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incognit0slut · 11 months

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Buried in the pillow

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

A night of restless sleep ends better than expected. Based on;

warning: 18+ explicit content including edging, a little chocking, sexual intercourse, and dom spence

words: 4,6k (I got carried away😭)

a/n: am I supposed to be writing something else? Yes. Will it stop me from writing a slow, lazy sex scene? NO

MASTERLIST

“…you’re buried in the pillow, yeah you’re so loud…”

THERE WAS NO DENYING THE WARM FLOOD OF AROUSAL RUSHING IN HER SYSTEM. Y/n inhaled a sharp breath, her heart rate climbing in her chest she could feel her pulse throbbing through her entire body. She readjusted herself along her pillow and closed her eyes before exhaling, her thighs pressed together as she tried not to let her mind travel into any lewd thoughts.

But the sound of his shallow breathing was enough to make her terribly aware of the abrupt shift in her body. She could feel the dull, needy throb between her legs merging with that burn of sheer want for him low in her stomach. Her eyes fluttered open then, and there he was, sleeping on his side of the bed with his face facing toward her.

Spencer looked so peaceful. His eyes were closed, lashes brushing along his cheeks, and his mouth slightly parted while his chest rose in a steady rhythm, a sign of him in complete slumber. She had seen the drowsiness in his eyes the moment he walked through the door this evening, the fatigue clumped in his shoulders as he kissed her in greeting. It had been days since the last time he had proper sleep, having to travel across the country for a recent case, and today he finally had the chance to rest his bones from all of the work.

But it also meant it had been eleven days, fifteen hours, and forty-six minutes since the last time she had him buried deep inside her...

Not that she was counting.

Fine—maybe she was. Maybe she was keeping up with their time apart because being with him was something she looked forward to, in and out of the bedroom. How could she not? He was her partner; her smart, caring boyfriend who she loved too damn much and would do anything to bide the time relishing in his presence.

Although tonight she did have a specific activity in mind, which now seemed more like wishful thinking considering he was already deep in slumber. He needed the sleep, she reminded herself. He was simply tired and he needed all the rest he could get.

Swallowing hard, Y/n tried to push her desire back down. She turned over, laid back down on her back, and let her eyelids fall back down as she settled her arms to her side. But the position was too uncomfortable. She let out a groan and shifted again, hips moving along the bed a few times before she finally stopped.

The feel of something shifting woke Spencer up, his mind slowly stirring awake. A soft sigh escaped him as he lay silently, his mind quieted in the stillness of the night. Then his breathing evened out a moment later, exhaustion of the past few days took over before his eyelids lowered, body drifting back to sleep. Except for a little bit later, he heard more rustling along the pillow, a soft, feminine sound of frustration barely ringing in his ears. This time he slowly opened his eyes, adjusting himself in the dark.

The first thing he noticed was a mass of hair laid in front of him, then bare arms and a slender body clad in a silky nightgown. There was silence as he tried to pick up her breathing, watching her back move steadily in the poorly lit room. When another exasperated sigh escaped her, Spencer inched closer and reached out, an arm wrapping around her waist as he pulled her closer toward him.

"Hey," he softly murmured, concerned about her constant movements in her sleep. "You alright?"

Y/n stopped herself from letting out a moan. On normal occasions, being pressed up against him in bed would lull her to sleep, the comfort of his arms provided an immense amount of warmth and safety. Definitely not tonight. The way his arm tightened around her, tugging her back into his solid chest awoken that part of her she tried to suppress. The heat of his body enveloped her and she found herself leaning back, accepting the warmth he was offering.

"Hmm," her returning hum answered, sinking deeper into his embrace.

"Bad dream?"

She stopped herself from snorting. She couldn't even get a wink of sleep and here he was, concerned about the possibility of her having nightmares. But it was a better reason than to admit why she couldn't rest her eyes, so she nodded, her voice slightly breathless as she whispered, "Something like that."

The silence in the air after her reply was jarring. If Spencer was half-awake before, he was fully awake now, the rasp in her voice far too familiar for him to ignore. And when he finally regained his consciousness back, he became highly aware of his surroundings. The soft mattress underneath him, the plush pillow below his head, and the soft curves pressed against him.

He could feel her body trembling underneath his palm, her breathing picking up its pace as his fingers glided along her stomach. He could practically hear the sound of her heartbeat as he pulled her even closer, his head shifting along her shoulder, his nose brushing against the back of her neck. The subtle fragrance of flowers and honey filled his nostrils as he breathed in her scent, nuzzling further into her, the stubble of his jaw grazing along her skin.

"Spence," she muttered, tilting her head into the pillow. "What are you doing?"

"You seem to be having trouble sleeping." She felt the bed shift behind her as he moved again, and then a moment later she felt him pressing his hips into her ass. She let out a gasp. "I'm helping you relax."

She felt something pleasantly warm grazing her neck, his lips moving deliberately slow, as if he was in no hurry and only wanted to savor the taste of her skin. His hand then slid further up her stomach, palm flat as it dragged up her body, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. It eventually stopped its roam, halting its search when he cupped her left breast tenderly.

She couldn't stop the strained moan from slipping out of her mouth. "Sleep isn't exactly on my mind right now."

"I figured," he murmured beside her ear, his hot breath drawing goosebumps along her skin. "How long have you been awake?"

His hand gently kneaded her breast as his mouth traveled along her neck. Her eyelids lowered slightly, a wet heat forming between her thighs as her arousal intensified. "I haven't slept."

"And why is that?" A finger brushed across her nipple through her thin nightgown. She suppressed a helpless whimper as his thumb circled around the nub, caressing it so gently she could feel her body shaking with need. "Go on." He tugged on her nipple between his fingers. "Use your words."

"I..." She felt his tongue softly grazing her skin before he wrapped his mouth around her flesh, sucking on the spot. What was she to say? That she was too aroused to relax? She carefully weighed her words, feeling bashful verbalizing her thoughts, so she finally settled with, "It was too hot."

He hummed in response, somehow acknowledging the meaning behind her words. She watched as his hand left her breast, sliding up her bare arm before it settled on the strap of her flimsy sleepwear. He gently tugged down the thin string as his mouth lowered towards her shoulder, languorously trailing kisses down the line of it. "We should do something about that, shouldn't we?"

She couldn't think clearly when his touch sent her into a whirlwind of chaos. To crave something was one thing, to actually acquire that craving was an entirely different thing. She had wanted to feel him so much, but as his hand trailed back to her now-exposed breast, her mind was in a mess of desperate longing and need. Somehow his mouth trailing on her neck wasn't enough. Somehow his callused fingers stroking her nipple wasn't enough. She needed to feel every inch of his body on her. She wanted all of him.

More, more, more.

"Spence," she breathed out, her hoarse voice hanging in the air.

A ghost of a smile played on his lips. "Tell me." His grip on her nipple tightened, and she shuddered at the sensation. "Tell me what you want."

"You," she answered in a daze. "I want you."

"What do you want me to do?" He gently bit her flesh. "Do you want me to make you feel good? Do you want me to touch you, relax the tension in your body?" Then her heart sped up in her chest, slamming roughly into her rib cage at his next words.

"Do you want me to fuck you to sleep?"

A strangled whimper left her mouth. Spencer was a lot of things in bed. When they had first been together, he was so timid and unsure of himself, too caught up in his thoughts that left him too afraid to touch her—which she honestly hadn't minded, she loved being the one who saw his transformation in the bedroom. But when he finally started to loosen up and be himself with her, exploring things he wanted to try, to finally take control? It drove her absolutely wild to experience him gain his confidence it made her weak in the knees every damn time.

Like this side of him now always managed to render her speechless. Perhaps it was the way he was so poised and calm outside the bedroom, a very different demeanor when he was alone with her, that made it all seem so overwhelming. In the safety of their bedroom, he was everything he desired, and being crude and demanding was what he decided to be this night.

His hand caressing her nipple slid up her chest, his fingers gently wrapping around the base of her neck. Her breath hitched as he softly gripped it, pulling her even further into his chest. "Tell me, is that what you want?"

She was breathing even heavier now, her shoulders heaving with each audible inhale. "Yes."

He bit her earlobe, evoking another breathless shudder out of her. "Explain it in words, I need you to speak to me."

Y/n enjoyed the sweet, gentle way he made love to her. She really did. Very, very much so. But there was a certain enjoyment whenever he was in control. Whenever he let himself go and have his way with her—crass words over sweet nothings, rough stokes over soft touches. It burned her skin and gripped onto her arousal, waking up the submissive side of her which she enjoyed more than she should probably have.

Spencer's grip tightened at her silence. "Are you not going to answer me?"

"Yes," she quickly responded, feeling the subtle bulge of him pressed along her backside. "Please."

"Please... what?"

She couldn't believe he was making her say it. Y/n inhaled a sharp breath and leaned into his touch, practically shifting the weight of her body on top of him. "Spence."

"I need to hear the words or you won't get anything at all," he spoke, his thumb grazing her chin.

The thought of being left sexually frustrated was enough for her to nod, giving in to his command. "Yes," she whispered, and because she wanted to make him feel as desperate as she was, she squirmed, hips writhing along his groin as she searched for friction. "I want you to fuck me to sleep."

A pleased rumble vibrated in his throat. Letting go of her neck, his hand trailed down her body and landed on the top of her thigh, gently massaging the muscle beneath his palm. His fingers skimmed up toward her skin, pushing up her nightgown, exposing more delicate skin and skimpy underwear barely covering her ass. Then it happened so fast. One moment he was caressing her, the next thing she knew his hand drew back before it came barreling forward with a sharp smack that echoed in the room. She gasped in pleasant surprise, her clit throbbing in excitement as his palm rubbed along the stinging flesh.

"You liked that, didn't you?"

She whimpered in response. Then his hand retreated from her ass only to come flying forward again with another sharp crack. Her hips jolted forward at the impact, her eyes closing at the delicious sting as his hand held onto her her stomach. His fingers then slowly trailed south and her breath hitched in her throat as she felt his lips hot on her ear.

"Open your legs, sweetheart."

Her knees fell apart at the demand, one of her legs laying on top of his. She waited for him to touch her, to dip his hand into her aching folds in the confinement of her underwear. Instead, his fingers slipped into the side of her fabric, tugging the material to the side, exposing wet, damp skin to his desire. The slick evidence of her arousal stuck onto the fabric so thickly it was enough for her to feel the heat creeping along her cheeks.

"Would you look at that?" He whispered, lips touching the back of her ear. "I haven't even touched you here and you're already soaking wet."

Her heart was pounding hard in her chest as she watched him. There wasn't a moment of hesitation while his fingers tugged the waistband of her underwear, gingerly sliding them down her legs before pulling them past her feet and casting them somewhere over the side of the bed. Then he grabbed onto her knee, parting her legs further apart but not doing anything to quench her desire. He could feel her trembling, writhing with need as she pressed further into his front.

The cool air hit her exposed skin, and it took a lot of self-control for her not to beg even further, but the way her body squirmed was enough to let him know what she craved. Though his hand stayed where it was, firmly gripping onto her left leg, sliding it on top of his while his lips lazily mapped along her neck.

"Here's what we're going to do," his gruff voice filled her ears. "I'm going to touch you, I'm going to please you in every way you like—" His hand slid painfully slow down her thigh before it came to a complete stop. "—but you can only cum when I give you permission to." His fingers inched closer to her throbbing heat. "Do I make myself clear?"

A shiver spread along her body, understanding what he meant by those words. He wanted to rule her, he wanted to be the one in charge of her own body. And while she should've felt appalled at the thought, her arousal rather grew deeper at every ticking second as he waited for her reply.

And then suddenly his fingers wrapped around her neck again, gently pressing onto her skin as he jutted his hips towards her. "Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes," she begged him, her hand lightly tugging around his arm. "Perfectly clear."

Then his hand trailed down again, slightly brushing her aroused nipples before it settled on the heated span between her legs. When the pads of his fingers lightly grazed her clit, his teeth bit down on her shoulder. A hiss of pleasure instantly flew out of her mouth. Two of his fingers began running back and forth between her damp folds, the sensation was gradually pulling shallower and shallower breaths from her.

"You're so wet," he growled against her skin. "This what you've been needing?"

She faintly nodded, her hips moving gradually with his fingers. His fingers circled in swift motion and it was enough for her to roll her head back onto his shoulder. His fingers then slid back into her slicked entrance before he abruptly slipped two of them into her. Eyes snapping shut, she groaned in pleasure. He began thrusting slowly into her over and over, curling them deep inside. A whimper escaped her mouth at the feel of them as he began to pump into her roughly, her hips pressing eagerly back into his hand.

"I can already feel you clenching around my fingers," he whispered. "You really needed this, didn't you?"

"So much," she found herself answering, a hand grasping onto his arm as he kept thrusting his fingers at a steady pace. "I needed you."

"Then you have me. You'll always have me."

A breathy moan flew out of her at his words, her back arched in response. She felt his lips pulling into a smile along her skin, thrusting his fingers all the way in. She moaned loudly, her head dropping down between his shoulders as he pulled his fingers out before quickly pushing them right back inside.

"Spence," she breathlessly sighed, his fingers still vigorously thrusting into her, only pausing to occasionally curl inside of her which in turn had her toes curling on the bed, her body feeling closer to the edge of her release. "I-I'm gonna—"

"No. You're not."

She let out a loud groan, griping his arm as he thrust deeper, his fingers spreading wider into her as another finger entered her heat. His warm breath was brushing over her skin, the sensation mingled with his finger still thrusting into her deliciously pleasant. "Baby, I-I can't—"

"You can," he whispered, his breathing sounding harsher than before. "You're going to wait until I give you my permission."

A harsh moan ripped in her throat, her body spasming as she tried to force herself to control her body. but it was getting harder to do when her vision felt like it was blurring, her breath coming in sharp pants as his fingers continued to drive into her, the sensation had her legs shaking. She could hear how wet she was, the slick sound of him pumping into her echoed in the room.

"You're really enjoying this," he ground out as his pace picked up. "You're already so close."

She nodded against the pillow, whimpering out an affirmative noise that wasn't quite a word.

"Then I can't let that happen."

Instead of getting what she wanted, he abruptly pulled his fingers out from inside of her before she whined in protest. The loss of his touch on her body was too much to handle as she gripped his arm again, guiding him back between his legs. Spencer couldn't help the amusement dripping in his voice as he watched her move his fingers with her own. "What are you doing?"

"Spence, I was so close—"

"That's not how this works."

Then he retrieved his hand again before shifting behind her, and when she caught him pulling down his sweatpants, she couldn't help but arch her body towards him. She swallowed hard, goosebumps raising along her skin as she watched him pull out his cock, his hand gripping onto the length of it as he settled between her legs.

A moment later she felt the head of his cock rubbing through her damp folds, a shudder running down her spine at the sensation, a soft hum vibrating through her lips. She felt him line himself up with her entrance, her breath feeling like it was catching in her throat as she impatiently waited for him.

And then, finally, after many days of being apart, the tip of him slid inside of her so slowly. A gasp fell out of her mouth. Spencer rumbled out a very gruff, contented noise as he gradually sunk even deeper inside of her, pausing to let herself adjust to him.

"You feel so warm," he groaned out. "So perfectly warm."

She moaned in response, breath coming in hard. "Don't stop, please don't stop."

She could feel her walls fluttering around him, trying to adjust to his girth. Then his hips slowly began rocking into her, pleasure washing over her body in waves at the sensation. His mouth lowered beside her ear, each of his panting breaths falling straight into it. "Nice—" He moved his hips back before pushing them forward leisurely, enjoying the way she clenched around him. "—and slow."

The roll of his hips pulled her into a trance as her body responded; muscles straining, eyes widening, lips parting. Sparks of electricity began to ricochet along every nerve. The coil inside her was building up, her chest was rising and falling faster, more and more, dragging desperate breaths into her lungs with every thrust of his hips.

Then her eyes shifted downwards, watching the way he entered her deliciously body. It was a strange sight, to watch her body react to something so wonderful. Her muscles tensed, goosebumps sprang up along her skin, and it was all there for her viewing pleasure. She watched as he shoved himself into her, over and over again, her walls trembling at how intoxicating he was making her feel.

"Baby, I—" she whimpered, trembling in her wake. "I can't hold much longer."

"You can," he assured her, his fingers digging into her skin.

Weak and desperate, she surrendered in the wake of the urge elicited by his abrasive touch. His hands were all over her, large and expansive, confident in the way he touched, squeezed, and fondled every part of her body. Eager flames bloomed in the pit of her gut. "I—I can't."

He relished the way she clenched around him, her breathing coming out shallow as he took what he wanted. Then he gripped her hips, building up his pace as he thrust deeper into her. "You're so close, I can feel it," he pointed out. "Do you want to cum?"

She tried to focus her mind on something other than the feeling of him inside her. "Yes."

"Hmm," he hummed out, his pace briefly slowing. His lips brushed the shell of her ear as he demanded, "Beg me or I'll stop."

A whimper left her. "Spence."

His lips found her neck when he felt her walls squeezing him even tighter, "Do you want to cum?" he repeated against her skin.

"Mhmm."

"Use your words," he groaned as he increased the pace of his movements. "Say it."

Swallowing hard, her head rolled against his shoulder. Her lips were quivering as he kept up his pace, her body inching closer and closer to her release. She was fighting to hold it back, her body slowly beginning to shake along the mattress.

"Beg." Thrust. "Me." Thrust.

She was so close. Her eyes were half-lidded her voice rang in the air, breathless and desperate for his mercy from the overwhelming pleasure. "Please," she finally breathed out, almost letting out a cry, her lips parted in delight. "Baby—I-I... please let me cum."

"What was that?"

"Spencer," she whimpered desperately. "Please. Please. Let me—fuck.. baby, please."

This time she did let out a cry.

He snarled behind her before his teeth snapped at her earlobe, tugging at the delicate skin. Her body was quaking on the bed as she whined, struggling to hold back any longer. And when she felt like she was about to lose control, he finally released her earlobe and spoke, "Go on, then. Cum for me."

A loud moan flew up out of her throat, her body pressing back into his. She felt the hard clench of her walls around his length as pleasure spread through her entire body. As the coil in her stomach grew, she couldn't help but snake a hand down to where they were connected and quickly found her throbbing sex. Catching her desperate fingers, he swatted her hand away, replacing it with his own as his fingers circled around her clit.

His rough fingers taunting their joint bodies tipped her over that tantalizing edge. She felt each pulse of her walls so acutely, felt the heat flow throughout her spine as the high she reached never came to an end. He buried his face into her neck, kissing and biting the smooth skin. A certain movement from his fingers made her whole body shake. She couldn't handle it, couldn't see through the tears falling, couldn't feel anything but him and the hot pleasure.

She finally came with a scream, wrenched from her throat so roughly it seared its way out of her lungs and into the air. She felt herself clench around him, hard, and his hips shuddered violently against her. Her ears tingled at the rhythm of his grunts as he exhaled her name, his thrusts growing erratic. Then she felt him completely, she could feel his warmth seeping into her heat as he let out the most primal groan she had ever heard.

Silence engulfed them afterward, their heart slowing down from their erratic breathing. It wasn't until he slipped out of her that she let out a tired moan, her voice echoing in the dark. He gently grabbed her body and turned her around, cradling her cheek before leaning in for a kiss.

Then slowly, but steadily, all he tasted was her. It felt like a missing puzzle falling back to its place as his warm lips connected with hers. He was so enraptured by her touch, by the taste of her, that it took a lot for him to pull away. Breathing heavily, he finally rested his head back onto his pillow, a coy smile stretched on his lips as his thumb stroked along her cheek.

"Hi."

A sincere smile flourished on her face. "Hi."

"Well, that was... something."

She laughed as she leaned closer, wrapping her arm around his waist. "It was fun."

"It really was," he agreed, suddenly feeling shy as he realized what had just occurred. "I always surprise myself when I'm with you."

"Good," she simply said. He wrapped his arms around her as she settled in his embrace. They lay in comfortable silence, her head on his chest, legs draped over him as his fingers drew lazy patterns on her thigh. Then after a moment of relishing each other's presence, his deep voice cut through the silence.

"You know," he started, his voice very soft. "You could've just woken me up if you have trouble sleeping."

She slightly leaned back to look up at him. "You looked so peaceful, I didn't want to disturb you."

"Nothing about you will ever be disturbing to me."

She wrinkled her nose. "Even if you got home from a long, exhausting trip, you wouldn't mind if I woke you up for sex?"

"I'd especially want to be woken up for that reason," he replied in disbelief. His fingers trailed under her chin, angling her gaze on him. "Wouldn't you?"

She smiled at the thought. There was a delightful feeling as her mind wandered on the possibility of him interrupting her sleep because he craved her touch. "Alright," she agreed. "Duly noted."

His arms tightened around her. "Do you think you can sleep now?"

She hummed out a positive response, her face burrowing along his skin, just beneath his chin. Her body suddenly felt the heavy post-sexual bliss, and now surrounded by his warmth, she could feel the fatigue creeping into her body.

"I was hoping so," he murmured.

Tugging the sheets up higher over their body, she felt him shifting along the bed for a minute, his arms encircling her waist. His chin was carefully tucked onto the top of her head as he drew her in tight under the covers. And when the steady rhythm of his breathing embraced her, her body finally relaxed, falling into sleep.

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murdrdocs · 3 months

Text

explicit content; slight blood play; dark content; MDNI

if you were in your right mind, maybe you would worry over treating your wounds. the pain littered all around your body would concern you. it would be stronger than the pleasure starting to spread in it's place.

if you were in your right mind, you wouldn't be letting luke castellan, your self proclaimed enemy, pleasure you in the most intimate ways.

his hips knocking against yours almost shakily, as if he hasn't done this many times before. still, his thrusts are strong. they're as powerful as the blows he'd landed onto your body just a short while ago.

each shove of his dick up into you makes you gasp, time and time again. sometimes, he hits a spot that makes you mewl. the sound is pathetic, it makes you feel weak. and you must reclaim your dominance by digging your hands into luke's curls and yanking until he hisses.

unfortunately, the pain seems to spur him on more. his hiss melts into a groan. his eyes roll back into his head and he starts to fuck you (because that's really what he is doing) with more determination.

while you initially didn't receive your desired reaction, you do receive satisfaction. luke bends at the hip, pressing your lower torsos together as he starts to grind into you instead of piston. it's a nice change of pace, like this he massages along your insides, providing mind numbing satisfaction.

there's a cut on his side from your sword, shallow and short, but it's there. it rubs against your own skin every so often, and during the in between moments of luke burying himself as deep as he can get, you glance down to see the red smear against your skin.

for some odd reason, the sight pulls the most animalistic growl out from deep within you. perhaps from the same place that the tip of luke's dick rubs against time and time again.

#see this i would make a full fic #lukesworld!#luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x you #luke castellan smut

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bits-and-babs · 11 months

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i need breeding kink!konig before i cryy also w small reader eeee

𝐆𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐌𝐘 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐃, 𝐆𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐀 𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐃

pairing : könig x f!reader ('perle')

synopsis : könig snaps after a particularly hard mission, unable to hold back his desire much longer.

warnings : [ 1k words ] Emotional distress, unprotected pinv sex, utterly pathetic könig, breeding kink, creampie, overstimulation, cum eating, reference to oral (f receiving). könig is a babbling mess.

notes: this is pure filth. barely any mention of small reader because i like to be inclusive <33

König’s combat boots drag across the floorboards of your shared apartment, depositing clumps of dried Spanish mud across the oak with each weary trudge of his feet. Your boyfriend carries his body over the house threshold like a wounded hound, his tail between his legs and eyelids still splotched with patchy grease paint. König is prideful, usually holding his gigantic frame with a regal posture to match his name– you’ve never seen him so crippled by what he’d promised would be a straightforward mission, in and out.

You open your mouth to ask, to say his name, to offer your support, noting the way König didn’t take his shoes off at the door like he always did. He doesn’t let you, his prodigious forearms encircling your waist with a vice-like grip.

“Just give me this, Perle. I need nothing else,” he promises you, his accent delicate to your ears when he whispers his plea into your hair. Clutching him tight, you liberate the breath you’d held hostage between the bars of your ribcage since König left. You’d been fearful, as always, that the oxygen in your lungs would serve a life sentence, but when your lungs expand again, aching at the edges, you smell his exertion, the earthiness of the mud that clung to his body, the gunpowder he’d expended while taking lives. He’s home.

“König,” you whisper to him, scared a louder decibel would rip apart the fragile foundations that kept the hefty Austrian upright. He shakes his head in response, his palms pawing at your hips, squeezing at the flesh he finds with overwrought neediness.

“Please, Perle,” he murmured, his voice cracking beneath the tide of his emotional turmoil, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your ass to pull your body closer, “I just need you. Need you close- need to be in you.”

It’s jarring, the distress you feel roiling inside the tense muscles of his back that you skirt your palm over not matching the dripping desire that coated his tongue. When you lean back in his grip, attempting to catch a glimpse of your lover’s eyes, he pulls you impossibly closer. The thread-worn material of his battle-tested uniform is soft against your skin, but the firmness of his cock against you is undeniable.

“Anything,” you whisper, and it’s as though you’ve let the hounds loose. König launches you over his shoulder, ignoring your squeals of shock, and hurries towards the bedroom with absurdly broad strides.

☆ ☆ ☆

He chokes out a string of unintelligible German curse words when he finally bottoms out inside of you. König’s hands, webbed with silver scars that spanned across his knuckles, grasp at your hips and angle them skyward, his thighs flexing as he attempts to keep still for a moment.

“Hahh-ah- Still, Schatzi, be still,” he urges you brokenly. You wail, winded by the sensation of his preposterously thick cock spearing your cunt. It lays deep inside you, nudging at your cervix when it twitches. “S-Still-“

Statuesque, you haven’t moved a nanometre. It’s König, his face buried deep into the crook of your neck, mindlessly pushing his hips deeper into you with shallow thrusts. They’re barely there, slight and feeble, as he dramatically gasps out each time the sensitive tip of his dick brushes your cervix.

“Aha-Haaa, please, please, Perle,” he keens, his rumbling voice strained by his frantic desire. His fingertip pushes into the swollen nub of your clit, and it draws dangerously lazy circles over the sparking nerves there. You sob his name weakly, almost missing his rambled plea. “So tight- your cunt is so tiny for me, Perle. Ughh-fuck- let me cum in it? L-Let me fill it up, watch it spill out of you-“

Your back arches from the mattress as he withdraws his hips slightly, only to plunge them deeper. It’s ludicrous, you think, the way your body gives way to his ridiculous intrusion, but your toes curl with delight, and König wails out another string of profanity.

“Hah-sorry, sorry, I’m so sorry,” he babbles, his cock rocking in and out of you but never once entirely withdrawing from your heat, “I just need to fill this cunt, Perle. Need to see it leak– See you swollen with our child– fuck!”

König spits a broken moan when your hips arch to meet his thrusts. Your clit brushes his pubic bone with each joining of your hips, hurtling you towards orgasm and tightening your walls with bliss.

“So tight, so fu-huhhking tight, Perle– Fuck!” König gasps, his hips stuttering as he braces for your answer.

“Yes,” you whine, eyelids fluttering as your orgasm threatens to crash through you in a tidal wave, “Please, König, please fucking fil–“

König cuts off your appeal with a hoarse cry of your name, his whole body trembling with the force of his orgasm as his cock spurts thick, hot ropes of cum deep inside of your cunt. The warmth of the blooming pressure inside you sparks a blissful throb, your nails sinking into König’s forearms as it detonates inside you. You hear him through the mind-blowing buzz, wailing and sobbing about how you’re milking him, how it’s dripping from your cunt and into the bedsheets.

It’s hazy when the overwhelming euphoria floats down, König still hunched over your body and thrusting inside of you helplessly. His jaw hangs loose, eyebrows knitted together in a mixture of agonising pain and paradisical ecstasy as he fucks his cum deeper into you.

“Hahah-Ahhh fuck, c-creaming all o-ohhhver my cock-“he slurs, his removing his oversensitive cock with a pathetic sob. His fingers sink into your cunt almost instantly, ignoring the curl of your toes and the arch of your back to stuff the dribbling cum back inside of your fluttering pussy.

“Need it to take, Perle,” König garbles, his eyelids heavy as he sinks low to the mattress to swipe up the remaining excess with his tongue. He mumbles around your pussy as he laps up his cum from its glistening lips, “Jus’ lift your hips, Schatz. Sit them on my face; I want to taste us–“

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emepe · 1 month

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— Pairing: Yuuta x Reader, established relationship

— General info: 18+, one-shot, smut

— Summary: When it comes to Yuuta, “just the tip” is the start of a dangerous game.

— Content warnings: nsfw, unprotected vaginal sex, virginity loss, implied religious guilt, mild god complex if you squint, coercion, slight breeding kink.

— Notes: Honestly, I wrote this just to see if I could still write decent smut (and Yuuta fits the trope perfectly ugh, I can't lie). Likes and reblogs are appreciated! Happy reading!

Links: Read on AO3 | Masterlist

It wasn't supposed to happen like this. You promised each other you would wait. But an innocent kiss on the cheek while watching TV led to a sloppy makeout session on the sofa, with your legs on either side of Yuuta's lap and your clothed cunt grinding needily onto his crotch as his fingers crept under your shirt and dug into your waist.

A whine escapes your lips when he involuntarily thrusts his hips upwards, meeting you halfway, desperate for further friction.

“My God, Yuu,” you moan into his mouth, as your combined drool trickles down your chin.

“‘M sorry,” he mumbles, yet makes no effort to hold back. Because little by little, with every movement of your hips, his erection has become downright painful. It's practically throbbing in the confines of his jeans, swollen and red, aching to be let out, begging for relief.

But he promised.

It's a mental game to come down to his senses and draw an end when things get too heated between you. God knows you haven't one ounce of willpower when you're spiraling down a lustful haze. But he'd rather be the stronger one than risk the loss of your virtue ending in remorse.

He loves you too much to force you to carry such an immense guilt. You vowed to wait until you were married and instead settled for a few steamy moments here and there — always sure you never made it too far.

You could hump and whine and he'd swallow every sweet sigh you pour into his mouth — as long as you never fully undressed and as long as he didn't ruin you by pushing himself between your legs. Then he'll wrap his arms around you, assuring you that whatever you did was still innocent, that you have no reason to feel guilty because you're both still pure.

The vicious cycle never ends.

You're incredibly precious to him — you're everything — but man, it really pisses him off sometimes that he has to be the one to protect a promise you were the first to suggest.

He brings a hand to collect your hair and nip at your neck, kissing it, tracing its slope with his tongue and sucking fervently at the supple skin. As if that's enough, as if it could compare to the glowing promise that being buried inside you represents. His cock twitches at the thought, the movement causing you to expel another string of holy affirmations.

His eyes land on the hand that grips at the fabric of his shirt as you whimper into his ear and the air thickens with the scent of spit, sweat, and desire.

The engagement ring on your finger has become a symbol of dread. So close to having you bound to him forever, and yet the time couldn't come fast enough.

His chest rises and falls dramatically with every shallow breath. It's all too much — the blood rushing south, the precum he can feel leaking from his tip and soiling his underwear, the line of sweat that transfers from your forehead to his as you squeeze your eyes shut and breathe against his mouth — it's all too good.

But it's not enough.

He's tired of it, and you're not making things easier with your pathetic whimpers and your feverish body clinging to him. He can feel your pussy clenching around nothing through the layers of clothing dividing you. If he didn't know any better, he might’ve thought you wore a skirt on purpose to further drive him mad. He might be a patient man —loving, understanding, doting— but he's still a man.

“Just the tip,” he groans.

Your hips slow down as you struggle to comprehend what he just said, earning him a chance to will the cum threatening to spurt inside his jeans back.

“What?” you ask, tilting your head as you observe his blown pupils and his eyebrows upturned in desperate pleading.

“Just the tip, please.”

Your lips part to draw a sharp breath as it dawns on you what he's asking for.

“But we promised,” you softly pronounce.

“It won't change anything if it's just the tip,” he promises. “It's barely anything. It'll be like the time you used your hand.”

He hopes your mind is too dizzy to comprehend that the two situations don't compare at all.

Uncertainty casts over your features, but he can see a hint of consideration gleaming in your eyes at the idea.

You'd be lying if you said you never considered loosening up on your convictions every now and then when you got so close to the act. But you didn't think you could handle disappointing Yuuta by breaking the promise you brought up in the first place. After all, he's so devoted to you and he promised to abide by your wishes no matter how long it took because the gratification when you finally joined in carnal pleasure would only make your commitment to each other all the more special.

“As long as I get to be with you, the rest doesn't matter,” was what he said.

But now that he's looking up at you with such helpless eyes, like you're some sort of god he prays to, your morals take a toll.

His blue eyes stare adoringly into yours.

“Please?” he asks again.

He presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth.

“Please,” he insists, tugging on your bottom lip with his teeth, biting down just hard enough to cause a whisper of pain before alleviating the feeling with his tongue.

“Please, please, please, it hurts,” he whines, tears lining his lashes and threatening to spill as he reaches between you to palm himself over his jeans. “I can't take it anymore. I'm begging you, I need you, I love you.”

How could you possibly say no when he asks so nicely?

You'd have to be made of stone to deny him the pleasure. You'd have to be a monster to not relieve him of his throbbing pain. You'd have to be the cruelest god to impose him with such inhumane punishment.

“Yuu,” you whisper, his pain reflecting on your face upon witnessing his desperation.

“Please,” he sniffles.

“Okay.”

The word falls over him like a fresh breeze.

“Really? You mean it?”

His lips curve into an eager smile, with butterflies fluttering in his stomach in anticipation.

You nod, happy to see his teary eyes light up.

“Just the tip.”

“Just the tip, I promise.”

He brushes away at his tears with the heel of his palm.

“You're an angel,” he murmurs as he cradles your face with one hand and starts guiding your hips over his erection again with the other.

Soon enough, you're back to panting into each other's mouths, feverish and dizzy at your new promise to fulfill.

Your hands fumble to undo his jeans, clumsily pulling down the zipper in fragments.

“Just the tip,” you huff, as he moans upon feeling your clammy hands palm him through his underwear.

You pull on his briefs just enough for his erection to spring free.

“Oh, god,” you exhale, in awe of the intense red that consumes the head of his cock. Precum oozes from the tip, balls heavy as if he's seconds away from bursting. It's no wonder he looked so pained.

“Just the tip,” he reminds you kindly as he pets your hair, heart rate spiking when he watches your thumb trace over his leaking tip.

He flips you over so that you're pressed onto the sofa while he hovers over you and hooks his fingers around your pink cotton panties, tugging them down your hips with ease and tossing them onto the floor, leaving you in your skirt.

The sight of your bare cunt — already a sopping wet mess from everything that now counts as foreplay — makes his cock twitch.

With his weight balanced on one forearm, he carefully drags himself between your folds, the most sinful sound reaching your ears as he coats his length in your juices. His free hand cradles your face as he bends down to capture your mouth in a heated kiss. His tongue pushes against yours, swallowing each of your moans as your hands lose themselves in his raven hair.

With fingers trembling in excitement, he lets you go and starts lining himself to penetrate your insides.

“Yuu,” you gasp.

He watches in fascination as his reddened tip squeezes in and slowly disappears inside you, your cunt glistening with enough arousal that you barely feel any pain in the sudden stretch. In fact, Yuuta swears he can feel you suck him in the tiniest bit further as you flutter around the foreign member in your body. He can feel himself grow weaker as he's hit with the warmth and wetness of your insides.

“Fuck,” he hisses, face dropping into the crook of your neck.

The overwhelming ecstasy of knowing he's connected to you burns at every inch of his skin as he scrambles to gather enough strength to pull out and push his tip back in again.

You writhe under him, hands frantically pulling him in for a kiss. He complies. After all, you've gifted him with this — not that he wouldn't give in to your wishes otherwise.

His brows furrow in concentration, eyes squeezed shut with the image of his tip swallowed by your insides flashing behind his eyelids. He pumps his head inside you — in and out, in and out — mesmerized by how good it feels even if it's barely a taste.

It alleviates him… just a little.

He grips your hips with bruising force, rolling his hips further into you all at once, leaving a mildly burning sensation in its wake.

A whine escapes your lips and your eyes close as you feel a tickle of his pubic hair brushing against your lower tummy. Your arms hook under his, bringing him close, scratching his back over his shirt.

An animalistic power washes over him, pushing him to penetrate the deepest part of you, over and over again. His hand squeezes your face, demanding your attention and forcing you to meet his crazed gaze. His pupils are blown with lust, the gentle blue of his irises nearly gone. With the help of his thumb, he pries your mouth open, aggressively pushing his tongue against yours, relishing in the muffled cries of pleasure you release.

The kiss is so needy, so aggressive, it's borderline painful and your jaw hurts from the tight grip of his hand. But it's still so fucking good.

When he pulls back, your eyes are lined with tears, much like his when he was begging to let you use just his tip minutes ago.

The sound of slapping skin echoes around you. Sloppy, wet, sinful.

“Yuuta, this doesn’t feel like just the tip,” you heave, feeling an unfamiliar knot tangling in your lower stomach.

“It is, baby. I swear.”

You both know he's lying but you're too caught up in each other to care.

Your legs wrap around him, barely granting him enough space to move, but he doesn't care. This is better, this is what he needs to relieve the mild guilt that stems from lying to you, because this means you're just as thrilled by him ruining you as he is. And if you're so unwilling to ease your hold on him, he might as well kill two birds with one stone tonight and fill you to the brim with his cum.

The possibility of knocking you up has him reeling. A breathless laugh pushes past his lips as he looks down at you.

You're such a pretty mess and he's so in love. Your pussy does such a good job at sucking him in and he's so fucking drunk on it.

The image of you sprawled below him, sweating and whining out his name will be burned into his memory forever. And you do have forever promised, he remembers. That ring on your finger — the very finger on the very hand that's creeping between your bodies to toy with your clit — stands as proof.

You perverted little thing, he thinks, as he feels you bucking your hips upward to meet his thrusts halfway.

“Yuuta, my god, oh my god!” you whimper as his strokes grow even sloppier and he grows even heavier on your body.

“Feel good, angel?” he taunts, using the nickname he imposed on you back before you became such a needy disaster.

An airy chuckle bubbles up his throat when you fervently nod and caress his cheek. He hooks an arm under your leg, pressing it further into your chest in a semi-mating press position.

He carelessly thrusts his hips a few more times before he's washed over with a glorious relief that he pours inside you, marveling at the way your insides flutter around him, milking him dry with every wanton squeeze.

It's like you want to get knocked up, he thinks.

His hold on your leg loosens and his weight tumbles down on top of you as you work your way to clarity.

He moves around on the limited space of the sofa so that you can snuggle into his chest with his arms wrapped tightly around you as he presses soft kisses onto the crown of your head.

You can feel his cum leaking from your insides and seeping into the couch cushions, but it'll be a while before either of you care to clean up your mess.

His warm embrace coaxes you to sleep. As you're teetering the line of peaceful slumber, a familiar thought pops into your head.

“Yuuta,” you murmur.

“Hm?”

“What we just did wasn't wrong, was it?”

He looks down at you, fingers lifting your chin so he can see your face. Your eyes are wide with worry. The duality with which you're able to confront these matters will forever be a mystery to him.

His gaze softens and a smile graces his lips.

“Don't worry, angel. This was innocent.”

He presses a kiss to your forehead.

“It's pure love.”

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#yuuta x reader #yuuta smut #yuuta okkotsu x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x you #yuuta okkotsu x you #yuuta okkotsu smut #okkotsu yuta x you #okkotsu yuta smut #jjk smut #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jjk fanfiction

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tartaroooo · 1 month

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One More Night

Hookups were supposedly a one- time thing. A way to have fun without getting attached.

So why the fuck does he keep coming back to you?

Scaramouche x Gn!Reader

A/n: A quick edit of a draft I've had in my notes for a while now.

Art credits: ike_0910

Warning: Slight nsfw, cursing

Scaramouche despises hookups.

To be tangled within the sheets with a complete stranger, the idea repulsed him to no end. Honestly, it was rather pathetic. It was nothing more than a desperate act of attention. A despondent call to those terrified of estrangement. But archons forbid, he'd be lying if he said he wasn't the least bit curious.

Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to try at least once?

Besides, stress has been eating him up lately. He needed a way to clear his thoughts and forget. To let go and revel in the pleasure of losing himself in his inhibitions.

But there must be something wrong with his hookup. Weren't they supposedly a one- time thing? A way to have fun without getting attached?

So why the fuck does he keep coming back to you?

Why does he insist on keeping you on his bed, with a part of him wishing you'd stay there forever?

He hated this so much.

Words can’t express how much he loathes this thing referred to as attachment. He refuses to let his emotions run rampant again and undergo the heartbreak of treachery. He’s been betrayed three times. He’s not letting you be his fourth one.

Yet here he was, in bed with you for the 5th time this week, lips locked in a fiery fit of passion. Your wrists were pinned above your head, it was scary how he didn’t want to let you go. How despite his repugnance towards devotion, his hypocrisy ruled with the thoughts of keeping you in place.

"You taste so fucking good…", he mumbles as his breath brushes against your lips. Your skin was redolent of fresh lemon with the base of woody amber, the bed sheets stained with the scent of your perfume. The air was heavy, choking the last of his self-control. He eyes you, taking shallow breaths underneath him as you tried to catch your breath. He couldn’t help the twitch of his lips as you never fail to provide him with the dopamine of having control. He dives in for another kiss, this time devoid of passion and merely fueled by his hunger. Hunger for you. For the delightful moans that slip out your pretty, little mouth when he pounds relentlessly into you. For the way your body arches when he rakes his fingernails across your smooth skin, all the while his hips snap forward to hit that spot deep within you. A certain area only he knows that would drive you crazy.

He was obsessed with this feeling.

He knows that he should've let you go already, that this is something that shouldn't be happening. But dear archons forgive him because being wrong never felt so right. You were like a poison who seeped into his veins, rewiring his brain to be filled with thoughts regarding you and you alone. You collapsed the building of his very morals, turned everything he stood up for into non-existent debris.

"One more night…" He mutters, burying his face into the crook of your neck. It would be a comforting gesture, if not for the fact that he sinks his teeth into your skin and gnaws on it like a piece of meat. He’s sure that's going to leave a mark tomorrow yet it doesn’t stop the sinful moan that escapes your throat, an invitation for him to keep going. And he will most definitely keep going. His sense of judgement disintegrated when you hooked your arms around his neck, reciprocating his intense desire that tarnished both your bodies and short circuited your willpower. Nothing else mattered. Just you and his desire to have his way with you until he's satisfied.

A low chuckle escapes from the confines of his throat as he saw how much of a mess you became. A mess that belonged in his museum of you, framed, sculpted or whatever way its preserved. With a smirk that seemed to widen every passing minute, his fingers lightly trace the curve of your spine.

He just couldn't get enough of you.

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justporo · 2 months

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Randomly asked myself what Astarion's love languages would be, as in receiving.

Words of affirmation: On the outside it might feel like this is merely a game, shallow praise and such, but he dies for genuine compliments. No one can tell me he wouldn't actually drop to his knees if Tav called him a "good boy" - only it's contradicting his image, so he reserves the big goofy genuine smiles for when you are private. But be sure that he would give you the absolute wettest eyes if you tell him how smart and wonderful he is.

Acts of service: I mean you went with him to kill his master. Of course he'd enjoy you doing things for him, he's a bit of a princess of course. But I feel like this one is not as big for him, because maybe he'd like to be more independent now that he is able to. Not that he would say no if you were to offer doing him a favour of any kind.

Receiving gifts: He loves being spoiled. He had nothing but the often stitched up shirt on his back for so long. So just about every little thing you might gift him would mean the world to him - which also might mean that your place is getting a little cluttered. But who really cares if you see how happy it makes him?

Physical touch: This I feel like is the biggest one for Astarion. Sometimes it's hard of course, because sometimes trauma has a way to come back to haunt him. But he's desperate to work through it because nothing feels quite as good as being as close as possible to you. To feel your fingers softly detangle his curls, your legs all wrapped around him as he lays between your legs, face buried at your warm chest where he feels your warmth seep into his body and your smell surrounds him - and he found his personal heaven.

Quality time: This is a big one because that is something he didn't ever get to enjoy properly before. Astarion could waste away centuries with you just cuddled up with you, or just sharing a space in companionable silence as you each do stuff. Maybe you're reading while he's doing soke embroidery. The silence isn't heavy and you keep throwing each other loving glances across the room.

#astarion #baldur's gate 3 #astarion ancunin #bg3 spoilers #astarion x tav #baldur's gate iii #bg3 #poro headcanons #astarion x you #bg3 companions

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tasteleeknow · 1 year

Text

[ 5:10 ] "It's raining," he whispers as he strokes your hair softly.

It's your favourite kind: morning rain. It seals you inside, seals both you and Minho inside your small apartment together. You haven't been awake long, 10 minutes or so—waking to the gentle brush of his fingers against your temple.

"Mm," you hum. "I can hear."

"Should we stay in?" he asks. A rare day off for both of you.

You nuzzle into his neck in response, burying yourself into him. There's no where you'd rather be.

He's quiet after that, both of you lulled by the heavy rain. Your head rises and falls with each breath he takes. You're just about to lose consciousness again when his soft voice pulls you to the surface. "Should we go swimming?" he asks.

You lift your head, taken aback by his question. His eyes are closed.

"Swimming?"

He hums.

"In the rain?"

"Why not?" he questions. "The pool is heated."

It was a very nice pool. You hadn't had the opportunity to use it much at all since moving in. But why would a rainy day be the time to break out of that?

"We'll have it to ourselves," Minho says, voice still a little croaky from sleep.

Ah. He always got a little nervous at the pool when others were around, a little embarrassed at his attempts to join you in the deep end. He'd watch from the edge, his legs dangling into the water—watching the children dive and splash like it was as easy as walking.

"Alright," you mumble with a quick kiss to his shoulder. "Let's go swimming."

—

He's laughing when you throw your already damp towel aside and jump into the warm water, desperate to escape from the cold. When you resurface he's laying it out over the back of a chair, out of the rain.

You watch when he lowers himself into the pool, taking the steps at the shallow end casually—like he isn't feeling the cold at all.

You meet him just as he's submerged up to his chest, wrapping your legs around his torso and clinging to him tightly. He wraps his arms around you in return, holding you to him as you wet his shoulders with the warm water—scooping small handfuls over him. His hair is quickly sticking to his temples, the rain still falling heavy.

"Warm?" he asks.

You nod, pushing some of the wet hair from his face. "Have you been swimming in the rain before?"

"No," he says. Then, after short pause, "It's nice."

He tips his head back, closing his eyes as the heavy droplets fall across his face.

"I love you," you mutter, a little absent-mindedly.

It takes him a few blinks to get the water from eyes, before he's able to return your gaze. "Really?" he asks with a small smirk. "You sure?"

"You're supposed to say 'I love you, too'."

He closes his eyes, dropping his head back to the sky. "Mm, okay. I love you, too," he says casually.

His neck is bared, small droplets making lazy paths down to his clavicles. You bite into his neck, not hard, just enough to satisfy. It's the only reasonable thing to do, really.

He tightens his arms around you before he moves, walking you the few steps it takes to reach the edge of the pool. When you're pushed up against the wall, he speaks, "Do you bite everyone you love?"

You shake your head a little. "Only you."

He blinks a little in an attempt to clear the rain from his eyes, his long lashes only capable of holding so much water back.

"Only me?"

"Is it a deal breaker?" you say with a small smile.

"Depends," he says, boxing you in with both arms to the side of the pool. "Why only me?"

"Because you overwhelm me. What else am I supposed to do?"

He leans forward, pressing his torso into yours. "I have ideas."

You tuck some wet hair behind his ear. "Of course you do," you say with a breathy laugh. "You're so smart."

You catch his tiny smile before his lips are on yours.

#lee know smut #lee know fluff #lee know x reader #lee know fanfic #kpop smut #stray kids smut #kpop imagines #skz smut #stray kids imagines #stray kids imagine #kpop scenarios #stray kids scenarios #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #minho x reader #skz imagines #stray kids fanfic #skz scenarios

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inkykeiji · 3 months

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anonymous said: i just wanna sit down on sukuna’s massive thigh. is that so much to ask?? character: ryomen sukuna notes: anon, i want to ride sukuna’s massive thigh so so so badly!!!!! and so of course i had to write something!!! warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, daddy kink, size difference, thigh riding, implied cureless!au, fem!reader, humiliation and degradation, toxic relationship, bit of noncon overstim right at the end words: 1.8k

It’s custom practice, at this point, that Sukuna places you on his lap whenever he’s engaging in an activity that requires sitting; when he’s working in his office, when he’s in a meeting (because his precious little baby is always with him, no matter what time or place or occasion), when he’s reading, when he’s lounging, when he’s eating.

It isn’t always in the same position; sometimes you’ll rest against him, your back pressed flush to his chest, one thick arm wound around your waist for stability; sometimes you’ll straddle his massive thigh, your face buried in his neck, lips painting strokes of saliva across his collarbone in messy little pecks, lashes leaving gentle butterfly kisses against his shoulder.

But irregardless of the situation and your posture throughout, if he’s sitting, you are there with him.

It is also customary that you behave while you’re in Daddy’s lap—no fidgeting or squirming, no whining or whispering, no complaints of boredom at all, and no getting down until he releases you.

So it’s not a shock, exactly, that a low, dark chuckle rumbles beneath his ribs the moment your hips begin to rock—barely anything more than shallow ruts, something that might’ve been mistaken for an innocent restlessness, had he not known better.

But he knows you much too well.

“I thought Daddy had a rule against wiggling, sweetheart.”

“Can’t help it, Daddy, swear I can’t.”

“Is that so?” he hums, flexing the muscles of his hard, defined thigh between your legs, snorting a little when you gasp. “And why is that?”

“M’horny, Daddy,” you whimper, nuzzling your cheek against the column of his throat. “Don’t wanna bother you, Daddy.”

“Oh? And what makes you think this isn’t bothersome?”

It’s not—you know it’s not.

Because as well as your Daddy knows you, you know him, too.

His four simple rules don’t exist because he can’t concentrate when you’re on his lap—he most definitely can. If there’s one thing you’ve come to learn about Sukuna in the short but intense time you’ve been his, it’s that he retains an exceptional amount of control over himself—body, mind, and soul—and it’s a fact he takes immense pride in.

Because, sure, Sukuna may live for the pursuit of pleasure, a hedonist in the purest sense, but that doesn’t mean he can’t control himself, his self-discipline and restraint sharper and stronger than a tungsten needle when he wants it to be.

His four simple rules are all about power.

Doesn’t mean they’re going to stop you, though.

Your hips are still shifting, cunt pressed flush to his thigh with only a thin layer of lace separating it from his pants, slit sliding along his firm, strong muscles in slow, hard strokes.

“Are you sure one pitiful little orgasm from pathetically humping my thigh is worth it?”

No, you’re not. One measly clitoral orgasm probably isn’t worth the hefty punishment that’s going to follow, but you’re too sleepy, too needy, to care.

An indistinct little noise vibrates at the back of your throat, head moving in ambiguous motions, rubbing thick cords of drool across his shoulder, leaving tiny webs shimmering on cashmere.

Your hips roll with more purpose, falling into a steady rhythm of rocking—back and forth, back and forth, smearing your cunt along the sleek muscle between your legs.

It already feels so good, using his thigh to stroke your clit in repetitive motions, the cotton twill of his trousers providing just enough resistance to make the friction delicious, a dull, dense heat flooding the pit of your stomach.

“God, look at you,” he scoffs, a peculiar mix of disgust and devotion saturating his voice. “Trying to fuck my thigh like you’re some sort of animal.”

Exhaling a snort, he jiggles his thigh in accentuation, sneering a little at the choked moan you try so hard to snuff out, pleasure clawing at your tongue.

“I guess it doesn’t make much of a difference to a desperate little slut, does it? My sick little girl will take whatever she can get, won’t she?”

Your head nods lethargically, smearing your own saliva over your chin.

“Aren’t you embarrassed to be acting like this? So eager, so ardent.”

“Jus’wan’ you, Daddy,” you slur out.

Because it’s true; you just want him, in any way you can have him.

Maybe you really are just a dirty, desperate little slut. Maybe it doesn’t matter either way.

“You know, I can feel your slick soaking through my pants,” Sukuna says, lips against the curve of your ear, dark, low voice reverberating against the cartilage—little tremors that snuggle into your flesh, skittering down your spine in a shiver. “It’s fucking disgusting, how wet you are from this.”

It is, he’s right, an obscene amount of arousal already staining his leg—far too much to be decent, to be normal, don’t you think, baby?—the copious amounts of slick making the grind along his strong muscles effortless, lace molded to your drenched folds and soiled all the way through, leaving a large gleaming patch on the material of his trousers, fabrics gliding together easily, aiding in your motions as your humping gains speed.

“Do you hear yourself? Do you hear how fucking lewd your cunt is?”

You do, of course you do, vulgar squelching echoing out among the home office with every buck of your hips, sopping clothes sloshing together, procuring a sick sort of gurgling.

It’s so humiliating, salacious sounds complemented perfectly by his silky laughter, but you can’t stop, movements accelerating to hard, quick gyrations of your hips as you lose the friction of his pants, now too slippery to be anything other than teasing.

His derisive remarks, coated in icing sugar, do nothing to tame the blaze in the pit of your tummy, his voice like kerosene, flames flaring with every word that drips from his mouth.

“You’re so easy, aren’t you? Easy to please, easy to pleasure, all you need is something nice and firm to rub your cunt on, huh?”

“Feels good, Daddy,” you mumble against his neck with another clumsy nod, words weighted with spit. “Feels s’good.”

“Yeah, I can tell, baby,” he snorts. “Look at how fucking sloppy you are!”

Leaning back a little in his office chair, he looks down at where you’re conjoined, a soft whine slipping from your lips at the loss of his chest. A thick layer of sheen coats his thigh, turning the charcoal shimmery in the beams of sunset streaming through the windows. His tongue clicks against his teeth in a disapproving tut, as if it’s such a shame that you’ve ruined his trousers so terribly.

It really is, though, sticky substance having accumulated on his pant leg so much that it’s merely collecting atop the material now, unable to soak any further. You whine again, yearning to bury your scorching face, pricks of humiliation stinging your cheeks.

“I should make you lick it up, honestly,” he muses to himself, humming a little at the prospect. “Such naughty little girls should be made to clean up the messes they make, don’t you agree?”

Aside from the light notes of beguile infusing his voice, he sounds normal—calm and unaffected—and you’d think him to be, too, if you couldn’t feel his massive cock, hard and straining against expensive slacks, brushing against your thigh with each of circle of your hips.

It twitches a little with every gentle graze of your body, but Sukuna does nothing to pursue it, nothing to satisfy it or solve the problem, too focused on you to care.

Your arms wind around his neck, bringing him back to you with a discontented little mewl, and he laughs again, going willingly.

Always so needy.

You’re really riding his thigh now, vigorous enough that the wheels of his office chair shift against the hardwood, Sukuna planting his feet more resolutely, keeping you both in place, muscles pulled taut with the motion.

Damp little moans seep into the skin of his neck as your hips work, each one pushed from your throat on an airy little gasp, and he can tell that you’re close.

Because that’s so easy, too—you’re so fucking obvious with it, with the way your thighs keep tensing around him, almost as if they’re trying to readjust their grip; squeeze him tighter, hump him harder, siphon his thigh up further, urgently chasing that building high.

That heavy heat is amassing in the pit of your stomach, sinking into your gut as it grows with every swivel of your hips, hotter and hotter, higher and higher until it feels smothering, sweltering, engulfing you from the inside out and weeping through your pores, ragged little pants of his title exhaled from parted lips.

“You’re such a perverted little girl,” he murmurs in your ear, voice deep and decadent, tinged with just a hint of amusement. “What would everyone think if they knew how sordid that pretty little mind of yours really is? All of your university professors who praised you so much, all of your esteemed colleagues at work, how would they feel to know of your true nature?”

“They’d be disgusted,” you sigh out, almost dreamily.

A chuckle rumbles behind his ribs, rubbing his jaw line along your temple in a possessive caress.

“Yeah, they would. And you’d like that, wouldn’t you? You’re so sick.”

“Only for you, Daddy, always for you, Daddy.”

“That’s right,” he purrs, hands finally finding their rightful place on your hips, so massive the tips of his thumbs overlay your ribs. “Now be a good dirty girl for Daddy and make a mess all over his thigh, sweetheart.”

And that’s all the permission you need, really.

Oh, it’s so cute, the way your cunt clenches against his sculpted muscles, the way he feels your hole flutter eagerly around nothing as wet, sticky warmth floods his thigh, the way your clit throbs in time with it, pressed tightly to his leg.

You’re whimpering out his name, skin clammy and glittering with sweat, tiny dewdrops beaded along your temples catching in the waning sun rays as you snuggle into his jaw, pliant and languid.

But Daddy isn’t done with you just yet.

The hands on your waist flex, blunt nails carving deep crescents into the flesh—latched onto you, firm and stable, using his grip as leverage to force your hips to keep moving, even as they start to jerk.

A hiss is spit through the gaps of your teeth, sharp and sudden, whole body recoiling from the involuntary overstimulation. Shudders ripple through your flesh in vicious bouts as Sukuna aggressively rubs your sensitive cunt along his leg, pressing his thigh upward and grinding strong, defined muscle into your aching clit.

“Daddy!” you wail, clinging to him despite the agony, fingers twisting knots in his immaculately pressed dress shirt. “St—ah!—S’too much, it hurts!”

“Oh, poor baby,” Sukuna pouts, oozing condescension. “You didn’t really think Daddy would just allow you misbehave in such a manner and get off without some sort of punishment, did you?”

No, you didn’t; of course you didn’t, but—

“Quite stupid, my pretty girl is,” he shakes his head with a chuckle, spikes of ice prickling your spine. “You wanted to ride Daddy’s thigh, so you are going to ride Daddy’s thigh, over and over and over again until your cute lil cunt has been rubbed raw, until Daddy decides it’s enough.”

#sukuna smut #sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #ryomen sukuna smut #ryomen sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x you #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #my gosh he’s so bIIIIIG

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just-my-latest-hyperfixation · 3 months

Text

The adventures of Eddie Munson, jerk

Written for the @steddiemicrofic challenge January 2024 edition

Prompt: hole, 404 words

Rated: T

Tags: modern AU; meet cute; HOH Steve Harrington; Eddie "foot in mouth" Munson; Eddie being a horny shit

Notes: based on this idea I posted a while ago. I'd link it, but alas, the tumblr search function sucks. I'll add it when I find it I guess. (Edit: found it!)

Ping.

Eddie's about to commit homicide in an airport terminal. Walk over to that asshole with the laptop and throttle him with the cord. Bury him in a shallow hole, chuck his beeping hell machine right-

Okay, breathe.

He's overreacting. The guy's an inconsiderate jerk, but he doesn’t deserve to be murdered. Eddie's just a bit on edge ‘cause he got up at ass o'clock and now his flight is delayed and his neck is hurting from the plastic chairs and his phone is dying and-

Ping.

Okay, that's it.

Eddie stomps over, propelled by rage and too many energy drinks.

“Hey, asshole!”

Laptop jerk just continues typing. So he thinks he can ignore him, huh? Eddie reaches him just as the laptop dings again, grabs him by the shoulder.

“Hey, dickhead, I'm talking to you.”

Laptop jerk flinches so hard he nearly sends his device flying, head whipping up and-

-shit, he's cute. Big, hazel eyes full of shocked confusion under a swoop of chestnut hair. Perfect, pouty lips parted in surprise. Eddie has a sudden impulse to wrap a hand around the curve of that throat, drop his voice, tell him to say sorry like a good boy.

Which would be … wildly inappropriate.

“Listen,” he says instead. “Your beeping is annoying the living hell outta me, so-”

Something is pressed into his hand. Something rectangular and plasticy, like a business card.

“What the fuck?” Eddie mutters, lifts it so that he can read what it says.

Hi, I'm Steve. I'm hard of hearing.

Wait, what?

Eddie's eyes flit back to laptop jerk's face. He's smiling, but there's a distinct undercurrent of confusion and concern. Like he doesn’t know why Eddie's so angry, which is true of course, because he can't fucking hear, has no idea what he did wrong and fuuuuck, who's the jerk now?

That shallow hole still sounds tempting, just for entirely different reasons.

“Erm, it's just …” he starts, more slowly now, those pretty eyes following the movement of his lips. “I've been wondering if maybe …”

Steve tilts his head.

"... you'd wanna have coffee? My flight's delayed and-”

If the curl of Steve's mouth is anything to go by, he knows exactly that this isn't what he wanted to say.

He nods anyway.

By the time Eddie’s flight lifts off, his phone is dead, but there's a sticky note with a number tucked into his pocket.

#steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #steddie brainrot #steddie fanfic #fanfiction writer #fanfiction #fanfic #my writing #steddiemicrofic #steddiemicroficjanuary #hoh steve harrington #hype's microfics

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kpopnstarwars · 4 months

Text

tw: 18+, man this shit is literally just smut, i'd say i'm sorry but i'm not, i'm down so fucking bad, dom coups and sub reader (sorta), blowjobs, fingering, hair pulling bc i love that shit, swearing, both are horny out of their minds, i can't write smut but i sure as hell tried, lmk if there's anything else,

you don't think you could ever get tired of the sight of choi seungcheol above you.

his strong thighs are spread wide, framing your shoulders as you kneel between them; one of his hands cups the nape of your neck, his fingers electrifying on your skin. worst of all - or best, depending on your perspective - is the look on his face. he looks like he wants to devour you whole, like he's going to ruin you, like he's going to make you cum so hard around his cock that you cry.

you hope desperately that that's what he's planning.

the look he's giving you is making you dizzy. his eyes are lidded, something burning deep within them that makes your cunt slick with arousal. a smirk plays across his features as he watches you, toying with a strand of your hair just to see the way you shiver, leaning into his touch.

slowly, he drags his broad palm along your skin until he cups your chin, tilting it upward so you can gaze up at him. your lips part slightly, your breaths coming out shallow.

you'd let this man do anything to you.

'alright down there, sweetheart?' he queries, the sound of his voice innocent in comparison to the way he bites his lip, not taking his eyes off you for a second.

'cheol,' you gasp, fingers clutching at the fabric of his trousers. 'c - can i? please,'

he chuckles, loving the glazed look in your eyes, as if he's your world. lifting his hips, he allows you to yank down his trousers as he slips his fingers back into your sweet smelling hair, tugging a little because he knows you like it. he practically drinks in the way you moan against his thigh, lost in his scent, lost in him - you're beautiful.

you relish the way he shudders when you take his cock in your hand. truly, you could stay there all day, biting marks on his thighs while jerking him off, but you desperately want to taste him, to have him heavy on your tongue.

abruptly, you engulf his tip in the heat of your mouth, exulting in the moan that rips from deep in his chest. his fingers tighten in your hair, and you groan around his cock at the feeling, taking him in further, wanting more of him - needing more of him.

hollowing your cheeks, you find that you're drunk on him. you're drunk on the feel and taste and scent of him, on the way he can't help but buck his hips with how good you feel, on the way his face twists with pleasure.

'stop,' he chokes out, voice dropping an octave lower. 'fuck, i w - want your - '

he doesn't finish his sentence, instead leaving your head spinning as he lifts you up so you're straddling him, one of his hands gripping your thigh as he moves your underwear to the side. hastily, he slips two fingers in, making your back arch as he scissors them.

you're mewling, your legs shaking when his hand withdraws, and everything slows down again as the tip of his cock notches at the entrance of your cunt. you dig your nails into his shoulders, thighs clenching at the stretch of him. a deep groan wrenches from his throat, and he buries his face in your neck, skimming his lips over your collarbones as he sinks into you.

your eyes roll back when he bottoms out.

'cheol,' you whine. 'please, m - move.'

he smiles against your skin.

'as you wish.'

#wrote this after approximately 36 hours after knowing about cheol's existence that's how hard the brain rot went #scoups #s. coups #s.coups #seungcheol #choi seungcheol #seventeen #seungcheol x reader #scoups x reader #scoups smut #seungcheol smut #svt #cheol #choi seungcheol x reader #svt x reader #ficlet #hard thoughts

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belleetoiles · 4 months

Text

pair. sukuna ryoumen x afab!reader

cw. edging (because i KNOW you've seen that scene), fingerfucking, clit smacking, pet names ("little girl" + "brat"), spit, brat taming

how long has it been?

minutes? hours? you've lost track of time with the thick fog muddying your mind. you're not even sure how many times you've gotten so close to the edge just to be ripped away, no longer counting because what's the point?

after all, counting won't make sukuna any nicer to you. pity isn't in his repertoire.

all you know is this: the king of curses is merciless in his punishment, if you can even call it that anymore, with his fingers quickly withdrawing and taking your breath along with them every time he feels the familiar squeeze of your muscle—the pathetically desperate and ultimately helpless way you clamp your thighs together to try and make him stay buried in your warmth.

"please," you whine with the slightest tremor in your voice, weak and needy, going straight to his dick. he didn't think his ego could be stroked any more but here you are begging for him to help you; please, please, please. won't you?

he indulges you for a moment, just to see your face screw up in satisfaction thinking you'd finally won him over, only to pull his hand away and deliver a swift smack to your clit once more. you squeal, jolting from his relentless ministrations.

"quit teasing!"

his expression darkens, head tilting back to glare down at you. he free hand takes hold of your ankle and drives your knee up toward your chest, putting you in a more humiliating position than before.

"watch your mouth, little girl. know who you're talking to."

his fingers slide back into you with ease, slicked with your juices and he swears your cunt might be weeping even more than you are. your hands grasp at your pillow on either side of your head as you cry out. it's filthy. he hasn't had pussy this good in eons.

for good measure, he cranes down and spits on it, roughly fingerfucking it into you and purposefully slamming into your clit with the base of his palm.

you can only babble and mewl in response, fresh tears gathering in your lashes as he pushes you toward the cliff again. "need it— need it, please! i'll do anything!"

"aren't you nasty, hm?" he laughs as if considering your offer, a guttural sound deep and primal. a part of your brain screams at you to escape from this monster but the other part is already melting into mush with how good it feels. "go on then, try and cum. see what happens."

your hand shoots down to grab at his wrist and you desperately tug at it to urge him to keep fucking you with his fingers. it's cute, he thinks. adorable how greedy you've gotten to go so far as to defy him. so he allows it, just once even though he hates being told what to do, and curls his fingers until he can feel the pads abusing a spot that makes you keen.

"f-fu—" you breathe, mouth going dry and words dying on your tongue. he releases your ankle to hold you down firm, hand on your tummy to press you into the mattress. you squirm under him, a baby bunny caught by the big bad wolf, unable to get your spine off the mattress. he wouldn't give you that if he's already spoiling you by letting you cum—wouldn't that be too generous?

"not yet," he hisses, eyeing the way your cunt swallows his fingers whole and the way they emerge glistening in your sopping fluids. "not yet."

you're not sure how much longer you can take this, breaths coming shallow and ragged as he bullies himself into you. disobedience is what got you into this situation in the first place, who knows how mean he'll be if you do it a second time.

sukuna drinks in your expression a little longer, mouth hung open and eyes silently pleading him to finally let you cum. he's a monster driven by his own pleasures, and he's going to enjoy every moment of this until he's satisfied.

he leans down, lips smearing up your jaw until he can feel your racing pulse against his own throat, and grunts, "go on, brat. let me watch."

all it takes is a few more pumps of his fingers and you unravel completely, cries coming out as weak, choked noises that get swallowed by the air. he indeed watches, entirely amused with how easy it is to make modern day girls cum.

the way your pussy milks his fingers makes his straining dick throb. he frowns at how pleased you look, the adoration shining in your eyes.

he wants to ruin you.

"i hate you humans," he groans as his cockhead glides along your fold and pushes into your leaking hole. "never knowing when to quit."

#✧˖*°࿐ after dark writings #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk #jjk smut #sukuna #sukuna smut #sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna x y/n #sukuna thirst #jjk x reader #jjk x you #sukuna ryoumen smut #sukuna ryoumen x reader

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dykeomania · 4 months

Note

PLS write smut for Hazel from bottoms..I need her so bad I fear..maybe like subtop!hazel..is her having a strap too far..I need her..

this is not. a full fledged fic. but this is the first time in a sec that ive let myself be inspired by an ask. this is weirdly switcher and just pure gay-sexier than it is subby!hazel. lmk if you want things to get subbier, bc i can probably do that. but for rn i have.. this image.. and i want you to walk with me on this but also hold my hand because i'm #supershy,

(minors [including 17 year olds 🙏🏽] dni fr, under the cut: not that proofread. strap lol (r!r), foul language, breeding... language... (my bad) (hazel has a strap tho), subtop!hazel except i could've made this shit so much worse so i guess switch!hazel but like, switch!reader, idk everyone's just a whore. there's an "i love you" (or.. multiple, i guess). there's a mirror. there's a vibrator. purely stream of consciousness, i don't even think the position they're fucking in makes physical sense fr. i was bored and i was thinking, so i wrote a lot. this whole thing is not realistic btw. i have very little confidence that hazel's blowing anyone's back out, but. it's my first day out in a min so i'm rusty. all respect to the community. next time when i pull up, i'll offer something a little more tame and saccharine as opposed to [exaggerated p*rnstar moans!!!]. reblogs and whatnot appreciated.)

so, i have this .. picture.

of you putting a bullet vibe in the pocket of hazel's strap before she fucks you from behind for the first time.

she eventually finds the confidence to blow your back out, and tbh, you think it's gonna end with you seeing stars because you can already hear the fucking lottery machines going off in your head. she's fucking you so well, and hazel's problem is that you're letting her know.

at first she thinks she's going crazy. but those fucking mewls into the pillow over how deep she is, how she's making you feel so good, how you've missed her so much, are sending shocks through her clit that the vibe keeps amplifying, everytime her pelvis hits your ass.

if she thrusts hard enough, which god knows she does, it almost makes her buckle over.

you're left clenching the sheets, and gasping against the linen while she fucks you, taking you in a way that's so uncharacteristically perverse that you don't even have the brain capacity to ask yourself why you didn't ask her to take you like this, sooner. her thrusts are quick and shallow, her words breathy and a little sharp. with every jolt of your body forwards as she experimentally blows your back out, it's like you feel yourself becoming more and more removed from this fucking planet. you can't help but cry -- sob, even -- as she makes you into a mess of limbs, leaving you tugging at your tits in one split second, and gripping at the sheets the next.

something happens, though.

where her hips rut into yours in deep, hard thrusts, spaced out by what feels like eternities, you can hear her. she's moaning now, breath quickening and chest rippling everytime her crotch hits yours at a particular angle. she's mewling, and unless you're hallucinating from how fucked up you are, you can hear her --

"fuck... f--uuh--ck, fuck, fuckfuck..."

-- silently beginning to whimper.

the girl goes from bullying your cunt to burying her strap deep enough in it to make the apex of its curve nudge against your g-spot, in a way that leaves your mouth hanging wide open with nothing spilling out of it maybe other than drool, but...

it's the slick warmth of hazel's back pressed nearly flush against yours and the heat of her breath against your shoulder that makes your eyes flutter open, facing your reflection in the floor-length mirror stationed across from hazel's bed.

hazel's in it so deep, you can't even see the strap anymore. and by no exaggeration, it's like an earthquake pulses through her body everytime she nudges her hips into your ass, making your vision blurry. she's rutting into you. greedily grinding her strap into your cunt in the effort of chasing her own high.

it wasn't a secret that hazel was sensitive. more often than not, the poor girl writhed against your mouth whenever she let you put it on her ("let you" is a loose sentence -- she begs for it, sometimes). you don't even know why you're surprised that your girlfriend is getting this close over having a bullet vibe pressed against her clit, hardly protected by fabric. "b--babe--"

what sounds like a plea, amongst the feeling of hazel's thighs trembling against the back of yours, inspires something sinister inside you.

you wind your hips against her, pressing back against the strap and the toy. the sight of your ass rolling against hazel's pelvis, combined with how good it feels is gonna actually, like, make hazel fucking--

"don't cum."

she loses her breath, entirely, and her rhythm, apparently. she slows, as if that was her body's instinct to obey your orders, despite the string of breaths that tumbles out of her mouth. "n-- wha-- fuck, no, nonono--"

you wind your hips deeper into hers, extracting a moan from your own throat -- fuck, maybe your gut, since that's how deep you could feel her. you press your ass into her until you feel the buzz of the vibe against folds, the frequency of it changing and humming as you press it further into her clit. "y--es," you grit. "don't fucking cum yet, hazel."

the dull, rolling vibrations through the fabric of the strap draw hazel's eyes into the back of her head, and then closed. she's grunting now -- or all of the above -- and she tries her best to unchap her lips, fruitlessly dragging over them. the little breaths she takes through them only brings them back to being puffy, pink, and a gateway of noise that gives evidence to struggle.

"gonna let me count you down?" you puff out your sentence in one breath, and hazel can fucking hear the grin in your still-fucked-out tone and it makes her whine louder.

"yeah? gonna fuckin' let me count you down so you can cum in me, haze?"

cum.. in you. three words that you'd never even fucking uttered to her before this, and that she never fucking thought she would ever hear and.. it looks like she can't complain, because her eyes roll into the back of her head and hazel swears that she -- at least, briefly -- meets jesus christ, "oh my god--," hazel slurs, hips rolling impossibly deeper into yours, it's a miracle she hasn't swabbed your cervix yet -- "ohmygod, oh my god--"

"three..."

ohfuck. ohfuck,ohfuck,ohfuck,ohfuck. it's the soft chorus that she whispers to herself as she starts to fuck herself into you, again, opting for thrusts as a means of trying to regain control with no consideration for your demise. the vision of her blurs in the mirror, and you feel your fists grasping at her sheets again.

"fuck--" you croak. "t--two.."

she pulls you further into her, and at this point, hazel's okay with being written off as a lost cause, 'cause fuck, it's not like she has a choice. the strap brief is soaked and it's entirely your fault, and god, she throws her head back. a mess of words, a mess of sensations, hazel just blurts, "oh my g--od--i love you--"

you burst out laughing at the random proclamation, admist everything.

she forces her head down to watch you, jaw hung open. and at this point, she's just speaking. rambling and slurring and gasping, tears-in-eyes-in-awe-and-all, as she watches you throw your ass back against her.

"iloveyou so much, you're so f--ucking hot, whatthefuck?--"

there's something weirdly sweet about it. something that makes your cunt clench around the strap in a way that hollows you out shortly thereafter, and lets hazel hit that fucking spot just right. before you know it, you're wherever hazel is, cunt fully creaming around the silicon.

"i love you--" you dumbly spit out a giggle, a gasp causing a steam of spit to cascade off your bottom lip and onto hazel's navy sheets. "babe," you warn. "ohfuck, ohmyfuckinggod, you're gonna make me cu---"

"fuckingsayone," hazel, unbelievably pleads while she unbelievably spears her strap into your cunt. "oh my fucking god, say one, please, please, pleaseplease--"

she starts begging. unprompted. "it's s-so good, it's so, so good, feels so fucking good, wanna c--um in you--" and she probably repeats it. probably repeats that she wants to cum in you until she's blue in the face and,

"o-one--"

until you let her.

the noise that's ripped from hazel's throat is .. embarrassing. virginal, almost. fully reverberates off the walls, and she trembles. her clit convulses against the vibe, twitching with every short stream of her release and she folds. poor girl was holding your hips for something -- for reassurance, to get a grip, dear life, perhaps? as her hips languidly fuck and press into the surface of your ass., rocking your near limp-frame after you've pretty much creamed all over her strap.

hazel hangs over you for god knows how long, dark hair shaggy and some strands stuck to her forehead in wavy wisps. cheeks flushed, and lower lip bitten to hell. the bullet vibe fucking dies, thank god almighty, because god knows she was not in any shape to reach down and turn it off.

she stays like that for a while, until she you feel her again. this time, only gentler, and much more like herself. soft hands caressing the skin of your back, her breath warm and shaky as she peppers a splay of kisses across your skin.

as you come from the surface of your own high, you feel yourself hum. still full of her, and dizzy with it. despite it, you manage -- slurring, slightly.

"haze?"

there's a hum, somewhere.

"did that really feel that good?"

hazel distantly nods, brown locks brushing against your back.

"uh.." hazel frowns, letting out a weak laugh. "y-yeah, honestly."

the mental note gets filed away somewhere deep in the haze of your brain and you grin, when you press your ass one against her just for shits and giggles and hear her gasp, from the sensitivity of it alone.

"that's my girl."

#hazel callahan x reader #hazel callahan #lesbian #wlw #lgbt #bottoms 2023 #merry fuckin christmas #i am logging out see you in like 12-15-35 hours

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kunikuma · 5 months

Text

espresso? espresso.

relationship | barista!kunikuzushi x gn!reader (modern au)

synopsis | being a barista is not a cute as fiction made it out to be. it doesn't help that some customers... just... say the dumbest things... content | fluff, strangers to... mutual crushing cw | kunikuzushi is sassy/rude, food service + filterless scaramouche. a/n | im kinda back... wanted to write a coffee shop au that was a little more... real. this is based on the whole mispronunciation joke around “expresso” vs “espresso”. also, this started as a wriothesley tea thing, but he came out so sassy that i had to make it about scara. this one's a short one and mid. alt title: ‘expresso’ but i thought id get canceled

masterlist

kunikuzushi was a seasoned barista at a local cafe. ask him to recite a recipe for a complex concoction and the slender man may slur or murmur it for you in his sleep. you might even catch his fingers twitching as if he was busy making it in his dreams. that’s only if you caught him not clutching an old plush he kept from his childhood.

kunikuzushi was also painfully single. as a young man who decided to pursue higher education, he was buried in books and flashcards, frantically quizzing himself on information erected well before his birth on this god-forsaken planet. slaving away as a barista sounded terrible and admittedly, it is. however, the occasional free caffeine and the ability to study during downtime made it an attractive employment option.

as a barista, he got to see all types of people. young, old, kind, rude… ugly, pretty. sometimes, he would people-watch and even make observations about intelligence. shallow? sure, but what else was there to do when he wasn’t wiping down the espresso machine or restocking the fridge?

guilty pleasure; let’s keep that a secret.

the young man didn’t think he’d ever have a relationship, let alone a crush on someone thanks to this job. after all, this was an aggravating job and he wasn’t here to find a lover. he was here to clock in, make some drinks, clock out, and get a paycheck.

rinse and repeat.

…that’s what he surmised and believed over the year of employment til the day he spotted a customer recoil from the drink in their hands. kunikuzushi’s rubber gloved hand slowed its wiping so he could observe this customer slam the ceramic mug down and press their fingers to their lip as they hissed. the saucer underneath rattled at the impact; he watched their hand wave at their mouth as other customers peered over, only to return to their devices.

faintly, steam billowed from the mug and he rolled his eyes before resuming his regular cleaning pace.

okay, so they were just an idiot with a burnt tongue.

typical.

as he restocked the fridge with various cartons of milk, he kept an eye on this customer. they never sipped again from the mug, but that was not his problem. it wasn’t a drink he made; ajax made it.

kunikuzushi didn’t make it, so if it was bad, it wasn’t a personal slight in his direction.

it became his problem roughly two minutes later.

a hesitant voice rang out from the counter and he turned around and saw you. you fiddled with your wallet in your hand as your eyes darted from him to the chalkboard above his head.

“hi. i was thinking about ordering something colder because—“

“you burnt your tongue. i saw. how’d that happen? you knew it was a hot drink, right?” he interrupts and sneers, leaning a mop against the wall. the wooden broom slides from its spot and falls with a loud clatter. stepping over the broom, he strolls over to the cash register and laughs under his breath when he sees your embarrassed grin grow a tad bigger.

weird customer. you didn’t shy away from his teasing.

distantly, he begrudgingly thought your smile was… nice. he also thought the irritated red burn on your lip was kinda funny. your clothes were pleasing as well. he wasn’t sure how to describe your style, but it suited you.

“ha-ha, yes, whatever…” you muttered, sarcasm lacing your faux laughter. you were fumbling with your things as you pulled out some cash. “i am looking for a cooler drink, but i wanted your recommendation. perhaps you could just choose for me…?”

kunikuzushi eyes you as he suddenly jams his finger on the screen. he hums before blowing a puff of air to flutter his bangs away. his light eyes narrowed in on your perplexed face. the barista’s voice was devoid of any inkling of classic customer service cheer.

not that he ever tried having much of that. flatly, he spoke.

“so, you want me–”

he jams a finger in his direction.

“to pick a drink for you. a random, yet mildly attractive yet majorly idiotic stranger i have never met before.”

without a beat, you confidently nod, “yeah, i'm the mildly attractive one, thank you. and yes! that is what i’m asking.”

the man’s face scrunches up as he reiterates, “i don’t know your tastes. i don’t know you.”

“im y/n! nice to meet youuuu…”

you peer at his name tag and his hand flies up to cover the plastic. you grin.

“…kunikuzushi!”

the barista grits his teeth as he shakes his head. he pinches the bridge of his nose as he sifts through the machine’s options, mumbling to himself as he occasionally glances at you. idly, you wondered if he was trying to figure out your tastes or just glare. finally, he breaks his silence with a grumble.

“...you looking for caffeine? i saw you’re studyin’.”

when you nod, delighted he is obliging in your request, he continues. “i’m thinking black tea for you.”

idiotic customer aside, he did want to make you a drink you would enjoy. especially since you weren’t pleased with ajax’s brew. oddly, he wanted to make sure the drink you had was superior.

anyway, whenever a ‘surprise me!’ occasion occurs, which is luckily rare, he always defaults to tea.

you furrow your eyebrows as you scan the menu behind him. before he could grunt and remind you that he was picking, you blurted out a question that made his heart rate plummet and the hairs on his neck stand straight.

“not feeling tea. you got anything with expresso?”

he stares at your mouth and the atmosphere that almost recovered nearly shatters. the temperature of the room seemed to have dropped dramatically.

“okay. two problems with your response.”

he folds his slender arms across his chest and you cock your head to the side, clearly unaware of the sins you’ve committed.

did you say something weird? you just asked a question… you weren’t too well-versed in drinks beyond drip coffee.

was he mad that you waved off his suggestion…?

kunikuzushi’s hand that was tapping the screen seemingly migrated to the top of the charcoal-colored kiosk. his hand gripped the edge of it as he stared at you, his knuckles paling at the strength of his grip.

“cardinal sin number one. who doesn’t ‘feel tea’? tea is always good, especially if it’s from me.” he seethes, his voice taking on an offended tone as he uses air quotes to mock your words. before you could cut in and explain you did not know this man and how he expertly brews tea, he continues.

“cardinal sin number two. did you just say ‘expresso’? has no one ever told you it’s espresso? with an ‘s’?” he latches his hands onto his arms, impatiently drumming his fingers on his biceps, waiting for a response. man was seething inside.

you stare at him, absolutely dumbfounded and appalled that the quiet yet pretty barista at this cafe had just schooled you in the rudest way possible.

the barista sneered at the way your mouth seemed to hang open at his words and he smoothly transitioned into his next statement. “if not, today is your lucky day. i have just graciously informed you so that you never make that foolish mistake again.”

he muttered and thumps his fist on the cornered edge of the machine, absolutely confused on how you haven’t bern corrected by this point in your life.

“now, sit down at your table because i’m going to brew you some tea and you’re going to like it.” kunikuzushi pauses and jams in another item after a moment of contemplation.

“might as well pour you an espresso shot—“ he mocks you with a laugh, heavily emphasizing the first syllable of the word.

…you did end up liking the few samples he brought out to your table. he even slammed the espresso cup filled with the inky liquid and demanded you say it properly before you could give it a taste.

you smiled after most of them, commenting how they were nice. two were not up to your tastes and he’d scoff and snatch it away from you, scurrying behind the counter to enjoy it for himself. the barista made sure the last drink he served was one you liked. otherwise, you were doomed to end your experience with a soured expression on your face.

by the end of barista kunikuzushi’s shift, he found himself grumbling behind the counter as he debated on asking for your number. for him, it was simply too early, and he decided he would just save a note on his phone with the blends and drinks you enjoyed from his sampling session.

he handed you the bill at the end and you whined about how he tricked you into thinking it was all for free. he stuck his tongue out at you and called you stupid for even thinking that.

he’d argue the list on his phone was for the day you’d inevitably ask his coworkers to pick a drink for you while he wasn’t there. if that happened, they could pick from a curated list that he created.

#wanderer #scaramouche #kunikuzushi #wanderer x reader #scaramouche x reader #kunikuzushi x reader #wanderer x y/n #scaramouche x y/n #kunikuzushi x y/n #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #kunikuma’s fics

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l0v3tast3 · 10 months

Text

spring fever! — tf141 men

mw2 men helping catgirl!reader through her heat! (simon riley, john mactavish, kyle garrick, john price)

✎ tags: mdni! nsft, catgirl!reader, breeding kink, edging, overstimulation, oral, thigh-riding, praise kink, degradation, abuse of pet names, cockwarming, size kink, size difference, fluff mixed in <3

✎ word count: 2.3k words (not proofread)

✎ author's note: this is purely 100% self-indulgent because i can write whatever i want teehee :] ever since i realized i can just write the smut i want to read myself my life has improved significantly, also i am working on another one of these with phillip, alejandro and könig is anyone would wanna read that (o･ω･o)

masterlist | requests are open!

♡ simon riley — "don't act all shy now, love. weren't y'just begging me for this?" — simon isn't sure if you know what you're getting yourself into while you grind yourself down against his thigh, your juices already soaking through your underwear and quickly making a dark spot on his jeans. his resolve only lasts until you cum just from humping his leg. he has you folded into a mating press before long, your legs hooked over his elbows. — outside of your shared home, simon isn't much of a talker, but the sight of you absolutely brainless under him draws out the filthiest words from his mouth. "makin' such a fuckin' mess on my cock, y'gonna clean it up for me sweetheart? i know how much y'love when i fuck your mouth. or do you only want my cum stuffed into this little cunt? want me to put a baby in y'love? yeah? that's all you can think about right now, isn't it? all y'need is my cock inside you, such a good little whore f'me." — you should have known before you asked for his help that he would abuse the living hell out of your tail; how could he not when it's makes you cum nearly instantly? it doesn't take you long to learn that once he flips you over, you'll soon be an overstimulated mess. simon can't get enough of how you react when he pushes you to that point, clawing at the sheets to try to leverage yourself away from his onslaught and pushing your hips back against him to take more of his thick cock at the same time. your words get jumbled up and incoherent, broken little pleas choked out between moans and cries. eventually he'll slow down to shallow, drawn out rolls of his hips, laying his titan-sized body over yours and asking you what you want. when you keen and press up against him, whimpering his name and trying to push your hips into him again, he'll tell you that you're such a good girl for him and pick up the pace. — he won't edge you as much as he overstimulates you. simon edges you more as a "break", both for himself and for you. even with your heat making you able to take a lot more than what you usually can, he still knows not to push the limits of your body too far. so he'll make sure to tie your hands to the headboard and bury his fingers in your sopping wet pussy in a slow, languid rhythm and lave circles over your clit with his tongue, drawing away each time he feels you tightening up until you're sobbing. you beg him to fuck you and let you cum, trying as much as you can to move against the weight of his hand pressed against your stomach. once he's sure that just touching your clit would probably make you cum, simon finally relents. he'll graze his hands over your thighs, watching as your body twitches just from that. "'s alright love, i'll make you cum. so fuckin' sensitive, wish i could keep ya like this, all needy and sweet f'me," he says quietly, lining the head of his cock up with your dripping hole and bullying his cock in slow. he'll grip your waist tight enough to leave yet another set of bruises when you cum around him, fighting to not cum himself as he fucks you through your mind-shattering orgasm. — despite his roughness, simon will take care of you through all of it without a single (wholehearted) complaint. he'll grumble here and there, chastising you when you'd rather ride him than eat the food he's holding in front of you, but there's a hint of concern to it; simon loves you too much to hurt you or to see you get hurt, so he makes overly sure that all your needs (besides being fucked) are constantly met.

♡ john mactavish — "c'mon bonnie, if ya want my help then y'gotta ask nicely." — johnny loves you, every part of you, but one of the things that he especially loves is your heats. he relishes in the few days it lasts (rejoices on the rare occasion it lasts almost a week). your neediness, your dependency on him, the adoration and near-worship that you finally weren't too shy to show. he loved taking care of you, from bending you over every surface in your home and tugging on your overly-sensitive tail to make you cum fast to spoon-feeding you while you were semi-lucid. — he shows you the same love and worship as always, of course, but he can't help being a near-sadist most of the time. you're just so adorable like this, so pliant and always wanting more from him, anything and everything he would give you. it pulled out a different side of him. john was always a tease, almost always in control, but it was like your greed and lust became his too. "oh, i know bonnie, i know, i'll make ya cum, i promise." he, of course, breaks this promise until you're crying, choking out jumbled pleas for him to make you cum. every few times he pulls away just before you fall over the edge (which doesn't take long at all) he comes back up to be face-to-face with you and scratch and pet the ears sticking out from the top of your head. it just melts you, makes you so cooperative, so brainless and compliant. — when you're nearing your limit, about to pass out, johnny finally gets sweet. he'll give you whatever you ask for, smooth his hands over your overstimulated skin and fuck you slow. he sings you praises for how well you did and talks you through it before you slip into unconsciousness for a few hours, until your body wakes you up again (or his). "sweet lass, just one more for me- fuck, know you can do it. hah- doin' so good. you can, just a little more, i'll make it feel so- so good, bonnie. love y'so much like this, so cute, all f'me. ya gonna cum, sweetheart? fuck! ah, so tight around me, y'want my cum? yeah, good lass." — johnny doesn't leave your side until you're well past recovered; he'll take such good care of you, makes sure you drink excessive amounts of water, makes sure you eat plenty and washes your hair for you in the shower (he fucks you before he cleans you off). when you start waking up more sore than horny, he massages just about every muscle in your body, drags you into a hot bath, and swaddles you in a nest of his clothes and blankets and pillows to rest some more.

♡ kyle garrick — "fuck, slow down, pretty. gonna help you, swear it." — kyle is so sweet with you, kissing you softly and guiding you up and down on his cock after he makes you cum several times with his mouth and fingers. he's so gentle; he'll do his best to calm your frayed nerves, kissing you all over and rubbing his hands over every inch of your skin, whispering choked praises to you as he lets you use him. kyle indulges in your every desire, happily doing whatever you ask him for; he just can't say no to you when you're looking at him with teary, pleading eyes. — once he really gets going, kyle gets more rough with you, manhandling you into different positions so he can fuck his thick cock even deeper into your sopping pussy. he's still sweet with you, groaning out how good you are for him and how much he loves you like this, so needy for him while you're cumming for the umpteenth time that night. once he finally placates you for the time being, he hugs you tight against him as you're both passing out. — he doesn't have much need to make you more content by scratching at your fuzzy ears, but he still loves doing it just to see you melt, just to see your pretty lips spread into a dopey smile and feel you nudge into his hand. kyle doesn't abuse your tail much either; he'll only tug on it when you're being bratty, trying to sink your little fangs in too deep or trying to claw yourself away from the overstimulation before he's done with you. "c'mon baby, just one more for me, you're doin' so- fuck, so good- ahh, that's it pretty, you can take it, know y'can. i know, i- i know, 's okay baby, fuck- y'gonna cum? cum for me, c'mon-" you're both coming together, bodies locking up against each other as he fucks into you a few more times before he collapses next to you, cupping your face with his hands and kissing you all over. — kyle's so good at taking care of you, he loves that you trust him enough to let him be with you for your heat, and he doesn't take that for granted. he'll basically treat you like a goddess the entire time (as if he already didn't the rest of the time). he'll carry you everywhere, chuckling when you cling onto him and nuzzle your face into his neck. he cooks or orders whatever you want, puts your favorite salts and scents in the baths he eases you into (despite your many protests), gives you however much of his wardrobe you need for your makeshift nest. kyle is just so whipped for you, his smile always stretching wide every time he sees your tail curl up in joy because of something he does or says.

♡ john price — "it hurts, sweetheart? can't have that now, can we?" — john swears up and down that he tries his damndest to be gentle and slow and sweet with you. and he is... at first. when you clamber into his lap, pleading for his help while you kiss and nip at his neck, he'll pick you up effortlessly and take you to your shared bed within seconds. after that, it's only moments before he's stripped you down and is worshipping your body- partially because he loves every inch of you and never goes a day without showing you that affection, and partially because of how much more sensitive your entire body becomes during your heat. — it's something he becomes obsessed with pretty rapidly; john will practically study the effects your heat has on you. he won't admit it, but it's obvious how much he gets off on it. how you're so desperate for him, his touch and voice and anything and everything he'll give you. how upset you get when he tries to get you to stay in bed while he goes to a different room of the house. how you need him. it's what slowly drives him to his breaking point where he just can't hold back with you any longer. — you can feel his touch getting heavier, fingers digging into your hips deeper and tongue pressing harder against your clit. when you're coming down from your second high and already being pushed towards your third of the night, your grip on his cropped hair gets tighter and the only sentences you can form are various versions of "mmnh- ple-ease! john- ah, please, need you!". that's when he can feel the last of his self-control slipping from his hands. in record time he'll be throwing your legs over his shoulders, smashing his lips into yours and easily pushing into your drenched cunt. — john always finds it incredibly difficult to say "no" to you, but it won't stop him from being a horrendous tease. he'll tie your hands together behind your back or to the headboard or to your ankles and edges you until fat tears roll down your cheeks (which doesn't take very long). when he gets you to that point he'll wipe away your tears and kiss you sweetly. "shh, i know sweetheart, i'm sorry- just love hearin' you beg. y'did so well for me. think you deserve a reward, yeah?" john will always act sorry after he edges you or doesn't let you touch him or ignores your pussy for more than ten seconds, but with each broken whine and sobbed plea his cock grows impossibly harder. — it's a given that john will exploit the hell out of the effects of playing with your ears and tail. each time he edges you, the number of times he takes a minute to scratch at your ears and coo honeyed words down at you increases. it becomes a routine that after those sessions, when he's fucked you slow enough that you've calmed down a bit, he'll start up with your tail. and when he's gotten his fill of your begging for him to give it a break, he'll act sorry about that too. — as each stretch of your sex marathon comes to an end before you both pass out, he'll wind you both down by sitting you on his lap and having you cockwarming him while he smokes a cigar. you'll bury your face in his chest and start dozing off, worn out for the time being. john will use his free hand to trace his fingers up and down the curves and lines of your back, grinning to himself when you let you little whimpers whenever you move. "finally getting tired, hm? gonna wake us both back up if you keep moving like that, sweetheart."

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