heyhey :) | black | 24 | nonbinary | infp-t | i just reblog stuff -- block #reposting nsfw from me if u dont wanna see it ! ~ you are loved and lovable <33
includes. gn!reader. EXPLICIT smut. aged up characters. acarophilia, choking, degradation, praise kink, breeding, penetration, fingering, cream pies, public sex, use of toys and handcuffs, roleplay, caging, bondage, cum play, cuckholding, oral fixation, hair pulling, overstimulation, orgasm denial, free use, mating press (holy shit).
a/n. guys smth possessed me last night… this is single-handedly the filthiest thing ive ever written to date. ovulation week is a BITCH. do NOT read if you’re uncomfortable with any of the tags.
michael kaiser ☆
no doubts about it, kaiser likes breath play—watching you struggle to breathe as his fingers dig into the sides of your neck. it’d be so easy to keep going, to squeeze until your vision is static and he can see the life draining from your eyes. he’d never go that far, of course. just enough for you to claw at him, blunt nails raking down his back in messy, red streaks.
which brings me to my next point: he has an acarophilia (scratching) kink. kaiser loves seeing the marks you leave on his skin the next day, like little stakes or brandishes on his body. it’s different from the red marks left behind when he claws at his throat with his own hands—yours are made from love. possession. so don’t feel guilty if you accidentally break skin. it just makes him want you even more.
alexis ness ☆
i feel like this one is self-explanatory… ness has a praise kink, but it also turns him on when you degrade him. he likes when you tell him what to do—force him on his knees and call him a dirty slut, make him clean his messes off your fingers with his tongue, but then praise him for being your obedient boy. he needs a healthy balance of both.
he would naturally assume the role of a service dom, existing to fulfill your every need and coming untouched just from pleasuring you. you can either instruct him on how to touch himself or let him fuck you depending on how well he’s behaved. either way, he’s kinky as fuck, and he doesn’t mind as long as you tell him you love him after <3
isagi yoichi ☆
guys hear me out… DACRYPHILIA.
isagi always thinks you look perfect, but you look even better when you’re crying—tears dripping down your puffy cheeks as his cock slips in and out between your wet lips. he’ll tilt your head back to see the tears clinging to your lashes, the glossy haze in your eyes as he fucks into your throat. i mean, did you see the way he looked down at niko?
something about the desperation in your eyes, like he’s managed to force you into submission… makes him painfully hard. keep looking at him like that and he’ll come on the spot, making sure to pull out before he spills all over your face, sticky white mixing with your salty tears.
shidou ryusei ☆
what doesn’t he like? there’s too many kinks and not enough space, so i’ll just say he loves cum play. it turns him on when his cum is dripping between your legs, oozing from your cute little hole that’s still puffy from being stuffed full. he would just stare, utterly transfixed as he watches your fluids mix and flow onto the drenched sheets beneath your hips.
no condoms, he won’t be satisfied until you let him cream pie you. afterwards, he’ll plug you up with his fingers until he’s sure not a single drop can escape, feeling his dick stir alive again when it makes a lewd, sticky sound. if he’s feeling extra freaky, he’ll even bring his fingers to his lips, making a show of licking your combined messes off his hand.
itoshi sae ☆
he likes being in control, or at least imagining that he is, so i think sae would have a free use kink. the idea that you’re ready for him at any time, a mindless hole for him to use whenever he’s had a particularly rough day at work turns him on. obviously, he knows you’re your own person and he wouldn’t do anything without your consent, but the fact that you’re willing gives him a power trip.
don’t cum unless he tells you to! he wants your eyes on his, and being able to control or deny your orgasms comes with complete trust. he’ll tease you until you’re on the cusp of release, only to pull out and make you watch him spill onto your stomach. sae won’t fuck you until you’re pleading for him to and all you can think about is his dick.
itoshi rin ☆
ngl, rin reminds me of those gym influencers who motivate themselves with the thought of their girlfriends cheating (i hope you get the reference). he’d never admit it, but cuckholding turns him on. watching you take some random’s half-baked cock (consensually, of course) and being unable to do anything about it would turn him into a needy mess. he’d rut into his fist, imagining it’s him fucking you instead.
he would also have an oral fixation. he likes it when you push your fingers into his mouth, or when his lips are wrapped around one of your nipples. it calms him down and gives him a task to focus on, swirling his tongue around as you praise him. the sensation gets him uncharacteristically aroused.
bachira meguru ☆
here we go… another one that has an endlessly long list of kinks. bachira has so much pent up energy and excitement that i don’t think he could contain himself in public. he would be into agoraphilia. the thrill of being caught in open spaces—his hand on your thigh that traitorously inches upward or his palm stifling your loud moans—would make him hard as a rock.
he’d whisper the filthiest thing into your ear in a cramped bathroom stall, his fingers pushing in and out of your hole and wringing out orgasm after orgasm. he likes overstimulation, whether you’re the one milking his cock dry or he’s the one making you so sensitive you almost pass out. you can never trust the whimsical looking ones.
hiori yo ☆
we know he is one KINKY mf. might i go as far as to say one of the kinkiest in the entire blue lock cast. his large, glittering eyes and innocent face distracts you from the fact he’s into bdsm, specifically bondange. he likes his lovers tied up and entirely reliant on him, unable to do anything but succumb as he touches you, making you come over and over.
the fact he’s into crippled girls tells me that he’d enjoy putting you in handcuffs, making you squirm with his fingers or a vibrator until you’re trembling and begging for more. he’d tease you until you’re on the verge of passing out, not fucking you or letting the toy penetrate until he’s satisfied with your performance.
chigiri hyoma ☆
he’s one of the tamer ones. chigiri is undoubtably 99.9% vanilla, but he would be into rough hair pulling. he doesn’t let anyone touch his hair, so the trust and intimacy that comes with your fingers digging into the silky strands makes his entire body convulse. the expression he makes is so adorable, his eyes falling shut as you guide his head to where you need it.
this would also go both ways, with his hand gently tugging at your hair while his dick pummels into you from behind. just remember: you’re pulling on years worth of maintenance, so don’t push it!
karasu tabito ☆
you can’t convince me he’s not freaky bro, look at his fuckass smirk. that’s the face of a guy that enjoys manipulating your orgasms, maybe even a little roleplay if you’ll indulge him. student x professor, doctor x patient, owner x pet, he doesn’t care what you dress up as, just expect him to rail you into the mattress in your cute clothes.
not sure why, but i think he’d really want to lock you up in a cage. he’s mediocre, and you’re so special. why wouldn’t he want you all to himself? he’d like the power dynamic and the helpless way you look to him for help, making you come without even properly touching you. his words alone are filthy enough to send you over the edge.
kunigami rensuke ☆
size kink, duhhh. with the way he trains, he’d like to compare his progress with you beneath him, legs spread as he ruts into your tiny hole. everything about him so big, and it’s accentuated when his biceps flex as he pins your hands down, your body completely overshadowed by his.
it doesn’t matter if you’re curvy or petite, short or tall, just the sight of his large cock pulsing against your tight entrance makes him want to fuck the living daylights out of you. not to mention his breeding kink as he pushes you into a mating press. he wants to make sure you’re completely stuffed and full of him when the night ends.
. ♱ ゛romeo (lohen.) 769 words
warnings: nsfw, smut, mentions of self pleasure/masturbation (m! receiving) MDNI!! +18
pairing: lohen x gn! reader
“ah, I truly thank the help. you’re such an angel, are you free later? if you are, stop by my base. you might catch something worth watching.”
huh? what was he on? and that sudden nickname… was he acting like this because of his subordinates being around? well to be fair you could not help but to flutter at how he called you but now in the situation you were in, walking towards his place just because he told you so it’s pretty hilarious.
would you jump from a bridge if he asked? prolly.
the serenity of the night scort your way to his tent, this calm being perturbed as you got closer by a few knights who were drinking and giggling while calling you “lulled and fancied” by their vice-captain.
but it was only pure curiosity.
was it?
yeah, it must be.
and well if you come out of the tent with one or two kisses on, you wouldn’t mind a little. that actually would be a REALLY proper way to appreciate your small help.
pfft, as if. those are pure fantasies, being able to share a drink with the battle maniac weirdo is more than enough before you return to the kof headquarters to be buried in paperwork.
as the base where he rested began to appear in your sight vision you realized that its light was off, maybe he thought you weren’t coming and decided to sleep early. or… he turned them off so his subordinates wouldn’t bother him to join them in either drink or take care of them.
yup, it must be the delusional second option.
before your hand made contact with the tent to peek in, a muffled sound reached your ears, it was like a blaring breathy complaint which was enough to startle you and make you walk backwards of the entrance.
"I know you're there~” he silly called out in a melodic and deep voice, acknowledging your presence.
frozen, you were frozen just a few meters away from the closed entrance as a mix of emotions flooded your persona, now totally aware of what was happening inside the tent as another breathy whimper lingered in the air confirming the sinful thoughts.
“made me wait all this time to not even come inside to say goodbye?”
this really escalated too quickly, it’s not that you don’t want to come inside, it’s that you can’t. You’ll explode (and might erase the small respect you had for him) right there if he has his pants down, and once you’re in what? what the hell were you supposed to do?
“there's good weather tonight, I might stay outside just a little more.” excuses and more excuses.
the sound of something being squeezed replied instead of words, the audacity he has to keep jerking while keeping a conversation has to be studied, no normal person would keep doing this without feeling shame or embarrassment. maybe those emotions were erased from his factory settings.
you hesitated in leaving or staying, to be honest the first option would be so disappointing for both of you. but staying, would he allow you to touch him? just a way to find out.
a huge amount of oxygen greeted your lungs once you were prepared mentally and psychologically to face whatever was waiting for you inside. for your own luck at least the dimness of the room would hide the crimson that was painting your whole face as well as the nervous expressions, at least from you, because a part from your guts was telling you that Lohen was enjoying this.
once your body made its way in, carefully trying to not be noisy or more obvious to the people outside, the small light of a candle received you plus the image you were picturing in the brain from the noises that were feeding your imagination.
holy archons, this was way better than whatever projection your brain could even think of.
his figure was spread on top of the table, yes that same table where he instructed the ranged troops what to do on each mission or meet up with higher ups like Jean or Varka to discuss important matters, yes on that table where now he was displayed in the lewdest way possible. thighs parted apart, torso slightly leaned back and his left hand slowly suffocated his length as his eyes locked into yours totally ignoring the redness of his tip and preleak of his cum suddenly peeking out at the mere sight of you; deliberately increasing the pace of his strokes once your eyes finished running a marathon through his almost bared body.
“took you long enough, angel.”
ఌ︎. pi note: justin bieber is my beta reader since I wrote this during his coachella set JAAA, yes people let's keep feeding that lohen tag (jk this is my last this month, can't cheat on my boy lyney). inspired in that line from his millhaven smol quest.
Synopsis: The Hatake clan has always had a subtle but undeniable canine affinity—nothing as overt as the Inuzuka’s pack bonds or feral transformations, but enough that certain traits linger in the bloodline: sharper-than-average canines, an almost embarrassing love of being pet, a nose that picks up the smallest shifts in scent, and an instinctual craving for praise and approval that borders on needy when he trusts someone enough.
Warnings: this is like 5% plot/95% smut lol, p in v sex, pet play(not really?), sub!Kakashi, soft dom!reader, oral sex (f receiving), handjob, praise kink, the word 'pup' is used a couple of times, heavy petting (literally), edging, you make him whimper and cry. Kakashi exhibits dog like traits (but has no ears or tail don't worry)
author's note: I'm gonna be so for real with y'all this got away from me FAST. one minute I was working on my Obito bakery AU, the next I had this monstrosity written instead; I feel like I blacked out. This is one of those fics that is 1000% self indulgent that is based off of a headcannon I saw on here once upon a time and couldn’t stop thinking about since.
Word count: 4.1k words
You noticed it the first time on a quiet, rain-soaked night in his apartment.
Kakashi had slipped through the door just past midnight, the scent of wet cedar and distant smoke clinging to him like a second skin. The moment the latch clicked shut, he tugged the mask down to his throat in one fluid, exhausted motion—revealing the sharp line of his jaw, the faint bruise already purpling along his left cheekbone, and the tired tilt of his mouth. His silver hair hung in damp, unruly strands, darkened by rainwater and sticking to his forehead in places.
He didn’t speak. Just kicked off his sandals, shrugged out of his sodden flak jacket, and dropped onto the couch beside you with a long, bone-deep exhale that seemed to deflate him by several inches. His long legs stretched out until his feet nearly reached the low table; one arm came up automatically, draping casually along the back of the couch behind your shoulders. Not quite touching you, but close enough that you could feel the residual heat radiating off him.
You didn’t think. You simply reached up and slid your fingers into his damp hair, ruffling it the way you sometimes did when the mission reports were done and the world felt a little smaller. The strands were cool and heavy with rain; they slipped through your fingers like wet silk.
He froze.
Only for half a heartbeat—long enough for you to register the sudden stillness in his frame—but then he leaned into your touch.
Not dramatically. Not a dramatic flop or a theatrical sigh. Just a subtle, almost imperceptible tilt of his head, enough to press the crown of his skull more firmly against your palm. His visible eye drifted half-shut, the Sharingan hidden for once behind the hitai-ate, leaving only soft gray and the faintest crinkle of amusement (or maybe relief) at the corner.
A low sound rolled out of his throat.
It could have been a sigh. It could have been the creak of old floorboards settling. But you knew better. It was closer to a pleased huff—quiet, involuntary, the kind a large dog might make when it finally finds the exact right spot to be scratched.
Emboldened, you let your nails scrape lightly behind his ear, slow and deliberate, following the curve where skin met hairline.
His shoulders dropped. Visibly. The last of the mission tension bled out of him like water wrung from cloth; you could almost hear it leaving in the way his next exhale came softer, longer. The arm behind you shifted—barely—an inch closer, fingertips brushing the back of your neck in silent thanks.
“Good job out there,” you murmured, voice low and mostly teasing, though the fondness underneath was impossible to hide.
His eye crinkled again, the ghost of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Flattery will get you everywhere.”
But he didn’t pull away.
If anything, he shifted closer—knees angling toward you, head still resting in the cradle of your hand like it belonged there. A silent, shameless invitation: keep going.
You filed that little moment away like a hidden kunai—sharp, useful, and entirely his.
Weeks later, the training grounds were still steaming after a sudden afternoon shower. Kakashi had just finished using Asuma as a very willing (and very singed) test dummy for the new lightning variant he’d been refining for months—Chidori variants that danced like living serpents, precise enough to thread a needle at twenty paces, lethal enough to stop a heart mid-beat. He stood in the center of the scorched circle now, breathing steady but visibly winded, silver hair plastered to his temples with sweat, mask tugged slightly askew from the wind of his own jutsu.
Asuma clapped him on the shoulder, gave you a lazy two-fingered salute as he passed, and disappeared toward the village with a cigarette already between his lips.
You stayed.
You approached with a clean towel you’d brought from home, holding it out wordlessly. Kakashi took it, fingers brushing yours—deliberately, you thought—but instead of bringing it to his face, he simply stood there, head cocked just slightly to the side when your free hand lifted to wipe a bead of sweat from his temple.
You tested the theory.
Fingertips trailing—slow, feather-light—from the shell of his ear, down the warm, sweat-damp column of his neck, following the faint throb of his pulse.
His breath hitched.
It was barely audible over the distant chirp of evening cicadas, but you caught it—the tiniest catch, the soft scrape of teeth against his lower lip beneath the fabric of the mask. And then his scent changed.
Not dramatically, but unmistakably. The clean cedar-smoke sharpness of him warmed, deepened—muskier, richer, the way a hearth fire catches and blooms when fresh wood is added. His pupils dilated a fraction behind the visible eye; the corner of his mouth twitched upward.
“You like that?” you asked, voice barely above a whisper, thumb brushing the sensitive skin just under his ear again.
He exhaled through his nose—a soft, almost amused huff—and tilted his head farther into your touch, offering more throat, more skin.
“You’re observant,” he said, voice low and rough from exertion.
“You’re not subtle when you want pets.”
A low, genuine chuckle rumbled out of him then—quiet, warm, unguarded. “Guilty.”
He didn’t move away until you finally lowered your hand. Even then, he walked home half a step closer than usual, shoulder brushing yours every few strides.
Another time—late, the village quiet except for the occasional rustle of wind through the trees—he was sprawled on the floor of his living room, back braced against the couch, legs stretched long in front of him. Shiba, one of the bigger, lazier ninken, was curled against his right thigh like a living furnace, snoring softly. Kakashi had Icha Icha Paradise open across his lap, but his eyes kept drifting shut every few pages.
You sat behind him on the cushions, knees bracketing his shoulders, and without a word began carding your fingers through his hair—slow, soothing, untangling the knots the wind and sweat had left behind.
He let the book fall closed.
His head tipped back onto your lap almost immediately, silver strands spilling like liquid moonlight across your thighs. When your nails found his scalp and scratched—light, rhythmic circles—he let out a quiet, involuntary sound: half groan, half growl, deep enough that you felt it vibrate against your legs.
His lips parted on the next breath.
You saw them then—his canines, sharper than they had any right to be, glinting briefly in the low lamplight when he exhaled.
Definitely not normal civilian teeth.
You paused, thumb hovering.
He cracked one lazy gray eye open, peering up at you through silver lashes.
“…Don’t stop.”
You couldn’t help the soft giggle that escaped—half surprise, half delight—as you resumed scratching, this time dragging your nails in slow, deliberate paths from his hairline down to the nape of his neck.
“Bossy,” you teased.
“Needy,” he corrected without a hint of shame, voice husky and low. “There’s a difference.”
Your thumb drifted lower, brushing the corner of his mouth. He turned his face into your palm without hesitation—nuzzling openly now, shameless, the rough drag of his tongue flicking out to taste the pad of your thumb. The texture was warm, slightly calloused from years of biting through gloves and masks, and the heat of it sent a sudden, liquid coil of want straight to your core.
“You’re ridiculous,” you whispered, breathless and helplessly fond.
He pressed one last lazy kiss to the center of your palm, canines grazing just enough to prickle without breaking skin.
“You love it.”
He wasn’t wrong.
And every time after that—every quiet night, every post-mission collapse, every lazy afternoon—you found new ways to test the theory.
And every time, he melted a little more completely under your hands.
The turning point came after a long mission. He returned at 2 a.m., reeking of sweat and smoke and pine. You were waiting up for him in the bedroom. The second the door closed, he peeled off his vest, boots, gloves, hitai-ate, leaving him in his black pants and tank top, mask still covering the bottom half of his face.
You met him halfway, wrapping your arms around his middle, his arms coming up to wrap around your waist.
He had smelled you before you even touched him—his masked nose brushing your hairline, inhaling deep. A rumble started in his chest, almost like it was involuntary.
“Missed your scent,” he muttered against your temple.
You cupped his jaw, nails gently scraping against his skin. “Missed you.”
He leaned heavily into your hands. You guided him toward the bedroom, fingers threading through silver strands, scratching just right until he was practically melting against you.
By the time you pushed him down onto the mattress, he was breathing hard—pupils blown, chest heaving.
You crawled onto the bed before swinging a leg over, straddling his hips. “You’ve been so good lately,” you said, voice low. “Taking care of everyone. Coming home safe.”
His hips jerked upward beneath you—instinctive, helpless. His hands came up and gripped your waist, keeping you grounded on top of him.
You leaned down, lips brushing the shell of his ear. “I think you deserve a reward, don’t you?”
A whine—needy and long—slipped out before he caught it. His hands flexed on your waist, nails digging into your skin.
“Please,” he breathed against your cheek, his hips twitching below yours.
You kissed along his jaw, then tugged the mask down, revealing his face fully to your gaze. His lips were parted, his canines glinting in the moonlight that was streaming into the room.
His teeth were definitely sharper, you noted, before pressing your lips against his, kissing him slowly. His lips moved against yours, instantly matching the pace you set. When you nipped his lower lip, he growled—deep, possessive—and licked into your mouth like he was trying to memorize the taste.
You pulled back, your own breathing turning heavy to match his. “Hands above your head.”
He obeyed instantly. Eyes locked on yours, pupils blown with want.
You reached down and pulled the hem of his tank top out of the waistband of his pants, working to pull the piece of clothing off and over his head, Kakashi helping you get it off fully without sending you tumbling off of your place on his lap. He threw the shirt to the corner of the room before his hands went back above his head, his eyes never straying from yours. You dragged your nails gently down his chest, circling his nipples with one finger until they pebbled. Every time you praised him—“so pretty like this,” “look how hard you are already,” “such a good boy for me”—his cock twitched from where it was trapped against your thigh, a wet spot beginning to form on his pants.
When you finally reached one hand down and palmed him through the fabric, he arched his back, hips chasing your touch. Heat pooled in your gut at the sight of him so desperate for you, your touch, your praise.
“Easy,” you soothed, reaching your free hand up and scratching lightly behind his ear again, stroking his hard cock through his pants with the other.
The sound he made in response was obscene—half moan, half growl. His head tipped back against the pillows, eyes half lidded and throat bared to your heated gaze.
Without thinking, you leaned down and bit the juncture of where his neck and shoulder meet—not hard, just enough to mark. He shuddered violently, panting.
“Fuck—please—” he whined, thrusting his hips upwards, searching desperately for more friction.
You shifted so you were kneeling beside him so you could take his pants off of him; you made quick work of the button and zipper, shuffling his pants and boxers down his legs. Kakashi kicked them off once they reached his ankles, not caring where they landed. His cock sprang free—thick, flushed red from your teasing, already leaking precum. You licked your palm and wrapped your hand around him, stroking him slowly.
“Look at you,” you murmured, your own wetness pooling in your panties as you listened to the whimpers escaping his spit soaked lips. “So desperate. Bet you’d hump my thigh if I let you.”
He groaned, cheeks flushing pink in embarrassment, yet he didn’t deny it as his hips bucked into your hand. “Would. Anything.”
You sped up your strokes, thumb circling the head, smearing the precum that was steadily gathering there. “You’d be so good for me, wouldn’t you? Let me ride you until you’re whimpering?”
“Yes—fuck, yes—” he gasped, whining low in his throat. His cock was throbbing and twitching in your hand, so close to release you could practically smell it in the air. You could feel your panties sticking to your soaked lips, your wetness having soaked through the flimsy fabric and sticking to the inside of your thighs.
You leaned close, lips against his ear, strokes not faltering, making sure to twist your wrist as you stroked up and over the flushed red head of his cock. “Then cum for me, pup. Be a good boy and cum all over my hand.”
He broke.
Back arching and hands clawing at the headboard, teeth snapping shut on a choked growl, hips jerking wildly as he spilled over your fingers and his abs—hot, thick pulses of cum that seemed to go on forever. You worked him through it gently, slowing your strokes to a complete stop, murmuring praise into his ear the whole time: “That’s it… so good… look at you, cumming so hard just from my voice…”
The aftershocks were still rolling through him when you leaned down and licked a slow stripe up the side of his throat, tasting salt and that warm, smoky cedar scent that was so distinctly Kakashi. His pulse jumped under your tongue; a fresh, helpless whine slipped out before he could swallow it.
You pulled back just enough to look at him—silver hair splayed across the pillow like spilled moonlight, lips parted, cheeks flushed dark under the flush of his orgasm, chest heaving. His cock was still twitching against his stomach, half-hard already, a mess of his own release painting his abs.
“Messy boy,” you murmured, voice low and fond. You dragged two fingers through the spend on his skin and brought them to his lips. “Open.”
His eyes—one storm-gray, his Sharingan spinning in the other, both blown wide—locked on yours. He parted his lips without hesitation, tongue curling around your fingers, licking your fingers clean with slow, deliberate strokes of his tongue. The rough drag of it sent heat pulsing between your thighs. When he sucked gently, canines grazing your knuckles, you felt the low growl vibrate straight through your bones.
“Good boy,” you praised, and his cock jerked visibly, already filling again. “Look at you. One orgasm and you’re ready for more. So eager.”
He released your fingers with a wet pop, breathing ragged. “Only for you.”
You shifted, sliding off the bed just long enough to strip your own clothes away. His gaze followed every movement—hungry, tracking the scent of your arousal like it was the only thing grounding him. The second you were bare, he inhaled deep through his nose, eyes fluttering half-shut.
“Fuck… you smell so good when you’re wet for me,” he groaned, doing his best to sound domineering but only sounding wrecked.
You climbed back over him, straddling his thighs this time, close enough that your slick folds brushed the underside of his cock. He hissed, hips twitching upward instinctively, but you pressed a firm hand to his chest—right over his racing heart—and held him down.
“Stay,” you commanded lowly, your voice soft yet firm.
A full-body shudder ran through him. His hands fisted the sheets above his head where you’d told him to keep them earlier, knuckles white as he struggled to keep them from roaming over your heated flesh.
You started slow. Painfully slow.
Leaning forward, you let your breasts squish between you, your nipples brush his chest as you dragged your nails from his collarbones all the way down to his hips—light scratches that left faint red lines in their wake. Every time your fingertips passed his nipples he gasped; when you circled them with your thumbs, pinching lightly, he arched and whined.
“Sensitive here too?” you teased, scratching gently behind one ear at the same time. His head tilted into the touch automatically, eyes rolling back.
“Yes—ah—please—” he whined, body shuddering.
You rewarded him by grinding your wet and swollen pussy against his cock, letting your wetness coat the length of his cock without letting him inside. Just slow rolls of your hips, sliding your puffy clit along the shaft, the head catching at your entrance on every upstroke but never pushing in.
Kakashi’s breath came in short, desperate pants. His sharp canines were bared every time his mouth fell open, tongue darting out like he could taste the air between you. You could feel his pulse throb against your clit with every glide.
“You’re shaking,” you observed softly, scratching under his jaw now, right where his mask usually sat. “Poor thing. Been holding back all this time, pretending you weren’t dying for me to pet you like this in bed.”
He made a broken sound—half growl, half sob—and turned his face into your palm, nuzzling frantically. “Needed it… needed you to see—”
“I see you now.” You cooed, leaning down and nipping at his throat, right over the fluttering pulse. Not hard enough to break skin, but enough that his hips bucked hard and his cock leaked another bead of precum against your slick folds. “I see how much my good boy loves being told he’s perfect. How much he loves my hands on him.”
You sat up and lifted your hips, removing the delicious friction his cock was getting from your cunt. You reached between your parted legs, wrapping one hand around his cock—thick, hot, and sticky with your juices— and stroked him root to tip, twisting gently at the head the way you knew drove him insane. Your other hand never stopped petting him: scratching behind his ears, down the sides of his neck, along his scalp until his eyes were glassy and unfocused, whimpers and whines flowing freely from parted lips.
Every praise pulled another sound from him:
“So hard for me already…”
A whimper.
“Look how pretty you leak when I scratch right here—”
A full-body tremble.
“You’d let me edge you for hours, wouldn’t you? Just to hear me call you my good boy?”
“Fuck—yes—anything—” he keened, his hips jerking upward into your hand, the tip barely grazing your pussy from where you sat above him.
You stopped your movements and tightly squeezed the base of his cock when you felt him start to throb in your palm, staving off his second orgasm. He cried out, hips jerking uselessly into the air as you pulled your hand away.
You shushed him gently and shifted higher, your plush thighs on either side of his head, and lowered yourself until your dripping cunt hovered right over his mouth. His eyes snapped open, pupils blown to nothing but black, his Sharingan spinning wildly as he took you in.
“Breathe me in first pup,” you cooed, bracing one hand on the headboard, the other cupping your tit, rolling a nipple in between your fingers until it perked up.
He did—deep, greedy lungfuls—nose brushing your swollen clit, tongue flicking out to taste the air between your dripping cunt and his lips. A guttural groan tore from his chest, his eyes rolling to the back of his skull.
“Smell so sweet—fuck, you’re soaked—” his voice cracked, hoarse.
You lowered just enough for his tongue to reach you. He licked a broad stripe from entrance to clit, collecting every drop of your wetness that had pooled there, then again, and again—slow, reverent, like he was savoring the best meal of his life. When you finally settled fully on his face, he moaned loud enough that the vibration buzzed straight through your core.
You rode his tongue in lazy circles, one hand braced on the headboard, the other buried in his hair—scratching, tugging, petting. Every time you praised him—“that’s it, just like that, such a perfect boy for me”—he doubled his efforts, sucking your clit between his lips, sharp canines grazing your sensitive nub just enough to make you gasp. He focused most of his attention on your clit, the tip of his tongue flicking side to side in rapid succession.
You cried out, hips jerking against his mouth as he pulled your clit between his lips, giving it a brutal suck, occasionally moving his tongue down to dip into your dripping entrance before moving back up to suck your clit.
Your first orgasm hit you hard—pussy fluttering against his tongue as your body shuddered above him, thighs clamping around his ears, flooding his mouth while he drank every drop with desperate, whining sounds.
When you lifted off, his face was shiny, lips swollen, eyes dazed and adoring as they gazed up at you.
You slid back down his body, your thighs on either side of his hips as you lined up your soaked pussy with his throbbing cock, sinking down onto him in one smooth motion, your pussy fluttering around his length.
Kakashi’s back bowed clean off the bed. “Oh—fuck—”
You didn’t move at first. Just sat there, full and warm and tight around him, and resumed petting—both hands now, scratching slow circles over his chest, up his throat, behind both ears at once. His cock throbbed inside you, so hard and hot it bordered on painful.
“Feel that?” you whispered, rolling your hips in the tiniest grind, your clit grazing his pelvis. “That’s how much your body loves being good for me.”
You started riding him in earnest then—long, deliberate strokes. Rising until only the head remained inside, then sinking down until your ass met his hips. Every time you bottomed out you scratched a different spot: scalp, jaw, the sensitive dip above his hipbones. His hands stayed obediently above his head, but his fingers clawed at the sheets like he was barely holding on.
You edged him twice more.
First by slowing to a torturous grind when his thighs started to shake, your pussy clenching down around him with every broken noise he made.
Second by lifting off of his cock completely, gripping the base of it tightly while you kissed and nipped along his collarbones, telling him how beautiful he looked when he was desperate as you lined him back up with your pussy, sinking back down on him in one fluid motion, Kakashi letting out a broken sob as your walls sucked him in.
By the third time he was crying—actual tears tracking down his temples—voice hoarse from begging.
“Please—please let me cum—been so good—your good boy—please—”
You finally took mercy.
You rode him hard, fast, one hand braced on his chest, the other tangled in his hair, tugging just hard enough to make his eyes roll back, whimpers falling past his lips, drool dripping down his chin as your pussy fluttered and clenched around him, your wetness sticking to the inside of your thighs and dripping down his balls as you chased your own orgasm.
“Cum for me, Kashi. Fill me up like the perfect pup you are.”
He came with a broken sob—sharp canines snapping shut on nothing as his hips slammed up and he spilled deep inside you, pulse after pulse, so much it leaked out around his cock. You followed right after, clenching around him, milking every drop while you scratched frantically behind his ears and moaned, gasping, “Good boy, good boy, good boy—”
He kept cumming even after you slowed—tiny aftershocks that made his whole body jerk—until he was a trembling, oversensitive wreck beneath you.
You collapsed onto his chest, both of you slick with sweat and cum. His arms finally came down—wrapping around you like he’d die if he let go—and he buried his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent in shaky, greedy pulls.
You kept petting him. Slow, soothing strokes down his sides, behind his ears, along his thigh. Every touch earned you a soft, contented rumble from his chest.
“Mine,” you murmured against his temple.
He nuzzled closer, canines grazing your shoulder in the gentlest, most possessive nip.
“Yours,” he rasped, voice wrecked. “Always.”
You smiled into his hair and kept scratching—slow, lazy, endless.
He melted completely, boneless and purring under your hands, exactly where he belonged.
he’s only doing you a favor. you woke up sick but don’t want to call out, so he offers to secretly stand in for you. luckily, your company has a lax work-from-home policy.
it’ll be a piece of cake, he thinks to himself. he can assemble entire automobiles from scrap metal and spare parts. how hard could this be in comparison?
like most days, the morning starts off slow. your colleagues slowly trickle online, and in the meantime, he checks your outstanding tasks. you have a project that’s been hung up by another department for 2 weeks—that just won’t do. he can’t let you take the blame! so he searches your work database, hunts down everyone in the offending department, and sends them a high-priority email: “just got word from leadership that this is due in one hour. good luck!”
he has never had to undergo email etiquette training.
your office's applications for spreadsheets and documents are...lackluster. he isn’t used to such rudimentary software. forgets to save files as he works on them, then the program crashes and he loses his progress. he is fine.
whenever you walk past his study, his hair is a sticking up in all directions from running his fingers through it.
“why does every message i send get a heart emoji?”
rejects all optional meeting invites immediately. your calendar is the freest it’s ever been.
“circle back,” “touch base,” “table that for now.” these phrases are so irritating. does no one in this organization speak like a human?
has to ask you for your phone every 15 minutes because the software constantly hounds you to verify your identity. for what reason are these security measures more stringent than onychinus’s?
“your coworker sent me a gif of a frog sipping tea. what does this mean.”
he’s a tech whiz, but your company laptop hasn't been upgraded since 2010, and the battery barely lasts 2 hours. he just can’t work under these conditions.
as the day drags on, the number of emails he gets grows exponentially, and the pinging sound annoys the hell out of him. he starts bouncing his leg and flaring his nostrils, trying his best not to respond to anyone’s earnest inquiry with an ancient curse.
by 3 p.m., he’s become conditioned to go into fight-or-flight mode every time that high-pitched ding noise assaults his ears.
“sweetie, how do i turn off email notifications. i beg you. how do i turn them off.”
I wish i had a big werewolf boyfriend who buried his snout between my legs insisting it was just because it was the perfect spot for his nap. I know something else will happen but still i spread my thighs and lay back in bed. I pretend not to notice as he shifts, nose pressing against my cunt through my panties, huffing softly before i feel his hot tongue drag across there fabric covering my mound. I would stay silent, my breaths shuddering as his tongue slides under my now wet panties. From there it’s hard to stay mad. Not when his large hands grip my thighs as he eats me out, claws pricking my flesh. Not when his heavy balls slap against my clit while he fucks me with my head shoved into the pillows- and certainly not when he’s cumming deep inside of me, locking me up with his knot as he whimpers softly in my ear.
xavier loves when you get longer nails so you can scratch his head when he rests it in your lap, and if you stop for even a second he'll whine and peak open his eyes up at you like a disappointed cat until you keep going
sylus runs warm, and most of the time you end up not even covered by his plush duvet, but by him. His arms snug around your waist and his head on your chest the perfect blanket as you fall asleep.
zayne has this cute way of teasing you by stealing your candy on occasion. He'll kiss your cheek then your lips, lulling you into a false sense of affection then will slip the candy right out of your mouth with that slight smile on his face.
caleb puts you an air jail when you're being petty and giving him the silent treatment, and only lets you down if you agree to give him a kiss and tell him why "his pipsqueek is being so moody."
rafayel insists on applying your lipgloss/lipstick for you. He always steals your lip gloss before you can put it on yourself, insisting that his artist's eye can do it better. He'll gently tilt your chin up with two fingers, carefully applying it while studying your face with far more concentration than the task requires. Once he's finished, he'll lean back with a satisfied smile and hum, "Perfect."
♡ princessxmin please do not alter, copy or translate my work !
Okay hear me out kakashi get drunk on accident ona mission. It’s just you and him on this mission, yall are undercover and while returning to your shared hotel room after a few to many sakes you jokingly made a comment about him a being a virgin and he didn’t take it so lightly leading to you being shoved up against the wall with his hands exploring you and him whispering into your ear why doesn’t he prove it to you
——————————-
You hadn’t meant it like that. Not really.
The mission had been endless—rain-slicked forests, mud caked into the seams of your gear, the quiet weight of Kakashi’s presence at your back for days. By the time you both staggered into the village the sky was already black. The first cup of sake burned warm down your throat. The third loosened your tongue. You leaned across the sticky table, cheeks flushed, eyes bright, and told him he was still a virgin. That all the cool, unreadable silence was just camouflage for a man who wouldn’t know what to do once the clothes came off. You laughed when his visible eye narrowed. You thought it was the same old game.
You were so fucking wrong.
The hotel door had barely latched before Kakashi had you pinned against it, mouth open and hungry, tongue sliding deep while one gloved hand shoved under your shirt and found a nipple already tight. He walked you backward until your knees hit the mattress. You dropped. He followed, stripping you with efficient, almost clinical speed until you were bare and he was still mostly clothed—mask shoved down, pants open just enough, cock thick and flushed and already leaking against your thigh.
Now you were folded nearly in half beneath him. Knees crushed to your shoulders, thighs spread wide, the stretch in your hips a dull, constant ache. His cock was buried so deep the head of it kissed your cervix on every thrust, a heavy, blunt pressure that made your stomach flutter and your vision spark white at the edges. You could feel every ridge, every vein, the way the thick shaft dragged over the swollen, sensitive spot inside you and then punched deeper still. Wetness poured out of you in continuous pulses—slick, hot, dripping down the cleft of your ass, soaking the sheets, coating his balls every time they slapped against you.
The sound was filthy. Obscene. Wet, rhythmic squelches mixed with the soft, broken noises you couldn’t stop making. Your cunt was stretched wide around him, lips flushed dark and shiny, clinging to his cock every time he pulled back so that the shaft glistened in the low light. His thumb worked your clit in mean, tight circles—firm enough that the overstimulated bud twitched and jumped under the pressure, sending sharp sparks of pleasure-pain straight down into your core. You’d already come four times. Maybe five. Your brain had stopped counting somewhere around the third, when he’d held you down and fucked you through the aftershocks until you were sobbing and clenching and flooding his cock all over again.
Kakashi’s visible eye was half-lidded, dark with satisfaction. A soft, almost fond smile curved the corner of his mouth as he watched your face. “Still think I don’t know what I’m doing?” His voice was low, roughened, brushed right against your ear while he ground in deep and stayed there. The pressure against your cervix was blinding. You fluttered helplessly around him and he groaned, soft and pleased, feeling every flutter. “You’re dripping. Look at that. Every time I push in you get wetter. I can feel it running down my balls.”
You tried to answer. All that came out was a cracked, high whimper as he pulled almost all the way out—until only the fat head stretched your entrance—and slammed back in. The impact forced a fresh gush of slick from you. It splattered wetly against his skin. Your walls clenched, greedy, trying to keep him even as the overstimulation made your thighs tremble violently. His free hand slid down to spread your folds wider with two fingers, holding you open so he could watch the way his cock disappeared into you. The other thumb never stopped on your clit—those relentless, mean little circles that kept you right on the knife-edge.
“That’s it,” he murmured, and there was pure smugness in the words. “Come on my cock again. Show me how little I know.”
He didn’t give you a choice. His hips rolled in a deep, grinding circle that dragged the head of his cock over your cervix and your g-spot at the same time. The orgasm tore through you so hard your vision went white and your back arched off the bed. Your cunt locked down like a fist, pulsing in hard, rhythmic spasms, more wetness flooding out around his length in messy spurts. Kakashi fucked you through every second of it—slower now, deep and deliberate, drawing every last tremor out until you were shaking and gasping and trying to twist away from the intensity. Your clit was so swollen it ached under his thumb. Every circle sent fresh aftershocks rolling through your belly.
He didn’t let you recover.
One strong hand pinned your wrists harder above your head, pressing them into the mattress. The other stayed between your legs, thumb still rubbing, keeping the aftershocks rolling even as your oversensitive clit twitched and jumped. He leaned down until his forehead rested against yours, breath warm against your open mouth. You could smell him—clean sweat, the faint residual scent of the mission, the sharper musk of sex. You could taste the salt of his skin when he kissed the corner of your mouth.
“You said I was a virgin,” he reminded you softly, and then he started moving again—long, heavy strokes that forced your body to take every inch. The wet sounds grew louder. Slicker. Your cunt was a mess: swollen, flushed dark pink, dripping, making the filthiest noises every time he bottomed out. You could feel how hard he was, how he twitched inside you every time you fluttered around him. “Said I wouldn’t know what to do with you. Look at you now. Folded up under me, drooling on the sheets, coming so hard you can’t even speak. I can feel your pulse around my cock.”
You tried to close your legs. The position left you helpless. He just kept going, cock bullying that same deep spot over and over until the pleasure edged into something almost painful—sharp, electric, overwhelming. Your walls fluttered and clenched in continuous waves. Fresh slick spilled out with every thrust, running down to soak the sheets beneath your ass. Your nipples were tight, aching points against the cool air; every time his chest brushed them you whimpered.
“Kakashi—” It came out broken, almost a sob. “Too much—I can’t—”
“You can.” His thumb pressed harder on your clit, circling faster, and the next orgasm hit like a wave you couldn’t stop. You arched hard against the hold he had on your wrists, thighs shaking violently, cunt spasming around him in tight, rhythmic pulses that milked him. More wetness flooded out, hot and messy. He fucked you through every second of it, voice low and almost fond as he whispered, “That’s five. Or six. I’ve lost count, but you’re going to keep going. I want to feel you fall apart again. Want to feel how wet this pretty cunt can get when it’s being used properly.”
He didn’t stop. Not when you sobbed. Not when your legs tried to kick weakly against his shoulders. Not when another gush of wetness soaked his cock and the sheets. He just adjusted the angle slightly, driving even deeper, and the head of his cock kissed your cervix with every single thrust until you were babbling nonsense and rolling your hips up to meet him despite yourself. The stretch burned sweetly. The pressure against that deep, sensitive place made your stomach tighten and your toes curl. You could feel every ridge of him, every pulse of blood in his cock, the way the thick shaft forced your walls to mold around him.
The smugness never left his voice. Every time you came he praised you for it—soft, almost gentle words that somehow made the whole thing filthier. Good girl. Look how wet you are. Still think I don’t know what I’m doing? You’re soaking me. Dripping down to the mattress. I can hear how greedy this cunt is. He kept you folded open, kept you pinned, kept bullying that oversensitive sweet spot until your brain really did feel like it was melting out of your ears. Until the only things left in the world were the stretch of him inside you, the relentless pressure on your clit, the wet slap of skin, and the low, satisfied sound he made every time your cunt fluttered and spilled around him again.
When he finally started to lose that perfect control—hips stuttering, breath turning rough against your mouth—he still didn’t pull out. He just buried himself to the hilt, ground against your cervix hard enough that you saw stars, and came with a low, guttural groan that vibrated through both of you. You felt every pulse: thick, hot spurts painting your insides, flooding you so full that excess slick and cum started to leak out around his cock even while he was still buried deep. His thumb kept working your clit through one last, weak, trembling orgasm that left you limp and shaking beneath him, cunt still twitching and milking every last drop.
Even then he didn’t move right away. He stayed deep, still hard enough to keep you stretched full and open, and brushed a soft, almost tender kiss against the corner of your mouth. You could feel his heartbeat against your chest. Feel the slow trickle of cum and your own slick sliding down your ass. Feel how swollen and used your cunt was around him.
“Next time,” he murmured, voice rough but still carrying that same sweet, smug edge, “maybe don’t challenge a man who actually does know what he’s doing.”
You could only manage a broken, wordless sound in answer. Your cunt was still twitching around him, still dripping, still so oversensitive that even the smallest shift of his hips made fresh sparks burst behind your eyes. Kakashi just smiled against your skin, settled his weight a little more firmly over you so you felt every inch of him, and didn’t pull out.
The sight above you is quite… unbelievable. Though, you’re a little too lost in pleasure to really admire how they look. The black leather of Zayne’s belt stands out boldly in contrast to Valko’s warm skin.
The make shift collar should be restricting, suffocating even. But Valko only seems fueled by the feeling of being under the doctor’s strict control. “Remind me…?”
It wasn’t smart, it was genuine. You could see by the look in his golden eyes. Your fingers dig into your palms, aching to hold his face, but his hands are pinning your wrists down to the mattress.
A sharp click of Zayne’s tongue sends a whole new wave of heat through your body, whimpering as Valko’s hips stutter in their pace.
The very pace that Zayne so thoroughly instructed him on, slow yet steady. Not slow enough to hurt, given his girth, the stretch was enough to have your teeth clenching if he thrusted too leisurely.
“No marking her, dog. Your teeth stay here.” You watch Zayne’s free hand come around to grab Valko’s chin, one finger hooking in his cheek and pulling. Revealing the sharp canines that are all too eager to bestow you with the fated bond mark.
To make you his mate, to drive Zayne absolutely wild and make you Valko’s one and only.
“Got it this time?” Zayne releases his cheek with a slick pop, his other hand still gripping the makeshift belt-collar with a white knuckle grip.
“Y-yeah, doc.”
“Good dog.”
The pleasure between your thighs is steadily building, every sinful drag of Valko’s cock as your head reeling. “You still with us, princess?” He’s panting, pupils blown wide and nose visibly twitching as he inhales every bit of your intoxicating scent.
“You’re being such a good girl for us, my love.” Zayne adds behind him, peering over the broad expanse of Valko’s frame to smile down at you. The rosy hues covering his cheekbones as you clenching.
“Oh shit…!” Valko shudders, head falling forward but getting restricted by Zayne’s grip. The sound is a choked gasp, nearly a gurgle as his cock pulses between your fluttering walls. “D-don’t… you can’t look at her like th-that it makes her all tight…”
“Keep moving, dog. Don’t let her lose her orgasm.”
Zayne’s knee comes up, pressing into the muscles of Valko’s ass and forcing him to bottom out into you. The guttural sounds that escape both of you has his cock standing at attention, twitching and leaking precum as Valko audibly pants and tugs at the collar.
Without clear instruction, Valko begins taking the reins with slight hesitation. “Val, please…” you manage to gasp out, eyes watering as you struggle against the death grip on your wrists.
That alone seems to be enough, though you’d wager that Zayne’s silence is all the confirmation the wolf needs before truly pouncing.
Valko’s hips drive into you with new vigor, still mildly held back by Zayne’s grip, but still. Your breasts bounce embarrassingly hard, your eyes screwing shut as you’re unable to swallow any of the noises slipping past your slackening jaw. “Atta boy, fuck her good.”
Zayne’s words send you over the edge, back arching off the mattress as your orgasm unexpectedly slams into you. Stars explode through your vision, so lost in the moment that you barely register the painful swelling between your spread thighs.
By the time Zayne processes what is happening, it’s already too late. He yanks the collar, whipping Valko’s head back until it hits his shoulder. “What are you doing?” There is an icy edge to his tone, one that mildly sobers you up. Valko, however, looks blissed out.
“You said no marking, but you didn’t say I couldn’t knot her, doc.”
I hope this doesn’t suck… I hope I actually cooked… I’ll tag everyone who wanted to be tagged in the comments :3 - Soul
Uramichi Omota felt something more than tolerance for his coworker.
contains: Uramichi being awkward about emotions as per ush. just sweet stuff.
wc: 771
“Uramichi!! You there?”
You opened the door to his green room before he even finished replying. You were more than okay with anything that could await you on the other side of the door. He was almost never ready when you knocked, yet he always let you in.
You never seemed to mind when he met you with the dreariest look known to man, or finding him blankly staring at the wall during breaks. You’ve even walked in to find him midway through strangling Usahara and still came in, greeting him with your usual warm smile—never forced, just the right amount of excitement and familiarity—it made him feel more at ease than any amount of alcohol ever could.
Not that he’s ever said this to you, this was just one of those thoughts that never made it past his blunt and far too honest mouth.
He was standing shirtless in front of his vanity, prodding over sore muscles after a long day of recording that started with showing off his gymnastic abilities, jumping around in all sort of flashy ways for as long as Derekida wanted him to—which was for entirely too long—and ended with a ridiculously tiring scene where he had to be tackled into the ground by Iketeru for their new fan favorite segment about evil germs. He had a couple red spots on the back of his torso, likely from the multiple takes of the harsh fall.
You closed the door behind you before walking up to him, rambling on.
“Utano said you have those extra strong pain killers around. Could you please, please give me one I have the worst headache you could ever-”
You stopped yourself with a stifled giggle at the sight in front of you. “That compression stuff you put on is all wrong.”
“Of course it is.” His tone plain and defeated.
Before he could move to comply with your medicinal request, he felt your hand rest on his shoulder blade while your head peered over his side to look at the vanity, every inch of him tensing firmly in place.
“Do you have more? Oh! Here.” You reached for the unused tape already cut in stripes on his desk. His eyes were glued to your every move through the mirror with furrowed brows until you disappeared behind his well-built frame.
You gently removed the messed-up piece he had tried to put on himself.
“Were you trying to get it over here?” Your question was emphasized by tracing a line over where the prior piece had been halfway placed over, touching as softly as you could over the reddened skin, trying not to prod at any soreness.
“Yes.” His response came with bated breath, struggling to mask how uneasy his entire body language was.
Carefully and with adequate precision you placed the tape over the line you had traced along his lower back.
"Was that the only one you were going to put on?”
“Yes.” It wasn’t, but Uramichi was certain that if you touched him that gingerly again his eyes would start welling up in a way he wouldn’t be able to conceal.
“Arighty. You can always ask me if you ever need help with that, you know. I’m only one door over.” You offered when he finally turned to meet your gaze. It was honest. You weren’t just sliding it in to seem nice; there was no need to attempt impressing him like that. You were truthfully offering him your help. Him, out of all people, being offered your help, your time, you. Maybe it was time for him to start believing God existed after all.
The sound of your hands clasping together knocked him out of his inner enthusiasm. “Now, about that pain killer.”
“Right, yeah. I do have those.” He quickly looked through his drawers, handing you the whole box with a sheepish smile.
“I’ll take just the one, I think.” You laughed, taking out one pill and handing back the box. "My savior." You squeezed his forearm in appreciation before making your way to the door, refraining from hugging him in his half naked state, much to his dismay.
“You’re coming for drinks later?” You asked before you were fully out of the door.
Uramichi had planned to go straight back home that evening.
“I’ll be there.”
It seems plans change.
-
The rest of that break he spent as usual, staring into the vast void of the floor, but this time without his usual internal monologue of infinite despair. Instead, with a head full of you, a fuzzy feeling in his chest, and a stupid smile.
° warnings: ig like a teeeeeeny bit of angst if you squint?? just a small fight that gets resolved, not explicit but suggestive content for sure, cussing, mentions of alcohol, mentions of being drunk, maybe a little ooc uramichi? but i imagine him to be stiff through text, mentions of marriage :3, reader is lwk a menace
° notes: i'll keep this fandom alive guys don't you worry, not proofread! fuck it we ball.
summary — you don't have to call his name for him to be there.
themes — from my old drafts, adeptus!reader, yaksha!reader, established relationship, spooning sex
WC: 623
It was a cool night in the Wangshu Inn. In the darkness of Xiao’s room, moonlight flowed through the open window, its light secondary to the flame of midnight oil. You were both laid on your sides in the sheets, fingers interlocked, hot breaths mixing amidst the soft breeze. Right as the lamp flickered, your wet lips broke apart.
“Oh,” you whispered softly. “Your eyes are so pretty.”
Xiao’s amber irises widened for a moment, his diamond-shaped pupils narrowing to accommodate. A red blush spread through his face, and rather than answering you, he allowed his hips to thrust deeper. Before you could comment on the sudden change, he craned back down for another kiss.
You squeezed his hand harder. The fingers around your thigh reacted similarly, widening your pelvis as they lifted your leg across the sheets. An appreciative moan was quick to leave your lips, muffled almost entirely by his.
He gave you a break to take a breath, hot gusts of air puffing heavy and slow. You lifted your free hand to his face, stroking his cheek as you stared up at him. He stared back quietly, his eyes half-lidded. Neither you nor he spoke a word. You wouldn’t dare to ruin the moment you had been looking forward to for so long.
Suddenly, you felt your lower body tense around Xiao’s thrusting member. Your lips pursed tightly as a familiar warm sensation flooded your abdomen, and the sound of skin-on-skin became far wetter. Xiao let out a soft breath, looking down towards the point where your bodies met, where he slowly moved in and out of you.
“…Tight,” he whispered.
“S-sorry,” you answered abashedly. You knew you had no control over such intimate functions, but it was still embarrassing to suck him in like that. “You know how I am when I…”
You trailed off, and your ears burned with heat. You instead decided to say, “I mean, when you…um…” You closed your eyes. “Sorry.”
Xiao kissed you again, and your tension melted away like the wax of a candle. You carded your fingers through his soft hair, pulling his head to yours as you opened your mouth wider. As if to show you how much he liked that, his hips bucked against yours harder.
Sparks exploded behind your eyelids when his tip rubbed against an incredibly sweet area. You whimpered and ground your hips back against his, desperate for that feeling to repeat. Xiao seemed taken aback at first, but when your cunt tightened around him again, he returned to thrusting like before.
You were panting when you withdrew from his kiss. Staring up at your lover with earnest eyes, you desperately moaned for him.
Pink dusted his cheeks. He moved his hips faster, holding you tighter as he did so, and called you by your name in turn.
That soft timbre, those amber eyes, or his sweet flesh? Which one of these sent you trembling in his arms as contractions of release shot through your core?
You pressed your eyes shut, allowing drool to drip from your lips as you let out small, shocked noises. Xiao’s hips kept steady, until they were eventually slowing to a stop.
He let out a quiet grunt. You felt it hit your insides, warm like a splash of light. You relaxed into his grip once more, letting out a satisfied sigh.
“Alatus…” you murmured with a smile. “I’m tired…”
“Then sleep,” he replied just as quietly. His ears were red, but he whispered, “I’ll be here.”
“Yes,” you answered with a nod. “I’ll be here, too. I promise.”
Xiao’s eyes flicked down for a moment. When he looked back up again, he nodded.
“Goodnight,” he said gently.
You smiled wider.
“Goodnight…”
a/n: some of my moots asked if i had any xiao fics, and i got a nonnie asking if i would ever write xiao, so i dug up this old draft! ive been sitting on it for a while because it's old so i get really in my head about if i like it or not... but hopefully those who like xiao will like it! xD ngl, i probably will not write new works with xiao because im no longer interested in him like that, but i do have old drafts and old mommy kink xiao stuff and .... yeah. shit this a/n is longer than the fic itself. anyway if you want them old drafts just lmk xD
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