How They Fart!- The Love And DeepSpace Men

The Naga’s Teasing

Pairing: Naga x f!human reader

Summary: you struggle to stay composed during a professional videomeeting while your naga boyfriend secretly fingers and licks you under the table.

Warnings: minors don't interact, 18+!!!!, naga smut, fingering and oral (fem receiving), silent teasing. Don’t like, don’t read please.

The camera was on, displaying many little boxes with your colleagues live on the laptop screen. You were in the middle of a remote meeting, sitting in your home office, hands gripping the desk tightly. You were supposed to be paying attention to the presentations yet you could hardly contribute to the discussions.

You weren’t supposed to be so flushed, your skin tingling with arousal.

You weren’t supposed to be struggling to stifle your moans and keep everyone from hearing.

You had such a hard time keeping your composure because your naga boyfriend had decided to tease you. He had slithered under the table, opened your legs wide, dragging up your dress and tugging your panties to the side. You were helpless to stop him; you couldn’t react in the process of the business meeting.

Hidden from view, your naga tortured you in the sweetest and most shameless way. He spread the lips of your pussy and laved your inner folds. The sensations made you shiver. The hum of your colleagues in the background faded as you were licked and sucked to the breaking point. Biting back one gasp after the other, you fisted your pen, clutching it tightly.

You tried to focus on anything but the wicked slide of his tongue but it was impossible.

Especially when he thrust a thick finger in your depths, you pussy squelching softly in your ears.

You inhaled sharply.

“What are your thoughts on this proposal, chief manager? Is that good way to promote our new product?”

That was you! The CEO was talking to you!

You swallowed down a moan. Blinked. Refocused.

“I… I think the pro-posal is magnificent. It aligns with the goals of the co-company.”

The strokes intensified, a second finger surging deep inside your depths.

“We…hm… should pro-proceed with that idea,” you stuttered. It was increasingly difficult to keep talking and keep your breathing under control.

Several other colleagues chimed in their agreement but your focus wavered when your naga boyfriend slid up his tail slipping under your dress, his warm scales brushing against your sensitive skin. The appendage found its way under your bra, circling your nipple while his mouth suckled your pussy, his fingers thrusting steadily inside your pussy.

You clenched your teeth.

Oh, when this meeting was over you were going to have his ass for this.

Shifting restlessly on your seat, you clenched your fists on the table, digging your nails into the hard surface. His tongue licked your clit with precise strokes, the pleasure increasing. You were drenched and so close. Damn…. You were about to climax right there in the middle of the video meeting.

Breath hitching, you bit your lip hard and rode the waves of pleasure, hands gripping the edge of the desk. Your toes curled inside your slippers, and you pressed your thighs together in a vain attempt to stop him. Your mate responded silently by curling his fingers just right and fucking you through your climax, making stars dance in your vision. His tail had also sneakily slithered to your other nipple, circling the bud and pulling.

“Any other questions?” the CEO’s voice came from the laptop.

Gulping, you shook your head, all too eager to end the video call. A little hazy, you answered, praying that no one noticed the faint tremor in your voice, “N-no, none from me.”

Finally, the videocall ended with unanimous agreement.

With a soft nudge, you rolled your chair away from your naga boyfriend and stood up on shaky legs, you heart still hammering form the intense release. He slithered out from beneath the desk, his face super smug. You shot him a glare and were about to speak when he pulled you to him, clutching you against his broad chest. His long tail curled around your body, trapping you against him.

“You are a fucking tease,” you said, lightly slappping his shoulder.

“You did so well, darling,” he whispered, his voice a silky purr. “Behaved so well while I fingered your slick pussy and rubbed your swollen clit.”

“Let go,” you muttered weakly.

“Oh, I’m not done with you yet,” he said, his breath warm against your ear.

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⋆. 𐙚 ̊ how they kiss you — love and deepspace

including. zayne, xavier, rafayel, sylus, caleb

genre. fem! reader, making out (quite sexual), body fondling, established relationship

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ zayne

there's always a subtle silence before you happen to feel it— you know? the way zayne watches your lips like he's studying anatomy again— not clinically, silly! but reverently, like he might carve the shape of your mouth into his memory.

so precise, so devout, it borders on madness. soaked in tension and lust— quite obsessive, don't you agree? almost grotesque in how deeply he desired you.

the man leans in, close enough for his breath to ghost over your skin as he abruptly stops, catching himself in the same course of action he tends to take, every damn time.

zayne held himself back like the act of restraint was the only thing keeping him from collapsing into you completely, succumbing to those pretty, warm lips of yours as something deep inside of him broke that night.

he's going deeper before pressing into your lips at last— his psyche, his shadows, the way the hunger on his tongue felt different than anyone else's as he cups your face like he's afraid of shattering it, mouth crashing into yours.

not messy, not wild, instead, devastatingly precise— and every stroke of his warm muscle felt like it's been rehearsed in secret, fantasized about in sinful dreams as his hand slides down your throat, thumb resting on your pulse like he's checking it— not for medical reasons, but for control.

the kiss deepens and sharpens at the edges of each lap and suckle of your bottom lip between his teeth as his body presses you to the nearest surface with a force just edging on subtle bruising— and when your fingers suddenly thread into his hair to taste him more, when you pull him harder into you— he groans low, a sound rattling from somewhere hidden and forbidden, yes, like something sacred within him was being exposed.

and well, in that exposé, zayne finds a terrible, exquisite relief in each slip and slide of your tongues intertwining, bodies stroking each other as though this was the only way he's ever known how to feel alive.

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ xavier

xavier touches you first— although not to grope, yet to ground himself with his palm on your shaking hip while his other hand brushes against your soft cheek, and that look on him which was revealed next haunted you— like he's seeing a future he doesn’t believe he deserves.

slow, searching, his lips coax across your bottom lip, the tension behind each suckle on it unbearable as he continues to trace yours like he's adamant to make it everlasting. your boyfriend grunted like restraint stretched thin inside his frame, like one more kiss might tip him over the edge into something more, well, feral? ugh, but he holds himself back of course. 

yet just barely.

those kisses you shared weren't just random pecks here and there, they felt like confessions, truly, like a collapse of two loving hearts forming a dance of possession— each movement sharpening to the truth of what this relationship meant to him, all of it rooted in desire and lust, shadowed with emotional gravity and physical intensity of hands squeezing your flesh.

and you felt it, all of it— the tremble in his fingers, the quiet threat of his teeth brushing just behind every soft tug at your lip, as though even the smallest motion could unravel him further.

you arch into him, obediently feeling the low, guttural sound that escaped his throat— a half moan, a sound so faint it could almost be mistaken for a prayer, whispered to no god at all, but to the madness he cannot escape.

your lips stay close at all times, breathing hard against each other with foreheads pressed together, "i don't want to hurt you," his voice, thick with restraint, was taken hostage somewhere between a confession and collapse, yet his hands disobey him at last— sliding beneath your shirt with a quiet desperation, mapping the ridges of your shape like he's meant to be.

truly, if you let him keep going with those addictive kisses, he'll worship you until he forgets where he ends and you begin.

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ rafayel

hands in your hair, rafayel's lips were already open and panting, breath warm and uneven and jaw slacked, well, it's all then and there with no waiting, no warning— just the sudden, dizzying sensation of being devoured by the man you loved.

his tongue was everywhere on you— teasing you, curling and invading your mouth as he moans into your parted lips, pulling your lower lip between his teeth and laughing when you gasp out in slight shock— quite literally, the man loved to push you over the edge, he lived for the sweet, little responses you'd grace him with in return.

from being tangled in your hair to squeezed within your clothes, rafayel slides down further to cup your ass, squeezing the addicting mounds of flesh as you wince into his hold, "ugh, you taste like a bad decision," he smirks, whispering against your mouth, yet already leaning right back in.

before you could even response to him he kisses you harder, deeper, lapping and lapping and lapping his hefty tongue against your own as your hips were grinding against him just enough to make the room spin and your eyes roll back into your skull.

without a doubt, every second with him felt like falling and screaming and shattering all at once— fast at that, disoriented and inevitable when all you needed is for him to imbed you with his scent until there was nothing left of you to claim.

it's there when you realize that rafayel tasted like the sweetest sin that has ever existed, not kissing to seduce, but to ruin— and make sure you’re begging him for it.

for a slight second he pulls away just enough to look at your lips and what he's done to them— and would you look at that? your boyfriend adored the lusting sight of swollen, glistening, needy lips parted and puffed up, "baby, you're gonna be the death of me."

rafayel says it like it's a promise.

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ sylus

you can’t call this a kiss— no, not with the way sylus's mouth drags across yours like he's already lost the war against wanting you.

to call it a claim would be closer though, but even that sounds too civilized. there is nothing civil about the way his tongue parts your lips— wet, scorching, impatient, nothing gentle in the sting of his teeth catching your mouth, just enough to pull breath from your lungs and copper to your tongue.

he tastes it— even better, tastes you— and it makes something violent bloom in his chest as he growls out embarrassingly loud, not like an animal but like a man who's tasted divinity and was furious that he ever lived without it in the past.

his grip on your hips tighten as he drags you against him, feeling you up like shame didn't exist in his vocabulary, in fact, it quite literally didn't.

not a flicker of hesitation, not even the illusion of pause— only the dreadful inevitability of a hunger given form around his tongue, his lips moving with the certainty of something long premeditated, as if his body had been waiting its entire life for permission to devour you.

he doesn’t ask for allowance to be rougher, sylus knows he doesn’t need to.

his mouth licks into yours with a frenzied rhythm, like he’s trying to bury every unspeakable thought inside your throat as every shove, every bitten gasp, every ragged exhale that leaves his body was a hidden confession disguised as a dominating sin.

the man was not delicate. he was not kind. but he was true.

terrifyingly, brutally true.

furthermore, his tongue traces a wet line from your bottom lip, creeping toward your jaw, then dipping lower to your neck— infused with desperation and something dangerously raw.

his teeth find your skin at last— not out of need, no, but out of some dark impulse deep hidden beneath his heart, as if marking you up was the only act left that can prove he existed, that he's here, tethered to a body that's already unraveling.

"you have no fucking idea," he pants, his breath a jagged rhythm against your skin as if the act of inhaling and exhaling was the only thing that kept him secured— each exhalation a tremor, a faint admission of the madness threatening to spill over.

he smirks, "what you’ve done to me."

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ caleb

in the language of a yearning man, caleb doesn't speak— instead the silence clung to him like a second skin, as if words would shatter whatever fragile shell still held him upright.

as an alternative, his hands found your waist as he exhales deeply from his mouth when he feels your body— yet tentative at first, but with a pressure that deepens and sharpens, afterwards he leans in to kiss you.

not in a haste, no, not like a man chasing basic pleasure, but like a man aching with his mouth against yours— slow, burning, unbearably tender.

his lips taste of quiet torment, of years spent repressing the thing now trembling beneath his touch and the longer it goes on, the more unraveled he becomes— now here, his breath falters, his jaw tenses and when his tongue brushes up against your own needy one, it is with such aching slowness that it felt like a sin.

he grips your jaw softly, almost fearfully, as if he cannot believe you're letting him touch you as his other hand slips beneath the waistband of your pants— fingertips skimming over your bare flesh and squeezing at it like he's utterly worshipping you.

more and more, you want more but the kiss breaks open, becoming wet and open-mouthed, desperate and messy and ugh— caleb cannot stop and neither can you, even less when you whine at him all quietly and overstimulated, the kind of sound which made a man fall on his knees.

okay, he should pull away, correct? uh, before you'll both be unable to stop and take it further, you see the truth in that?

well, he doesn’t.

and neither do you.

©2025 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify, claim as your own

Sukuna having no clue on how to propose so you just randomly wake up one day with an engagement ring on your finger.

And you're just so confused and panicking and when Sukuna wakes up next to you and grumbles "You're being too loud, wife-to-be." you are even more thrown off.

"T-This isn't how you're supposed to do it!"

"And if I did it any other way, you would have still said yes."

"Well... yes. But that's not that point—!"

You can never win against this guy.

𝜗𝜚 ; welcome to the bar

who do we serve here ? — anyone who seeks escapism is welcome at bar lupin. would you like your drink strong and bitter, or disgustingly sweet and light?

 what is this place ? — formiito's very own establishment of disillusioned lovers and poets. feel free to look around.

 my name is formiito, the writer behind these fanfics. bar lupin themed blog, though not solely restricted to bungou stray dogs. i take requests for resident evil, bg3 and may yap about other fandoms too.

❝ — to the stray dogs! ❞

i. MASTERLIST   ii. RULES

REQUESTS ARE OPEN!!

snow day

Thank you for your support on the last post! Here’s a goodnight from Sylus’s family. ✨💤

My contribution to the panty fiend Caleb HC

Size difference >>>

𝜗𝜚 ; welcome to the bar

who do we serve here ? — anyone who seeks escapism is welcome at bar lupin. would you like your drink strong and bitter, or disgustingly sweet and light?

 what is this place ? — formiito's very own establishment of disillusioned lovers and poets. feel free to look around.

 my name is formiito, the writer behind these fanfics. bar lupin themed blog, though not solely restricted to bungou stray dogs. i take requests for resident evil, bg3 and may yap about other fandoms too.

❝ — to the stray dogs! ❞

i. MASTERLIST   ii. RULES

REQUESTS ARE OPEN!!

When tumblr refreshes itself and the fic I was reading fucking disappears forever 💔

I’ve been searching for a smau I was reading for three days 😔