she/her, 20
sorry if I interact with someone who doesn't want 18+ people interacting with them, I most likely interacted with you when I was a minor, if I do interact with you it's because I was looking through tags or googled a specific scenario, this applies to people who don't want females interacting with them.
SUMMARY: Blame the Unbirthday revelry, the spiked punch, the swirl of sweets and music. Blame your own daring, if you must—
But you can’t blame fate when you find yourself tangled in the sheets of the one you secretly longed for all along.
CHARACTERS: Trey Clover / Leona Kingscholar / Jade Leech / Jamil Viper / Idia Shroud / Silver x F!Yuu (Reader) 50% chance to a have a few new characters at the end
TAGS: Spicy, a bit of smut, sugar coating fluff, sloppy and a bit of crack, drunk sex.
WARNING: porn with plot, nudity, unprotected sex (always wrap it up!!), oral fixation, oral sex (reciving and giving), fingering, mild gagging, mild dirty talk, pet names, virginity loss.
COMMENTS: All characters are +18 Part two here - Part three here
Divider @enchanthings
Unbirthday parties at NRC always follow the rules—the oh-so-“questionable” rules of Heartslabyul—but for some reason, whether it’s the music or the sheer number of another dorms guests, the tension released after finals, or maybe just the chaos of other dorms sharing food, sweets, and drinks right in Riddle’s territory, this party doesn’t even feel… unusual anymore.
Maybe it’s also the fact that Ace is way too quiet in the corner, hunched over himself, trying (and failing) to hide a rather large vial in his hand. You know that when Ace has that mischievous smile and not a shred of remorse in sight, nothing good can come out of the redhead; and this occasion won’t be an exception. Especially not after you saw him pour that very vial into the punch bowl.
“Trappola tradition,” you hear him say. It seems his older brother has passed down the baton for the worst prank.
Whatever Ace poured in there, the air gets sweeter, tinged with a rainbow of colors, with that feeling you get when you finally come of age and know exactly what you want and desire, and that hint of something not entirely legal for a school campus.
Someone, probably Floyd, starts chanting, “Chug! Chug! Chug!” and Epel’s already on his second drink, trying to prove he can handle alcohol better than anyone. Grim, meanwhile, is busy fishing out slices of floating fruit, muttering about the injustice of being banned from the dessert table.
Riddle tries to keep his composure, doing his best not to think about the countless rules being broken in his own lounge, but the blush on his cheeks and the way he wobbles from side to side give him away—he’s not immune to the spirit of the party… and maybe he’s already had a taste of the punch.
You try to take it easy, but it’s hard when everyone keeps handing you drinks, plates of fruit, little candies with mysterious fillings. The world feels slow and slippery, like honey running through your veins, and suddenly you’re part of a tightly packed crowd in the lounge, shoulders pressed together, glasses raised, clinking them to the beat of a song nobody quite remembers the words to.
You catch Ruggie stuffing three types of chocolate into his pockets—not before slipping a couple into your hands, though. “Eat up! Or you’ll regret it tomorrow.” Kalim drags you onto the dance floor, his laughter easy, his hands never still, bracelets jingling as he spins you through the crowd.
The drinks get sweeter, the candies and fruits stronger. You lose track of how much you’ve had after the third glass. Laughter floats in the air, yours mixing with theirs.
You remember Vil’s perfume enveloping you as his knuckles brush along your cheek, making you shiver. “Having fun, darling?”
You just nod before walking to the other side of the room to separate Ace and Deuce—apparently both are on the verge of causing nuclear disaster in the middle of the lounge over who can fit more marshmallows in their mouth. Out of the corner of your eye, you spot Leona sprawling even lazier than usual across the sofa, and Malleus… well, laughing and making the air tremble a little.
Everything that came after you remember in lazy waves: laughter blooming warm in your chest, the tickle of someone’s breath on your ear; someone tucking a wildflower behind your ear—was it a white or red rose? It doesn’t matter, 'cause seconds later someone else snatches it away with their teeth and a grin that’s barely even trying to be subtle.
The music pounds in your ears until, at some point, everything settles and you’re wrapped in silence. You remember flashes in that quiet: lips tasting of chocolate pressed to yours, teeth biting your throat, hands brushing your skin under your clothes, laughter melting into moans.
Your hands are everywhere, entwined with someone else’s, tangled in soft strands of hair, clutching a shirt as you fumble with the buttons, at a belt, at the bedsheets, everything is heat, color, and taste. The world tilts and spins and you let go, trusting in the madness of it all, in the hands gripping your waist, in the mouth claiming you, in that lovely sensation of being wanted, claimed, and utterly ruined all at once and in every possible way.
When you finally wake up, the light is all wrong and comes in without asking permission, your thighs feel heavy and there’s that pleasant tingle between them, something itches at your neck, and you’ve got hair in your face.
Your head hurts—no, scratch that, your head is pounding and trying to open your eyes is a very bad idea right now. You take a deep breath and the pain’s still there, hammering away, demanding you face the day.
╌╌╌╌╌╌𖤐☽༓☾𖤐╌╌╌╌╌╌𖤐☽༓☾𖤐╌╌╌╌
Trey
When you slowly turn your head, you find Trey sleeping on his stomach, one lazy arm under the pillow, hair a mess but annoyingly attractive. You assume his glasses are on his nightstand, the sheets dangerously low over his hips.
His hips… bare.
His chest is bare too.
You look down at your own body and—bingo—you’re naked too.
And these aren’t your sheets, this isn’t your pillow, and obviously, this isn’t your dorm bed.
Holy… fuck.
You try to remember, even with the pounding headache, half mortified, half… half what, exactly? Surprised? Embarrassed? Or just utterly satisfied to have such a god lying next to you?
Flashes hit you without warning: the warmth of Trey’s hand guiding you away from the crowd, his soft laughter by your ear, both of you laughing at some joke only the two of you found funny, stumbling together until you crashed into bed.
The taste of icing and the sweetness of strawberries on Trey’s lips when he kissed you fiercely; did he feed you with his fingers, or did you steal the flavor right from his mouth?
His hands roaming every inch of you, his palms warm; his tongue scandalous, licking you slow and deep, teasing your clit, sliding between your wet folds, holding your hips so you couldn’t escape.
Him straightening up, wiping his mouth with his thumb, looking you right in the eyes.
You felt the tip of his cock pressing against your wet pussy, sliding in slowly, panting against your lips, deep strokes, but completely sensual.
“You like how I fill you up, right? You’re so wet, so beautiful,” he’d murmured against your ear, holding one of your legs up over his shoulder to push even deeper.
The way he held both your legs over his shoulders, folding you in half, thrusting over and over, deep, hitting your sweet spot, probably making you scream.
Trey’s name on your lips when he made you cum, slipping two fingers inside you to stretch you even more while his cock was still buried deep.
The moment he held you after it was all over, the fingers of one hand tangled in your hair and the other lazily drawing circles on your back.
Trey shifts, stretching and opening one eye, still half-asleep. He gives you a small, crooked smile when he sees you—serene… and breath taking.
“Good morning.”
Goddamn, even his voice is too sexy...add that rough, low tone and you’re already wet again.
“Did you sleep well? Headache?”
Is it that obvious?
“Uh… yeah, yeah, a little.”
Trey sits up and the sheets slide dangerously lower, lower, on his hips. You try not to look… but fail.
Obviously you fail, who are we kidding? The view of this man’s torso alone is enough to make you start drooling. Those strong arms from all that kneading, the abs, the broad shoulders, and…
Marks?
He has marks on his neck?
Some are obviously hickeys… others look like the start of scratches that trail down his back.
You bite your lip, desperate to look at his back, to see the scratches you obviously left, and see how strong his muscles are there.
“Did we…?” It’s a dumb question—you obviously had sex—but you need to hear it from him.
“Yup… several times, actually.”
The heat that rushes to your cheeks is uncontrollable, almost the same shade of red as his bed curtains.
Holy. Fucking. Shit.
“Are you regretting it?”
Please, this man can’t be any sweeter or he’d cause diabetes.
Trey kisses your temple when he realizes there’s not even a hint of regret, or fear, or doubt.
Then, he gets up and starts looking for something to wear before going to get breakfast.
OH MY GOD THAT BODY!!!
And the scratch marks from your nails down his back, and his ass… and his cock, half-hard.
Trey notices you’re basically devouring him with your eyes… “Do you want breakfast, or do you want me to jog your memory with another round?”
He winks at you before pulling on his glasses, boxers and uniform pants and leaving the room to get you something to eat and something for your hangover.
Ah… you could die peacefully in that bed.
Leona
It’s the heat that you notice first—something heavy and solid pressing against you from behind, half-sprawled over your side, as if you were a possession. His possession
Your nose fills with a musky, warm, spiced scent, with hints of something… wild. It’s accompanied by the soft, steady sound of breathing.
You try to open your eyes, but the light only makes things worse, so you’re forced to rely on your other instincts and sensations.
You feel something wrapping around your leg, something soft, moving, tickling you lightly with part of its fur.
Wait… fur?
Is he holding you with a tail?
A TAIL?!
You force one eye open and the first thing you see, in all its glorious splendor, is Leona’s bare chest pressed against your back, one arm wrapped around your stomach.
You follow the line of that arm and realize you’re naked too…
You lift the sheets. Yep. Very naked.
Your skin tingles and your hips ache, your thighs feel like jelly, clear evidence that the bed wasn’t used just for sleeping.
You try to move, but Leona’s arm is like an iron bar, stopping you from even sitting up, his fingers tightening possessively on your hip. A shiver runs down your spine when you feel his tail slide upward, his ears twitch.
“Going somewhere, little mouse?” His voice is deep and rough right by your ear.
You turn your head and meet the lion’s wide green eyes, far too awake for this early in the morning. He gives you a half-smile, one fang showing, dangerously smug and a little arrogant… well, very arrogant.
That look is unmistakably that of a predator about to pounce on its prey.
You pull the sheets up to cover yourself a bit more, as if there were any way to hide a nakedness that had clearly already been explored hours ago for… quite a while.
“What happened last night?” Your mind is racing and your heart feels like it’s about to leap out of your chest.
Leona growls softly, though he doesn’t seem to care in the slightest that you’re covering your “modesty.”
“After how loud you were all night, I figured you’d remember at least something.”
Your face goes nuclear red. You clutch the sheet tighter, but it’s useless. You’re in his bed, in his territory.
“Did we… sleep together?”
“Sleep?” You hear a low, amused scoff from his chest. “Oh, we did more than sleep… want me to remind you?”
He doesn’t need to. Your body does it for him.
Not only do you feel the dampness between your thighs, but there are bite marks along them, already starting to bruise, traitors that reveal just how intimate last night was.
You can feel a few on your neck and collarbone too; they don’t hurt, but you know they’re going to be bright red well into the morning.
Your own memories begin to surface: your hands in his hair as you both devoured each other’s mouths in the hallway, his low, rough voice murmuring when he finally pulled back, “Do you want me to take you to my bed, or do you want me to wreck you right here in the hallway?”
His lips moving from your shoulder down to your breasts, massaging one with his large palm while he trapped your nipple between his lips, licking it and making you arch your back.
“Say my name, again. Do it again” every time you moaned with each thrust. Your face buried in the pillow while he took you from behind, relentless and unhurried, panting heavily over you.
His hands roaming your entire body, strong, confident, taking what he wanted without asking; his teeth grazing your neck. Was it just one bite he left, or several?
His name on your lips every time he made you cum, even when he was nowhere near finishing himself. Pride mixing with hunger as he felt you clench those soft walls around his cock.
The boldness in your voice when you begged for more and more. “Please, harder… harder, Leona” How could he possibly say no?
You remember being on top of him, legs spread wide as you rode him desperately, thighs shaking; him leaning back, hands behind his head, enjoying his private show.
His strong hands on your ass, “helping” you move faster, impaling you with every thrust.
Leona coming inside you, holding you tight against him. “That’s it, little mouse, fill yourself up with me”
“You were wild—I barely managed to get your clothes off,” Leona pulls you out of your thoughts as he props himself up on one arm without a hint of shame, his body fully on display.
“Not that I’m complaining. You were pretty insistent when you rode me and asked for a second round. And a third.”
You let out a small squeak and cover your face with both hands. “Please, stop.”
Leona straightens and takes your hands in his, pinning them above your head against the pillow; he flips you onto your back with ridiculous ease, looming over you with a feral grin. You’re caged, completely at his mercy.
And gods, his body lit by the morning sunlight is far too delicious.
“You look incredibly tempting.” His gaze roams over your face and body, barely covered by the sheets.
He gives your shoulder a small bite and laughs when you let out a little yelp. “Want another round? Or breakfast so you don’t pass out on top of me?”
You glare at him, cheeks burning; you want to strangle him. Or kiss him. Possibly both.
“Breakfast… then we’ll see.”
He pecks your lips softly. “Good girl.” And then he gets out of bed without the slightest bit of modesty, tail swaying, letting you admire the scratch marks trailing down his back.
Jade
Why does the silence feel like you’ve been swallowed by the sea?
And why does it smell like seawater? And sea salt?
The room is so dim that the few rays of light filtering through the curtains make strange patterns on the bed.
And it’s a kind of dimness you haven’t seen in Ramshackle for a long time… which means, this is not your room.
Everything hurts; your throat is raw, your lips are swollen, your body heavy, like something squeezed you until there was nothing left.
You try to move but there’s a hand on your belly, a thumb lazily drawing small circles on your bare skin.
Bare skin…
BARE SKIN?!?!
You sit up—and it’s a very bad idea. The hangover slams into your head and you bring your hand up to your temple.
“Ah… looks like you’ve got a hangover, and considering how eager you were last night…”
You turn your head to find Jade’s smile—small and polite, but absolutely terrifying.
“Does my pearl need something to make her morning… more productive?”
“Jade…” your voice comes out hoarse and rough, and you cough, trying to clear the discomfort.
“Ah, I warned you I might wear you out. Seems I was right, hm?”
The memories hit you so hard they make your headache worse:
Jade pulling you away from the party, an astute glint in his eyes and his voice serene yet venomous, coaxing you into the comfort of his room—his bed.
His hands stripping away every piece of clothing until you stood naked before him, his fingers mapping your sensitive skin, anticipating every tremor, seeking out what made you sigh, moan, or arch.
Your boldness as you made him sit and you knelt in front of him, your lips around his cock, trying to take him deeper and deeper. His praises made your pussy wet and made you want to do better, his hands in your hair guiding you, helping you choke on him.
Your eyes brimming with tears when you looked up and saw him smiling, pleased, fingers caressing your cheek before plunging you into a fast, unkind rhythm, the tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat.
Your own mouth screaming in pleasure as he took you from behind, you on all fours on the bed, ass up, completely at the mercy of his hands and hips.
“Come on, little pearl, cum for me” the authority in his voice, impossible to resist, every word a praise tangled with a command.
Your climax hitting so hard it left you sprawled on the bed; Jade grabbing your head so you couldn’t move, your screams muffled by the pillow as he found a better angle to fuck you, making you cum again.
The taste of his cum when he made you take him back into your mouth and spill inside.
You swallow, trying to speak, but all that comes out is a shaky, ruined, “holy shit”
He runs his thumb over your hip bone, where the bruise from his grip is already fading… only to grab you there again, just as hard as you barely remember.
“Overwhelmed, maybe? Though I must say… you were so hungry for me you nearly made me mistake you for a predator.”
Jade sits up and the sheets slide even lower on his hips. He’s so tall it feels like he could cover you completely. He admires the bites and marks he left all over your chest, shoulders, and neck.
You’re his own personal canvas, and the fact that there are still places left unmarked… it’s intoxicating to him.
He pushes you back, slipping between your legs again, hands running along your sides before gripping your thighs and positioning them around his hips.
“Dare to tell me you regret it, little one.” When you shake your head, terrified but just as aroused, he adjusts your legs around his hips, letting you feel how half-hard and hungry for you he still is.
“Excellent,” he kisses the tip of your nose before rolling his hips, brushing against your clit. “So, do you want another round or some tea for that poor throat?”
You shiver, completely lost to his movements and the pleasure slowly building inside you.
“I won’t let you surface just yet, my pearl”
Jamil
For a few blissful seconds you think you’re safe in your own bed, within the walls of Ramshackle… until the scent of countless spices fills the air. Clove, cinnamon, something deep and intoxicating, spicy.
Yeah… you’re not in Ramshackle.
Is it wise to open your eyes with the sunlight filtering in through the window? Unfortunately, you’ll have to.
Eyes open and a hammering headache, you recognize the décor: elegant, gold details, Arabic architecture… Looks like you ended up in Scarabia.
Okay, one problem solved; now… who’s breathing against your neck, slow and steady?
You turn just enough to see the mess of dark tousled hair belonging to Jamil, splayed across the sheets and pillow. He’s on his stomach, facing you, eyes closed but with a small smile on his lips; his arm stretched out across your hips, giving you slow, gentle caresses.
You blink—once, twice, three times.
One more, just to give your brain a chance to process that his torso is bare and the sheets are dangerously low.
You freeze, memories hitting you in dizzying flashes through your hangover: his eyes shining in the half-light, pinning you with his gaze from across the lounge, like he was drawing you to him with nothing but his eyes.
Your body pressed to his while he whispered something in your ear that had nothing to do with the party, but still made your cheeks flush… more than they already were from the punch.
His hands, so careful with everything he handles, guiding you into a different kind of dance—one that didn’t need music or an audience; your laughter mixing with his before finding your lips, his mouth hungry.
The taste of spicy spices, and a hint of mint, with every kiss and stroke of his tongue across your skin, intoxicating and making you shiver.
Jamil kneeling at the edge of the bed, grabbing your feet and pulling you toward the edge so he could run his tongue along your soaked folds and slip it inside. Sucking on your clit until you were shaking.
The cry of his name when he made you cum with his fingers inside, curved and massaging your most sensitive spot.
His voice in your ear, soft but commanding, ordering, “Look at me, habibti” every word coaxing you closer to the edge. Sharp images of your wrists pinned above your head by his hands, of how he made you arch for him, Jamil’s long hair falling over your face as he watched you from above, his pupils blown wide and a bead of sweat trailing down his neck.
Your legs shaking, the pressure of his hand on your throat while he pounded into you again and again, his hips driving hard, his abs rubbing against your belly; his movements calculated, slow when you were desperate, brutal when you begged.
You let out a whimper, and that’s when Jamil opens his eyes. He blinks, then his gaze sharpens, lazy and sly.
“Morning”
Your mouth is dry, cheeks blazing. “Oh my Sevens… what happened last night?”
Jamil kisses your shoulder, moving up to your collarbone, your neck, up to your jaw before giving you a little bite.
“You don’t remember anything?”
“Fr-fragments.”
You feel his hand sliding down your thigh… and realize you’re also naked under the sheets.
Okay, yep, we fucked… got it.
“You were bold. Even eager.”
His hand slides up, up, reaching the wetness between your legs. Your skin lights up and a jolt runs down your spine.
“I regret not doing this sooner,” is all he says before claiming your lips again, his fingers slipping inside.
You moan into his mouth, biting his lower lip, heart stumbling—but all you care about is melting in Jamil’s arms.
“Let me take care of you, habibti,” he murmurs, stroking your cheek with his thumb. “I’ll make you forget about your hangover”
And when Jamil pulls you back under the sheets, you’re pretty sure you don’t want to remember anything but this.
Idia
The silence in the room is so intense it feels like you can hear your own breathing and heartbeat.
The first thing you notice is that the bed feels… off—not the pseudo-comfort you remember from your bed in Ramshackle.
Second, your head is about to explode; third, you’re naked and there’s a chill in the air, as if warmth doesn’t exist, making every hair on your body stand on end.
You crack one eye open, grateful that the blue light is diffuse and not too harsh, though it still hurts to look at.
Blue light… you turn your head and see a glowing skull. On the other side, way too many monitors crammed onto a single desk, one of those screens has thirty code windows open.
You bolt upright when you realize you’re not just in Idia’s room… you’re completely naked in Idia’s room.
There’s a groan beside you, the creak of bedsheets, and movement.
You turn around; a chaos of blue hair, pale bare shoulders, and a pair of yellow glowing eyes blinking at you from behind a curtain of messy hair.
Idia stares at you, mouth open, emitting a high-pitched, static-like whine; the ends of his blue hair turning pink, then pure red from embarrassment.
There’s a sound like a computer blue-screening right before Idia lets out a strangled squeak, scrambling backwards to put distance between you...then promptly falls off the bed with a loud crash.
“HOLY SHIT, IDIA!! ARE YOU ALRIGHT?”
“N-NO!! I’M NOT OKAY!! Wh-what did we do last night? Ohgodoh godohgodohgod—”
Idia grabs a pillow, but no matter how hard he tries, he’s bigger and taller than it.
He’s about to combust
“I died last night and on my way to the dorm something hit my head and I died again, and got isekai’d to some forbidden erotic world…”
You reach over and pinch his arm hard to bring him back to reality. “Ow!”
“This is real, Idia! We actually had sex!”
Heat rushes up your neck as flashes of last night come back: your hands on his, surprisingly warm, pulling him close to you in the middle of the party. Shy smiles, nervous giggles.
Idia’s inexperienced lips on your neck, his hands awkwardly squeezing your hips until you taught him how to hold you right.
His monotone voice now a whisper, full of need and want, “Are you sure? I-I’ve never—” and yours, suddenly bold, telling him you want him now.
The blue fire of his hair lighting up the darkness of his room and the naked skin of you both; the nervous way he looked at you and touched you, learning with every move of your hands over his on your hips, your breasts.
His eyes going wide as you guided his fingers to your clit and whispered in his ear how wet you were for him; his long, slender fingers working magic between your folds, barely realizing what he was doing.
Idia stammering as he tried to put on the condom backwards and failed—twice—begging you for help between gasps and awkward laughter. “Why is this so complicated? This… never happens in doujins…”
The exact moment he entered you for the first time, his breath hitching, a sharp, surprised moan as he felt himself inside you—slick and completely ready for him to go deeper, harder; to be entirely his.
Him finishing ‘embarrassingly’ fast (according to him). But all it did was make you want another round, and another, and another.
His lips traveling down your neck and, in a moment of sheer daring and lust, squeezing your breasts together to suck and bite your nipples at the same time, making you arch your back to give him more and more.
The way he moaned your name when you rode him for the first time, desperate not to finish too soon again, but absolutely mesmerized by the sight of your body so free and needy for him.
You taking complete control, hands on his chest, grinding your hips to rub your clit against his pelvis and clench your soft walls around his cock.
Idia groans with embarrassment, interrupting your lascivious memories.
“I-it’s not like… I mean, I’m not complaining or anything, it’s just… this is… max difficulty! Like, y-you’re like a goddess… most beautiful OP character… y-yeah and I—”
“And you’re Idia… was it at least good for you?”
His voice turns to static and he locks eyes with you in a rare burst of confidence.
“Good?! It was… it was overlord level. Uh. You were… really… really—”
Another memory hits: Idia clutching the sheets with every roll of your hips, moaning in time with you. His hands grabbing your hips, squeezing your thighs and holding on to you like his life depended on it.
After a while, still avoiding your gaze, Idia returns to the bed, hiding behind the pillow again. It’s almost cute...
No, it’s very cute. And funny.
You take the pillow away and let him curl up beside you again. For now, both of you log out of reality outside his room and let Idia melt under your touch.
Game over for virginity, am I right?
Silver
You wake up with the weight of an arm draped across your waist and the warmth of a body pressed against your back. The bed is way too comfortable, and your body… way too happy, though aching and with a hangover that could flatten you in the sun.
Little memories float to the surface: lights, very loud music, punch spiked with alcohol, a whirlwind of colors… and something silver blurring your vision.
Silver’s hair between your fingers as you kissed, his eyes—clear and bright—locked on yours in the middle of the chaos, giving you a look that told you both to take this moment somewhere else.
The feel of soft, sweet sheets on your bare skin stops your thoughts in their tracks, making you open your eyes and turn your head to the side.
Girl… you’ve got Silver, completely naked, behind you. His strong, well-trained arm pinning you against his chest.
Ahhhh… his chest; bare, rising and falling in a steady rhythm. He’s beautiful in that fairytale way that only storybooks promise.
How can someone, even while asleep, look so utterly tempting?
Why is there a tingling between your legs? And why can’t you feel them? Or rather… why do they feel so wet?
Your heart skips several beats. Holy. Shit.
I slept with Silver. I slept with Silver.
You can’t stop staring at the perfect physique of the man beside you, so muscular, drinking in the view, flashes of the night before returning in blinding white bursts:
Your laughter muffled against his shoulder in the middle of the makeshift dance floor, his voice low but steady whispering sweet things—and something that made your pussy throb, needy and expectant. The warmth of his hand on your waist as he led you to a deserted hallway to devour your mouth right there.
The taste of his lips, sweet and a little shy at first, but no less hungry and full of desire, his tongue sliding into your mouth and both hands gripping your thighs to lift you up and pin you to the wall.
His fingers playing with every button and fold of your clothes, peeling you out of each layer until you were completely exposed for him; the pressure as they slipped inside you and a moan escaped your lips.
His warm, solid body over you, until he sat you on his lap; face to face, your breasts pressed to his chest, your nipples rubbing against his skin as you bounced with each thrust of his hips, his arms holding you tight against him.
Gentle, noble kisses on your cheeks, your shoulders, even your knuckles; kissing you softly, slowly, savoring you and making you feel wanted and loved.
His cock sliding in and out of your dripping pussy with ease, not too fast, not too slow, wanting to set a pace that could last all night.
But your moans and pleas for him to go faster—“More, Silver, please, more”—made it a little difficult.
“I’ll give you everything, beautiful, just hold on tight”
And you did; to his shoulders, his arms, even to the sheets themselves when the pace sped up, laying you down on the bed, your legs thrown over his shoulders, the new angle making you cum again and again and again, so easily it was almost ridiculous.
You feel the tingling intensify down low and you shift.
Silver stirs and blinks awake. A few seconds of confusion before he notices your face, your bare shoulders, the way you’re clutching the sheet… adorable.
“Good morning beautiful”
And he says it with the most natural, gentle tone in the world.
“Are you alright?” he squeezes your waist and pulls you a little closer.
Boom, straight to the heart.
For a moment, he hesitates, thinking maybe… maybe, there’s regret in your eyes, maybe even shame.
Finding none, he gives you a soft kiss on the forehead and settles you against his chest; he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear.
“You look so beautiful in the morning, I want to wake up like this every day”
A soft kiss on your cheek, then another on your nose, then one more on your neck.
And, to finish, one slow, sweet kiss on your lips—savoring the promise of more in the future.
“If you want me to stop, just tell me.”
Anticipation shivers under your skin.
“Don’t stop”
╌╌╌╌╌╌𖤐☽༓☾𖤐╌╌╌╌╌╌𖤐☽༓☾𖤐╌╌╌╌
Ace … and ... Deuce
You wake up with the worst hangover of your life—moving is a lost cause and opening your eyes isn’t even an option. You feel like you might throw up at any second and then just go back to sleep.
There’s a pounding behind your eyes, the kind that makes you swear you’ll never drink punch again… never drink punch that’s been tampered with by Ace; hell, you’ll never go to another party again.
You roll over and two things hit you: first, you’re naked, like, obscenely naked; second, someone is snoring rudely right in your ear.
A sharp flash stabs through your skull. You remember being squished from all sides while dancing, multiple hands on your waist, and two pairs of lips on your neck.
Turning left, you see Ace waking up. Looks like the hangover is killing him too. He grabs his head as he sits up, elbow propped on the mattress, lets out a heavy sigh and tries to open his eyes—and they lock with yours.
God knows how, but this bastardly redhead manages to give you the cockiest, most infuriating grin that makes you want to punch him right in the face.
“Good morning, sleeping beauty”
“Call me that again and I’ll shove your uniform shoe up your ass, Ace.”
Ace just grins wider and lets out a little laugh… followed by a pained groan as he closes his eyes, keeping the pain under control.
You smack his arm to wipe that smile off his face...and realize he’s just as naked as you.
“Ace… what the hell did you do?”
You blush, covering yourself with the sheets as much as you can, actually, even more. All that’s left is to cover your face and you’d be a mummy.
“Aww, don’t make that face, you’re the one who climbed on top of me after the punch.”
“You’re the one who spiked it!!”
“Didn’t hear you complaining when you were begging us for more—”
You smack him on the head with a pillow; your shrieks and his, plus the loud thump of the pillow, echo through the whole room.
“What the fuck… why are you two so noisy?”
Deuce’s voice sounds from behind you, raspy and just as hungover as you two.
You look at him… he looks at you… his eyes travel down to his own equally naked body… Confusion turns to horror, horror into high-pitched groans.
“What happened? What did we do? Why are we naked?!”
Between the throbbing headache and Deuce’s panicking, you try to remember a little more of this… wild rebellious night.
You remember being with the dynamic duo on the dance floor, Ace whispering dirty promises in your ear, Deuce pulling you closer to him. Then both of them trapping you between them.
Their taste—Ace like candy and mischief, Deuce like cinnamon and adrenaline.
The three of you running through Ramshackle’s halls, stumbling, sometimes collapsing in a tangle of laughs, hands, and feet.
The bed—Sevens, the bed. Sheets scattered everywhere; Ace’s mouth on your neck, Deuce’s trembling hands pulling off your clothes, both fighting over who would take off the last piece.
Spoiler: both of them did it with confident hands before lunging for your lips, your breasts, your legs.
Kisses mixed with laughter, limbs tangled, the chemistry between these two as they made you cume; sloppy at first, then more assured.
The pressure of one sliding between your legs, spreading you open and burying himself deep; the other opening your lips to take him in your mouth. Both working as a team, building a rhythm, admiring how your body adapted to being fucked from both ends.
“Look how we’re breaking you, baby. You’re so wet… I could drown in here,” Ace groaning, rough and loud, grabbing your hair and pushing you down on Deuce’s pelvis with every thrust.
“That’s it, pretty, just like that, don’t stop, swallow it all,” Deuce murmuring as his cock slides down your throat, robbing you of breath for a few delicious seconds.
The way they took turns—one in your pussy, the other in your mouth… but you also remember a sharper pressure at your ass.
The moment when they both wanted to be in your wet pussy together; when one pulled out, the other pushed in, stretching you until you screamed their names, rubbing together inside your softest, most sensitive spot.
The moment you didn’t just cum with both their cocks inside, but, thanks to the pressure and the delicious way they filled you...you squirted, soaking the bed, your belly, and probably Ace’s too.
You moaned, screamed, writhed; the boys turned on by seeing you so free, so full of them, Ace twisting your already-sensitive nipples, Deuce running his tongue over your dripping pussy.
Dizzy flashes of being held in the air, legs around Deuce hips, hands and arms held by Ace, your arms wrapped around his waist too. Each of them fucking you from a different end, watching your tits bounce with every thrust; a mess of spit, sweat, tears, and their cum leaking from both your holes.
The three of you collapsed in bed, panting; Deuce’s arm wrapped around your waist, Ace curled around your chest, fondling your extra-sensitive tit in a playful way—until he switched to gentle caresses. Both seeking your warmth and your touch.
Your breath catches with all the memories. The heat rises not just to your cheeks, but a lot, lot lower.
“I’m never drinking your punch ever again,” Deuce growls, holding his head.
“Don’t you wanna know how good we are at sharing this pretty princess?”
Deuce tosses a pillow at him, but with no force, Ace catches it with one hand, laughing.
The redhead just gets cockier, trapping you in his arms, your back pressed to his chest. You feel his lips leaving little kisses on your nape and cheeks.
Deuce, still hungover and dying of embarrassment, scoots in front of you, wrapping you up with one strong… very strong… arm.
Both of them attack you with twice as many kisses.
Your head may be pounding, but at least you’re laughing in the arms of these two idiots.
I know the self-aware Phainon is supposed to be focused on him but we need to give Sunday some love too💔 poor man is tired ever since we got Phainon😭💔💔
what about teasing (self aware) Phainon and making him jealous on purpose and only talking about other characters rather than him😭
chat did i cook?
Here is another ver of this
⇥ 900 EVENT MASTERLIST
sorry phai, dan heng has my heart (one day ill e6 u dan heng pt.. one day...)
inspired by @sugarcubesandinsanity post (why do u have such perfect posts and it somehow matches my requests?? HHAWHF)
Kazuha's snuggles are the best, especially when he bundles you up in his haori. Even when you had initially tried to surprise him with a back hug earlier, he had already knew.
Spinning around last minute to catch you in his arms, and hold you tight against him. Before you knew it, you both were already laying down and cuddling happily.
The soothing scent of him, comforting warmth, and the light nudges of his nose against wherever he felt the need to press his face in. Not to mention the sweet little kisses he gives every now and then that makes you heart flutter. You can't help but reciprocate.
"Can you hum for me?"
You had asked after a few more kisses. He couldn't help a light laugh as he agreed. He knew exactly how much you loved his voice.
bunny's been obsessing over the baking club president for weeks, but hasn't made a move, believing he's simply too intense for the sweetheart handing out leftover pastries in the hall. so color him surprised when he finally does act on his needs, and he's faced with the fact that some people will always be better than him. even at his own game. ᯓᡣ𐭩 (wc:2707)
very NSFW minors will be blocked! cw: fem!reader, college!au, bunny is a freak but reader is wayy better at this stuff, bakingclubpresident!reader, dom!reader, sub!bunny turned into bunny explores his need for praise and softness into handjob with a bunch of praise, use of 'good boy'. for these requests!
sweat drips down bunny’s forehead, the afternoon sun shining harshly upon the football field. a break, the much needed respite from the surprisingly intense training. his coach, lavinho, never takes stuff this seriously. at least, unless it’s about going up against his rival, noel noa’s team.
the whole tournament is but a part of the thoughts plaguing bunny’s mind. the movement near the courtyard has more or less been his obsession the past few weeks.
you. the cute, cheerful and generous baking club president who loves to hand out leftover pastries to tired students instead of hoarding them at home. he’s lost count of how many times he wished to take you up on the offer, but the stern look from his coach was enough to discourage him. besides, a man like bunny, a man who wants to die above all else, is not suited for someone like you. and while usually he’d relish in the possibility of bringing someone to tears, to the edge of despair as they beg and whine for him… he simply can’t do that to you. even a freak like him has his limits.
a chuckle startles him out of his thoughts, his coach’s grating voice teasing him beyond what the heat allows him to handle. “whatcha lookin’at? is it that girl again?”
bunny just nods.
“creep,” the man follows up, just as humorous still, “just talk to her instead of starin’. you’ve been doin’ it for weeks!”
lavinho slaps bunny’s shoulder, as if pushing him to get up. “don’t get enticed by the sweets, though. i need you in tiptop shape!”
“she’s too soft,” bunny sighs, “i’d break her.”
the older man bursts out laughing, pushing bunny even more, “just go! i bet girls like that enjoy a little roughousin’.”
being so polite all the time truly does work in one’s favor, bunny thinks to himself. he enjoys being underestimated, it gives him the benefit of the doubt. it’s good that lavinho thinks he was joking, even if he wasn’t.
knowing the fool wouldn’t let up, bunny gets up from the bench and makes his way over. at least he’s got an excuse this time, not that he’ll tell you the details of it.
your little apron, pink as always, flails in the tiny gusts of wind flowing through the nearby trees. a few flour stains here and there, paired with a bit of it on your cheek, you’ve never looked cuter to him. all up in your element, talking to people like it’s no problem, like they’re not draining all your energy by just being in your presence. his heart, usually devoid of much besides dread, fills up as you take notice of him approaching, your smile widening.
“hello, bunny!” oh, you know him by name. how sweet of you. and a little gut churning. “would you like a pastry? i’ve got some cinnamon rolls left~”
he shakes his head, stopping a few steps away, “no, thank you. i’m on a diet.”
your little nod, and the fall of your expression as you can’t hide the bit of disappointment has a smug little smile creeping onto his face. “besides, i don’t think it’d be as sweet as you anyway.”
your lips purse, clearly not very impressed. it does nothing to deter him, though. he’s already here. might as well.
“what’s with the look, amor?” he steps closer, leaning down so your faces are equal level. “i’m just being nice, aren’t i? are you afraid of getting burnt already?”
your breath hits his face as you huff, his smile only widening at your defiant expression, “i’m not as soft as i look.”
oh? how curious. the surprise he feels cannot be understated, his eyes widening marginally. you definitely don’t look like you’d have much defiance in you at all, much less with his face right before yours. most people cower when he walks past. his imposing height, the menacing aura he carries as your school’s star striker, while his face is mostly obstructed by both a cap and the hood of his hoodie. his smile is usually creepy at best, but it somehow has droves of women attracted to him. he quietly hoped it’d be the same for you, but maybe having to work for it this time will end up being worth it.
never did he think working for it would mean this.
being late to practice because he’s helping you scrub dishes, elbows deep in soapy water. he’s so concentrated on doing it well it kind of pisses him off. not to mention it’s now apparently your turn to be the smug asshole as you supervise him with your hands propped up on your waist. “the whisks are the most annoying, but you can do it, can’t you? hmm? sir master striker?”
he bites the inside of his cheek, “of course, ma’am,” he musters through gritted teeth.
how’d he get here? no fucking idea. he’s not a man who submits, ever. he tramples over people and their dreams weekly when he evens them with the ground with each win. so why is it that a singular look from you has him nodding his head, rushing to obey whatever you just demanded of him? he could get any girl he wanted right now, and not have to put up with this bullshit-
“thank you, bunny~ you’re such a good boy.”
oh. right. that’s why.
⊹ ࣪𓍢ִ໋⋆🍰ೀ⋆
it’s not like you did it on purpose.. or maybe you did. another annoying prick approaching you to take advantage of your politeness was never more than a brief inconvenience on any other day, but when it’s someone like bunny, you just couldn’t help yourself from at least trying to put him in his place. the idea of reducing someone like him to his knees was thrilling, to say the least.
so outwardly dominant, you didn’t expect him to fold as quickly as he did, but it sure was a whole lotta fun.
after he approached you while on break from his training, he’s become more vocal when in your vicinity. you’re not oblivious; his staring did eventually become a cause for concern so it was more than relieving when he finally did make his move. as irritating as his cockiness may be.
the memory is still fresh in your mind, how a singular dare managed to tangle him under your spell
“i’m not as sweet as i look,” you would've crossed your arms had you not been holding the tray. “besides, you don’t look like my type at all.”
that seemed to peak his interest. with brows raised, he smirked down at you then, “what is your type, amor?”
with narrowed eyes you scan the man who’s oozing confidence in spite of the initial rejection. he knows he’s of interest to you, even if he supposedly ‘not your type’. that truly does make him even more infuriating. you tilt your chin upwards defiantly, the urge to knock him down a couple pegs only strengthens.
“someone who knows their place.”
in no way did you ever imagine he’d find his place so easily. now, walking next to you with his hands occupied by grocery bags full of stuff you’ll be needing for your next baking adventure, he is very insistent on avoiding eye contact. even if his hand does brush yours very unapologetically every now and again.
“you’re so helpful, bunny,” you praise, “i never expected you to be so… eager.”
“‘m not eager,” he mumbles under his breath, “this is just the polite thing to do.”
you hum, giggling under your nose, “whatever you say.”
once inside your apartment, he sets the bags down on your kitchen counter. he’s supposed to leave, and you’re waiting for him to do so, and yet, he lingers awkwardly. timid movements rustle the bags as he ‘inspects’ them.
“thank you for your help,” you eye him curiously.
he nods, yet doesn’t make any moves to actually leave. eyes darting between you and over your carefully curated space, his feet shuffle, lips forming what one could consider to be a pout. not that he’d admit to it if you asked.
with a curious head tilt, you question, “did i forget anything?”
“no,” he grumbles, eyes now focused on the ceiling as he leans his hips against your counter.
how curious. you prop your hands up on your hips, brows pinched. “then why are you still here?”
“nevermind, just forget it,” he runs his hand over his face, quickly trying to walk past you. you don’t let him, blocking his path as you sidestep at the same time he does. engaging in a dance of sorts, while locking glares onto one another.
you shake your head, sticking a manicured nail into his sternum. “i don’t think so, mister. you’re usually so outspoken! what the fuck happened?”
a few heavy breaths leave him as he stares you down. for a moment you consider him being angry with you. the frown paired with flared nostrils would normally indicate irritation at the least but to your knowledge you’ve done nothing to be on the deserving end of it. it was him who caught you on the way to the store, smugly insisting he’d help because you totally couldn’t carry all that heavy stuff on your own, all while having no idea what you were even going to the store for.
“you’re the one who wanted to help, i don’t know why you’re acting like this,” your tone accusing, you feel a bit of anger sparking in your chest. “stop being weird.”
the heat creeping up his chest, his neck and eventually to his face and ears is comical enough to nearly draw a laugh from you, but the annoyance wins, and thus you stifle the humor down. finally, he graces you with a response; one that draws the need to laugh all over again.
he murmurs, pulling his cap further down his face to hide his eyes, “y’didn’t call me a good boy…”
your brows shoot up so fast it only makes him even more embarrassed. he turns away from you fully, leaning down onto your counter while you finally burst out laughing, “that was it?”
tears form in your eyes while you clutch your belly, “i can’t believe it!”
needing to find your own stability again by leaning on the wall, you blink away the remaining tears while you see bunny with his eyes screwed shut. his face is somehow redder than his eyes, and if you thought he was avoiding eye contact before, he’s just straight-up pretending you don’t exist now.
“aww,” you coo at him through your remaining giggles, your knees a little weak as you approach him. arms wrapped around his middle, you feel him stiffen as you hug him from behind. “for someone dominating the field week-in-week-out, you sure are a softie~”
“don’t tease me,” he makes a, albeit futile, attempt at regaining the upper hand. and yet, the chance of getting what he wants looms heavy over his needs, like some dog having a bone dangled in front of their face. he sounds pathetic, he looks pathetic, but above all: he’s so fucking cute you could gobble him up.
“naww,” you rub his defined abs with your thumbs, “it must be so scary, no? letting someone else have so much control over you..”
luckily, he slowly relaxes in your hold, the strained breaths turning into sighs of relief as your hands travel to his sides, massaging them gently. your voice lowers to a soft whisper, “it’s okay, i’m not actually making fun of you.”
“you sure?” he musters a chuckle, looking down at you over his shoulder. “i’m having a hard time believing that.”
you nod, head leaning against his back. “yeah, i’m sure.”
a few beats of silence pass, the frantic beating of his heart slowly but surely calms down. it brings a ghost of a smile to your face, and you sigh. arms squeezing him a little tighter, you press a kiss to his back, murmuring a small, “good boy.”
a shiver runs through him, a shaky breath not far behind. one of his hands comes up to rest over yours still on his side. he intertwines your fingers, bringing your hand up to his lips to kiss your knuckle. “thank you,” he whispers.
it’s hard to believe who you’ve got so pliant in your arms right now, but here he is. the school’s most popular athlete, or just guy in general, melting at the slightest bit of praise from you.
“would you like to stay a little longer?” your voice is muffled as you speak into his back, but he seems to understand you perfectly as he places another kiss to your knuckles, nodding.
“yeah,” he whispers, bringing your hand down to his abdomen. he slides it down a little further, the bulge forming under his sweatpants making a smirk spread across your lips. especially when his tone turns just a tad bit whiny as he looks over his shoulder again, “i need your help.”
⊹ ࣪𓍢ִ໋⋆🍰ೀ⋆
lips locked onto yours, his legs spread wider while your hand works under the fabric of his sweatpants. his back pressed to your chest on your plush bed you rub his boxer-clad bulge with a perfect amount of pressure that completely devastates his senses.
your fingers tighten in his hair, pulling him further back as you swallow his cute whimpers. you run a nail along his bulge, from the tip down to the base where you finally dip your hand into his boxers. his lips part from your in a startled gasp, his eyes flutter open to gaze up at you with need you’ve never seen before.
“please,” he whispers, “i need you.”
who are you to deny him when he begs so sweetly?
with one decisive movement you pull down both his pants and his boxers. his cock, fat and proud, shoots up to hit his belly. the precum leaking from the tip stains his shirt as he gasps at the cool air hitting his sensitive dick.
your hand wraps firmly around the base, squeezing him tightly while he throbs. more and more pre runs down from the crown and down to your hand, the slick aiding you as your hand finally moves upwards.
“that’s right,” you whisper into his hair, noting how his gaze is transfixed on your ministrations further below. “does it feel good, sweetheart?”
he nods, one of his hands reaching back to pull you even closer to him by the nape of your neck. he seeks any form of stability as you rub small circles over his slit, hips bucking to chase your touch.
“answer me.”
“yes! f-fuck-” he bites his lip, nearly drawing blood. “so fucking good…!”
with tight, purposeful strokes you reach from his weeping head to the base, the copious amounts of slick he produces cause your hand to create the filthiest wet noises that have heat creeping up your own face.
“isn’t it so good?” you nibble on his ear, “giving yourself over to me?”
the sting of when you bite down has him throwing his head back over your shoulder as he scrambles to get even closer. tears gather at his lashline he doesn’t allow to fall just yet.
“yes, yes, yes-” he babbles, hips recklessly thrusting up into your hand. any other time you’d scold him, edge him maybe.
but he’s making such good progress. it must’ve taken a great deal to submit like this when usually he’s the one in control. you can’t fault him for losing himself all too much. at least this time.
his heels dig into the sheets as he uses your hand to get off. his whines get higher and higher in pitch, until finally-
“cum for me, amor.”
the neediest, sweetest moan echoes through your room as ropes of white shoot out of his cock onto your hand and his chest. his hips stutter while his eyes roll back.
you stop the movement of your hand, now merely squeezing gently while the last bits of spend ooze from his tip. with a soft kiss to his temple and his cheek, you whisper: “such a good boy. my good boy.”
a/n: first time writing dom!reader ish something. feedback appreciated ( ☆∀☆) this was really challenging but we prevailed!!!!
note: stfu i know the title doesn't fit this time becaus i REFUSE to even allude to the reader liking riddles mom in any capacity. you ruined this post title w your terrible mother riddle, i will decimate her for this.
characters: sebek, leona, deuce, riddle
synopsis: you ask the boys if you can date a relative/friend as a prank, only to ask them out instead.
note: idc if the title doesnt fit vils part he’s special he gets his own title because he has a father and it ruined the fucking momentum of my writing because id never go for a DILF but it’s whatever mr vil schoenheit look what you’ve done you ruined my post as always dramatic sigh x 10 🙄 /j
characters: ace, azul, jamil, vil
synopsis: you ask the boys if you can have their parents’ number as a prank, only to then ask them out instead. well, kind of.
premise: post-overblot malleus loves to cry & be loud during sex
spoilers for book 7, reader has a penis and is the top
ever since you started attending night raven college, it had become a trend for you to do the unthinkable and what was thought of as impossible. one of those many tasks was being able to become friends—and even more—with the intimidating and all-powerful malleus draconia—more so, being on good enough terms with him to get away with a nickname like "hornton"!
though, even with there being a steady connection there, he still always had to keep you at arm's length. due to his power, even if he laughed too hard or had an emotional shift that was too strong, there would be physical results that immediately followed. this led to not much intimacy being initiated on his end, and you two barely ever going "all the way."
hence, after his overblot and him losing part of his horn, it seemed that the tragic event actually caused things to change for the better. he didn't have to think twice before laughing, or getting mad, or even shedding a tear or two during certain events.
that's how malleus' new habits started. imagine your surprise when this previously reserved and modestly presenting dragon did a complete 180 and started begging for an umpteenth round with a stuffy nose from crying, puffy eyes, and a shaky figure due to his body not being used to cumming so many times consecutively.
suddenly, he was the one always asking about doing it, and then asking for another round, and another. furthermore, whenever you did as little as start groping him a bit or telling him how good he was during sex, he'd immediately become a sobbing mess. hiccuping and trying to blink the tears away to look at you again as you continued your verbal or physical assault of affection.
he also didn't shy away from getting loud either. in cases where you grabbed his horns to pound into him harder, pushed him down repeatedly to ride you properly, or continuously put your whole weight on him to go deeper, he wouldn't hesitate to let out an array of moans and whimpers—each sound progressively louder than the last.
that, alongside his big crocodile tears and uncontrolled breathing, was all the signs you needed to know that he was actually blissed out in pleasure and having a great time. pray for other diasomnia dorm students that now have to put up with their rather...expressive housewarden.
ps: tagging this shit was so unnecessarily hard bro, having to go between putting "reader" or "yuu" had me lost asf for a hot minute 😵💫😵💫
also, I low-key love doing these little drabbles. don't get me wrong, longer fics are definitely still gonna be coming, but these are fun too
can i request having sex with virgin!diluc? riding him and making him feel good just praising him and he can barely get a word out bc he feels so good
⌗ diluc riding dirty
cw. dom! gn! reader x sub! virgin! diluc. cock riding lololol, dumbification, praise, unprotected sex, use of “darling”, a little plot before porn, fluff @ the end because i need to write it more often lmao
an. gaww omg i love diluc… also new fic layout for my works LOL i kinda js wanted to try smth new.. anyways hope u like it cause this been on my mind 4 a while </3
the conversation was brief.
half a glass of whiskey down the hatch, many more to come. and already, you sat beside kaeya at the bar in angel’s share, snickering like a drunken lowlife.
“you, diluc ragnvindr, are a virgin?” you snorted, bringing your glass to your lips and drinking down the copper liquid. the rush of the whiskey burned your throat, its tangy aftertaste leaving your tastebuds almost shivering.
diluc grumbled and turned away, his actions making both you and kaeya cackle. “aww, is someone embarrassed?” kaeya giggled, words melted together. you could tell the multiple glasses of alcohol he had succumbed to earlier were taking a toll on him.
you teased poor diluc later into the night, but it only lasted for a few more minutes before kaeya had mentioned something else— something more important than humiliating the redhead in front of all of the visitors at the bar that night.
but you couldn’t stop thinking about it. so, you decided that maybe you could help him solve his little predicament. which is how you ended up here.
“c’mon, let me hear you…” you beckoned to diluc, leaning into his ear, voice barely above a whisper. you had him sprawled onto his own bed, naked, with your hands around his aching cock for the first time in his life. he gasped, bringing a hand up to his mouth the muffle the whimpers and groans he dared to let slip his mouth.
dissatisfied with his ability to listen, you pulled your hand away from his cock and sat up on your knees, shuffling around to straddle the poor man.
diluc looked up through his long lashes, mouth slacked open and eyebrows raised in hunger and disbelief. his stomach twisted into knots. feeling your body hover above his had him whipped.
“you ready?” you cooed, looking down at the gorgeous view. “yes— please, i want it, i want you—” diluc said shyly, a small smile appearing on your face before you pushed yourself down onto his cock.
“fuck!—” diluc sobbed out, his thighs tensing, head thrown back and mouth open. pathetic streams of sobs and whines filled the air, symphonies of pleas and mantras of begging following suit as you slammed yourself down on his dick repetitively.
your head hung low to watch the sight beneath you, your own lips parted to let out breathy pants and satisfied chuckles. “so gorgeous, fuck.. so pretty for me, darling.”
diluc could only whine, the feeling of your hole just too much for him to bare! you worked him so easily, it felt so good— his mind went foggy, all remaining composure slipping from his grasp.
“so good, baby. you’re being so good.” you grinned, putting your hands on his stomach to steady yourself. diluc moaned loudly at the feeling of your touch gracing his body, the ability to string words together completely gone.
“m—mmh! oh, i— i’m— fuck!” diluc sobbed, bringing a quivering hand up to his mouth. but the pleasure, oh the pleasure… it left him helpless, for all he could do is hover his hand over his mouth and just barely cover it. “no no, baby, don’t do that. lemme hear you,” you cooed, pulling his hand away by his wrist, a loud whimper escaping his lips.
diluc’s head began to spin, an unfamiliar feeling bubbling up in his lower abdomen. he opened his mouth to warn you, to tell you he was going to cum, but all that came out were incompressible moans and sobs of pleasure. “y—n!” he stuttered, just barely able to think. “cuh— mm! gon’— haah!”
he was almost there, he was so close— all he could do was chase his high hungrily. diluc bucked his hips up into your ass, eyes squeezed shut, body shaking. this feeling was nothing like he’d ever been used to before. the bubbling grew stronger, threatening to spill over and completely ruin you— ruin him.
“you gonna cum, ‘luc?” you purred, that familiar knot twisting in your stomach as well. diluc nodded, thighs trembling as you rode him out. “go ahead. cum.”
and at your command, diluc could only moan and take your order, waves of pleasure crashing down, spilling inside you. that spark of greed exploding in his stomach, gulping him down and swallowing him up, an almost euphoric feeling taking over his entire body.
you stilled yourself after your high, heavy breaths making your chest heave up and down. you looked down at diluc to see him completely ruined. bangs stuck to his face, long red locks scattering the pillow, long out of their high ponytail. the hair tie was probably on the floor.
“you okay?” you asked. he nodded, smiling softly. you grabbed diluc’s hand and brought his knuckles to your lips, leaving small kisses on his flushed fingers. “you did so well. i’m so proud of you. thank you for letting me do this.”
you lifted yourself off of diluc to put yourself beside him instead, pulling the covers over your bodies. he leaned into your chest, strong arms pulling you in as he quickly melted into your touch. your hands found their way to the back of his head, fingers intertwining with individual locks to wrap them into weak curls before letting them slip into their original wavy state.
diluc sighed and looked up at you, amber eyes glimmering with love as they hung low. even if he was tired, he still needed to say something before he went to sleep. he smiled, snuggling into you before saying something that made your heart sigh.
grim watching videos on readers phone when bf! floyd texts and grim decides to reply.
You let Grim borrow your phone for two minutes. What was the harm in it…?
Well it turned into ten minutes.
Grim was muttering to himself. "This human has the recommendations." He was completely locked in just scrolling through your phone.
He was sitting on your couch sideways like he owned the place. His tail flicked every time a video he took interest in loaded.
You weren't really paying attention until your phone lit up.
Floyd: where are you shrimpyyy
Grim looked at the screen and squinted. "Shrimpy?"
He tapped the screen away. "Wait I'll answer for you."
You didn't even look up, not thinking much of it. Oh how wrong you were.
Grim: they're busy now
To be fair grim wasn't exactly lying, you were attempting to take a nap. But something as minor as that wouldn't stop Floyd.
There was a pause.
Then the typing bubbles showed up.
Floyd: …you’re not my shrimpy
Grim blinked. "Huh?"
Floyd: give the phone back
Grim tilted his head, confused how he could tell. "What how did he know?" He wasn’t secretly spying on him right…? He looks up and doesn’t see anything.
He typed again slower this time.
Grim: i’m just helping out
The reply came away.
Floyd: no you’re not
Floyd: you smell like trouble
Grim stiffened. "He can smell trouble through text?"
Before you or Grim could react, the door to your room swung open.
Floyd was already, in the doorway eyes closed like he was expecting chaos.
He looked at your phone at Grim and then he smiled. It was a dangerous smile. "Shrimpys phone " he said lightly.
Grim froze. "I was just... Holding it."
Floyd stepped inside still smiling. "That's cute."
Then his eyes narrowed a bit. "You’re so small, perfect to squeeze." he teases
“GAAAAAHHH! HUMAN HELP ME!” grim runs jumping behind you.
“Floyd…stop scaring him” you sigh opening your arms.
“But shrimpyyy he had your phone and was texting me..” he gets into your arms and lays on top of you.
𝗖𝗢𝗡𝗧𝗘𝗡𝗧𝗦▶𐙚 As the ever loving lover girl that you are, you've had crushes with the NRC students in the past, and you've made love letters of them— now it's burried in your notes app for many months now.
However, what happens when Grim, your ever loving son, accidentally sends all of it to them— all seperate to the receiver of course. And what happens when you eventually find out?
𝗧𝗔𝗚𝗦▶𐙚 friends to lovers, fluff, SMAU, second chances, love letters, confessions, reverse harem, Yuu! reader, yearner! NCR boys, messy drama, lover girl! reader, dandere! reader, gender neutral! reader, confession walls, femme leaning! Reader, implied unrequited love, OOC! characters, no Grim was harmed during this, crack
𝗔/𝗡▶𐙚 My ass was trying to think of an event of yk my 10k likes and I remembered that I once sent my friend a love letter that I wrote to my crush and they said "do you want me to send this to him" ME THINKING SHE WAS JOKIN SAID "sure lol" AND SHE DID SHE ACTUALLY DID- and I thought yk what ima do project this to the twst ccast heheheheh
▶𐙚𝗧𝗪𝗜𝗦𝗧𝗘𝗗 𝗪𝗢𝗡𝗗𝗘𝗥𝗟𝗔𝗡𝗗 𝗫 𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗗𝗘𝗥
— ♥︎ᜊ . ᴵ'ᵐ ᶦⁿ ᵃ ʳᵉᶜᵏˡᵉˢˢ
ᶠᵉᵛᵉʳ, ˡᵒᵛᵉˢᵗʳᵘᶜᵏ
ᵍᶦʳˡ ᴵ ᵗᵉᵃˢᵉ ʰᵉʳ
𝓵𝗮𝘂𝗳𝗲𝘆 ⊹ ࣪ ˖
— "𝙊𝙝 𝙬𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙖 𝙘𝙪𝙧𝙨𝙚 𝙞𝙩 𝙞𝙨 𝙩𝙤 𝙗𝙚 𝙞𝙣 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚" .
𝜗𝜚 𝑻his all Crowley's fault, you were sure of it. If you didn't have to be Crowley's dubbed 'errand person' then you wouldn't have to trust Grim to send a message. Now there's chaos and you have to confront your problems— we all know that you were not good at that, despite being confrontational, you would rather die and be buried on earth than ever admit your feelings.
vaporwave
jimmyeatworldofficial
2087
stormborns
