@cupidsonly - Tumblr Blog

Posts

honeysilkdawn

just a friendly reminder you can’t call a fic x reader and then

A) describe the reader’s appearance in detail

B) give the reader a faceclaim / use pictures of random Pinterest women as the “reader” in a SMAU

C) give the reader a name

D) assign the reader a specific ethnic or cultural background unless requested

E) write the “reader” so specifically that they’re basically an OC

If you wanted to do the above then the story should have been x original character and not x reader.

with-my-calamitous-love

shinso is good at a lot of things. straight As, guitar, knowing exactly what to say that’ll get your thighs pressed together for friction. most would know him for his impeccably bad posture or his complimentary resting bitch face. of all the things you’ve known him for, his hands are probably your favourite.

being naturally good with his words, his physical talents are often left underestimated. it started when he invited you over to his place, to help pack his room for a big move. or maybe clean up his bookshelf. whatever it was, it ended with him seated on the edge of his bed while you sat next to him on the floor, looking up as his fingers skimmed over the guitar strings.

every now and then, his indigo eyes would furrow while he worked out a tune. at one point, maybe his tongue was stuck out. he could have been strumming the national anthem, and you’d have no way of knowing. your attention focused solely on his hands, and bow they moved across the strings, skilfully plucking each line, curling.

among the many things shinso is great at, he’s also very perceptive. which is why he has your clothes on the floor, allowing you to straddle his waist while he buried his index and middle finger into your soaked heat.

he has half a mind to laugh, watching your back arch when he circles your clit with his thumb. whatever he asked you to come over for is long forgotten.

“feel good, princess?” his voice deep, raspy, looking up at you while you catch your breath. you whine, and he feels his cock twitch underneath his sweatpants. he continues playing your pussy like an instrument, the music, of course, being your voice.

he develops a steady rhythm, pumping his two fingers in and out while chasing the feeling of you around him, knowing you’re close. he thinks, for a moment, of withdrawing his hands completely, letting you and your big, beautiful eyes lick his fingers clean, and then pulling you down onto his hard, throbbing dick. how he’d love to let you ride him, chase your own pleasure before deciding he doesn’t have the patience and thrusting up into you.

“fuck, hitoshi!” you half scream, and it pulls him back down. his fingers haven’t slowed in you. he can’t tell if he’s surprised that you said his first name, or that you came on his hands.

regardless, he rides out your orgasm, running his perfect fucking fingers between your folds before slowly withdrawing. his usual smartass mouth plasters a grin, a shit-eating one that would otherwise piss you off, had you not had the ride of your life off his hand alone.

“still wanna see me play guitar?”

“oh, shut up.”

cinna-creme

a/n: i need ,,, this sry ovulation turned me into a cumslut 😣

“fuuuck babygirl.” katsuki holds your hair back. “just like that.. yeah..” his hips jerk up a little.

you’ve been sucking on him for a while now, he’s already cum but neither of you care, you want to keep sucking and he wants to keep cumming. you’re sloppy with it right now, spit and cum all over your lips as you press open mouth kisses down his shaft, staring up at him with nothing short of love and adoration. you swirl your tongue around his tip and swallow him back down.

“shit.” he groans.

the front door opens and his roommates walk in, denki lets out a groan that turns into a whine, sero pushes past him to get a better view and kiri pushes the three of them in so he can close the door. katsuki adjusts his hips, making you gag but you keep going unfazed.

“got an audience baby.” katsuki lets out a breathy chuckle.

“damn.” sero walks over to the couch to take in the side view. “swallowing you down real good.”

“she’s so good.” katsuki pats your cheek. “been at it for thirty minutes.”

“thirty?” kirishima’s eyes go wide.

“she’s doesn’t wanna stop.” katsuki’s thighs flex. “shit.”

“‘s yummy.” you murmur against his dick, blinking up at him. “more.” you whine, pumping him quickly, letting your mouth fall open, tongue lapping at his tip.

“fuckfuckfuuuuck.” thick ropes coat your tongue and mouth.

“damn that’s hot.” sero groans.

“i came.” denki pants.

“i wanna cum.” kiri’s voice cracks.

you glance at katsuki and he lets out a little laugh and nods, putting himself back in his sweats. you turn to kiri and reach up to the waistband of his shorts.

“whoa uh..? you sure?” he looks to you and katsuki.

“she wants to keep going and i’m spent.” katsuki shrugs, leaning back on the couch.

when you tug kiri’s shorts down you whine at how big he is, licking your lips still coated with cum before you wrap your fingers around him. you lick a slow stripe up from his base all the way to his tip, thighs squishing together when he moans. you suck his tip into your mouth, whining at his taste.

“she feel good, ei?” katsuki gives him a lazy grin.

“she’s fucking perfect.”

you hum at the praise and take him to the back of your throat. denki and sero collapse on the couch, pulling themselves out of their pants and start jerking in time with your movements on kirishima. you’re in heaven surrounded by all of them with their dicks out, mouth watering even more at the thought of them cumming and letting you lick their hands clean.

kiri fucks into your mouth, praising you the whole time as you gag and stare up at him. his stomach is flexing and coiling with pleasure, he wants to hold off but you’re too good. you whimper feeling him twitch in your mouth and move faster, nails digging into the back of his thighs and he fills your throat. you swallow down everything and pull off with a gasp and a crooked smile.

“they made a mess over here, babygirl. wanna clean em up?” katsuki tilts his head at you.

“mhmm.” you crawl over to the couch.

you lick at sero’s hand and cock, slurping down all of his cum before making your way over to denki. denki twitches back to life when you lick his dick, ready to cum for a third time already and all it takes is a swirl of your tongue around his tip and he’s coating your lips.

“that’s enough baby, c’mere.” katsuki tugs softly on your hair.

“need more.” you pant.

“c’mon.” he scoops you up and carries to off to his room ignoring his roommate’s as they call after you.

gyarujo

carniya has me thinking about casa boy! satoru who really should’ve been part of the original cast. he’s so perfect. all snowy hair, blinding smile, and the brightest blue eyes you’ve ever seen. the hottest guy to step into the villa in love island history. but production knew exactly what they were doing when they saved him for casa amor. they knew no couple would stand a chance once he arrived.

your current connection is already in shambles. you’d watched your partner completely disrespect you during the live-streamed heart race challenge. he’d spent the majority of your time together making you feel small and forgotten.

in a single day, satoru’s made you feel more seen, more desired, than your partner has in weeks. and now you’re tucked away in say less, the mellow amber lights casting everything in a honeyed glow. he’s teaching you basic phrases in japanese, deep voice reverberating as he murmurs foreign words against your skin

“watashi no namae wa . . . desu” he says, his lips brushing your ear.

you echo the phrase back, stumbling a bit over the syllables, heart fluttering when he chuckles. “you’re a natural,” he praises, thumb stroking your jaw. “kirei desu”

“what does that mean ?” you ask, leaning into his touch as his gaze drops to your lips. you feel like you’re on cloud nine.

“it means you’re very pretty.” he murmurs. he closes the distance. lips fitting against yours like they were always meant to be there. you can taste the faint mint on his breath, feel his hand slide from your jaw to the nape of your neck. the kiss is so good it makes you completely forget about the cameras on you.

his other hand finds your waist, pulling you impossibly closer until you’re practically sitting in his lap. his hands are everywhere, tracing the curve of your spine, mapping the dip of your waist, resting on your hips. it makes your head spin. without so much as thinking, you’re swinging a leg over his to straddle him properly, gasping into his mouth. he takes the opportunity to sweep his tongue against yours. you’re melting, a syrupy puddle in his arms.

“fuck,” he breathes against your lips, breaking the kiss just long enough to speak. “you’re so perfect”

you can only whimper in response, hands sliding up his chest to loop around his neck. pulling back slightly, you look down at him, his face is flushed, his lips are swollen and glistening. his pupils are dilated. and you know your original couple doesn’t stand a chance. “would you like to sleep in my bed tonight?” you ask, voice merely a whisper.

a grin quickly spreads across his face. “i thought you’d never ask.”

angelbabykei

do your job! ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝

𝜗𝜚 you’re keigo’s physician, coming over to check on him while he’s in rut

• keigo takami x f!reader

cw ~ rutting!hawks, avian specialist!physician!bird nerd!reader, reader wears glasses (stereotypical nerd? i wear glasses so it’s okay), smut;; handjob, painful erection, ballplay?, feral talk from kei, excessive precum + keigo cums a lot, facial ?, reader gets almost intoxicated off pheromones, so i guess mild dubcon, most likely inaccurate things ab wing anatomy though that parts not focused on.. (am i getting better at this)

wc 4.4k (i genuinely don’t know how that happened)

You breathed deeply before grabbing the keys and unlocking the door—rushing yourself in and swiftly closing it behind you.

“Takami?” you called out. You automatically made the mistake of breathing in too quickly, getting hit hard by the strong musky air that filled this entire house.

The warmth was what bothered you, but you were familiar with this scent. Not with how especially potent it was today—but it wasn’t new. Though you’d been warned about this years ago, and told to get a mask to protect yourself from the damn near drugs this man produced. You’ve been fine, though. How bad could things get? You’d get a little dizzy after too long, but you could deal.

You walked toward the coffee table, putting down your bag and looked over to the hallway to see your giant, shirtless patient.

“Ah. Trying to scare me?” You grinned at him as he stared at you blankly, before taking heavy steps to sit on the couch.

“Not even gonna smile for me?” You fake pouted. “Is it that bad?”

He looked at you, eyes piercing through yours, before sighing. “Y’don’t even know.” he rasped.

“Actually, I do, very much. And why are all the windows shut? You know I told you the fresh air is good.”

“The city smells like shit.”

“If any normal civilian walked in here, they’d tell you this house smells like shit.”

“Smells like me.” he huffed the correction.

“It smells like sex.” You giggled, slipping off your white jacket and walking over to hang it. “Come on. Let me open one window. You know this isn’t very good for me either.”

“…You’re bothered?” he muttered, lifting his head.

“Oh, no. It just makes me sort of drowsy. Y’know, your pheromones are meant to be attracting another… half-human… half-bird… partner. I’m just me. You’re suffocating, almost.”

He looked at you for a long while, before sending a large feather to open a window behind him. You scowled at his wings as they spread, the state of them a horrible sight. “You’re a mess,” you groaned, quickly walking up to him and taking a closer look. “Ugh. My babies...”

You saw his head flick in your direction, most likely glaring.

“Don’t look at me like that.” you murmured. “Yeah. I’ll be here for a while. You’re wrecked.” You turned back to the table, searching through your bag and grabbing the thermometer and flashlight.

You put the thermometer in his mouth and grabbed his face as you shined the light in his dark eyes. “Pupils heavily dilated…” you looked down at the thermometer. 41°C. Which would take a human to the emergency room, but it’s around average for him during a rut. Still, very hot. You could see the glow on his skin from how he’d been sweating.

You took the tools back, taking out your notebook to write the information down, leaving it open on the table. “Can you stand up? Stretch them out for me?” you asked sweetly, your hands folded at your front.

He gave you another silent stare before he got up. He seemed to have grown about three inches taller again. He groaned, before obeying. His wings, as usual—despite being a mess, were still beautiful. Large enough to fill this whole living room, if he stretched properly. But he’s tense—he’s sensitive.

“Does it hurt?” you asked, getting closer and looking at the feathers closest to his back from the front.

“Aches.” he said.

“Yeah, cause you love cramping them to your back all the damn time,” you murmured, receiving a mean glare from him as a response. You looked at his bare chest, getting closer as you saw how defined his muscles had become. His entire body shifted during this time of year, trying to give him all the strength he’d need to bury himself in someone and breed them, of course, without a single chance for them not to be full of his seed.

That’s… vulgar, but unavoidably true. You’ve dealt with him like this for so long that nothing is embarrassing, or shocking. You really take everything scientifically now, knowing you’re here to care for him, and track his behaviors. Nothing more.

So, of course, as you told him to breathe deeply while you listened to his heartbeat, you couldn’t help looking down at the huge print in his sweatpants. You could see the entire outline of his cock, especially his swollen tip—that you were actually shocked to see wasn’t leaking as it usually would be. You noticed his growth down there, too. Just a bit longer, a lot thicker.

Again, some things you can’t ignore, you’ve grown to see as normal. That’s just something else to write down.

“Your heartbeat is… uneven. Irregular,” you mumbled, looking up at him expecting an answer. His heartbeat usually keeps a quickened, but constant pace when he’s like this.

He shook his head, putting it down toward you but keeping his eyes closed. “You…” he breathed.

“Me?”

“…Just… smell good..” he finished, followed by another heavy breath and a twitch from his wings.

You raised your brows, chuckling as you put the stethoscope away. “Impressive, that you can smell anything through your aroma in here.”

He lazily hummed in response, eyes opening quickly as he suddenly felt your hand on his chest.

“Sit down, and turn a little so I can see your back.” you said, turning and grabbing a small bottle of oil. He did so in silence.

You sat next to him, or… behind him, sort of—looking over his wings. Like his chest, his back muscles had gotten more defined as it had to adjust to the new weight of his wings.

“Have you been eating well?” you asked as you popped the bottle open.

He simply grunts in response as he shrugs his shoulders.

“Come on, what does that mean?” you groaned. Rut must be especially bad this time. “Have you eaten today?”

“No.”

“Takami.” you paused, as if he could see the expression on your face. “You have to eat after this. You’re so frustrating—your body has gained… like, fifteen pounds of pure muscle and you’re not bothering to eat? Then you get all groggy.” He stayed silent as you ranted to him about his own health.

You huffed before pouring a generous amount of oil into your hand, and balancing the bottle on your thigh, as you reached for the base of his wings. Old feathers were tangled between the growth of his new ones, his pin feathers especially matted back here.

As soon as the moisture touched him, he flinched—posture fixing from the cool sensation. He’d relax though, as you slowly worked through his feathers.

Shlick. The familiar sound filled the room as you massaged the oil into his rough coverts. You hummed, this process being so familiar it was comforting at this point.

As you’d reach his primaries on his right wing, he’d occasionally grunt or hum. Which was nice to hear, him getting more comfortable. Keigo deals with a lot when he’s like this, and of course this isn’t something that heals him—but it is a relief. Quite literally a weight lifted off his shoulders, which feels good to do for him.

You collected the old feathers you plucked out, placing them on the coffee table to later put away for inspection. You took the oil again, coating your hands and reaching the end of his left wing. Shlick as you firmly dragged the serum down a long feather. Inspecting it closer, you caught a crumbled old feather that was stuck just underneath. You let him go, reaching for the tweezers again.

Though, you realized that as you stopped touching his wings… that sound didn’t stop.

Shlick… Shlick… Shlick.

Each interval taking a few seconds before it came back again, just as loud—even wetter as it continued.

You almost thought you were going insane, that your hands were still moving on him or something—you literally looked at your arms to make sure—then looked down to see the muscle in Keigo’s shoulder blade moving. It was slight at first, and then got more apparent, along with his elbow slightly trembling as well.

You then remembered the way he was grunting and breathing earlier—you thought it was from the massage. You looked over his wings, and saw him enjoying a…different massage.

The waistband of his pants stretched down a bit, and his hand wrapped around his thick, throbbing cock—as he stroked himself with a hard grip. Every stroke up had a bead of pre-cum forming at his tip, and dripping down with his hand. His dick almost had a red tint to it with how swollen he was. It looked like it hurt.

“T…Takami…” you spoke softly after sitting back.

He didn’t stop, or slow down—you didn’t even catch a twitch in his feathers.

You weren’t… uncomfortable. Not really, honestly the main thing going through your mind now was the fact that you underestimated how he was doing today.

You have seen his cock before. A few times, the ache would get bad for him and you’d have to check and make sure it was just his hyper-arousal rather than something concerning. You’ve also caught him pleasuring himself before. The first time, it was enough to shake your professional persona, but it was easy to get over.

Keigo doesn’t get anything to really… deal with himself. He feels it’s a little odd to have women coming to deal with him when he’s like this—not only is it an weird feeling for the feral side of his mind, fucking someone who wasn’t his mate—but it just… wouldn’t… work.

Keigo’s uncontrollable during this time. He needs a partner. A mate. Someone he can call his woman, outside of his rut and as it happens. Someone he can have those long conversations with about how he’s going to need the help. How he’s going to need to fuck, and breed, and keep doing it until he the burning under his skin fades away—which will take longer than anyone expects.

That conversation about how it’ll be exhausting, how he could scare them—how he could hurt them—all of that.

You got that conversation too before you started working as his physician, and sure it… concerned you a little, but then after meeting him any worry about how he’d be during that time faded. You weren’t even nervous when you walked in during his first rut with you—also the first day where he really didn’t seem like himself—his body completely changed, bigger and tougher and really looking like a predator.

It’s because that bird-brained half of him had gotten comfortable with you. That side of him assigned you as someone who cares for him, makes him feel better, makes him fly better. You’re sweet and you’re understanding and you take your time with him. So, he could hardly get scary with you. He knew better, both sides of him.

You wouldn’t know it, maybe not even he did, but some part of him put that ‘mate’ title onto you.

With how you treated him so well, and the fact that you were the only person he saw during rut—he almost had no other choice. His mind needed something to cling to, and that became you.

Again, unbeknownst to you, you’d also make his ruts worse. He was seeing his mate almost every day and he couldn’t take her? Claim her? It was torture, just as it is now.

So, you’re here, sitting behind him as he’s desperately touching himself. What makes it different this time is that he’s doing it now, while you’re here. He’s doing this, and he knows you’re here, and he knows you know and he’s not stopping.

As mentioned before, you’ve seen him get boners while you worked. You’ve heard him say some feral lewd things to you and kept it pushing. You’ve walked in his home, hearing him loudly deal with himself in another room—but all those times there felt like there was a sort of barrier that didn’t make things weird.

There’s literally no barrier here. You hardly even knew what to say—what to do. Walk out? Well, that would make him instinctively try to chase you.

“Takami…” you spoke a little louder as you got up slowly. He still didn’t react. As you moved the bottle of oil onto the coffee table though, his wings twitched as he moved and sat back on the couch, now completely exposed to you and seemingly not caring as he kept stroking himself.

Now, you couldn’t look away from his cock as it faced you. Swollen wouldn’t cut it. He was completely engorged, a vein that went down from his tip pulsing with each strong pump. Strong wouldn’t cut it either, and your eyes widened as you saw the muscles in his arm deepen every time he went back down—just choking the thick base of his dick. You breathed deeply before you spoke again.

“K… Keigo…” you murmured, his name almost unfamiliar on your tongue. “I… I’m gonna be honest, I don’t… I—I feel like…” the words wouldn’t come to you. Every option of a sentence felt wrong.

He actually moaned then, and you watched his muscles tensed as he gripped himself impossibly harder, almost squeezing the precum out of him as it trickled down his inches.

“Hurts,” he grumbled, opening his eyes to look at you for a second before throwing his head back onto the couch. “Fucking hurts.”

“Yeah,” you breathed. “I know…”

The room went silent and felt hot, you started to wonder if his pheromones were getting to you now. All you could hear was both of your heavy breaths along with him stroking the sloppy mess of his shaft. His eyes were closed, his brows furrowed, every now and then gritting his teeth.

You swallowed, trying to do what you came to do. You’re meant to care for him.

“I… uhm, I have some suppressants here, Keigo, if it’s this bad for you. It could help with the… swelling—”

“No,” he rasped. “No drugs.”

“It’ll help you,” you argued, taking a small step toward him. “You’re… holding yourself too hard, you can hurt yourself like that, I’ll get—”

“Won’t work.” he cut you off, gripping his dick again as if just to concern you more. As he dragged his hand down to the base, he lifted his head and opened his eyes to look at you. “Need to breed.”

“…I know you do. You’re in pain. I can help it, I can make you feel better,” you insisted, feeling bad for sort of… lying to him. You knew those suppressants stopped working for him years ago. When he was a teen, they used to completely block out ruts. Eventually, they just turned into numbing pills for him, which kept the burning and the animalistic thoughts, and just made it impossible for him to get any relief. They also put him to sleep, which… sure, that’s something, until he wakes up.

He still didn’t respond to you. His hips twitched into his hands, and he started to groan more—and louder.

But then, he slowed down a bit, lazily lifting his head and staring at you. His gaze was intimidating, intentionally like he wanted to scare you. Well, he didn’t—as you were used to this—but he was trying.

“Make… make me feel better?” he asked roughly, repeating your words to him.

“Yes,” you said softly, thinking you were getting to him. “I’m here to do that, Takami. You can trust me.”

He seemed to try to keep his eyes on you, but they rolled back as he stroked himself again. Another moment of silence as he tended to his ache, before his gaze snapped back to yours.

“Then… do it,” he breathed. “Come. Touch me. Help me.” his voice cracked near the end, and you heard a small whine as his face contorted while his tip kept self lubricating.

You completely froze, breath hitching. Not knowing what to do at all. You did literally just say you would help him. And the way he’s doing it to himself is damn near scary.

But… What? A handjob?

You watched him as you couldn’t speak. Your patient, completely at the mercy of his biology. Your patient who got like this so many times around you, completely feral and desperate, and never crossing a line—and now he’s whining for it.

What line would this truly cross, though? You take care of him. You assist him with his issues that come with being half bird, and… this technically counts as one of them. You’re the only person in the world who sees him when he’s like this—who helps him.

You weren’t going to just let him suffer with this, not when he directly asked you.

You took a slow breath, adjusting your glasses with a steady hand. “…Okay..” you spoke softly.

You took a few steps, standing between his legs before kneeling down in front of him. Your hands were still greasy from the oil, but it wasn’t like it would do him any bad. He’s also already soaked in his own slick.

One of your hands finally wrapped around his cock, stretching your fingers wider than you expected. It was almost like he didn’t even feel your hands—he only reacted when he saw you touching him—his wings flinching closer to his back before he had to force them to relax again. His eyes were locked on yours.

He hesitated, before letting himself go and resting his hands on his thighs. You took your other hand, stacking it above the other.

“Grip… grip it tighter,” he rasped. You listened, looking up at him for approval but then he shut his eyes hard. “Tighter than that.”

He’d tell you this about two more times until you huffed against his length. “I’m.. going to hurt you...” you mumbled.

He opened his eyes, brows furrowing in frustration as he put his hand over yours and showed you exactly how he needed you to hold him. Just as you said, his hand hurt against yours and you couldn’t imagine that pressure on him feeling good—but, nonetheless…You held him that same way, getting a deep groan in response as his legs spread wider.

Your hands hesitated before they started moving up and down his length. Both following each other, before you started twisting them around him rhythmically.

He moaned, hips bucking into you and individual feathers twitching off his wings.

“Stop,” he suddenly grumbled, and you hovered before stopping. He sort of nodded his head as a signal for you to move, so you took your hands off of him.

A whine came from deep in his chest by the loss of contact. He grabs his waistband, tugging it down his legs, his lower half now bare. Your eyes automatically snapped toward his balls. Just as swollen as his cock, tightened up close and twitching as he grunted for you to continue.

You breathed, getting closer as your hands held him. You started stroking him, before his hand shot over both of yours again and crushed them under his grip. Again, completely unbelievable how this felt good to him, but you listened. You got a whimper in response, the muscles in his thighs shuddering.

You were sort of grateful by how empty your mind was right now. His pheromones were definitely doing something. Is this what the effect was supposed to be? Make someone’s mind blank, just willing to do whatever he needs them to? Fascinating.

Your eyes kept flicking toward the tight, swelling base of his length. It almost bothered you from your clinical view, how tight his balls were and the way they lightly pulsed with each stroke.

You didn’t want to speak, the words would have been awkward coming out of your mouth. Oh, can I touch your balls? You simply let your bottom hand drift every now and then, letting his pre just slightly get lower and lower to lubricate all of him, while you watched his reactions.

Then, you’d let your hand linger, your thumb rubbing against the skin between them before sliding back up. After a few more times, you fully moved your hand down, cupping them gently. They were hot and heavy, and you tried to stable your shaking fingers as you put just a little pressure on them.

“Ohhh, oh my god…” he moaned, his hips jerking up into you.

You almost smiled, so satisfied that he was feeling good. Your thumb and the pads of your fingers slowly kneaded into his throbbing sack. You found a rhythm, stroking him firmly and tending to his balls.

“Hurts… fucking hurts so b—aaad.” his words were slurred between whines, his hands gripping to the couch. You held him impossibly tighter, making him sob out a moan that had your hands hesitating against him. He sounded like he was in excruciating pain, honestly. “Keep… keep goin’… shit, hands feel s’fucking good…”

He placed his hand on top of yours again, this time thankfully not crushing your fingers under his. “Fuck… fuck, spit on me.”

“W—What?” you spoke quickly, hands stuttering against him again.

“Spit on it. Need your spit.” his gaze pierced into yours.

You frowned, looking away to think...

Well, actually…

If he needed it…

You lapped your tongue across the roof of your mouth, gathering spit and letting it dribble from your lips onto his tip.

“Oh my god, I need your cunt,” he whined.

“…Takami…” you muttered, your voice barely even coming out. You dragged your spit over his dick, watching him twitch as you did.

“Need to st—streetchh, mmmgh, stretch you out and… and use that cunt…”

“Not me,” you corrected quietly. “You don’t wanna do that to me.”

“I do, I fucking do—I need you,” he cried, now squirming under your touch. From the way his balls kept twitching in your palm, you could tell he was close. “Can’t… can’t cum if it’s not in your pussy. Wasting my seed in those fucking hands…”

You watched as his whole bottom half was literally tensing up from the way he was holding back his orgasm. He was very serious.

I mean, this goes back to the severe lack of relief he gets during his ruts. He jerks off when it gets bad, but that feral side of his mind very much hates wasting his sperm on anything but someone’s cunt.

“Waste?” you repeated quietly, making sure to keep that heavy pressure on his length, and your fingers massaging his balls. “Keigo… it’s… it’s not a waste.”

He could only groan deeply in response, the muscles in his thighs twitching. You knew the words he wanted to hear, and the words he needed to hear.

“You’re… using me right now,” you looked at him as you spoke, your glasses fogging with how you’d started panting (along with how you’ve been sweating for a while now.) “Using my hands. They’re… making you feel good… y-you’re… claiming them.” you gave him a firm squeeze at the base of his cock.

“Aaah, shit, making those hands all mine… gonna fucking paint them,” he whimpered. You knew those words would do him good. That’s exactly what he needs now. He wants to fill someone up, and claim them as his. Mark them—mark his territory.

“P—…Paint me then,” your wet hands sped up into a frantic pace over his length. “Paint my skin and cum for me.”

He couldn’t hold back for another second. His hips gave an uncontrollable, violent buck into your palms—his wings stretching out behind him, as his tip shot his cum everywhere. The second rope hit directly onto your glasses lens, you could almost hear the heavy splat against your face.

The strong scent hit you even harder than that, almost like honey right from the comb. A wave of bittersweet, animal musk instantly coated the back of your throat. It was like you could taste it on your tongue.

Oh, wait. That’s because you were.

Fuck, when it hit your glasses you gasped and opened your mouth in shock just as more splurted out of him again. A thick, extremely warm jet shot straight past your lips, hitting the roof of your mouth. With a gooey texture, and a deep pheromone sweetness that you could feel go straight to your brain. It was almost hard to swallow. Because of course you swallowed.

The whole scene was extremely sloppy, and messy. Your hands hovered over your glasses as you heard him moan and completely empty himself in front of you.

When it got quiet, you slipped your glasses off of your face, looking at him.

A mess, as expected. His own seed was splattered over his chest and the couch, and your hands, and your glasses—and just a sliver remained on your top lip. Without thinking, you licked it off. Then you met his eyes.

Low lidded, until he looked toward your glasses, and your nervous face. He groaned long, his hand suddenly sliding down his torso, shuddering—and you watched as his limp cock lifted back to its hardened state. The same as it was when he first started touching himself. Possibly harder, actually.

“Haah…” you let out a breath, surprised by how quickly that happened. You knew he could get boners back quickly, but… hardly even fifteen seconds had passed.

He simply looked in your eyes as you watched his flesh engorge, his veins fat and pulsing down the shaft again.

Your hand rested on your own chest, feeling your slowing heartbeat. Your lids were low, and now without the distraction of trying to make him finish, you realized just how out of it you were.

Realizing how hot this room was, the way you were covered in sweat. More importantly, realizing the aching pulse you felt between your legs.

It was intense, and you could only sit back and try to process what the fuck just happened. What was happening.

Your hand went over your mouth, trying to cover the way you were panting. You couldn’t control the whimper that came after that.

Keigo suddenly growled, making your eyes snap to him. He was taking slow, deep breaths and staring at you with big eyes.

“Mmmh… You smell so fucking sweet,” he grumbled. “Need to claim that wet cunt.”

Your thighs clenched together hard, the sudden friction only making it impossible to ignore the throbbing in your pussy. You were completely vulnerable to him now.

Well, you’re the one who decided to help him in the first place.

You’re the only one who can, so…

You should probably do your job.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁. i’m sort of obsessed with this concept… might write more with it… anyway thankyou for reading! all interactions are so very much appreciated :)) also, happy happy pride month!! 🤍🪽

stuckinapril

life is so hard when you’re a very lazy girl by nature but you also want to do a lot of things in your one wild and precious life

ptolemaeiia

⸝⸝ RIDE 「 z.yufan 」

I’M GON’ RIDE in which James -your ‘friend’ just bleached his hair blonde but you’re atrociously down bad for each other.

༝ 赵雨凡 ༝ 𝒙 idol!reader

♯ MDNI, friends-with-benefits, blond hair!james, semi-public heated interaction (for a lack of better words), needy and vocal james, oral (m. receiving and f. receiving), riding, extreme eye contact, unprotected sex.

〆the number of requests for blond hair james was concerning. is everyone okay? anyways thanks for 2k my gooner team!

𓏸 7k ╱ 𝓶. list

‘Do people have a sixth sense that-‘

You clicked the delete button furiously, fingers shaking.

‘Can someone feel when another person is-‘

You closed the Google tab, seconds away from throwing your phone out of the window- but the specific feeling that lived right between your thighs magically dragged your fingers back to the screen, opening a brand new one instead.

‘Is it possible for someone to feel when another person is aroused?’

Aroused was a weak word. Fuck that.

‘Is it possible for someone to feel when another person is wet, without touching them?’

You added a single word at the end of your question- reddit. Because somehow these forums had all the answers to every single question.

It had been like this all day -ever since the moment James stepped in the building with that new blonde hair. Platinum, almost silver under certain lights, falling in soft spikes that framed his sharp jawline and made his dark eyes pop like a fucking sin.

The internet was losing its collective mind; and you weren't ready to face the thousands- screw that- millions of thirsty comments.

Blonde James was lethal.

But blonde James was yours first and foremost.

You clicked on the first reddit link, foot tapping on the floor anxiously.

‘You probably can't help being turned on by certain people, but as long as you are polite and don't stare, you'll probably be OK. Just don't do anything to make it worse, like actively fantasizing about sex with them.’ one netizen said.

Funny.

Cause you were pretty sure today, that blonde hair had flipped a switch inside you. Every time James moved, your gaze locked on the way the strands caught the light, he looked like a glorified anime character, sharp and lean everywhere. And then your eyes would drift lower: the corded muscles of his forearms exposed by rolled-up sleeves, the prominent veins that traced paths over his skin, pulsing faintly with each gesture.

His hands- god, his hands.

Long fingers, knuckles that flexed when he adjusted his mic pack, veins standing out against the back of his palm. You kept imagining them on you, in you, gripping, teasing, spreading.

‘Just don't do anything to make it worse, like actively fantasizing about sex with them.’

Oh you were fucked.

Because that's exactly what you were doing since 9 am sharp this morning, with no break whatsoever.

Get it together, you thought, clenching your thighs together as you waited in the wings during soundcheck.

You aggressively turned off your phone and put it back in your pocket as if it was mocking you with these reddit threads. Your body felt hypersensitive, skin prickling under your stage outfit, heat pooled low in your belly, a constant throb that made your lace panties feel too tight, too damp already.

Just from hair? Pathetic.

But it wasn't just the hair. (It was the hair.) It was also how it made everything about him sharper, the way the strands brushed his neck when he tilted his head and-

Had you mentioned his hands? Oh yeah you were screwed.

Break time. The hallway between dressing rooms was empty for once, staff scattered for lunch. You slipped away, heart hammering, only to feel a warm hand catch your wrist.

And obvious-fucking-ly, it was James.

James your handsome... There was no word to describe what James was.

James was what he became the moment he slipped in your bed and spread your legs with that cocky smirk of his. Which was happening a whole lot lately ever since you'd made that whole fuck-buddy arrangement on a drunken night.

"Hey," he murmured, his voice low and smooth like velvet.

Since when did you throb when someone greeted you? You were going to have to have a pep talk with the girly downstairs, as soon as expeditiously possible.

James pulled you into a shadowed alcove near the emergency exit, the door clicking softly shut behind you both before you could even greet him back.

Up close, the blonde was devastating. A few strands fell over his forehead, and he brushed them back with long fingers. He was still a little sweaty from dancing, having changed his tee shirt into something more comfortable- but also more revealing; his strong arms now completely bare- shoulders and all.

Your breath hitched audibly.

You were so easy, it was terrifying.

"You've been staring all day," he observed, a small smile playing on his lips. Not smug but rather warm- appreciative even.

He leaned in, his breath ghosting your ear, carrying the faint scent of his shampoo mixed with stage makeup and clean sweat. "Something on your mind, baby?"

You swallowed hard, your back pressing against the cool wall. His hands. Those veins. You wanted them wrapped around your throat, your thighs, inside you.

The thought made your nipples tighten against your top.

Reddit girl would be so mad right now.

"Is it that obvious?" you managed to squeak out, though your voice sounded much deeper than you intended.

You tried to look anywhere but at his mouth, but- there were no buts- James was just all over you, playing with the knowledge that you were currently as red as a tulip.

He chuckled, a vibration that you felt in your own chest and he stepped closer, closing the microscopic gap between your bodies until you could feel the heat of his bare arms. He raised one hand, long fingers grazing your jawline before tucking a stray lock of hair behind your ear.

You let out a shaky breath, your knees feeling dangerously weak. You thought you could die right then and there.

"It's more than just staring," he murmured, his thumb tracing the line of your lower lip, pulling it down just enough to reveal the damp pink of your inner lip.

James' gaze darkened, dropping to your mouth before snapping back to your eyes. The playful warmth was still there, but it was being rapidly overtaken by something hungrier, something you knew all too well from how many times you'd explored him.

"You look like you're about to pounce..." He leaned in even closer, his nose brushing against yours, his voice dropping to a whisper. "what's wrong baby?"

What's wrong? You wanted to scream in his face, pull on his hair- but the thought only made you wetter- so impossibly wet- you thought you had never been this turned on in your whole entire life.

All because of some bleach and dye.

He didn't wait for an answer. He slid his hand from your face, his palm flat against the small of your back to pull you flush against him, the hard planes of his chest pressing against your breasts and the solid weight of his thighs slotting between yours. You let out a small, broken moan, your hands instinctively flying to his bare shoulders, your fingers digging into the firm muscle there.

You were so incredibly, hopelessly wet it was pathetic- and the friction of his denim against your damp lace was almost too much to bear.

"James," you breathed, his name a plea.

"Yeah, baby?" He nipped at your earlobe, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin just enough to make you arch into him. "Tell me what's wrong sweet girl."

Your hands, still anchored to his bare shoulders, slid upward, palms grazing the warm, slightly damp skin of his nape. Your fingers tangled into the short, silky strands of his new hair that was softer than expected. Your nails grazed at his scalp, scratching lightly, the way you knew he loved.

"Nothing’s wrong," you whispered, though the way your hips involuntarily hitched against his told a completely different story. You pulled back just enough to look him in the eye. "It's just... you. How am i supposed to focus when you're walking around looking like that?"

James let out a soft, breathless sound halfway between a laugh and a sigh and leaned his forehead against yours, his eyes fluttering shut as he soaked in your words.

"Shit." he let out a breathy laugh, nose brushing your jawline.

Your whole body was on fire, his skin brushing against yours like he had all the time in the world and you weren't standing in a hallway of your workplace.

You didn't answer his cursing with words. Instead, you tilted your head, your fingers tightening in his hair to pull him down just an inch more. You leaned in with a slow and agonizing movement that forced him to hold his breath in anticipation.

When your lips finally met his, it wasn't as frantic as usual; it was a languid, melting sensation. You started with the lightest of brushes, just a ghost of a touch against his bottom lip, teasing him, dragging a needy sound out of him.

You could feel his hands tremble against your waist, his grip tightening as he leaned into the sensation, desperate for more.

Then, you deepened it.

You let your lips part, your tongue sweeping out to graze the seam of his mouth before sliding inside. The kiss was heavy, wet, and incredibly unbearably slow, as you moved your tongue against his in a rhythmic, swirling motion, tasting him the faint hint of mint and the heat of his mouth.

Every time he tried to increase the pace, to suck harder or pull you closer, you slowed down even more, forcing him to endure the delicious torture of your restraint.

James let out a low, broken sound deep in his throat a needy, desperate hum that vibrated against your tongue. He was melting and you could feel him sagging against you.

His hands migrated from your waist to the back of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair to guide you.

He was so responsive, so hungry for the contact that it made you feel less insane for being so aroused by his goddamn hair.

Every time your tongue swiped against his, he let out a tiny, hitched breath, his hips stuttering a frantic, rhythmic press against yours. And when you finally pulled back just a fraction, leaving a thin, glistening thread of saliva connecting your lips, you didn't let him go far.

You stayed in his space, your noses brushing, your breaths mingling in the small gap between you.

James' eyes were hooded, lips swollen and red from your teasing, "You're gonna kill me, you know that?" he dropped a wet kiss on your collarborne.

You didn't give him the satisfaction of a verbal answer- yet again. Instead, you took one of his hands from your waist and guided it downward, moving slowly, watching his eyes widen, his breath hitching in his throat as your fingers led his palm over the curve of your hip and slid beneath the hem of your outfit.

When his fingers finally made contact with the damp lace of your panties, James let out a choked sound.

He didn't even have to push; the moment he felt the slick, undeniable heat radiating from you, he knew. He felt the warmt of your need, the way the fabric was practically soaked through.

His eyes searched yours, blown wide.

"Fuck" he cursed, his voice cracking. "You're soaked y/n."

He looked like he wanted to sink to his knees right then and there on the floor, to worship you properly while you tugged at his blonde hair.

But just as he began to press a finger inward, seeking to soothe the ache, you caught his wrist.

You pulled his hand away, leaving him momentarily unmoored and breathless, and then you slowly drew his fingers out of the lace.

They were glistening, coated in your heat.

James didn't even hesitate, he brought his hand up to his mouth, his eyes never leaving yours, and licked his fingers clean with a slow stroke of his tongue. The sight of him as he tasted you sent a fresh jolt of electricity straight to your core.

"Wanna bury my face between those thighs-" he started, breath fanning over your neck.

But life wasn't all rainbows and butterflies.

"James! Five minutes! We're back on!"

The muffled shout of a stage manager from down the hall shattered the moment in pieces.

The sudden intrusion made you both jump, a small gasp escaping your lips and James let out a frustrated, low groan, burying his face in the crook of your neck for a fleeting second, breathing you in as if he could store the scent of your skin to last him through the next fe hours.

"I'm gonna die." James exhaled shakily, eyes squeezed shut. "Why'd you have to be so fucking beautiful-"

The man made a low, pained sound in his throat. He glanced down, his face flushing a deep flustered crimson and reached down, awkwardly trying to shift himself, but the bulge in his stage pants was unmistakable and completely unyielding.

Despite his efforts, he couldn't hide the evidence of how much you'd just affected him.

He looked up at you, his eyes wide and pleading, completely overwhelmed and his hands hovered in the air, unsure of where to go, his shoulders hunching as if he were trying to shrink away from his own desire.

"I-I can't," he stuttered, his voice strained and thick. "I can't go out there like this. Fuck i'm so hard."

You started to move toward him, maybe to offer a reassuring touch or a lingering glance, but James stepped back, shaking his head frantically. He looked almost pained, his jaw tight as he tried to regain his composure.

"You have to go," he breathed through a pained chuckle, his gaze darting everywhere but your face. "I need a few minutes to cool down, or I swear i'm gonna forget every lyric to the songs."

He laughed, a shaky, breathless sound that lacked any of his usual confidence. He was trembling, his chest heaving as he tried to force his heart rate to slow down. "I can't get it down while you're standing there looking at me like that. You're too... you're too much. I can't think straight."

You gave him a small, knowing smile, enjoying the sight of him so completely undone.

“Good luck with that, handsome.” You began to back away, but he followed you with his eyes, his expression a mix of desperate longing and a sweet, innocent sort of agony.

"Hey, hey, come back here," he called after you, his voice a little louder now, "I mean no- don't come back- just text me when you're out. You're coming back with me tonight."

𓏵 𓏵

James was a man of his word- so as soon as the show ended, still sweaty and soaked in water from the bottle of waters his members had poured on him- he was looking for you.

The adrenaline from the final encore was still coursing through his veins, he didn't even wait for the staff to clear the wings.

The moment he saw you standing near the equipment crates, he was moving. He didn't walk; he practically stumbled toward you, his eyes wide and frantic, searching yours.

He looked like a man who had spent the last hour in a fever dream, counting down every second until he could touch you again.

"You're here," he breathed, the words coming out as a relieved, shaky exhale. He didn't care that he was damp with sweat, or that the scent of salt and stage musk was heavy on him. He reached out, his large hands finding your waist with a suddenness that nearly knocked the wind out of you, pulling you into the shadow of a heavy equipment trunk.

He didn't kiss you immediately. Instead, he leaned his forehead against yours, his eyes squeezed shut, his chest heaving as he tried to regulate his breathing. He was still vibrating from the performance, but the hunger in him was even more intense than it had been in the alcove.

"God, it was so hard," he whispered, his voice a low, wrecked rasp against your skin. "Every time the lights went down for a transition, all I could think about was you."

You let out a small chuckle, amused, but he didn’t let you speak.

"Can we go?" he asked, his voice pleading, his hands sliding down to grip your hips tightly. "Please, baby. I don't wanna talk to the guys, I don't wanna do the debrief... I just wanna be alone with you. I need to feel you."

He leaned in, his damp hair brushing your temple, his lips hovering just a fraction of an inch from yours, waiting for your permission, waiting for you to lead him away from the noise and the lights and into the quiet of your bedroom.

You let out a soft, breathless laugh, your hands sliding up his damp chest to cup his face, your thumbs tracing the line of his jaw.

So needy, you thought, feeling a surge of affection so strong it was almost painful.

"Let’s go then, go grab your stuff," you whispered, leaning in to catch his swollen bottom lip in a quick firm kiss. You pulled back just enough to meet his blown out pupils, your eyes dark with the same hunger he was projecting. "We need to leave now before the hallways get crowded."

You grabbed his hand, lacing your fingers tightly with his, and began tugging him toward the private exit.

"Right. Yes. Stuff. Going," he stammered, his brain clearly struggling to catch up with his body's frantic demands. He looked like he wanted to scoop you up and run, but the reality of the crowded backstage area forced him to maintain a shred of decorum. "Don't move. Don't move from this spot. If someone separates us, I’m gonna lose it y/n.”

He practically scrambled away, his movements uncharacteristically hurried as he grabbed his bag and his damp towel. You watched him, your heart hammering a frantic rhythm against your ribs, feeling the weight of his gaze on you even as he turned his back to gather his things.

A few moments later, he was back, his hand finding yours with a desperate strength, his fingers lacing through yours so tightly it felt like he was trying to fuse your skin together.

He couldn’t care less if the stylists or the other members saw him practically dragging you toward the private exit.

As you slipped through the back door and into the cool and quiet night air of the loading dock, the sudden temperature drop made you shiver, but James was there instantly, pulling you flush against his side. He was still radiating heat, unbothered by the possibility that his members might be looking for him.

"Call your driver, pretty girl," he whispered into your hair as he leaned down, his lips grazing the shell of your ear, his breath hot and frantic.

The silence in the car was heavy, James didn't even bother to ask to turn on the radio; the only sound was the low hum of the engine and the frantic uneven rhythm of your breathing.

He sat in the back seat, but he wasn't looking out the window. He was turned toward you, his body angled sharply, one hand gripping the edge of the leather so hard his knuckles were white. Every time the car hit a small bump, his knee would brush against yours, and he would let out a sharp, hitched breath, as if the simple contact was enough to push him over the edge.

"It’s so hard to sit still," he finally groaned, the sound vibrating in the small space. He reached out, his hand trembling as he rested it on your thigh, his fingers digging into the fabric of your skirt. "I feel like if we don't get to the apartment in the next thirty seconds, I'm going to start unzipping my pants right here."

It was a joke- not that you would mind.

He let out a breathless, self deprecating laugh, but there was nothing funny about the way he was looking at you. His gaze was tracing the line of your throat, the curve of your lips, the way your chest rose and fell with your heavy breathing.

"You're doing this on purpose, aren't you?" he whispered, his voice dropping to a low, gravelly register that made your stomach flip. "The way you're sitting there... so calm... so pretty.”

“Shhh we’re almost there Yufan,” your hand hiked up his thigh, tracing over the hard muscles there.

His hips gave an involuntary, desperate twitch upward, seeking the pressure of your hand, trying to close the agonizing gap between your touch and his need. He was so hard, so incredibly sensitive, that even the slight friction of your hand against his trousers felt like a lightning strike.

"Don't... don't stop," he groaned, his fingers curling into the leather of the seat, his knuckles turning a ghostly white. "Please, baby, don't stop. If you stop now, I think I might actually die."

𓏵 𓏵

The second the apartment door clicked shut, he was on you.

James didn't even wait to turn on the lights. He didn't even make it past the entryway, he practically tackled you against the door, the heavy wood thudding against your back as his body slammed into yours. His hands were everywhere at once clutching your waist, tangling in your hair, pulling you so close that you could feel the thudding rhythm of his heart against your own chest.

"Finally," he choked out, the word sounding more like a prayer than a statement. "Finally, finally, finally."

He didn't kiss you gently this time. He devoured your mouth, his tongue sweeping into your heat with a desperate, rhythmic intensity that made your knees buckle. He was kissing you as if he were trying to breathe you in, as if he could absorb your very essence into his lungs.

Your hands slid under your top, his palms hot and slightly damp against your skin, tracing the curve of your ribs before gripping your waist to hoist you up. You instinctively wrapped your legs around his hips, your thighs squeezing his waist, and the sensation of your damp lace pressing against his hard length made him let out a broken moan into your mouth.

"You're so hot," he whimpered against your lips, his voice wrecked and needy. "you're so fucking beautiful."

He began to move, stumbling backward toward the bedroom, never once breaking the contact of your lips or the frantic grip of his hands. He was stumbling, uncoordinated and desperate, his movements driven by a singular, overwhelming need to be inside you, to feel the friction.

You reached the bedroom and just as you were lost in the heat of his neck, James pulled back just an inch, his breathing still heavy but a glint returning to his eyes. That lopsided, cocky smirk the one he usually reserved for the stage spread across his lips, though his eyes remained soft.

“You know...” he started. He tilted his head, a stray lock of that platinum hair falling over his brow as he cupped your jaw “The hair... I dyed it for you.” He let out a soft, breathless chuckle, his hands sliding from your waist to cup your face, his thumbs tracing your cheekbones with a tenderness that contradicted his smug expression. “Figured since you like Bakugo so much... you might start to like me.”

You stared at him, momentarily stunned. Not a single fiber in your body was ready to think about whatever that meant.

But as you looked at him, really looked at him the way his chest was heaving, the way his eyes were dark with a hunger that bordered on desperation, and the very obvious, heavy ache straining against his trousers a different thought took hold.

Oh, James needs some head. Fuck it he deserves it. “You did?” you smile, breaking the contact. “Didn’t have to change your hair color for me to like you, i already did anyway.”

You slid down his body, your hands gliding over the firm muscles of his thighs, guiding him as you descende and James let out a startled sound as you sank to your knees on the hardwood floor in front of him. He reached out instinctively, his fingers tangling in your hair, his knuckles white as he braced himself against the wall for support.

"Baby?" he breathed, his voice trembling, his eyes wide and blown out as he looked down at you. He looked completely undone, his smugness melting instantly into a state of pure, vulnerable anticipation. "Wait- are you…“

He didn't finish the sentence. He couldn't. He just stood there, trembling, his head tilting back as he watched you, his breath hitching in his throat as he waited for your next move.

You didn't give him the satisfaction of immediate relief. Instead, you leaned in just enough to let your warm breath ghost over the fabric of his trousers, right where he was most sensitive. You watched his eyes flutter shut, his head lulling back against the doorframe with a shaky, expectant groan.

You started with a tease, your tongue tracing the hard, pulsing line of him through the cloth, circling the head of his length with agonizing slowness. You could feel him shudder, his hands tightening in your hair, his hips jerking forward in an uncoordinated attempt to meet your touch.

"Baby... please," he asked, needy "Don't... don't play with me like this. You know how much I need you."

You let out a low, muffled giggle against the fabric, enjoying the way he trembled under your control. You moved your hands up, unbuttoning his trousers and sliding the zipper down with a rasp that sounded like thunder in the quiet room.

When you finally freed him, the sight of him thick, heavy, and pulsing with his own heat made your mouth water.

Then, you finally leaned in.

The moment your lips made contact, James let out a low sound. You took him into your mouth, tongue swirling around the sensitive head before sliding down the length of him in one long, wet motion.

The reaction was instantaneous. His entire body went rigid, his fingers clenching so tightly in your hair that it was almost a tug, but you didn't mind.

He was lost. He was completely, utterly gone. He leaned his head back, his throat working as he swallowed hard, his eyes rolling back in his head.

"Oh god..." he gasped, his voice breaking. "Right there angel... just like that. You're so good... so fucking good to me."

You picked up the pace, your movements becoming more rhythmic and intense. You used your hands to stroke the base of him, creating a seamless, overwhelming sensation that had him swaying on his feet. He was a mess of sensation, his breath coming in ragged, frantic gasps, his hips beginning to move in time with your mouth.

The rhythm of your mouth was relentless, a perfect, swirling combination of heat, suction, and the expert glide of your tongue. You weren't just being careful; you were being thorough, worshiping him with every wet, sliding movement. You could feel the tremors racking his entire frame, the way his thighs shook so violently he had to lean against the wall just to stay upright.

As you felt him reaching that final, frantic peak his hips beginning to stutter in short, desperate jerks you decided to change the dynamic.

You slowed down just a fraction, pulling back enough to let the cool air hit his slick, heated skin, and then you tilted your head back to look up at him. Your eyes were heavy, lidded as you looked up at him through your lashes, your lips glistening and we. Your gaze traveled upward, past his trembling chest, past his frantic throat, until it landed on his hair.

The strands were a mess, damp with sweat and tousled from his own fingers, catching the dim light of the apartment.

He looked so goddamn good-

James opened his eyes, his vision blurry and his mind a fog of pleasure, and he looked down to find you watching him with that dazed, worshipful expression. He saw the way your eyes lingered on his hair, the way you looked at him like you’d die if he didn’t touch you.

"Baby..." he choked out, his voice a mere whisper, his hands shaking as he reached down to cup your face, thumbs brushing over your wet lips. "Just- come up here. I’ll give you anything you need, yeah?"

Every time your glassy, dark eyes drifted up to catch his, his heart gave a violent, painful thud against his ribs.

James was not okay.

He felt dizzy a legitimate, spinning vertigo that made the room tilt. It wasn't just the physical sensation of your mouth; it was the way you were looking at him, you looked so hungry and that caused his undoing.

His cock was twitching in front of your face, the head of him weeping clear droplets of pre cum, reacting to the sensory overload of your presence. He felt like he was a live wire, a single touch away from loosing all control.

James reached down, his fingers trembling so badly he could barely grip your shoulders, his knuckles white. He felt like he could cum at any second, just from your eyes alone.

"Don't look at me like that and then stop," he pleaded, a broken, needy whine vibrating in his chest. He was practically begging now, his pride long since abandoned. "Just... finish it. Please. I can't... I can't hold it- I'm right there... I'm so close..."

His hips gave a sudden, violent twitch, his entire body tensing as he felt the first, unmistakable wave of a climax beginning to form through him.

Gosh- was he that down bad?

You didn't let him drift away, you leaned forward, your hands gripping his thighs to steady him, and took him deep.

The sensation of him filling you, the thickness of him sliding past your throat, forced a muffled noise from his lungs. His fingers tangled so violently in your hair that it was almost a pull, his knuckles white as he braced himself against the wall, his entire body vibrating with the force of his climax.

"Oh fuck fuck fuck- baby." he curzed, the word catching in a sob.

He was pulsing, his entire length twitching rhythmically against your tongue as he began to come. You didn't pull back; you leaned into it, your throat working, your suction intense and unrelenting as he poured himself into you. You felt the hot, thick waves of his cum hitting the back of your throat.

He was shaking, his knees finally giving out as he slumped against the wall, his breath coming in frantic, sobbing gasps. He was completely spent, his eyes glazed and unfocused, staring down at you with a look of pure, holy awe.

And you didn't miss a single drop.

You swallowed every bit of him, the thick, salty taste of him a final, intimate seal on the moment. You took your time, making sure he saw the way you swallowed, making sure he saw the way your throat moved, before you finally pulled back.

The moment you finished, James was a man possessed. He didn't let you stay on the floor for long; he scooped you up and carried you to the bed, his lips finding yours in a series of frantic, messy kisses as he laid you down.

He was still reeling, his mind a hazy fog of pleasure, but the sight of you flushed and breathless made his head spin.

He flipped you onto your stomach, hands sliding down the curve of your spine- and he leaned down, breath hot against the back of your thigh, as he began to work his way up.

When his tongue finally found you, nudging your panties to the side- he let out a low, needy groan, his face burying into your pussy from behind.

His strong hands gripped the soft flesh of your ass, spreading you open for him as a moan vibrated against your soaked folds- his tongue dragging slowly from your dripping entrance all the way to your swollen clit.

James was completely lost in it. He licked broad, flat strokes across your pussy, lapping up your arousal like a man dying of thirst. His tongue circled your clit with teasing pressure before flicking rapidly over the sensitive bundle of nerves, making your hips jerk involuntarily.

“Fuck… you taste so good,” he growled against your core, the words muffled as he pressed his face in harder.

He nudged your panties further aside with his nose, then sucked your clit between his lips, hollowing his cheeks as he drew on it with pulsing suction.

Your thighs trembled, a broken moan spilling from your mouth into the sheets. You didn’t even know what to do anymore- you were wrecked- completely.

You were grinding back against his face without shame now, chasing the building pressure which James only encouraged, his free hand kneading your ass, spreading you wider so he could eat you more thoroughly.

He alternated between long, hungry licks and focused suction on your clit, occasionally pulling back just enough to blow cool air over your overheated flesh before diving back in with renewed hunger.

"James..." you gasped, your fingers digging into the bedsheets, your hips arching instinctively toward him. The sensation was incredible, but the ache in your core was demanding something more something else. "James, stop... wait."

He paused instantly, his head lifting, his face flushed and his hair a beautiful, damp mess. He looked up at you through his lashes, his eyes wide and searching, looking like a puppy waiting for a command. "What? What’s wrong baby"

"Nothing’s wrong," you breathed, reaching back to grab his hands and pulling him upward. You rolled over, your eyes locking onto his, dark and commanding. "I don't want you down there. I wanna feel you. I wanna ride you."

James didn't argue. He couldn't possibly.

He simply sat back on his heels, his breath coming in shallow, jagged hitches as he watched you climb over him. His hands hovered near your waist, wanting to grip you, wanting to pull you down, but he held back, his fingers trembling with the effort of letting you take control.

As you settled onto him- hovering over his cock and slowly sinking down- the sensation of him filling you caused his head to loll back, a long groan escaping his lips.

When you began to move, the rhythm of your hips setting a pace that was both slow and punishingly deep, James fell into a trance of pure sensation.

He couldn't even find the words to praise you anymore.

He just sat there, his chest heaving, his eyes wide and wild as they tracked every movement of your body.

His mouth hung slightly open, his breath hitching every time you bottomed out against him, his gaze so intense it felt like witnessing something forbidden.

You leaned forward, your hands reaching up to find purchase in that beautiful hair you’d been admiring all day. You wound your fingers into the silky strands, tugging just firmly enough to pull his head back, exposing the lon line of his throat.

"You look so good like this, James," you whispered, your voice a low, sultry purr that seemed to vibrate through him. You leaned down, your lips brushing his ear, your breath hot and teasing. "This hair... you look so good.”

You gave his hair another sharp, commanding tug, pulling his face up to meet yours.

"Fuck..." he finally managed to choke out, though it was barely a sound, just a broken exhale of your name. He looked completely unmoored, his hands finally coming up to grasp your hips, not to guide you, but to hold on for dear life as you drove him closer and closer to the edge. "You’re gonna kill me... You're absolutely killing me."

The pace shifted from a slow, torturous grind to a frantic, rhythmic bounce that sent jolts of electricity straight to his core.

You leaned forward, your chest brushing against his, and reached down to grab his hands, guiding them away from your waist and to the swell of your ass.

“Feels so good- you’re so deep.” you keened, head lolling back.

As you picked up the speed, you began to consciously squeeze, your internal walls clenching and pulsing around his cock. You gripped him with a precision that was nothing short of calculated, catching him with every upward surge of your hips.

"Ah fuck-" he whimpered, trying his best not to make this end so quickly.

His hips began to buck upward instinctively, trying to meet your frantic pace, his entire body coiling into a tight, vibrating knot of pure tension.

"You're so tight... you're so fucking tight..." he gasped, the words coming out in broken fragments.

“I know, baby, I know fuck...” you moaned, your head falling back as you felt him bucking beneath you, “You’re so good, James... you feel so fucking good.”

He couldn't even keep his eyes open; he just stared up at you, his jaw tight, his entire body vibrating with the effort of not coming mid sentence.

"mmhh fuck," he choked out, his hands sliding from your ass to your hips, his fingers bruising your skin as he tried to pull you even deeper, to merge your bodies together. "Do it... do it again. Squeeze me like that... please, sweetheart, please."

So you did.

"You're so beautiful..." he said, the words catching in his throat as he watched you, his eyes glassy and unfocused.

“Oh fuck”you gasped, the words breaking into a ragged moan as his hips bucked violently against you, trying to meet your desperate pace. You leaned down, your hair brushing against his sweat slicked skin, and bit your lip to keep from screaming as the tension reached a breaking point. “I’m so close, James... so so close”

You reached down, your fingers tangling in his blonde hair to pull his head up, needing to see his expression when you finally broke.

He cursed sharply, hips snapping up to meet you with renewed force. One hand slid up your back, pressing you flush against his chest while the other slipped between your bodies, his thumb finding your clit.

“Come for me baby-” he growled, voice low and filthy. “Let me feel you.”

The tension snapped.

Your orgasm crashed over you hard, a white-hot wave that tore a loud, shameless moan from your throat. You clenched around him rhythmically, pulsing, soaking him as pleasure ripped through every nerve.

You did it one final time, and that was all it took.

James came with a groan that tore straight from his chest. His whole body seized beneath you -every muscle locking up tight as the first spurt of his cum flooded deep inside you. He couldn’t stop moving. Even as his orgasm ripped through him, his hips kept thrusting up into you in short, desperate, uncontrollable strokes, chasing the pleasure, fucking his cum deeper with every erratic snap of his pelvis.

“Fuck- fuck, baby- ” he gasped, voice hoarse.

His arms wrapped around you like a vice, clinging desperately as he pulled your body flush against his. One hand splayed wide across your back, fingers digging in hard enough to leave marks, while the other gripped the back of your neck, holding you in place. He buried his face into the crook of your neck, mouth open against your sweat-slick skin, panting and moaning as another thick pulse of cum spilled into you.

You could feel everything- the way his cock throbbed and twitched violently inside your pulsing heat, his hips kept rolling in shallow, stuttering thrusts even as he came down, like he physically couldn’t stop claiming you. His lips pressed open-mouthed against your throat, teeth grazing your skin as broken whimpers and curses vibrated against you.

For a long minute he stayed like that -buried to the hilt, still giving tiny, involuntary thrusts as the last drops of his cum leaked into you, arms locked around your body like he never wanted to let go.

“Fucking hell…” he finally breathed, voice wrecked and muffled against your neck. He pressed a sloppy, lingering kiss just below your ear, then another, softer this time. His hold slowly loosened, but only slightly- one hand still stroking down your spine while the other stayed tangled in your hair.

“You okay, baby?” He nuzzled deeper into your neck, pressing another kiss there. “I think I lost the ability to think for a second…”

You softly giggled, breathless- and you kissed him right back on the temple. “Cute”

James looked up, his eyes always told stories but right now- they told you all you needed to know about the nature of your relationship.

There was no way in hell you could both pretend this wasn’t more than a stupid drunken arrangement anymore.

“I should dye my hair more often if it means you’ll ride me like you just did.”

that shit was so long idk what possessed me i’m so down bad it’s so unfunny.😭✌🏻

taglist —🏷️ : @bloomflix @hyukasguitarpick @chaorik1i @yeeyeehaw22 @jakeycakeys @justpassingdontworry @crypticscarrift @ja4hyvn @taelvvrzz @heejakexx68 @kienhawon @jinniepilled @eczlipse @wxnizz @cupcakeangel9 @yuudaiinhs @xysza. @lcvemonth @acaibowl37 @jjujjukeukeu @sinmiedoalamor @jjuhoonn @inadazeee @sonyui @seokiify @seonghwaswifeuuuu @beomchuu2 @miles4eva @ascxan @inadazeee @ilovegojosatoru13 @kkyunho @hyeonverse @ascxan @sanguinosis @yeeyeehaw22 @coxrtizz @kpopsmutty69

cupidsonly

i need him😣😩

#💭ptolemaeiia #cortis #zhao james x reader #cortis james x reader #zhao james #zhao yufan

ramenoil

martin loves dressing up his gf!

🍒 aleksander!martin x emma!f!reader, not exactly true to the manga but ib by veil heavily!, req by @marumaomao, fluff, profanity, smau

listen to: just the two of us

iro's notes: i actually havent read the manga, the whole smau is based off of wtv bby mao told me in my reqs!!

tetsur0-1

How i be reading smut wth a straight face in bed

pikapipipu

he’s so cute, he should live in my pocket

cortisdoll

he’s such a pretty boy !!!! he looks so good with this hair too oh my gosh

ptolemaeiia

─── ♯ MY BLUE LIPS ಄ ˎˊ˗

actress!reader x idol!zhaoyufan ⊹ ࣪ ˖

݁꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱₊˚⊹ 요약 - when you are chosen to be the female lead in the ‘blue lips’ mv, martin seonghyeon keonho and juhoon can’t help but tease james for his long time crush on you…

warnings .ᐟ fluff, alcohol consumption, smoking, smut ( mdni ), unprotected sex ( do not do that ) fingering, oral, praising, soft dom james, reader finds out she likes the whole submissive ordeal, drunk sex kinda, very very light choking ( just hand around the neck atp) a looooot of praising like a crazy amount.

taglist⟢ @jakeycakeys @justpassingdontworry @crypticscarrift @janjoonty @ja4hyvn

𝑜ℎ ℎ𝑜𝑤 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑑, 𝑠𝑜 𝑤𝑒𝑙𝑙

cupidsonly

so beautiful

#i love this #ptolemaea4a #cortis #james #cortis james

uniicorns-arereall

you know what, fuck it be free, keep reading that bad fan fiction, keep writing that bad fanfiction, keep using y/n, keep staying up to 4 a.m reading x reader, to be cringe is too be free