fond.

“Mm. Good.”

Your whole body feels like it’s floating—boneless, weightless—except for the ache between your legs and the warmth still pooling deep inside you. You’re barely clinging to consciousness, vision hazy, skin flushed, legs utterly useless after how hard he wrecked you. The bike’s cold metal bites against your overheated skin, but you barely notice—too busy trembling in his lap, still impaled on his cock, still dripping with him.

[REDACTED] presses a lazy, open-mouthed kiss to your shoulder, voice still thick and breathless as he rasps, “Look at that, angel…” His fingers trace slow, teasing circles over your stomach, dipping lower—just enough to feel the way his cum is seeping out of you, trailing down your thighs.

A low, satisfied sound rumbles in his chest.

“Still full of me,” he murmurs, like he can’t fucking believe it. His hand drags lower, gathering some of his release on his fingers, pressing it back in—slow, teasing, possessive. You jolt, over-sensitive and trembling, but he just smirks.

“Y’think you can walk?”

You shake your head, barely able to breathe, let alone move. Your limbs feel like jelly, muscles twitching in the aftermath of too many orgasms, and your hands are still gripping the handlebars behind you for dear life.

“Tch. ’Course y’can’t,” he murmurs, amusement curling in his voice.

And then, without warning, he lifts you.

A startled gasp tears from your lips as he scoops you up, arms firm and steady beneath your legs, cradling you against his chest like you weigh nothing. His warmth envelops you, his scent thick in your lungs—leather, sweat, sex—and you can feel the rapid thud-thud-thud of his heartbeat where your head rests against him.

He carries you effortlessly, his grip firm yet careful, keeping you close. And fuck—there’s something so intimate about it. The way his fingers flex against your thighs, the way he presses a kiss to your temple without thinking, the way his breath hitches slightly when he adjusts you in his arms—like he just loves holding you like this.

His voice is softer now, a low, affectionate drawl as he hums,

“Think y’need a bath, angel.”

You barely have the strength to respond, just nodding weakly against his chest. He chuckles, shifting you higher in his arms, pressing you even closer.

“Don’t worry. I got you.”

His lips brush against your forehead, tender, lingering.

“I always got you.”

The bath had been too warm, too soothing, and between the exhaustion settling deep in your bones and the way [REDACTED] had kept tracing slow, lazy circles on your thigh under the water, you’d nearly drifted off in his arms. He’d washed you—hands reverent, careful, like he was sculpting something delicate out of soap and steam—before wrapping you in a towel and carrying you back to the bedroom.

And then he’d leaned against the doorway, still damp from the bath, towel slung low on his hips, eyes dark

You’d barely had time to process before his hands were guiding you down, pressing you against the mattress, the cold air prickling against your freshly washed skin.

And fuck—he was so deep, stretching you all over again, hands gripping your hips as he fucked into you with slow, deep thrusts, dragging pleasure out of you until you were shaking beneath him, moaning into the sheets.

He’d taken his time—murmuring soft, possessive praise against your skin, watching the way your body took him, how it clung to him, milking him with every thrust until he finally spilled inside you again, filling you up just like before.

And even then, he hadn’t let you move.

He’d just stayed there for a moment, cock still buried deep, hands stroking down your sides as he hummed, pleased, murmuring something low and smug about “keeping you full for just a little longer.”

And only when you whined—utterly wrecked and oversensitive—had he finally pulled out, chuckling at the way you shuddered, at the way his release dripped from you.

Now—

You’re in the kitchen, barely dressed, legs still unsteady as you focus on the dessert you’re making. [REDACTED] is behind you, clinging—all broad chest and heavy warmth, arms wrapped around your waist as he nuzzles lazily into your neck.

“Y’ain’t gonna let me help?” he mumbles, voice still slow and drowsy with leftover satisfaction.

“You never help,” you tease, nudging him lightly. “You just stand there and hug me.”

A lazy smirk curls against your skin. “S’important job, angel. Gotta make sure you’re warm.”

You roll your eyes, but you don’t move to shake him off. If anything, you lean into him a little more, enjoying the slow rise and fall of his chest, the way his fingers flex gently against your stomach.

Then, without warning, you turn and press a kiss to his jaw.

His breath hitches.

Just a second. Just a tiny pause, barely noticeable—but you feel it.

And then he’s tilting your chin up, his gaze dark and unreadable as he leans in, pressing a slow, deep kiss to your lips. It’s unhurried, indulgent, his tongue teasing against yours as he takes his time tasting you. His arms tighten around you, pressing you closer, like he never wants to let go.

When he finally pulls away, his forehead rests against yours, his breath warm against your lips.

“You’re so fuckin’ sweet, angel,” he murmurs.

His fingers drift lower, toying with the hem of your clothes, dangerous in their intent.

“…Y'ever thought about letting me have dessert first?”

[REDACTED]’s breath catches. Their fingers twitch slightly in yours—scarred, burned, rough in all the ways that tell a story they’ve never spoken aloud.

You don’t press. You never do.

Instead, you lift their hand to your lips, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to each calloused knuckle.

Their face is unreadable—staring down at you, something flickering in their dark eyes, something raw, something fragile. Like they don’t know what to do with the warmth of your touch. Like it hurts.

And then, as you shift closer, your ring glints under the dim kitchen light. The matching band on their finger catches, too—two small, simple things, yet carrying the weight of a lifetime.

Childhood lovers. Meant to be.

Their grip tightens around your hand, just slightly. Just enough to tell you they’re holding on.

“…If you hadn’t taken his hand that day,” [REDACTED] murmurs, voice rough with something unreadable, “…would you have still said yes?”

Your heart aches at the memory.

That day, years ago—small hands reaching, fingers brushing, the quiet promise sealed with a ring—before Leon’s sneer cut through the moment, before cruel hands tore you away, before [REDACTED] had been left alone with nothing but the sting of rejection and the echo of their own heartbeat.

You squeeze their hand tighter. Hold it against your chest, where they can feel the steady rhythm beneath your ribs.

“I don’t know,” you admit softly. “Maybe my childhood self wouldn’t have understood love the way I do now.”

[REDACTED] swallows, jaw tightening.

“But…” You smile—small, warm, certain. “I’m happy that life gave me another chance with you.”

Something in them cracks.

They look at you—really look at you—eyes shining, throat working around words they can’t quite say. Their lips part, but no sound comes out, and then—then they just press forward, pressing their forehead against yours, squeezing your hand against their chest like they’re the one afraid you’ll disappear this time.

“…You love me?”

A whisper. A plea.

You cradle their face, thumb brushing over the dampness clinging to their lashes, and you whisper back—

“I love you, [REDACTED].”

And finally—finally—they let go.

Not of you. Never of you.

But of everything else.

[REDACTED] shudders—a small, barely-there breath that stutters in their throat, like they don’t know how to take in the weight of your words. Like they can’t believe they deserve them.

But you just hold them closer.

“Only you,” you whisper, pressing your forehead to theirs. “The real you.”

Their fingers tighten around yours, almost desperate. You can feel it—the way their body tenses, the way their breath hitches, the way they struggle against something unseen.

“I’ll tell you this for the rest of my life,” you promise, voice steady, unwavering. “I’ll say it as many times as it takes. Just so you know.”

Their eyes flutter shut. Their lips part, like they want to say something, but no words come—just the smallest, strangled sound, like something breaking apart in their chest.

“You,” you whisper again, softer now. “The real you is the one I feel the happiest with.”

And that’s when they fall.

Not physically. Not in any way you can see.

But you feel it—the way their last defenses crumble, the way their breath shudders out of them, the way they just let go and sink into your arms, forehead still pressed to yours, fingers tangled with yours, body trembling as they clutch onto you like you’re the only thing keeping them together.

“…You’re not leaving,” they whisper, barely a sound.

“I’m not leaving.”

Their lips find yours—not desperate, not rough—just deep. Slow. Like they’re memorizing the way you feel.

You giggle at the way [REDACTED]’s eyes soften when you press the small cake piece to their lips. “C’mon, try it,” you coax, voice light, teasing. “I made it just for you.”

They huff, but there’s no real resistance—just a tiny, reluctant smirk as they take the bite from your fingers.

A pause. Then, their expression melts.

“…S’ good,” they murmur, lips still brushing against your fingertips. Their voice is softer than usual, almost boyish in its honesty. “Sweet… tastes like strawberries.”

You beam. “See! I told you you’d like it!”

Their gaze lingers on you—eyes half-lidded, warm, fond. And then, in one slow, deliberate movement, they lean in and press a kiss right to the tip of your nose.

It’s so soft, so unexpectedly sweet, that your breath catches.

And when they pull back, licking the last traces of cake from their lips, they hum lazily, “Mm. You’re sweeter, though.”

Your heart does a stupid little flip.

“Cheer up, angel,” they say, voice dipping into that low, syrupy drawl. “Can’t have you lookin’ cuter than dessert itself.”

You’re definitely not blushing. Not even a little bit.

[purplesharks]

thinking about jealous ren who can’t help but fuck you stupid as soon as you get back from your hangout with your best friend leon. hips pistoning into you, fucking you into the mattress with his cock. you can’t even remember how many times he’s come inside of you, not as his sweaty chest presses to yours, as he breathily wines in your ear. his thrusts are so angry, a stark contrast to his usual delicate behavior. you can’t help but melt into it, though. it just feels too good. he should get jealous more often (he does)

[l0vinghimwasreid]

hiii!!! if it’s okay, could you write a virgin fem! reader who spencer maybe talks through her first time and makes her feel so special and sweet, and not ashamed of enjoying sex?

btw i love your fics!!!

spencer reid x virgin!fem!reader have sex for the first time

18+ (smut)

wc: 6,088

hi!!! i'm so glad you enjoy my work!!! it's so nice hearing that and really touches my heart <3 

i’m so sorry this took me a million years :’) hopefully the wc makes up for it?

i didn't know what you meant by ashamed exactly, like if it was in a religious sense or for some other reason, but i tried to incorporate the feeling into the story in a way that felt authentic to me! 

Spencer has known that she’s a virgin since the first time his hands wandered to her waist during a particularly heated kiss. She blurted it out like she was afraid it would change everything between them. Spencer was a little taken aback, simply because he wasn’t even thinking about doing that at all. They had only been together for a few weeks, and he thought it was entirely too soon for them to be that intimate together. He wanted to take things slow with her, to savor the process of becoming something real.

He wasn’t a virgin anymore. He gave it away hastily to someone who only wanted something casual. Someone who disappeared from his life without even saying goodbye, someone he thought he was at least a friend to. He learned enough from that to know what it felt like when something like this wasn’t handled gently. 

Since then, they’ve navigated through most of her firsts with caution and compassion. She didn’t realize that it was his first time doing these things with someone who reciprocated his feelings until later on.

She had been hesitant and unsure about exploring her sexuality. It was something that she didn’t even feel comfortable doing alone in her room. Feelings of guilt and disgust and discomfort arose in her whenever she tried. She wasn’t even exactly sure why that was.

The thought of him seeing her –all of her– absolutely terrified her. She knows he’s not the kind of man who’d judge her body, but she feared that he might see her differently (the way she sees herself).

He’s showered her with compliments and praises each time they’ve done something new: “You’re so beautiful,” and “I’m so proud of you,” and “Thank you for trusting me with this.”

He’s quieted her insecurities with: “You’re the most beautiful person that I’ve ever seen in my whole life,” and “I wish you saw yourself the way that I see you.”

Sexual pleasure was a foreign concept to her, one that he’s slowly helped her enjoy. He absolutely loves taking care of her like that; he’s honored and privileged to be someone she feels safe enough to traverse into uncharted waters with.

It was uncomfortable at first. She slightly panicked the first time he brought her to the edge of an orgasm. She didn’t know how to let go; her body stayed tense no matter how much she tried to relax. With him came safety and security, that much she knew was true.

Spencer talked her through it, reassuring her that it was okay to relinquish herself to him and that he would take care of her. He reminded her of how grateful he was to be able to do this with her and kept his voice soft. He repeated to her that they could stop if she wanted.

His devoted reassurances calmed her enough to succumb to her desires. The desires that he had explained to her were only natural. She had never felt anything so intense or intimate with anyone else before, as she allowed herself to reach climax with his palm between her legs.

That first time, she was uneasy about him seeing her without anything covering her lower half. She compromised with herself and allowed him to solely remove her jeans. Since then, he’s seen various sections of her body barren. She slowly eased into letting him use his fingers on her without any covering. He was ecstatic for her, knowing that it was a huge step. 

The first time he put his mouth on her, she was apprehensive about letting him see her so up close. He soothed her by rubbing circles into her bare thighs and with tender words and promises. He swore that he’s loved what he’s seen of her thus far and thinks every inch of her is perfect.  

He taught her how to please him, which was liberating for her. It increased her self-confidence, and she was entranced by his reactions. Hearing him gasping and moaning for her minimized her inhibitions.

The night they decided to have sex for the first time wasn’t planned or scheduled. She didn’t want it to be, knowing she would’ve psyched herself out as the date and time approached. It happened naturally, as all of their experiences have.

They were at his apartment after a museum + dinner date. It was a romantic night that felt easy and relaxed. She kissed him in his entryway, and he pulled her in close by the hips. 

“I think I’m ready,” she whispered against his lips.

He pulled back from her just enough to make proper eye contact. “Are you sure?”

She nods wordlessly and a tad apprehensively. The prospect still makes her feel nervous, but she really is ready.

“We don’t have to, baby.” His thumbs brushed lightly over her hips, grounding her.

“I want to… Do you not want to?” The way she looks up at him twists at his heart. She’s doe-eyed and earnestly afraid he doesn’t want her like that.

“I do, sweetheart. I didn’t mean to imply that I don’t.” He watches her expressions intently and continues once some of the tension has left her face, “I want this very much.”

“Promise?” She shyly asks.

He exhales amusedly, “I promise. Can you promise to tell me if you change your mind, or if you need to stop, or even just pause for a minute?”

She smiles with an eager nod, “Pinky promise,” extending her littlest finger towards him.

He loves her so much; she’s so endearing. He wraps his pinkie around hers and leads her toward his bedroom with them still linked.

She’s perched on the edge of his mattress, and he’s leaned down to kiss her, hands on the side of her face, tilting her head up to meet his. As he deepens the kiss, he leans her backward to lie on the bed. 

Anticipation has every beat of her heart pulsing in her ears. Warmth is already starting to grow between her legs. Spencer slides a hand up her dress to her thigh, and she instinctively opens her legs for him.

He pulls back from the kiss, and she loosely grabs his tie. “Where are you going?” she whines.

He kneels at her feet and places both hands on her knees, “Just down here, honey.” She leans up on her elbows to see him undoing her shoes. 

He scatters kisses up her leg, so close to the place that she needs him most, then diverts to hold the hem of her dress. She wordlessly lifts her arms to allow him to pull the garment up and off of her, leaving her in just her bra and panties.

“You’re stunning,” he mutters, fingers grazing down her arms as his gaze scans her body. The tips of his fingernails bloom chills on her skin. It’s like she’s charged, and he’s activating the electricity in her veins.

Her arteries still twinge with nervousness, though. She doesn’t know what to expect, which leads her to ask him, “Wait, what’s the plan?”

He meets her eyes, and his head slightly tilts in question. “The plan?” 

“Can you tell me what you’re going to do?” She pulls at her fingers as they rest in her lap, and heat rises to her cheeks– feeling slightly embarrassed to ask him that.

Spencer nods and sits on the bed next to her, meeting her at eye level. He doesn’t want to tower over her and make her feel small or cornered.

“Well, first, I figured we would both take our clothes off.” His eyes remain locked on hers as he speaks, not wanting to miss any microexpression or emotional leakages. 

“Mhm, ” she hums high in her throat; she obviously knows their night would entail that. 

“Next, we could lie down together and just kiss a bit.”

“Then, I’d touch you the way I know you like...” He places a palm centered on her thigh, non-pressuring.

“...With my fingers and probably also my mouth, make sure you’re all loose and relaxed for me.”

Everything he’s described up to this point is familiar to her, so her nervousness pulls back like an ocean tide. 

“Then, if you still want me to, I’d ease myself –very slowly– inside of you.”

As with a tide, her anxiety comes rushing forward.

“What if it hurts?” She timidly asks.

His thumb draws small circles on top of her thigh, “It might, but we’d go at your pace. You can stop me at any time, you know that.”

He’s referring to her other firsts they’ve tentatively navigated together, where she’s asked him to stop or wait, and he’s completely frozen his movements.

“It’s still okay if you don’t want to, baby.”

“I do! I do want to!” The way she says it makes her feel a little childish. The words fall out of her unfiltered, a little too sincere. 

To prove her point, she reaches for his shirt and clumsily starts undoing the buttons. She’s not making very productive progress, so he gingerly wraps a hand around her wrist and replaces her fingers with his own– unbuttoning his shirt with practiced ease.

She wishes she still had something to do with her hands as she watches him, because now her brain has started worrying again. She knows that she is severely attracted to him and intensely wants to do this with him, but part of her is still stressed about performing the ‘right’ way. Running his plan back through her head, she relaxes, aware that her body knows what to do for the majority of the steps.

Spencer shrugs his shirt off his arms and tosses it to the floor, landing next to her dress. He then rises, sliding off his shoes before working at his belt, the sound of metal-on-metal clinging. She watches intently as he pushes his pants down his legs– the slow reveal of his bulge through boxers has her clenching her thighs together.

“We’re gonna keep these on for a bit, okay?” He gestures to his own underwear and then to hers. She nods.

He guides her up the bed to the pillows, slotting in right next to her. They shift to lie on their sides, facing each other. His fingertips graze her cheek, ever so softly.

“Hi, beautiful.”

Her cheeks were already flushed, his compliment has her tilting into an indisputable blush. He knows exactly how to make butterflies swarm in her stomach.

“Hey,” she bashfully responds.

Leaning his head closer, he brushes his nose against the side of hers– unrushed. She thinks that she could die from anticipation, so she tilts forward and connects their lips. It starts sweet and slow, before his palm holds her more firmly and tips her head to deepen the kiss.

She lightly moans into his mouth with relief. Kissing him is one of her favorite things to do; sometimes she wishes they could do this forever. The body's need for oxygen annoys her– she’s sure she needs this more. 

His other arm tucks under the pillow and into her hair as the kiss gets deeper and deeper– tongues sliding and stroking together. 

Reaching around her body with the hand that had settled on her cheek, he smoothly unclasps her bra. After turning her onto her back, he slides the garment off of her, leaning over her to resume their kiss.

Expectancy vibrates under her skin as he trails kisses down her neck to her collarbone, leaving light marks in his path. His mouth reaches her soft nipple, and she sighs when he wraps his lips around it, flicking it with his tongue. Her heart skips a beat when he looks up at her, wide-eyed and with darkened pupils. He kneeds her other breast gently, before alternating his ministrations.

Once her nipples are pebbled and moist with his spit, the cool air of his apartment sweeps over them, slowly washing away the warmth his mouth left.

“Spence…” She whines as he descends her body, kissing her ribs and stomach, before settling between her legs. 

“Shhh… I’ve got you,” Spencer whispers airily, breath brushing her inner thighs.

Wrapping his arms under her thighs, his thumbs draw soothing circles as he peppers her with kisses. He loves taking his time with her; tonight, he wants to extend her pleasure for as long as possible. Not only will doing so make it easier on her later, but he wants to savor this moment.

Eventually, his lips ghost over her lace-covered cunt. If every nerve in her body wasn’t as overactive as a live wire, she wouldn’t even feel it. He leisurely scatters kisses from her clit to her entrance and back, over and over, until he can feel her dampness through her panties.

The thought of telling him just to take them off crosses her mind, even telling him to just rip them off does too. His relentless teasing is getting to be too much, and she’s desperate for him to make direct contact with her.

After loosening his grip on one of her thighs, he runs his fingertip over the stitching of her underwear. Each brush along her inseam has her pushing her hips toward him. He’s less than an inch away from finally touching her, and her breathing is erratic. 

“Please…” She whispers. 

She never thought she’d be bold enough or self-assured enough to ask for what she needs like this. For a moment, she considers embarrassment, but it’s more out of habit than truth. 

He can’t deny her of anything she asks for, especially not when she’s being so forthcoming about her sexual desires. Spencer is so proud of her for getting to this point with him. 

“I’m sorry, baby, I shouldn’t tease you like this.”

Finally dipping his finger into her panties from the side, he can immediately feel how soaked she is. It’s difficult for him not to feel smug about it; it was his goal after all. 

At the feeling of his fingertip sliding through her folds— finally getting the skin-to-skin she needed —a low moan escapes her. 

His finger glides from her entrance to her clit, repeatedly. She’s so wet he’s easily able to slip through her folds. He dips the pad of his fingertip into her silky hole, a little further each time. The relief of the pressure that had been building there has her thighs relaxingly opening for him and breathy whimpers falling from her lips. 

Spencer considers making her cum just like this, with her panties still on (it wouldn’t have been the first time). But his hand desires less constriction, more freedom to please her properly. 

She gasps when he slides out of the side of her underwear, looking down at him with betrayal in her eyes. That is, until his fingers hook into her panties at her hips, and she’s biting her lip as she cants upward for him to pull them down her thighs. 

“Do you like them? I thought of you when I put them on.” She demurely asks. 

He did notice that she was adorned in purple lace; he notices everything, especially when it’s details that regard her. Hearing that she essentially chose them for him, not even knowing if they would do anything tonight, makes his brain buffer. 

He recovers quickly, remembering that she asked him a question, “I love them, honey, but I think they’d look even better on my floor.”

“Spencer Reid!” she appalls, hand dramatically on her chest for effect. 

His cheeks flush at his own smoothness; she brings out sides of him he barely knew existed. 

Settling back between her legs, with his arms hooked under her thighs again, his hands reach up to her waist to caress her there. “Yes?” He smiles with raised eyebrows. 

She can’t respond with his face this close to her heat; he knows that. Tangling her fingers in his hair, she gently guides him forward. 

He doesn’t need to be told twice, so he eagerly licks a flat stripe up the expanse of her cunt. 

“Yes…” she whines. 

The corners of his lips twist upwards as he continues his ministrations– suckling at her clit, rolling it gently between his lips. With her eyes fluttering shut, her other hand finds his, threading them together against her side. Spencer gently squeezes her as he intently watches her face.

As he shifts down to prod her entrance with his tongue, his nose bumps against her sensitive nerves. Once he feels her abdomen tensing under his hands, he returns to her clit, sucking her with fervor. 

“Spence… I--I’m gonna–” Their eyes briefly meet, and he gives her a quick nod of encouragement. Soon, her thighs tremble against him, and she squirms underneath him as he works her through her climax. Her grip on his hand tightens, and he soothingly strokes her with his thumb. 

When he lifts his head from between her legs, his lips glisten with evidence of her arousal; her breathing is labored. Tingling and gelatinous are her legs. 

Spencer ascends her body until their faces meet again. His hand cups her cheek, and she instinctively nuzzles into him. As he leans in to kiss her, she remembers when she was disturbed by the prospect of tasting herself on him. Now, the flavor of herself mixed with his tastes like devotion.

They softly and tenderly kiss as she comes down from her orgasm. 

“I love you…” She mumbles against his lips.

He pulls back just enough to look her in the eye, “I love you too, baby.”

“I want you.” She bashfully admits, and his heart flutters in his chest. 

It takes a remarkable degree of strength to tell her, “Let’s make you cum one more time like this…” His hand trails down her ribs, and she softly whines.

“But why?”

“I just want this to be as comfortable for you as possible. We don't need to rush.” Spencer nudges at her jawline with his nose as he litters kisses on her neck. His fingertips graze and tweak at her nipples before trailing the rest of the way down to the crease of her inner thighs, prompting her to separate them for him.

His fingertips glide over her clit with ease due to the lubricating moisture of her arousal and his saliva. He takes his time, leisurely stroking the nub before sliding a finger inside her entrance. Once she’s whimpering and rutting her hips into his hand, he adds a second finger and gingerly works her open– ensuring to graze her spongey tissue with each thrust. 

He knows her body extraordinarily well, knows exactly which buttons to press, and in exactly the right sequence. He knows the precise pressure to use and when to speed up or slow down. Her mind fades into blankness, like a chalkboard being slowly erased into clouded dust.

It’s not long before she’s burrowing her head into his neck, moans muffling into his skin. “There you go…” His words invigorate her impending orgasm. Body shuddering against his, a dreamy lightheadedness swirls behind her eyes.

She clings to his body as he shifts to open the drawer of his bedside table, blindly searching for a condom. 

“Honey? How are you feeling?” 

“Mmm… good…” She mumbles, slightly slurred. 

“Hey, I need you to come back.” He slides his hand up and down her side, attempting to ground her.

“I’m right here.” She airily giggles.

“Need you to be a little more awake, baby.” 

She leans up to slot her lips against his, and kisses languidly and measuredly as the veil of pleasure in her mind becomes translucent. Once she’s looking at him, eyes only a little hazy, “Do you still want to?”

She nods diffidently.

“Need you to tell me, baby.”

“Yes… I want you.”

He presses a kiss to her forehead before shifting down her body and kneeling between her thighs. He tears the condom open and is about to roll it on when she stops him, “Wait… Do we have to?” gesturing at the latex.

“That’s up to you, baby. Either way is good with me.”

“I want to feel you.” Her eyes are coated with desire; Spencer’s chest constricts at the sight of her like this.

“Fuck– Are you sure? Where do you want me to…” He rarely curses, but he’s struggling to subdue his own excitement of feeling her properly, as well. His thoughts are flighty with anticipation.

“To…?”

“Sorry–” His cheeks are flushed, and he still has the condom in one hand. He really doesn’t want his own nervous excitement to spill over onto her. He clears his throat and stuffs the condom back into the foil. “Where do you want me to finish?” He rubs his palms on the tops of her thighs, rooting himself in the touch.

“Um…” She didn’t consider this.

“The options are: inside of you, onto your stomach, or here onto the sheet.” He gestures at the area of bedding between her thighs. 

“...inside? Please?” The thumping of her heart increases in pace. She wants the full experience of sex with him.

He nods eagerly, “Okay. Whatever you want, I’ll give you anything.”

She watches as he spits into his hand and loosely jerks himself, spreading the moisture around. Briefly, she wonders how he’s going to fit inside of her. She pondered the same thing the first time she put her mouth on him, which resulted in her overexerting herself to try to fit all of him.

The memory and his resulting kindness to her encourage her to ask, “Can I help?”

“Oh– Yes… Yes, you can do anything you want.” She sits up slightly, and he guides his cock toward her mouth. Wrapping her lips around his tip, she gently massages the underside with her tongue. Spencer breathes out a soft groan, ravished by the feeling of her warm, wet mouth relieving the pressure that started growing once they got home.

She releases his tip with a quiet pop, then drags her tip up the sides of his length, from base to tip. After putting her mouth around him and sinking down a few times, careful not to agitate the rear of her throat too much. He gently pulls her off of him with an “Fu– Okay…” A string of spit connects her lip to him, and he has to close his eyes to collect himself.

“How was that?” She asks, coyly.

“Very good, very thorough.” He chuckles.

Settling back between her legs, he angles her knees upward, with her feet flat on the mattress. Her breathing quickens as he situates them. 

“One more time, are you sure?” 

“Yes, I’m 100% sure.”

“Thank you, honey. Thank you for trusting me with this.” His earnestness melts her.

Her body tenses as his tip glides through her drenched folds– up to her clit, and down to her entrance. 

“Hey, focus on me, okay?” He encourages her to maintain eye contact with him. 

She nods, “What you’re doing does feel nice…” Adding on, “I’m just nervous.”

“Try to relax for me, honey, it’ll be easier for you if you do.”

She takes a few deep breaths and really focuses on unclenching her muscles as his tip presses against her entrance. At first, the pressure is light, and she likes feeling his smooth skin against hers.

As he pushes in further, the pressure transforms into something that is somehow both sharp and dull.

“Wait… it hurts.” She breathlessly admits, her eyes widening in shock.

“I know, baby, I’m sorry, it’ll go away though, okay?”

She whines and grips his upper arms. Reaching down to circle lightly on her clit, he hopes it soothes her.

The stretching pain and satisfying pleasure he’s bringing her blur into each other at the seams.

“Take some big deep breaths for me?” He hates that he’s hurting her and wishes there was a way to take it all away.

As he pushes in a little farther, inch by painstaking inch, she feels dizzy. Her bones feel hot and her skin feels cold.

“Oh, my god.” She whines.

“You’re doing great, sweetheart.” He reassures her, eyebrows creased with concern for his girlfriend.

She moves a hand to the back of his neck, pulling his body down towards hers. The weight of him brings her comfort, like a weighted blanket. He places gentle kisses on her neck as he keeps pushing forward, until his hips finally slot against hers. A soft groan falls from his lips as he bottoms out.

“There you go, that’s all, you did it.” He tells her like he’s not absolutely huge, like he’s not practically splitting her open from the inside out. 

“That’s all?!” She can barely speak, but she hopes he catches her sarcastic drift. The persistent ache in her stomach feels tight.

Spencer laughs lightly, and she can feel each point of contact of his body vibrating, from his chest to his cock now buried deep inside of her. 

He shifts his head to press his forehead on hers, missing her eye contact, “Are you okay?” The minty air of his breath fans her face as he whispers. She finds it comforting and refreshing. 

She attempts a nod, “Can I just… have a second?”

“Of course, baby. You can have as long as you need, you can have anything.”

“Kiss?” She endearingly asks.

His head tilts, and he emits a small smile, “Of course, honey.”

The delicate press of his lips juxtaposes perfectly with the intensity occurring between her legs.

Pulling away from the kiss, she shyly asks, “Does it feel good for you?”

“Yes, sweetheart. You feel amazing.” She’s molded around him like clay, shaping around him as if she were made to do so. As if she were made just for him.

She’s noticed and is grateful for his endearments becoming more frequent; she finds comfort in each and every one. 

Spencer continues using light pressure on her clit and uses his other hand to soothingly stroke her hair. She can feel him sporadically and uncontrollably twitching inside of her.

Eventually, the stretch dissipates and she’s able to focus solely on the pleasure he’s giving her, “I think… I– I’m ready?”

“I’m gonna go really slow, okay?”

She nods, adding to her perpetual state of lightheadedness. Spencer pulls back just a few inches before gently pushing forward again. Her eyebrows furrow together, and her grip on him tightens. Drawing back a little more each time, he repeats his movements– tentative and unhurried.

The pressure still feels bizarre, and the pain slowly dissipates, but her brain can’t seem to fully process the stimulation.

“You’re doing perfectly, you’re so perfect.” The slight rasp and breathlessness in his voice goes straight to her core. She believed him when he said she felt amazing, but hearing the proof of his sentiment in his voice made it feel real. His voice tingles her overwired veins.

She pulls him down to kiss her again, and soon the pain completely fades away, turning into overwhelming pleasure. 

She feels dazed. She is akin to the spinning blue wheel of a loading computer. Her brain is trying to make sense of the foreign pleasure, but it's overriding her senses.

“Spencer…” She tentatively moans.

“Yeah? Is it feeling better now?” His voice is impossibly soft and tender– somehow more so than usual.

“Mhm,” she whines.

He finds a consistent pace, slowly pulling more and more of himself out of her with each thrust. Soon, he’s able to pull out until just his tip remains, and gently thrust all the way to the hilt. Doing so makes him groan low in his throat.

“That’s my girl. You’re taking me so well.”

The pleasure radiates throughout her entire body: centralized at her core and fizzling out into her fingertips and toes. She can feel him everywhere. It’s like he’s contacting every inch and atom within her body and rearranging them. She feels forever changed by this experience with him.

Her gasps and moans come out more and more as he continues. She looks down between their bodies and sees flashes of his cock as he thrusts in and out of her. Suddenly struck with the desire to see more, “Wait,” He immediately freezes. “Can I see?”

A familiar wrinkle forms between his brows, one that she’s seen appear dozens of times throughout their relationship. It’s the one that forms when he’s thinking attentively.

“What do you mean?” He breathes out, voice sounding ruined.

Her flushed cheeks increase in heat; gesturing down to where their bodies are connected, “Us. Can I see?”

Nodding, he gingerly adjusts their position, relocating his hand from between her legs to behind her back to help her slightly sit up. Her muscles tense at the movement, but relax as his fingertips meet her skin. 

He’s almost entirely out of her, just his tip remains notched inside her entrance, “Like this?”

After she bobs her head yes, he slowly pushes back inside of her. Her jaw drops as she watches him disappear into her depths. Being able to match the feeling with an explicit visual elicits her loudest moan yet. She still wonders how he’s able to fit inside of her. Any thoughts about asking are halted when his tip reunites with her cervix– her mind pausing like a stopped video. Gutteral moans escape her body.

“How’s that?” Spencer has a decent hypothesis of what her answer is, but desires to hear her say it.

She can’t speak. She can’t respond. It’s pleasantly entirely too much. The angle shift amplified the sounds of their bodies meeting; the sound of her wetness squishing around him is so lewd.

He’s reached places within her that nobody has ever been before, and she hopes nobody else gets to touch again. She wants him to remain the sole explorer of her body. 

So bewildered by him and the pleasure he’s bringing her, she begins falling backward toward the pillow. His hand quickly cups the back of her head to prevent her from crashing into the headboard. Intuitively, her legs then wrap around his waist, reminding her of when he told her to trust her instincts the first time he fingered her. She was so worried about acting the ‘right’ way, about doing something wrong, and he reassured her that he didn’t want anything specific from her. He’s always just wanted to make her feel good.

Her ankles hook behind his hips, opening her up for him to get impossibly deeper inside of her. She can feel him deep and low in her stomach; he grazes her sensitive tissue with each thrust. He’s reached parts of her that she didn’t know existed, and not just in a sexual manner. Spencer has reached into the depths of her heart and scraped out all of her insecurities, replacing them with certainty that she can be wanted just as she is. 

The sounds they’re making together create the most romantic song she’s ever heard– tangled moans and breaths intersperse with the thwack of their pelvises meeting.

“I love you,” she wails.

“I love you too, baby, so so much.” She can see the truth of his statement in his doting eyes.

“You feel really good,” She moans to him.

Reaching down between them to resume pressured circles on her clit, her back arches up into him, pressing their chests flush together. Her head tilts into the pillow, and she makes her most libertine moans, whines, and whimpers yet. 

Soon, a familiar tautness brews in her stomach; a wave of coldness flows through her blood.

“I–I think–” 

She doesn’t need to finish her sentence; she doesn’t need to say anything at all. He already knows what she was trying to tell him and can feel what she means. Her hands fall from his body and clench into the sheets.

“Let it out, baby. Let me feel you cum around me.” 

Surrounded by her walls pulsing and her thighs trembling, she climaxes with a ragged cry. 

It’s the most intense orgasm she’s ever had in her life. She didn’t know that it was possible to feel something so fierce and powerful. Spencer has completely unraveled her. She can’t form a single thought. Each attempt at coherence dissipated before her brain could reach a conclusion.

“‘m close,” he murmurs as he separates from her clit, tangling their fingers together instead. His other hand meets the side of her neck, and his head falls into her opposite shoulder.

As his thrusts get erratic and messy, his grunts reverberating into the crook of her collarbone do too. Soon, his cum fills the limited space available inside of her– hot and determined.

Constellations form behind her eyes, points scattering through every part of her body. He’s an artist, and she’s the canvas. Their limbs tingle like TV static.

As he comes down, he melts into her body like wax– light shudders breaking through like the wick of a candle.

For a moment, they just lie there together, not wanting the moment to end. Her hand not being held by his caresses his warm back. They intertwine together into a mess of limbs.

She’s completely exhausted, debilitated. Thinking she could fall asleep like this, his head slowly rose, waking her up from her stupor.

His fingertips graze and draw patterns where they had settled against her neck as he stares down at her with pure adoration. “You’re so beautiful.”

Blushing, she hesitates for a moment. She’s never quite known how to accept his compliments, not since they began. It’s not that she disbelieves him; she knows he’s not a liar. Something within her has changed, though. This experience together has rewritten the code of her existence. His eyes are full of unmistakable devotion, and she realizes it’s the way he’s always looked at her.

“Thank you… So are you.” She murmurs.

His eyes flicker with pure joy at her not shying away from his admiration. Leaning forward, he presses his lips to hers, “I love you.”

“I love you too, Spencer.”

“Thank you for being here and letting me see you like this…” His eyes shimmer with brewing tears, and he swallows hard before looking down, “Sorry– I just love you a lot.” 

She pulls him into a silent hug, his nose plunging into her hair. He’s so incredibly sweet, charming, and endearing; her heart aches with love for him. She’s never felt so safe and secure with anyone else before, and it makes it harder to remember why she was ever afraid.

By the time he pulls out of her, he’s completely softened. It makes the removal less jarring, but she still whines softly at the loss. He lies beside her after, and she turns to lie her head on his chest, arm slinging over his waist.

“How are you feeling? Was it okay?” He genuinely inquires, one hand caressing her arm and the other on her spine.

“‘m sleepy…” She admits. She can barely keep her eyes open and she’s molded completely into his side. She almost forgets to answer his second question and amusedly lets out a breath at her obvious answer: “It was incredible… You were incredible. I couldn’t have asked for anything more… It was better than anything I ever imagined.”

“Oh, good,” he exhales in relief, “I didn’t want it to be anything less than that for you.”

“You did–” she yawns, “--a good job…” 

He lightly laughs and lets the moment pass, gratified by her answer. He doesn’t wait too long to tell her, “Don’t fall asleep yet, sweetheart. I need to go get us a washcloth.”

She whines in disapproval and tightens her grip on his waist.

“I know,” he hums in agreement, “but I’ll be right back, and we can go to sleep right after. I promise.” 

Relenting, she loosens her arm and grumbles, “Okay.”

Spencer, always true to his word, does return quickly with a warm, damp washcloth to wipe her with. Tenderly, he cleans her while she lies half-asleep, leaving soothing kisses on her thighs as he does.

He holds her until she falls asleep– bare skin adhered together. Neither of them has ever adored someone so much, and they didn’t know if they’d ever get the opportunity to.

They both now understand the true meaning of making love. Their romantic and emotional connection has increased so much that it’s a wonder it still fits in their bodies. She figures that’s how she’s able to see fondness and passion in his eyes– it has nowhere else to go, but outward.

(i really wanted to go about this delicately in the case that anyone reading it has never had sex before. yes, virginity is widely a social construct, but it’s still incredibly vulnerable and kinda scary to do it for the first time, as it is with doing really anything for the first time. there's no single right way for it to happen: everyone's experience is different. i do think that everyone deserves kindness, patience, and respect when it comes to their first time, though. 

honestly i was very self-indulgent with writing this because it’s kinda how i wish that some of my first experiences went, but that’s just me and my desires! i’m gonna shut up now before i start over-sharing, but if anyone wants to talk to me about this in the replies or dms or even anon asks, i will happily continue yapping lol)

pretty pls ignore any mistakes, i worked on this for daysss and simply cannot stare at it any longer!!!

[haydenssweetheart]

18+mdni. warnings: oral (f receiving). that's the premise of the blurb

ANAKIN SKYWALKER liked positions with you that made you whimper louder than you normally would. he liked hearing your cries for him, ones that he knew he could only elicit.

which is why he had you hoisted above the ground, your pussy right to his face. he had your back pressed against the wall, while he supported your thighs with your left leg swung over his shoulders, the other barely draped over his arm as you became limp in his grasp.

"ani!" you gasp as he softly nips your clit with his teeth, followed by his tongue soothing it with insistent lapping from your pussy to the very same sensitive bud.

holding you was easy, you felt almost weightless to him, his height and size. you looked beautiful spread out for him in his arms, at his mercy, letting him ravish you.

"that's it sweet girl." he murmurs against your center, where he increases his grip on your thighs, moving his thumbs in gentle circles before pressing his tongue into you, causing you to let out a low moan.

he knows how hard you're making him, the feeel of the strain of his cock against his pants was becoming increasingly more uncomfortable. as opposed to having you in bed and eating your sweet cunt, which he also loved, he was usually able to find some friction then as he did it. but there was nothing to grind against to provide a moment of relief, making him all the more needy.

your fingers had locked themselves in his hair, tugging at the strands and doing what you could to grind against his face. he lifts his head to gaze at you, your pupils blown wide, but beyond that, he can see how soft your eyes become looking at him.

"you like using me baby? you wanna cum on my face?" he asks, his face hovering centimeters from dipping back to eating you again. your leg tightens around him and he can be sure if he was inside of you, he would've felt you squeeze his cock.

you nod. "yes. anakin please. don't stop."

he hums. "what a good girl. using her manners when she's so desperate."

he would love to have his fingers in you, but that would require putting you down, and making you cum in this position was entirely too good for him. he dips his head further toward your core, so his nose brushes your clit while he's able to continue his tongue fucking.

you mumble, your grip getting tighter in his hair.

"what's that baby?" he doesn't pull himself away from you, letting his voice vibrate against your pussy.

"m'gonna cum," you pant out, "anakin!"

he knows he overstimulates you sometimes, but when you cum for him, on his face like this, he can't help but contine, to taste all of you. he just loves you so much, how could he not?

[r0ttn]

⤷ ゛ ˎˊ˗ cuddling with anakin turns into lazy fucking | 0.5k | mdni

content warnings: piv sex, spooning sex, multiple orgasms, dirty talk, fluff

note: this is a rewrite of one of my fics from a prev. fandom. enjoy! ♡

m.list

your back is pressed up against his chest, his arm lazily thrown over your abdomen, the heat of his body radiating into yours beneath the rumpled sheets. you can feel his cock against your ass through his boxers, thick through the thin fabric, and as much as you try to fight it, you just can’t help but slowly roll your hips back, seeking that delicious friction.

he doesn’t do anything at first, staying perfectly still, but he knows exactly what you’re doing. he waits it out to see how long you’ll last and how desperate you’ll get, his breath steady and warm against the nape of your neck.

you do it again, and again, grinding back with a little more insistence each time, and even though he’s still not acknowledging it out loud, his cock hardens with each swivel of your hips, swelling fully against you until the rigid length pulses hotly through his boxers.

he’s the first to crack, his mechanical hand coming down to grip your ass tight, fingers sinking into the soft flesh and making you chuckle breathlessly. next thing you know he’s pulling your shorts down to your knees as well as his boxers, the cool air brushing over your bare skin for only a moment before his body presses back in close. he rubs the tip through your already soaked folds, groaning softly in your ear, the sound low and rough with need.

“you're so needy,” he whispers, gently nipping at your pulse point as you mewl. “always wanting my cock inside of you.”

he pushes just the tip in and you moan hotly, the stretch of him making your walls flutter around that thick head as you bring your hand to clasp over his that’s on your hip. he gently ruts against you, enjoying the feeling of your tight, warm cunt lightly spasming around him as you adjust to his size, savoring the slick, velvety heat that grips him so perfectly.

he takes it slow, reveling in the soft, breathy moans you make with each shallow thrust, the lazy drag of his cock building that sweet, aching pleasure deep inside you. he brings his hand to your cunt, spreading the wetness up to your clit before rubbing shapeless patterns against the throbbing bud. you cum without warning, your body shuddering hard against his as the orgasm crashes through you, and he gently coaxes you through it. pressing tender kisses along your neck while his hips keep that same slow rhythm.

“there you go, baby,” he groans, still tracing light circles on your pulsating clit. “you’re so beautiful when you cum for me.”

he brings another orgasm out of you before he finally releases, shooting thick, hot ropes of cum deep within your cunt, filling you completely as his cock throbs inside you. he buries his face in your neck as he comes down from his high, his hands squeezing the soft skin of your hip with tenderness.

“fuck..,” he says through soft pants, gently easing himself out of you with a wet, filthy sound. “i love you. you know that?”

“i love you, too, anakin,” you whisper, turning onto your back to find him staring at you adoringly.