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#The Irresistible Flame
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When you've waited all week for Fred Durst Friday and it's finally here
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darkromanceart · 1 year
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"Their love was forbidden, but they couldn't help but be drawn to each other like moths to a flame, unable to resist the pull of the darkness."
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sleepapparition · 2 days
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Something about this man I’m tryna tell yall
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Omg…. The only Doobay I Stan (not really Amrit is very 😍 but it’s hard to compare when his competition is Ratan js) anyway, Ram is just so 😜🤪😜🤪🥰😍 idk how else to explain it lmao I just cannot deny him lmao
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shadesofyourcolor · 1 year
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The way you touch me makes me wonder, am I that delusional to feel that your soul is melting through mine or you just know how to pretend you're in love? cause you say you don't love me then you hold me like I'm the last breath you have..
shades of YOU
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nifriel · 1 year
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Inktober 2022 Day 5 - Flame
Because my friend mumbled that I'm feeding heroes with scallops. So now marshmallows and stew :D
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pseudowho · 1 month
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Fire and Iron
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Forced to stay the night with Nanami Kento, the town's blacksmith, after tending to his wounds, you find yourself smouldering in his irresistible flame.
Warnings: 18+, fluff and smut, loss of virginity
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Your boots cracked through the ice-topped slurry puddles scattering the mud path in the village. The shawl bundled over your shoulders was not enough, and the biting cold wind whipped your cloak back, stripping its usefulness off your shivering shoulders.
Townsfolk waved to you, nodding, smiling; greetings for a familiar face, many of them grateful for your travels to their icy town over the years, lacking even a basic healer of their own, let alone one so talented.
Passing by the blacksmith's hut on your way, you paused out the front, feeling the heat bellowing forth like dragon's breath. You tipped your head back, the smell of ash and steel filling your nose. As you paused, moments after, so did the clang of hammer on anvil.
You opened your eyes, stinging in the brutal cold and smoke. You, once more, like a hundred times before, had caught the eye of the blacksmith. He, whose name you did not know. He, who looked but never touched. He, to whom you had passed so many thousands of hours of your life, and his life to you, through gaze alone.
Stood proud at the anvil, shadowing the forge like the door to hell behind him, his broad shoulders wore only an open-chested white linen shirt, and a thick brown leather apron. With his ashy blond hair, and the lines of his face filled with soot, he was ageless and unknowable. He looked to you, his sharp face quiet and impassive; expression always somewhere between fury and tranquility.
Your lips parted once, as if to speak, and it jumped the blacksmith to life. With a barely perceptible nod, and a grunt, he swung his hammer back, brought down in beautiful accuracy, shaping smouldering steel. The clang rung through you, your chest jolting with a short gasp, and you collected yourself, stepping onwards. You were sure you could feel his cool gaze through the back of your head.
Another patient; another healed. Another grateful family; another life prolonged. The days were short now, and as you stepped out of the house of rough-hewn wood and stone, the forest pines were bathed in dying light, netting the low winter sun above the horizon. It was a punishing journey home, on foot, and the horses were long since put to bed.
The blacksmith's hut held its own sunset, the forge open but unattended. You heard stamps, heavy feet and cursing. You paused in the burst of warmth, illuminated, listening. Curiosity carried your feet into the hut, the heavy wet hem of your skirts collecting ashes, absorbing the blacksmith's domain.
"Are you...are you alright?" You called, uncertain, "Sir?" The footsteps, the swearing, had stopped. You stepped further in, feeling the forge belch at you, almost excruciatingly hot now.
"Get away from there!" The bark, deep and commanding, made you squeak and stumble. Darting through the side door, the blacksmith looped one thick arm round your waist before you fell towards the forge, effortlessly lifting you round, his back to the furnace, his face in shadow.
He was close; close enough that you could smell the soft sweat, the tang of fire and metal. He hissed as your hands dropped to his forearm, and you felt a cold dripping cloth draped over it.
"Do you often wander into places uninvited?" He snipped at you. You recognised the cadence in his low voice-- pain.
"I-- ...you're hurt," you insisted, voice barely above a whisper. Looking up, your eyes tried to gauge his unreadable face in the gloom. You felt him huff, warm air across your cheeks. His arm loosened, releasing you. As he stepped back, turning away to close the forge, you saw the blacksmith's mountainous shoulders tense, twitching.
"It's nothing," he retaliated, brisk. You stepped forwards again, placing a soft hand on his shoulder. At first, he flinched, then begrudgingly allowed you to turn him, and lift the damp rag covering his forearm. A thick welting burn, running the length of his forearm, lay weeping and angry on his skin, already nicked with so many little scars. You heard his teeth grit as the air hit his wound.
"Nothing," you scoffed, "this needs dressing. Let me help you." You felt him flinch beneath your hands, hesitant. He felt his skin prickle under yours, finding such curious pleasure in your touch alongside his pain. Your beseeching eyes took him the rest of the way, and he found himself accepting you.
"I...not here," the blacksmith toned, his eyes flitting to the town around him, "if they believe me injured, I'll lose business." You nodded, rummaging in your overburdened satchel, until he took you gently by the hand.
"My home," he began, hesitant, your hand so soft and small in his broad calloused palm, "you'll...you are welcome. It is clean. Quiet. I...I will not harm you. I promise."
Aware of his size and strength, aware of the air of mystery surrounding him amongst the townsfolk, the blacksmith was quick to reassure you. Your eyes softened, and his thumb brushed lightly over your knuckles at your words, electricity crackling up your arm.
"I know you won't," you assured. The briefest smile graced his severe face when you offered your name. You felt it warm you from the belly downwards. As he pulled encouragingly on your fingers, leaving the forge to die naturally with the approaching nightfall, you were led through the back of the hut, seeing a newly revealed sprawling cabin of wood and stone, at the edge of the forest. You felt the first kiss of snow upon your cheek.
"Nanami Kento," the blacksmith replied, welcoming you over the threshold. You smiled up at him, taking in his home; barely lit, at first, until he struck a lantern to life. You placed your bag upon a table, rummaging for salves as Kento began to build the fire, skilled and efficient.
You basked in the homely room; autumnal tapestries lining the walls, skin rugs on the floor and furs on the chairs, hanging herbs above a countertop, circled with hung skillets and pans. You relaxed easily into the sincerity of Kento's welcome. A frigid wind slapped the windows, rattling the door.
Before long, an enormous cast iron pot boiled with water, and you knelt before Kento, appraising his wound in the orange glow. Cleaning your hands, wetting a rag with clean water, you moved to clean the ash from his arm before pausing.
"This will hurt," you apologised, looking up to him. Kento's heart stuttered; how many hours had he spent, imagining those sweet eyes, those gentle fingers? Too long. Too many words unspoken over too many years. He was not used to such tenderness.
"I am used to pain," he hushed, smooth and barely audible above the crackle of flame, "my job has certain...hazards, after all." You hummed, swiping the cloth gently, removing dirt and debris.
"Still," you hummed, "I don't like to hurt a friend." Kento chuckled, and you felt yourself blush from hairline to toes at the rich mirth of it.
"We are...friends, are we?" His voice was low and conspiratorial, and you felt it stir a hunger deep within you. You smiled back, mulish as you dabbed salve onto his burn. His knees were parted, with you knelt between them, and your elbows rested on the thick muscle of his thighs. You felt safe, warm, held.
"All those years, passing back and forth," you sighed, teasing, "and not one hello? Just lots of nods," your stomach swooped as Kento laughed again, "and our friendship is just that. An accumulation of nods."
"Would we have stopped at 'hello'?" Kento retaliated. He caught the brief pause in your bandaging, before you continued. You spoke, uncertain again.
"Well," you hummed, testing the water, "offer me one now...and we shall see where it goes." Looking up, you gasped to find your face just inches from Kento's. He smiled at you, his eyes flicking briefly to your lips and back up again.
"Hello," he whispered, quiet and mischievous, "and thank you."
Your breath fluttered out; Kento could feel it against his lips, beckoning him.
"I...it's getting late," you started, and Kento blinked out of his reverie, glancing to the inky black outside his windows, "I should go."
Kento grasped your fingers once more, rising with you as he stood, your shawl shushing against his chest, barely covered by his soft linen shirt. Kento hummed, sounding grave, stepping to the other side of the room.
"It is night," he said, hands cupped around his eyes as he squinted out of the windows, "and the woods are barely safe in the day. I...I cannot allow you to travel. Alone, in the snow. You must stay."
His tone broached no argument, yet still you tried, packing your bag, your cheeks aflame.
"I...it isn't..." you stuttered, and Kento turned to you, chin inclined to the floor, one fine eyebrow raised. You took a deep breath, certain that if you didn't leave now, you may fall too deeply into Kento's insistent heat. Yet...you knew he was right. The path was treacherous. The snow would take you before the dawn.
"Would you like a bath?" Kento offered, turned away to save you your blushes; a gentleman.
"I-- please don't go to any trouble--" Kento swiftly ignored you, beginning to grasp the enormous iron pot, lifting it with stunning ease. His voice didn't even hitch.
"It's no trouble. I bathe every night. You can go before me." Kento carried the pan, stepping behind a folding wooden screen, and you followed him as if to argue, watching him begin to fill an enormous copper bathtub. Your hands shook as you began to remove your shawl, still blushing, so briefly overwhelmed before squashing it down.
Kento glanced up at you, pausing as he poured hot water, "This will take me some time," he said, apologetic, "please make yourself comfortable. I'll call for you."
You nodded, clearing your throat, hands twisting in your removed shawl. Kento chastised himself for admiring the soft curve of your breasts into your waist, the hidden delight of the swelling of your hips beneath your heavy skirts. He did not see how the steam rose fast, dampening his white shirt, how you could see all the way to his navel as he leaned over the bath. Neither of you knew how the other stirred within.
As you walked the length of the room, your fingertips brushing tapestries and grazing over warm furs, your curiosity drew you to a wide, flat trinket box, inlaid with mother of pearl, the colours an aurora in the rolling firelight. You stroked the box just once, before lifting the lid.
Your eyes crinkled immediately with joy at the treasures within; the box was full of lovingly crafted necklaces of gold, silver, pearl and gem, the chains finer and softer than any you had ever seen. You did not feel Kento approach as you admired them.
"I'd like for you to choose one," he offered, sincere, as you spun to face him. He raised his hands placatingly, a smile at the edge of his mouth, "not in lieu of payment, of course. A gift, I...made them with no real aim as to who should receive them."
"You made these?" You gaped, unable to fathom how such enormous hands crafted such intricate delights, "Kento, I-- they're beautiful, I couldn't possibly..."
If Kento had held any reservation, after hearing his name tumble from your lips, he was filled with the burning certainty that the jewellery should be for you, and you alone. His hand closed over yours as you moved to shut the box.
"Please," he breathed, so close, "choose one, or I shall give you them all." Swallowing, your hand hovered over a fine chain of silver and emerald, your fingertips brushing the gem. Kento hummed his approval, before picking it up, his calloused fingers all softness and grace.
"My favourite, too," he rumbled, brushing your hair off the nape of your neck as he clipped the necklace into place. You shivered at the feeling of his fingers on your neck, and almost ran as he whispered beside your ear, "Your bath is ready."
Stripping behind the wooden screen, hearing Kento amble around the room beyond, you sighed as the hot water enveloped you. Washing yourself with a soft sponge, cleaning off the grime of the day, your hand wandered absentmindedly downwards, fingertips grazing through your folds, naturally moving to relieve yourself of the building tension--
"I've left you a shirt." Your hand darted upwards with a guilty splash, Kento's voice only meters away behind the screen.
"Thank-- thank you," you squeaked, blushing, before climbing out, so naked apart from your exquisite new necklace. Drying on a soft towel, your hand hesitated over the shirt draped over the screen, before pulling it on over damp skin. It reached down your thighs, but left little else to the imagination.
Kento remained outwardly stoic, unreadable, averting his gaze as you crept out, arms holding yourself and squashing your breasts together, the colour of your nipples as faint as a ghost under the white linen shirt. He cleared his throat, coughing lightly before skirting past to the bath. You felt heat creep up your neck at the gossamer hush of his clothes hitting the floor, the shifting water as he stepped in, the way he sighed in relief, almost as if--
"I shall sleep in the chair tonight," Kento said, slow and considered, "and you shall have my bed." You felt indignation roll within you.
"Don't be ridiculous," you scolded, "you're injured, and this is your home--"
'-- and you are my guest," he grumbled.
"I won't allow it," you insisted, almost forgetting yourself as you approached the wooden screen, "I'll put some furs on the floor and--"
"You believe I would let you sleep on the floor?" He growled, furious at your suggestion, "I should rather you have me share the bed with you over that--"
"Fine. Then we shall share the bed. And there will be no more argument." You clapped a hand over your mouth as the words tumbled forth, unbidden. Mortified by your own suggestion, you removed your hand to speak again.
Kento stepped round from behind the screen, his towel draped lazily round his waist. You gaped up at him, stunned. He was...younger than you thought, his blond hair now soft and floppy, the ash removed from the lines in his face, taking ten years off him. You faced him, his towering form, the practiced rolls, peaks and planes of muscle belonging to a working man, his forearms so thick--
"Then...we should get to bed," Kento insisted, stepping past you, through a doorway to his bedroom, where you heard him rummaging for clothes, "it is late and I am up with the lark."
You hesitated where you stood, feeling your heartbeat between your legs, desperately curious, but paralysed.
"I don't bite," Kento called out, and you gulped down the sounds of soft fabric dropping over his body, still crippled with indecision and embracing yourself as he stepped out to put out the fire. You were lost momentarily in darkness before he stepped to you, the lantern between you, a beacon in the dark. You felt his hand close around your fingers again. You heard him whisper.
"It will become cold quickly, now the fire has died. Come. Stay warm."
You allowed yourself to be led to Kento's bedroom, hypnotised by the small swinging lantern. Kento led your hand downwards, placing it to the edge of the bed for you to feel your way, your fingers gliding through soft fur and cool sheets. With shaking hands, you crawled across to the head of the bed. Kento waited for you, flipping down the sheets, flipping them back up to your chin as you both slipped between them.
You heard nil but your own heartbeat. Kento faced you, the torch light embering behind him leaving him only just visible as your eyes adjusted to the light. The sheets had not yet warmed from your bodies, and you shivered. You felt Kento shift beside you.
"You...are cold," he stated as if in question. You remained quiet, gripping your hands to your chest lest they reach out for him.
"I'm...I'll warm up. Soon," you reassured yourself as much as him. You heard one doubtful grunt from him. Five minutes passed, and still, Kento felt you shiver against the sheets. Pulling a fur up to your chins, he felt prickles up his legs as one of your feet reached hesitantly out to touch him. He felt rather than heard you sigh.
"So warm," you whispered, your little voice soft with comfort in the dark. Kento's breath caught in his chest, feeling his cock twitch inside his soft trousers.
"Do you...need me?" He offered. He felt your other foot reach out in answer, cold toes wiggling against the downy hair on his leg. He felt a dangerous, needy arousal thread through him.
Reaching out his uninjured arm, he hooked it round your waist, chuckling as you squeaked when he pressed against you. You hummed in pleasure at the heat rolling off him, basking in his warmth, forgetting your awkwardness for a moment. Kento and you lay intertwined like that, with you softening like butter in his arms.
After a few minutes, you shifted against him, about to drift off to sleep. Kento must have been near sleep as well, groaning into your hair as you shifted, reflexively clinging you closer to him. Your bottom, completely bare with his shirt shifted up your body, pressed back to his groin. His clothed cock was hard and barely restrained in his loose trousers, and pressed between your thighs.
You felt a jolt run through you, feeling a warm trickle of arousal, so alien to you, seep out between your thighs. Kento almost saw stars as it dampened the trousers over his cockhead, and he frowned, his forehead pressed to your shoulder blade in apology and embarrassment.
"I-- I'm sorry, I--...it's been so long...since I've felt a woman-- shit, I'm--" Kento rested his nose against your neck, unable to stop himself from ghosting his lips there. You dropped your head back to him, and he growled in appreciation, nuzzling your neck, feeling your thighs clamp around the tip of his cock, your arousal seeping through his trousers and mixing with his own.
"I've never--" you whispered, blushing furiously, drunk on the feeling of his body against yours, feeling so curiously empty and aching to be filled. Kento understood immediately, and moved to pull back.
"No!" You squeaked, holding onto his arm, pushing yourself back to chase him along the bed, "Please, I-- I want--...you. I want you." Your words sat heavy in the air. Kento shifted behind you, at war with himself.
"You don't know what you're asking," he growled, fighting against you to remove his arm, "I am no boy."
"And I'm no girl, nor stupid," you reassured, "I'm not ignorant."
In an instant, Kento moved above you, on all fours, his arms caging you in, corseting you to his bed. He stared down at you, enormous chest heaving, eyes roving down your body, quickly intoxicated by your peaked nipples, beneath his shirt, the hem of it barely covering your sex, still feeling your arousal dampening his cock.
He leaned down, nestling his mouth against your neck again, tongue flicking out, tasting you. He felt you still under his lips, just a little mouse, in the jaws of a bear.
"And yet, all that knowledge is just academic, until you're crying out that my cock is too big for you," he growled, warning you away, barely able to stop himself. He felt you squirm beneath him, his head swimming with you. He was lost, then, to your tiny whisper in the gloom.
"Show me-- please." Kento shuddered, a drop of pre-cum seeping out of his cock, soaking through his trousers and your-- his-- shirt, to dampen your belly. You shivered, desperate to know Kento biblically, desperate for this fabled ecstasy.
Kento raised his mouth from your neck, reading your eyes, seeing such certainty in them. Tangling his fingers with yours beneath the sheets, he pressed the length of his body down against you as he kissed you, his other hand framing your jaw, gently encouraging it open to slide his tongue against yours. Your soft little moan was like music to his ears.
Kissing you deeply, learning your voice and your mouth, letting you learn the peaks and planes of his body with your free hand, Kento kept your other hand plaited with his own, fearful of leaving you to take this journey alone.
He felt himself shudder with the unbridled privilege of being able to worship you, jealously grateful that you had not been left to some boy. He was overwhelmed by the need to set your standards high at the first hurdle.
"Let me taste you," he murmured into your mouth, and you hesitated, unsure of what he meant. Swiping his thumb across your palm, Kento's mouth ventured downwards, sucking the skin of your neck, nipping before soothing the skin with his tongue, feeling you become pliable, supple as water. His fingers danced over the laces holding your shirt together, giving you opportunity to stop him, before untying them, freeing your breasts.
Laying his tongue flat over one nipple, Kento allowed it to curve to the shape of you, to know you, before drawing it into his mouth, sucking on your nipple while his hand toyed with and kneaded the other. He revelled in your whines, a high, keening mewl as you arched off the bed into his mouth. You felt his licks and sucks, curiously, between your legs, and you could not help but buck up against him.
Kento grunted at the feeling of your pussy pressing against his thigh, and moved one hand down to hold your hips still.
"Slow down-- let me show you," he ordered, gentle in his insistence. You trembled under his fingertips, your hips settling back to the bed. He rumbled his approval, rolling your nipple under his tongue again until you sighed, breathy and ecstatic, "Good girl."
In reward, his mouth continued to trail downwards, and your eyes fluttered closed, one hand coming to rest on the back of his head, your fingernails scratching through his damp hair. Kento shivered at the sensation, feeling his cock leap against his thigh.
When his mouth reached your mound, you squeaked out in alarm, flipping the blankets down to see Kento, illuminated in the orange light.
"What are you-- your mouth, Kento--" Kento's eyes crinkled up at you, and two arms came to loop round the top of your thighs, pulling you down the bed towards him, your shirt being rucked up against the drag of the mattress to completely expose your glistening pussy to him.
Maintaining eye contact with you, you trembled with anticipation as Kento poked his tongue out into a point, first grazing your folds, before stroking from side to side to ease in between them. The sound that broke out from you as his tongue stroked over your clit, hot and wet, was one Kento masturbated to for years to come.
You felt as though you had been lifted from earth and dropped amongst the clouds as he licked at you, sucking, stroking, tasting, the pleasure so otherworldly compared to what your own hand could achieve, that you felt yourself being rushed towards your peak at speed.
Twisting and squirming against his mouth, you reflexively tried to pull your pussy away from Kento's attentions. His arms tightened around the tops of your thighs, growling into you, pulling you back as you tried to scoot away. Your hand tugged at his hair as you arched, whimpering, coated in a fine sweat. As Kento groaned into your cunt, you watched his hips roll and hump against the bed, the sight alone enough to send your orgasm crashing through you, and you worshipped his name in a long, keening cry.
Kento let his laps and sucks become softer, languid, letting you float through the haze of your pleasure. Nuzzling at you, tasting you as you trailed lazy blissful fingers through his hair, Kento planted soft kisses to your inner thigh.
Moving back up, stroking his nose against your neck, Kento felt your hand move down his shoulders and back, before coming round to ghost over the front of his trousers. Kento shuddered, kneeling above you to remove his shirt, skin prickling with the need to feel yours against his own.
Gazing down at you, his eyes like whiskey in the flickering light, he grazed a palm from in between your breasts, down to the hem of your shirt, pulling it up over your head in one swift tug, exposing you completely to him.
Your hand still trailed over his groin as he knelt, and you were captivated, obsessed with the shape, weight and length of his cock in your hands, blissfully unaware of what you were doing to him. As you grasped the lace at the front of his trousers, undoing it, and squeezing the head of his cock between your fingers, Kento moaned, ragged, leaning one hand sideways to support himself.
"Fuck-- I haven't-- not for so long," he moaned, low and husky, feeling your inexperienced fingers explore his cock and balls in a way that felt almost abusively naive. As your thumb glided beneath his foreskin, collecting the wetness of his pre-cum, exploring his slit, Kento hissed, panting and grabbing your hand.
You broke out of your reverie, blushing with mortification, tears pricking in your eyes as you began to apologise. Kento interrupted, shushing you, one hand still gripping your fingers around his cock, the other coming up to cup your face, his thumb swiping across your cheek.
"Not you," he huffed, stroking your cheek, smiling down at you with fevered eyes, "me, it's-- I-- I'll cum in your hand if you carry on." Your eyes glimmered, hungry to see how he looked as you pleasured him, and you moved yourself, leaning close, squeezing him again beneath his own hand, and he cried out in pleasure. You felt another drip of his arousal across your fingers, and you gulped, your tongue darting out across your lips.
As you lowered yourself to his lap, Kento's eyebrows raised in shock, and desperate awe, as you licked the weeping cockhead sticking out from your joined enclosed hands.
A low rumble ebbed through Kento, his eyes suddenly dark and hungry as he looked down at you, wordlessly using your hand inside his own, to pump the length of his cock. Feeling the intoxicating glide of soft skin over woody hardness, you let him use your hand to masturbate himself as you took the head of his cock into your mouth, licking, tasting the musty pre-cum there.
Every instinct screamed at Kento to chase his orgasm, to press your head further down his cock so he could use your little hand to jack off into your mouth, and he felt overwhelmed by the innocent licks and sucks you gave him, eyes cast upwards to see what effect they had on him. Kento moaned desperately, twisting on his haunches, fingers in turn tangling into your hair and coming away, clenching and unclenching at speed.
He felt the approaching rush of divine ecstasy, thrumming up his back in waves, his balls tightening up against the base of his cock--
Snapping, Kento pulled your hand and mouth off him, heaving you up the bed and back onto the pillows, before pinning you down with his body, panting into your neck, trying not to spill his seed over your belly. You were thrilled, ecstatic with Kento's pleasure, eager to see more of it.
You crept your hips up to his, trying to ease his cock into you. Kento huffed, his hand shooting down to press your hips down again.
"--going to kill me-- I swear-- no idea...you have no idea what you're doing to me--" Kento panted, quaking above you, one forearm planted above your head. As his peak ebbed away, Kento plaited his hand with your own again, above your head. He felt his cockhead resting against the smooth resistance of your entrance, and he suddenly felt so responsible for you.
"I don't want to hurt you," he huffed, aware he was bigger than average, but knowing from the fevered look in your eyes that he could not dissuade you-- not that he wanted to, at this point, his cock throbbing with urgent need.
"Please," you begged, "please." You felt Kento's hips press forwards into your soaking wet heat, feeling a slight sting as it met resistance. Kento rested his nose to yours, his eyes still feverish, his body still smelling of iron and ash and smoke.
"On one condition," he pressed, authoritative as his cockhead pressed deeper against your stinging resistance, breaking past thin membrane, gripping your thigh up to his hip as you trembled, biting your lip, tears in your eyes as you nodded-- anything, you thought, anything.
"Marry me," he whispered against your lips, and you squeaked as you felt a twang of pain, his cock suddenly nestled deeply inside you. Kento rocked his hips gently, shushing you, soothing you, his thumb stroking your palm. Not moving, just holding you as you adjusted to feeling so full, Kento waited for an answer.
"Y--yes...yes," you mewled, and Kento growled his approval against your neck, slowly pulling out of you before rutting back into your wet, tender pussy again, so intimate and deep that you cried out for him.
Kento rolled his hips, like a boat on the waves, whispering into you, certain he wouldn't last long; "First-- I'll cum inside you-- then I'll treat you like a queen...haaah...for the rest of my days."
You clung to Kento, lost in the ecstasy of him plowing into you, delighted by his rumbling groans in your ears, blissfully proud of being able to make such an unflappable man fall apart inside you. When his grip on your hip faltered, his shaking hand dropping to stroke quick little circles around your clit, Kento growled and bit into your neck to feel you rock your hips upwards to meet his own.
The sting almost completely eased, you felt quick pangs of pleasure, rising with every beat of your fast little heart, completely carried along by the eroticism of Kento's frantic groans and mumbles into your ear.
"My love I-- you feel so good...so good...god, I need to cum, need you to cum I-- aahhhh, fuck--" Kento felt your pussy clench around him, and he came inside you as you drank down his moans, fascinated by how they matched up with the bounding twitch of his cock, how his hips juddered into you involuntarily, how his face contorted, jaw clenched, somewhere between rage and serenity.
You were famished, starved of him, immediately desperate for more, and you felt him crumple into you, caging you in, shoulders heaving and spent. Kento chuckled as you peppered him with kisses, gripping your thighs round him and rolling him over so you lay above him, straddling him as his cock softened within you.
With his chin on his chest to look down to you, and a lazy lopsided smile across his face, Kento played idly with your hair, stroking your nose, your cheeks. He proudly fingered the beautiful necklace, resting against your breasts, squashed and plush against him.
"You meant it?" He asked, eager, concerned.
You hummed in delight, pressing a tender kiss to his chest as you nodded; "You had me at 'hello'."
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Would the anon who requested Blacksmith!Kento PLEASE STAND UP so I can credit you for breaking my brain.
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nthd-jen · 1 year
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Why do you do this to me?
Right when I feel our bond fading, and I can go a few days without thinking of you.
You pop back in again.
This time a different way, a way I haven't blocked.
.
And I can't resist you.
Not in the slightest...
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shonen-brainrot · 3 months
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Dragon!Kirishima, who is a huge dragon with fiery red scales that gleam brilliantly. Crowned with two razor-sharp horns, he boasts a majestic golden-red mane that billows in the wind as he soars through the skies, his massive wings casting an impressive shadow below.
Dragon!Kirishima, who is a fire dragon. When faced with a threat or an intruder trespassing on his territory, he doesn't hesitate to unleash torrents of scorching flames, leaving behind a searing trail.
Dragon!Kirishima, with an affinity for all things shiny and golden, shares the common dragon love for richness. His lair is adorned with numerous trophies and trinkets, golden coins and goblets, jewelry, gold bars and many, many more.
Dragon!Kirishima, who is all about rhubarb and figs. Every dragon craves heaps of calcium, and it comes from different sources.
Dragon!Kirishima, who experiences intense heats, making it hard for him to think straight, with his mind consumed by the overwhelming desire to relieve himself in any way possible.
Dragon!Kirishima, who's finding amusement as you navigate lost in his territory, initially contemplates swift retribution. However, upon catching a whiff of your sweet and intoxicating scent, he has a change of heart, opting for a more intriguing course of action.
Dragon!Kirishima, who waits until you enter his den before revealing his massive presence. Amused by your initial screams, he reassures you that he won't harm you and offers a deal – your assistance in helping him get off in exchange for your safety.
Dragon!Kirishima, who, beneath his impeccably sculpted strong abdomen, has not one, but two cocks. Both of his impressive cocks boast extraordinary length, a substantial girth, and a mesmerizing gradient of coloration. Starting with a striking crimson hue near his pelvis, the tones gradually transform into a captivating shade of gold at their tips.
Dragon!Kirishima, who keenly observes as you tentatively discard your garments. In a swift and deliberate motion, his forked, serpentine tongue envelops the entirety of your pussy, earning him a chorus of sweet moans from your lips. The sensation of your exquisite flavor cascading over his tongue sends waves of wild passion coursing through him.
Dragon!Kirishima, who guides you through a series of climaxes with the adept use of his to gue and muzzle. The relentless waves of pleasure leave you thoroughly drenched, creating an ideal state for accommodating one of his impressive cocks.
Dragon!Kirishima, who, once you're wet enough, confidently seizes the opportunity to simultaneously fill both of your eager holes with his cocks. Witnessing you completely engulfed by him ignites a primal surge of satisfaction within the dragon.
Dragon!Kirishima, who fucks you in a forceful, hard rhythm, thrusting into you with primal, guttural sounds escaping his muzzle.
Dragon!Kirishima, who's nearly pushed over the edge by the symphony of your sweet pleas and desperate cries, as you express your inability to last any more.
Dragon!Kirishima, who's unleashing his runny, golden cum in a series of at least a few robust spurts, roaring loudly, praising you for taking both of his cock so well.
Dragon!Kirishima, who, having reached his peak, insists on keeping you close, sprawled on his massive, scaled paws. He watches you breathing heavily, pressing his sizable muzzle against your abdomen, savoring the lingering scent of your slick wetness and of the sex you just had, still hanging in the air.
Dragon!Kirishima, who's confident in his allure, and knows you'll return for more. After a bit of post-coital cuddling, he fulfills his promise and allows you to depart from his den, fully aware that you'll be irresistibly drawn back to him.
Dragon!Kirishima, who's deeming you his mate, luxuriously spoils you with furs, trinkets, and jewelry. Whatever you desire, simply ask, and it's yours.
Dragon!Kirishima, who has a little secret he hasn't revealed yet - a human form tucked away. He decided to keep that tantalizing mystery for himself just a bit longer.
these headcanons were requested by my lovely mutual @crystalwolfblog ilysm ❤️
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utahimeow · 7 months
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just gojo fingering you while you finger yourself :3
cw — squirting
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“touch yourself for me, baby. wanna watch you make yourself feel good.”
when it comes to you, satoru may be a greedy man, but he’s also voyeuristic. he loves a show—only when you’re the star of it, of course. there’s nothing he loves more than seeing his pretty girl get herself off, knowing that it’s a sight reserved just for him.
so he kneels between your legs like a starving dog, eyes blazing as he watches your fingers slip between your folds. you’re soaked already, dripping from his soft touches and needy kisses that inevitably spiralled into an unbearably insatiable want within the both of you. satoru licks his lips at the sight of your arousal glistening like temptation. it takes every bone in his body and every fibre of his being to resist indulging in the taste—not yet. he needs to be patient.
he looks up and his gaze locks with yours and a shiver shoots down your spine. he looks at you like he wishes to devour you, licks his lips while drool spills from the sides of his mouth. it drives you crazy, seeing him turn to a rabid animal at just the tempting sight of you.
your fingertips drag over the opening of your cunt, through the slick that seeps out of you like honey. every movement you make is methodical—the glide of your fingertips over your clit feeds the bubbling pleasure in your gut, and the way you throw your head back and nibble at your bottom lip lets satoru know how good you feel. you want to make it indulgent, both for you and for him.
“why don’t you put a finger in for me, pretty?”
his voice is so sweet, it always is when he’s talking to you, yet it’s dripping with such lust that it makes your walls clench. you become cognisant of just how empty you are, and you can’t go another second being so empty, so you slide your middle finger into your hole and a moan springs from your throat.
satoru chuckles at you, airy and half-moaning and just a touch condescending. his pants are tightening over his crotch, and he won’t be able to hold off for much longer, but for the moment he behaves.
the sounds you make are shameless as you drag your single finger in and out of your hole. it’s hardly anything compared to satoru’s fingers—so much thicker and longer than yours. you dip a second finger inside in an attempt to give yourself something more, to replicate your boyfriend’s touch, and it helps, at least a little, to keep the boiling flame deep inside you going.
one of your hands moves to cup your exposed breast, fingers tugging and twisting at your nipple. you whine out satoru’s name, like the devil inviting him to hell, because you sound so sweet and lovely—
satoru is a greedy man. he’s also impatient, and indulgent, and you’re just so irresistible, his sweet little girlfriend, and he just can’t stop himself when he plunges his own two fingers into your needy little cunt that’s already occupied with your own.
“s-satoru!” you gasp at the stretch, your eyes rolling into the back of your head while satoru groans out at the way your warm walls wrap around his digits.
“sorry, angel, couldn’t help myself,” he says, rasping out a laugh. his crystal eyes have turned a dark, ocean blue, and they’re on fire now, swimming with want. “pretty little pussy was beggin’ for my fingers.”
there’s an obscene squelch as he angles his wrist and crooks his fingers until, along with yours, they’re pressed up against your sweet spot, the one that makes you cry out and buck your hips in a desperate search for more.
“go on, baby, keep making yourself feel good. i’ll help you,” he says, fangs bared as he smirks, voice dropping to an octave lower than usual. he knows precisely the effect it has on you, knowing how just his words are more than enough to get you worked up. he doesn’t miss the way you clench around him as he speaks, whining out a pleading little noise for him.
lightheaded, your fingers are weak as they move, though satoru doesn’t hesitate in the way he begins to drag his curled fingers in and out of you—he’s rough, jostling you along the mattress as he works your pussy open, but he’s never been good at controlling himself around you.
“such a spoiled girl, huh? letting me do all the work?” he coos, watching as you slowly fall apart for him. he’s teasing you, when really he loves getting you like this more than anything.
“feels better when you do it,” you whimper, and it’s those words that make his cock stir in his pants, make his tip weep. a reminder of how well he takes care of you, because he loves taking care of you, more than anything. you’re only spoiled because he spoils you, gives you everything you could ever want, makes you feel so good that nothing else matters except for you and for him.
and he’s so good with his fingers—after all, he has to be. not only is it his job but the very essence of his being revolves around using his hands. so of course it’s not long before your walls are clamping down on yours and his fingers, the hot band of pressure inside you threatening to snap.
“satoru, i’m-i’m close,” you manage through the never-ending string of moans that fall from your lips.
“i know, angel, i can feel you,” he says, half-laughing. then, like the cruel man he is, he presses his free hand into your abdomen, and you don’t stand a chance. “come for me.”
the wet sounds of your soaked cunt quickly come to a crescendo from the way he moves his wrist with abandon. as your walls clench, satoru’s fingers intertwine with yours, pressed up into your g-spot together, battering it over and over, and then—
you’re yelping. screaming with bliss. the muscles in your body seize up from the pleasure that takes over them, and a flood of your arousal splashes over satoru’s lap, and you’re sobbing out moans and the syllables of satoru’s name, coming all over your fingers and his. it’s unlike any orgasm you’ve ever felt.
“there you go, that’s it, pretty girl,” he sings, slowing his movements as you fall through your climax, his gaze fixed firmly upon your features as they contort with bliss. his chest always blooms with warmth when you come, fills with some kind of pride because you’re so beautiful and he gets to call you his.
he’s pressing kisses to your shaking thighs as you come back down, sliding his dripping fingers out of your warmth slowly and bringing them to his lips. he finally deserves a taste, he thinks. so he laps up your essence from his own fingers and yours, his eyes fluttering shut, letting out a moan as he indulges, shamelessly—that’s another thing that satoru is. shameless.
“you taste so sweet, baby,” he tells you, already growing hungry for more.
“that was so romantic, satoru,” you quip. “you held my hand inside of me?”
“yeah, well, you know i’m a romantic, baby.”
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another-lost-mc · 11 months
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Your First Kiss Headcanons | THE DEMON BROTHERS 2.7k words | NSFW | gn!Reader | Smutty Smooches Content warnings: Pining demons, anxiety/insecurity, mostly fluff and suggestive comments. Some cursing. Certain demons are a bit, uhh...steamier than others.
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LUCIFER
The fireplace in Lucifer's private study crackles nearby. He feels warm from the flames, the bottle of Demonus you've been sharing, and your body curled against his.
A comfortable silence falls over you both, and it's natural for his gaze to seek yours. Your eyes are dark, and it's not a trick of the light when he sees your eyes dart down to his mouth.
Your face starts to move closer to his, and the only thing louder than the cursed record playing is the thrum of anticipation and desire that sets his nerves ablaze.
He's imagined this moment longer than he'll ever admit. He's been waiting for a sign that you wanted to go down this path with him, no matter where it leads. Now that he knows what you want, it's too late to turn back now.
Your hand rests on his chest and he can feel your touch through the layers between you - the clothes he wears, and the walls he’s put up to deter those unworthy of him.
He closes his eyes to savor the experience of kissing you for the first time. Your taste makes him lightheaded, and it's more irresistible than the finest vintage of Demonus.
He follows your lead at first, slotting his lips perfectly against yours and enjoying the sensation of your lips moving gently against his own.
When you put a little more heat into the kiss - your tongue tentatively swiping against the seam of his lips as you move your body closer to his - he cradles the back of your head and slides his other hand down to your waist. He pulls you against him and let's a groan rumble in his chest, undeniable proof of his desire and it encourages you to give him more.
It feels like all you've been through together has brought both of you to this moment, and he's been patient long enough. He takes lead of the kiss, his buried feelings for you spilling from his lips to yours, while his passion consumes you both.
MAMMON
Mammon is caught off-guard by your first kiss.
He looked away in embarrassment after telling you, in a very complicated, round-about way, that you meant the world to him.
He pretended to look at something in the distance, but his cheeks were warm. He had to resist the urge not to look at you again, to pretend that you're not the flame he's constantly drawn to.
His feelings for you are overwhelming sometimes. You're just so fucking amazing, and all his - even if you don't realize it yet.
But Mammon is like an open book to you; you know how he feels, how he's always felt about you.
When he looks at you again, he's startled when your face is suddenly so close to his.
You lean forward and give him a kiss - it's quick, and it's not perfect - but he gets the hint of what you're trying to tell him: You mean the world to me, too.
He sputters about how you shouldn't go around surprising demons like that, and he almost thinks the kiss is supposed to be a joke, but he knows that's not true. It can't be, not when you're looking at him like he hung the moon, and your smile is wide and hopeful.
The happiness in his chest threatens to bubble over, and he knows he'll never forget this moment.
Fuck it. He wraps a hand around the back of your neck and pulls you back in for another kiss. It's still not perfect - you're both smiling so it's a bit clumsy, and your teeth clack together.
He wants more of you - he'll always want more. He wants to pull you close and hold your body against his, and he wants to plunder your mouth with his tongue, but not now. Not here.
He nips your bottom lip before he reluctantly pulls away, and he practically drags you back home to continue this in private.
LEVIATHAN
Levi didn't see the big deal about giving you the collectible game figure you wanted - so why the hell did you lean over and kiss him?!
It was over almost as soon as it began, a quick kiss against the corner of his mouth after you thanked him.
You're too focused on your new toy to notice Levi short-circuiting beside you on the sofa in his room.
His breathing is a bit erratic, and he rubs his sweaty palms on the denim of his jeans.
His throat is scratchy and dry all of a sudden, but licking his lips doesn't help - especially not when he tastes the evidence of your kiss: the sweet, sticky residue from the bag of candies you shared earlier.
He crosses his legs until he can discretely pull a pillow into his lap to hide the growing bulge between his legs.
You're talking excitedly about something, but he can't make out the words - his mind is still reeling from the implications of why you kissed him.
The kiss couldn't have been an accident - you leaned over on purpose, and he felt your chest press against his arm so your lips could reach his.
He thinks that maybe it was a joke at first, or some sort of tease, but he looks at you closely. Your eyes are a bit brighter, and your cheeks are a tinge darker than usual. You keep glancing at him shyly from the corner of your eyes.
He doesn't realize how long he's been freaking out until you ask him if he's alright.
He didn’t notice you spoke to him at first: he was too busy staring at you and your soft, candy-sweetened lips, trying to figure out what he's ever done to deserve you.
He swallows nervously and braces himself when he looks into your eyes properly. "Can we—can we do that again?"
SATAN
Satan’s first thought when you kiss him is that he wishes he had the nerve to kiss you first.
He likes inviting you to his room to read together - his room is lit brightly enough so that you don’t have to strain your human eyes to read the pages of your book.
However, there’s something alluring about the way candlelight and shadow play across your features. It distracts him from the book in his hands as he stares at you fondly instead.
You’re sitting side-by-side on his bed, which he prefers: the scent of the fragrance you wear lingers on his bedding, and sometimes he can still smell you when he goes to sleep.
You thank him for something - lending you one of his rare edition books, something he probably wouldn’t do for anyone else - and you kiss his cheek.
It’s such a sweet, innocent gesture but it still makes his body grow hot. It's not like the raging inferno of his anger, but more like a molten wave of affection that sweeps through him.
He’s not nervous now that he has permission to touch you, and one kiss is not going to be enough to satisfy him.
He cups your cheek and brushes the skin gently with his thumb. You bite your lip to stifle a bashful grin, and he can’t help but press his smile against your own.
His other hand finds yours on his sheets between your bodies, and he nearly whimpers into the kiss when you lace your fingers with his.
Your other hand finds it’s way onto his shoulder and you lean your body closer to his. Perhaps if he were overcome with desire he would wrap his arms around you and pull you down onto the bed.
He doesn’t want to ruin this; he decides this moment is perfect enough. You trade soft, sweet kisses in the cozy haven of his room, where time stands still and only your love remains.
ASMODEUS
Asmodeus wants to kiss you desperately, but he doesn't want you to think you're just another passing fancy in his long list of ex-lovers. He feels like he has a lot to prove to you.
He can't charm his way into your heart, and he knows you want him to be honest and genuine with you.
When he admits that he loves you - more than he's loved anyone before, possibly even more than he loves himself - the cravings begin.
He craves your company, and your touch, and your kiss and your body. He craves you. But he promises himself he won't rush things, and he won't pressure you.
He wanted to go shopping - and buy you something, of course - when some idiot demon on a motorcycle nearly ran you over while you crossed the street together. Asmo wrapped his arms around you and held you close while he cursed the demon who kept driving.
He pulled you into an alley off the main street so he could check on you privately. "Are you alright? You're not hurt, are you? I promise, if I ever see them again, I'm going to—mmph!"
Asmo looked concerned when he examined you for injuries, but he didn't expect you to grab his shirt collar and pull his lips down to yours.
He makes a surprised noise against your lips, then he moans when he realizes you're finally kissing him, and he can't fucking believe it.
His hands roam your body - your shoulders, your back, your hips - and he pulls you even closer as the kiss grows more heated. He can't help it, but neither can you, apparently - adrenaline is a helluva drug.
His kiss is hot and frenzied and desperate, and he feels drunk off your taste, and your lips are so soft, and his nerves tingle every time your tongue glides against his own.
You pull away first, gasping for air even as Asmo tries to chase your mouth because he doesn't want to stop.
His lip gloss feels tacky and it's smeared across his lips and chin. Your mouth is messy too, and your cheeks are flushed, and the way you're staring at him is so fucking hot.
He suddenly decides he's not in the mood to go shopping anymore - but he leads you home by the hand and promises he still has plans to spoil you tonight.
BEELZEBUB
When you're friends, you let Beel pick leftovers off your plate, or you cook him an extra large portion of food. When you start dating, he cares less about food and cares more about other things he'd like to share with you.
He's not distracted by the food on your plate, but the way you moan when you eat something especially tasty, or the way your lips shine after you wet them with your tongue, and he wonders what kissing you will be like too.
Every time sauce or cream clings to the corners of your mouth, he wants to lick your lips clean for you.
He tries to be patient and wait for you to kiss him first. Sometimes you look at him like you're ravenous for him in a way he's never seen before, but he's never been good at self-control when he's starving.
One night he sneaks to the kitchen for a late-night snack, but you're already there. You're leaning against the counter, eating ice cream straight out of the tub, and you freeze guiltily when you realize you've been caught.
Beel's stunned by the sight of you in your pajamas, hidden mostly in shadow with a spoon dangling from your lips when you start to sputter excuses.
He can see that there's a dribble of ice cream, just there, above your lip—
He takes the tub and spoon from you gently - and you smile, because you think he wants to share because he likes that flavour - but you gasp against his lips when he leans down and kisses you.
His lips are soft when they move against yours, and he sucks your bottom lip between his own.
Once the lingering sweetness is gone, all he can taste is you. You taste even better.
He freezes when he realizes what he's doing, and he pulls his hands away from your waist like he's been burned. He starts to apologize, and your face is flushed and he thinks you're upset, but then you ask him to kiss you again.
Oh fuck, you're going to be awful for his self-control.
He kisses you again, and again, and again. He whispers broken praise about how good you taste and how amazing you are between hot, opened mouth kisses against your lips.
When you break the kiss with a pleased sigh, his lips drag along your jaw. He wants more.
You're bracketed between his arms and he's crowding you against the counter. The drawer handle digging painfully into your back forces you to gently push him away.
He knows he's staring at you, and he might be drooling a little now too, but he can't help it.
You feed him the rest of the half-melted ice cream - it would be a waste not to - and lead him from the kitchen to your bedroom, where you can continue things more comfortably.
BELPHEGOR
Belphie is still groggy from sleep when he drapes an arm over your waist. You're both laying in his bed in the attic, and as much as he wants to fall back to sleep, his eyes blink open instead.
You're still sleeping, and your nose makes a cute little whistling noise when you breathe. You're so adorable.
He doesn't consider himself to be the romantic type, but you bring that out in him sometimes. In the dimly lit attic, the fairy lights hanging from the ceiling give you an almost ethereal, whimsical glow.
You look so peaceful when you sleep. Beautiful, gorgeous, mesmerizing—
He scoots a bit closer to you, and he's not sure the blankets covering you both are the reason why he suddenly feels so warm.
You're pouting in your sleep, and you murmur quietly too, and he wonders what you're dreaming about tonight.
He always feels so cozy spending time with you like this, even though you're still asleep. It gives him a chance to think about you, and the things he wishes he had the nerve to do when you're awake.
His head is resting on the pillow beside you, and he brushes his nose against yours. He smiles when you scrunch your nose in your sleep.
He kisses your forehead and cheek next - what isn't smooshed into the pillow, anyway. He peppers kisses along your skin, and he thinks about all the things he likes about you, and the things he wants to do together, and the things he'd like to do for you.
His quick kiss against your lips is impulsive. He's wanted to kiss you for so long, but since you're asleep you'll never know—
He panics when your eyes blink open and meet his.
You stare at each other. He's ready to tell you that whatever you think you felt was just a dream, but then a smile blooms across your face.
He tries to shuffle back from you, but you shuffle forward. He gives up when he's nearly falling off the mattress trying to put some distance from you, and you simply raise an eyebrow as if to ask, "What are you going to do now?"
“Nothing happened,” he says lamely, and the lie sounds as obvious as it feels rolling off his tongue.
“That’s a shame, I was having a nice dream that some handsome demon kissed me.” You roll over and sigh dramatically, and he bites the inside of his cheek to stop himself from grinning.
“Handsome, huh?” He follows you - because he’s powerless not to - and leans on his elbow so he can look down at your cute, pouting face. “And how do I compare?"
You reach up and cup his cheek, and he can't resist the urge to nuzzle into your touch. "Nothing compares to you." The sincerity in your voice makes his throat tighten, and his cheeks are on fire, and what is he supposed to say to that?
You grin at him, and your eyes are soft and full of love for him and him alone.
He's determined to kiss that cheeky smile off your face. He lowers his head to yours and kisses you again - properly this time - and hums happily when you move your lips against his like you wanted this as much as he did.
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lxndonorris · 5 days
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Chocolate- Charles Leclerc
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Y/N x Charles Leclerc Theme: Smutish, Teasing, light touching Charles is your best friend and you're joining him in Australia. However, Pierre pranks the two of you with some spicy chocolate x word count: 1930+ taglist: @game-set-canet mentions of Pierre :P requested by anon :) feel free to request in my askbox gif by me
The scorching Australian sun beats down on the bustling Melbourne Grand Prix Circuit, where the roar of Formula 1 engines fills the air. Among the throngs of racing enthusiasts, you stand nervously, your heart pounding with excitement. Charles, your best friend and Ferrari's star driver, invited you to spend the weekend with him at the track, a dream come true for any racing fan.
As you stand inside the Ferrari garage, Charles flashes you a mischievous grin. "Ready to cheer for me?" he asks, his eyes sparkling brightly. 
"Absolutely," you reply, barely able to contain a giggle. "I can't thank you enough for this opportunity, Charles." 
"That's what friends are for, right?" He says, running a hand across his chest to button up his racing suit, getting ready to jump into his race car.
He zooms out of the garage and onto the track, while you watch the screen with a mix of excitement and nervousness. To calm your nerves, you brought yourself some chocolate from Charles' motorhome. He told you he got them from Pierre earlier today, and both of you enjoyed a bar before this training session—it tastes so good.
As you wait for Charles to finish his last training session for the weekend, the anticipation bubbles within you, heightened by the thrill of the fast-paced racing world.
Clad in his Ferrari shirt and cap, you feel a strange sense of exhilaration coursing through your veins, mingling with the nervous excitement that pulses beneath the surface.
When Charles finally emerges from his car, his presence seems to command the entire paddock. His aura is magnetic, drawing you in with an irresistible force. In one swift motion, his helmet and balaclava come off, revealing a face flushed with exhilaration. 
He exchanges a few words with his mechanics, his focus on the training still evident in his demeanor. But then, as if drawn by an invisible force, his gaze finds yours.
His expression softens slightly as he runs a hand across his chest firmly, stroking himself through his racing suit. Charles licks his lips before turning his attention back to the conversation.
A tingling sensation erupts in your belly, sending shivers down your spine when he approaches you. As Charles closes the distance between you, palpable energy seems to radiate from him, his every movement infused with a magnetic charm that is impossible to resist. Time seems to slow down; everything around you is out of focus; just Charles remains the center of attention.
A confident swagger in his step, he exudes waves of effortless allure, seemingly pulling everyone's eyes on him. With casual grace, he runs a hand through his tousled hair, the strands falling back into place with practiced ease.
His touch lingers on his beard, his fingers tracing the sharp lines of his jawline before trailing down to his chest, where they linger for a moment longer.
You can't tear your gaze away, captivated by the sight of him and the way his features seem to be sculpted by the very hands of a divine artist. His confidence is intoxicating, drawing you in like a moth to a flame.
"How was I?" He asks, his words washing over you in a warm embrace. 
"Simply amazing." You smile as your skin heats up rapidly. Your face flushes with color, nearly as bright as your Ferrari shirt.
"Thank you; the car was so good." Charles remarks with a coy smile forming on his lips. "It felt amazing, like it let me do all that I wanted."
Despite your best efforts to concentrate, your attention keeps drifting, drawn inexorably to every nuance of his being. His lips move with fluid grace, forming each word with precision, and you can't help but be mesmerized by their subtle curve.
His beard, perfectly groomed yet with a hint of ruggedness, frames his jawline with an undeniable allure. As his fingers trail along it, you feel a surge of longing wash over you; the desire to reach out and touch the softness bristles alomst overwhelming.
But it is his hands that truly capture your attention—strong and calpable yet gentle in their touch. Every movement is deliberate, and each gesture imbued with a quiet confidence.
And then there are his eyes, pools of endless depth that seem to hold the entire universe within their gaze. They sparkle with warmth and mischief, drawing you in even closer.
Then, however, he leans in to whisper in your ear. "You look so good in that shirt," he breathes, his voice low and husky, sending shivers down your spine. "Almost as good as me out there on track, huh?" 
You chuckle nervously, the air crackling with tension as you struggle to keep your composure. Charles' newfound flirtatiousness is both exhilarating and unnerving, stirring emotions within you that you had never dared to acknowledge.
His hands brush over yours before he separates himself, a knowing smirk forming on his lips as his eyes roam all over you again.
One of his mechanics calls him over, leaving you alone with your thoughts. Charles has been your friend for years now, and you can't deny the attraction you feel to this beautiful man, but this comes out of nowhere.
Later, you make your way back to his motorhome. The atmosphere grows increasingly charged, thick with unspoken desire. With each step, you find yourself drawn to Charles, unable to resist the magnetic pull that draws you closer together.
Inside his quarters, the air was heavy with anticipation, the silence punctuated only by the sound of your racing hearts. The scent of his cologne is all around you as Charles moves with fluid grace, his movements mesmerizing as he sheds his racing suit.
You watch, transfixed, as he lets the upper half of his suit hang down his waist, exposing his tight fireproofs that hug his form. Like a second skin, its fabric clings to his skin, and you can't help but admire the way they accentuate every contour of his muscular physique. Despite their attempt to conceal his strength, his powerful frame is unmistakable.
With causal ease, he flexes his arms, the fabric stretching taut against the bulging muscles beneath. You gasp silently as he stretches and moves, showing off his beautiful form.
But it is when he runs a hand over himself, stroking firmly along the curves of his chest and abdomen, that you find yourself unable to tear your gaze away. The sight is hypnotic, a tantalizing display of masculinity that leaves you breathless with desire.
Caught in the act of staring, you feel a blush creep into your cheeks as Charles' eyes meet yours. But instead of embarrassment, there is a playful twinkle in his gaze.
"Like what you see?" He winks, a mischievous grin quirking the corners of his lips as he teases you with a knowing look.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to." You raise your hands slightly, but he doesn't mind you watching him.
"I don't know. I'm so horny right now." He lets out a low moan that gives you goosebumps. 
Unable to suppress the surge of desire that courses through your body, you close the distance to him, your hands trembling as they reach out to touch him.
His body is warm beneath your fingertips, eliciting a soft gasp as your boidies collide in a frenzy of longing. As your hands venture forth, a hesitant yet undeniable curiosity guiding its path, you feel warmth and a tingling sensation run through you. 
Charles stands before you, his chest rising and falling with each steady breath, the fabric of his fireproofs offering little resistance to the exploration that lies ahead.
With a tentative touch, you allow your fingers to trace the contours of his chest, feeling the firmness of his muscles beneath the thin barrier of fabric. Each ridge and curve elicits a soft gasp from you and an even softer yet guttural moan from him.
Charles breath hitches at the touch, his gaze locked with yours in a slient exchange of longing and desire. Emboldened by his response, you press your hand firmer against him, reveling in the sensation of his warmth seeping through his clothes.
His muscles ripple beneath your touch, a testament to the strength and athleticism that define him as a professional racing driver. And yet, beneath the surface, there is a vulnerability, a rawness, that speaks of the humanity within him.
"It feels so good," he growls, and places his hands on your waist, holding you close.
In the heat of the moment, you lean in, and your lips meet in a hungry kiss, the world around you fading into insignificance. But just as your passion reaches its zenith, a sudden sound shatters the intimacy of the moment.
Startled, you break apart, your gazes locking in shared disbelief as you turn to see Pierre standing behind you, a mischievous grin playing on his lips. His laughter echoes through the motorhome, mingling with the stunned silence that envelopes you.
"It looks like someone's been busy," Pierre teases, unable to contain his amusement.
Embarrassment floods through you, your cheeks burning as you struggle to find the words to explain the situation. But Charles simply chuckles, his arms wrapping around your waist in a protective gesture.
"Thanks for the chocolate, Pierre," Charles says with a wry grin, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Looks like they had quite the effect."
Confused, your gaze shifts between them, trying to make sense of the situation. Then, you notice him brandishing a box of chocolates with an impish grin. 
Pierre's grin widens, a twinkle of mischief dancing in his eyes. "My pleasure," he replies. "I must say, if I weren't taken, I'd be falling for either of you. You both look so good."
You can't help but giggle at his remarks, even though you're still slightly confused, as the warmth of embarrassment creeps into your cheeks.
"Oh, Pierre, you're naughty," Charles chimes in, his laughter joining yours. "But I suppose I can't argue with you there."
Pierre approaches you, the box of chocolates held out in offering. You accept it, and your eyes fall on it right away. 
"Spice up your life with our new aphrodisiac chocolate bars." You read to yourself and pout, "Really, Pierre?"
Pierre's hand lands on Charles' firm chest, a playful pat that elicits a low growl from him.
"Aren't you just the heartthrob of the paddock?" He teases, his hand stroking Charles' chest a few times, before Charles nudges him with his elbow.
"You're unbelievable, Pierre," he says, shaking his head with a shy smile. 
Still feeling the effect of the chocolate coursing through his veins, Charles can't resist the urge to indulge in a bit of self-admiration. With a smirk, he strokes his own chest, his movements mirroring Pierre's teasing gestures.
Sensing the playful energy in the room, you join in on the fun, nudging Pierre playfully as well. 
He giggles in response, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he returns the gesture.
"I think I should leave you to it then." Pierre licks his lips. "You can keep the chocolate." He smirks and shrugs before leaving the motorhome.
As his laughter fades away and you are left alone once more, a comfortable silence settles between Charles and yourself.
Finally, he breaks the silence, his voice soft yet filled with sincerity. "You know, it felt good to hold you close like that," he admits, his gaze meeting yours with a hint of vulnerability.
You nod, feeling a warmth spreading through you at his words. "Yeah, it did." You agree, unable to suppress the smile that tugs at the corner of your lips.
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sugurizz · 7 months
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(SMUT/NSFW +18 - Minors DNI!)
𑣿 DJ! Choso who's animating the party you're attending. He's constantly focused on his set, barely minding the simmering crowds surrounding him. All the merged noises, laughs, loud voices and endless flashing lights seem to do little to phase him. Baggy yet enticing eyes only glued to the equipement under him, his skilled fingers push and pull on the different keys and buttons, making the perfect combinations of the newest hits, and driving the crowds crazier by the minute.
𑣿 DJ! Choso who you couldn't quite dart your glance away from. He was the calmest yet most charming, silent yet most graceful of all people who were around you.
And mayhaps it was just your imagination, or your bored self being already mentally checked out of the party, and wanting just to have a heated moment with him all on your own. But you could've sworn his dark irises often locked with yours, in less than a random way.
𑣿 DJ! Choso who has just finished animating his part of the night, briefly thanking the crowd and wishing everyone a pleasant rest of the night before making his way out of your sight.
and it was rather time for you to leave too. You felt quite dazed by the whole ambiance, having some growing headaches along the way. You looked for your jacket and put your handbag on, exiting the club in your glamorous dress and glittery makeup.
𑣿 DJ! Choso who was dressed in his teddy black hoodie. his meaty fingers wrapped around a freshly lit cigarette, eyes looking into the dim roadlights. You run into him just stepping out the building, making your glances lock for another time, only a bit longer, and deeper.
He took a final puff from his cigarette before stomping the flame down, letting a deep 'Hey' escape his lips.
You snapped out of it, just realizing you may have stared a bit too long. And thus you pushed a shy 'Hey' as well, almost dying of embarassment.
'Pretty'. He said as he inched closer, eyes boldly brushing over your thick thighs and puffy breasts, hugged by the fabric of your tiny dress.
𑣿 DJ! Choso who has you chilling in the back of his mc Laren, his arms wrapped tight around your waist seemed to distract you from your warm, cosy conversation. Though you weren't even complaining, his deep tone had your kitty throb, and the irresistible smokey scent of his clothes made you feel even more vulnerable.
𑣿 DJ! Choso who's suckling on your neck, squeezing the flesh of your butt into his large palms. Your poor dress is fully undone, nipples almost spilling from your collar and clavicles already sore from his plump lips on your skin.
'mmh...Sorry for leaving hickeys, 's bad habit of mine...'
you could feel how sticky your thong got. And his leg fevershly rubbing your pussy lips wasn't exacty helping, having you choke on your moans.
He unclasped your bra and fondled your breasts, tugging on your nips and nibbling till they're sore and raw. He leaned back against the backseat and folded his arms behind his head
'Wanna ride me?' A lazy smirk curled his lips upwards, staring adoringly at the way you struggled to balance yourself on top of him.
𑣿 DJ! Choso who's bouncing you up and down his big cock, his knitted brows and gritted teeth somehow made him even hotter. You fucked your little pussy on his dick till you almost passed out, hearing an adorable chuckle with a 'Aww, pretty babe's tired ain't she?'
He gripped your asscheeks tight and took full charge, thrusting inside you at the pace of someone who hated your guts.
'Ahh, Chosoo! I-I can't a-anymore! fuck!'
'Shhh...you're a big girl now arent'cha? know you can take me...Trust me'
He hugged you and pushed in deeper, his groans vibrated against your neck as you braced your pretty acrylic nails on his large chest with all power you had left.
'Aww poor babe, cock feels so damn good doesn't it, huh?'
𑣿 DJ! Choso who has you seeing stars, screaming your head out as you squirted on his abs.
'Come on, gorgeous, make a mess for me. cum till you cry on this cock.'
He pulled you in for the sloppiest kiss, whispering how proud he is of you cumming so good for him. You could barely string a few words together. Braindead from how good he fucked your tiny pussy.
𑣿 DJ! Choso who drove you back to your place and softly layed you on your bed...
.. You woke up the next day realizing that he kept your soiled thong as a little souvenir, leaving you a handwritten note with his number on in exchange..
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willowbelle · 2 months
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You Come First
❤︎ trafalgar law x fem reader ❤︎
༉‧₊˚✧ (nsfw, afab!reader, 18+ only) ༉‧₊˚✧
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cw: dom!law, authoritative law, sub!reader, obedient reader, bit of a power dynamic, teasing, thigh-riding, choking, use of "good girl"
word count: ~850
tagging: @bby-deerling @risenwrites @strawheart-pirate @uchihabbynic @nina-ya @mandiemegatron
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You Come First
Over dinner, Law beckoned you to his room with nothing but a fleeting glance.
His steel irises cast piercing glares into yours, silently coaxing you to knock on his bedroom door following the meal's completion.
And so, you found yourself, just like he’d hoped, seated on his lap as he relaxed in his desk chair, legs spread over his muscular thigh as you faced him, your lips locked together. 
Your steadfast, unwavering obedience ignited the flame that consumed him from within—a wildfire of desire coursing through his veins, exhilarating him to an irrepressible obsession. 
A little glance was all it took, and here you were, obeying him, having literally fallen right into his lap.
He pulls away, breaking your kiss, to lean forward and nip at the shell of your ear, strong hands traveling down your body to grip your hips, 
“Move” he speaks, voice husky and low, his grip tightening on your hip bones, “I know you want to” 
Right as his command met your ears, you oblige, slowly starting to rock your hips back and forth on his strong thigh, earning a low groan from the man before you. 
“Good girl” 
His grip tightens, making you squeak, and he begins to move your hips back and forth for you. 
You let your head fall back, a pleased sigh escaping your lips.
The friction of your bare cunt rubbing against his leg was almost too much.
You tightened your grip on his shoulders and allowed a drawn-out whine to exit your throat, making Law smirk.
“That's it, just like that” his voice, a subdued and self-satisfied murmur, reveled in the control he wielded over you.
Your core tightens as you continue to rock, the wetness of your pussy making a lewd mess on his bare thigh. 
The two of you were cut from the same cloth; you sought pleasure in pleasing one another.
Your lips meet his again, subtly distracting him as you remove one hand from his shoulder and begin to glide it down his muscular body. Your palm finally meets his needy cock; frustrated and twitching, leaking precum. 
But before you can set your plan into motion, he swats your hand away, gripping it in his larger, tattooed one, placing it back on his shoulder. 
He breaks your kiss, glaring at you through half-lidded eyes as he smirks smugly,
“Come on, y/n, you’re a good girl, you know how this works” 
He tsks softly, peppering kisses along your neck, causing goosebumps to bud all over your skin,
“You come first.” 
His play on words makes you giggle, and so, you relinquish your efforts, allowing him to take control again. 
The pace of his hands never falters, dragging your soaking slit back and forth on his thigh, making you mewl out obscenities as you felt yourself nearing the edge.
“L-Lawww..” you managed, pressing harder on his shoulders, grinding your hips more feverishly, now, desperately chasing your rapidly approaching orgasm. 
Your swollen clit rubbing against his hot skin was an irresistible, sinful feeling that you wanted to burn into your brain forever.
“That’s it, baby, you’re almost there,” he groans lustfully, “You got it.” 
His grip tightens on your hips, pulling you back and forth, assisting you in your efforts. 
He removes his right hand from your hip to grab your throat, making you whimper. 
D E A T H has you in its ever-tightening grip, causing your head grow fuzzy, stars dancing beneath your eyelids. 
A sudden surge of warmth envelops your body, coursing through your veins, finding its home in your aching cunt.
“L-Law,” you attempt to cry out, but his strong hand around your throat makes your plea come out strained and nearly unintelligible.
“I-I’m-s-so-close,” you slur, your face ablaze in a rosy hue, adorned with glistening beads of sweat.
“What’s that, dear? Can’t quite understand what you’re saying,” he smirks, tightening his grip on your neck. “Use your words.”
But he knows, of course, he does, possessing an understanding of your body that surpassed even your own.
He knows you’re close; the way you’re twitching on him, losing momentum as you sloppily grind back and forth, making a mess on his leg. 
The sight alone could make him reach his own orgasm; your pretty face burning red, eyes screwed shut, mouth hanging slack as his name fell from it like a needy prayer. 
You tremble, relinquishing control of your own body as you cum for him, gripping his shoulders tighter as you gush onto his thigh.
“F-Fuck, Law,” you throw your head back, cursing and whining. 
Your cunt pulses with each beat of your heart as you relish in the intensity of your orgasm. 
Law slowly loosens his grasp on your throat before he removes his hand completely, now cradling your warm cheek in his palm. 
His self-satisfaction is undeniable, eyes locked onto yours with a smug and knowing gaze.
“That’s my girl,” he praises with a complacent smile.
You giggle softly and bite your bottom lip, pressing your cheek into his palm.
Looking at him with big, determined eyes, you flash a playful smirk,
“Your turn.” 
𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧 𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧 𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧 𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.
©this work belongs to willowhaze26.
do not repost, modify, plagiarize, translate, or share on other platforms. 
comments, likes, and reblogs appreciated!
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billiedeansbitch · 2 months
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𝐓𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐧 𝐦𝐞 (𝐧𝐬𝐟𝐰)
(𝐋𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐚 𝐖𝐞𝐞𝐦𝐬 𝐱 𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐞𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫)
NEXT PART>>
Summary: The one where in Larissa sex life is no longer boring or Larissa took chance on a young shapeshifter who had a massive crush on her.
Warning/s: PORN WITH MASSIVE FEELINGS. G!P READER.
(Ao3 link)
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Her thighs trembled, threatening to close around your head and her breath shook with every movement of your tongue against her hot, wet cunt, so soaked with her own arousal and your spit making it so easy for you to penetrate her hole.
“Darling, please.” She pleaded, her voice barely a whisper and her breath stuttered, her back arching off of her seat. “Please.” She repeated. The bucking her hips to receive more of that pleasure betrayed the hand that was pushing your head off from her cunt. She was overly stimulated, her pussy clenching tight around you as you fuck those fingers deep and hard into her, paying no mind to her pleas as your focus was zeroed on giving her the best pleasure you could give.
“One more, Larissa. Come for me one more time.” She shook her head, mouth falling open to protest but before she could get the words out, her own moans interrupted her, spilling out much louder this time. It was like throwing a tank of gasoline to an already blazing pit of fire. The way she breathlessly called for your name on repeat, her fingernails digging to your scalp and fisting your hair in a tight firm grip, oh, it fucking did it for you.
She watched you,  though she was struggling to keep her eyes open, as you finger her until she had tears rolling down her cheeks, “Darling, please, no more.” and the heel of her foot dug on your back, “No more? Oh, baby, but look at you. You really don’t want me to stop, do you?” It was easy to manipulate her body into coming for you for the fourth time. You almost groaned, feeling her body tensed beneath your fingertips. 
When you pulled, Weems could barely form a cognitive thought let alone move a muscle. Her legs, shaky.
Right there, still half naked with her thighs smeared with the proof of your worship, Larissa felt nothing but a limp doll: overused and overfucked.
It wasn’t like she was going to complain but she knew her body would give her hell the next day for all the stunts you both did in her office before moving back to her quarters and though there was one spacious bed, you insisted to fuck her on the couch with her back turned, kneeling, and holding for dear life on backrest while you took her from behind. You had one hand guiding her hip as they slammed right back to you and the other fisting her silver tresses.
She came faster in that position, and yours came mere seconds after, filling her pussy with so much cum it dripped down the insides of her thighs and onto the premium leather. 
Larissa’s knees were still flaming red after bearing her weight for the longest time you’ve fucked her but she was keen to ignore the pain and the visible bruising when she buried your face in her pussy to lap the juices that still leaked from her in retaliation of what you did to her. It was only right to clean up the mess you made and that was how you ended up where you were right now: in between her legs, grinning like cheshire cat with a cum-smeared face.
“Are you hungry? I’m hungry,” you stood up with a popping sound from both knees, “Jesus, how old does my body think I am?” 
Larissa kept her eyes fixated on your physique; shamelessly bare and sweaty, setting her on the edge of yet another urge to pounce on you like a woman starved. Whatever you were muttering went past her ears, her eyes lingered on your breasts down your soft belly before it dipped to the appendage hanging in between your legs. So fucking irresistible. To be honest, you could just stand there and do nothing and Larissa might just have her fifth. Good Lord, what are you turning her into? Some sex-crazed bitch.
She’d been thinking less with her head and more with her cunt and honestly she couldn’t blame herself if you looked like that.
Larissa bit her lip, unable to resist the tempting visual before her. 
From the floor, you picked up your shirt and slid it over your head and straightened it out around the torso. “I’m gonna go out and get us somethin’ to eat.”  next were the pair of sweats, drawing the strings tight before you made a knot to secure it in place. 
“Hmm?” she mindlessly hummed, watching you tuck the strings inside the waistband.
“Food. I’m gonna go get us some food, you craving something in particular?”
“No...” Her mind still clouded with post-sex haze that much was clear.
“How about fish and chips? I heard lots of good things about the newly opened business just ‘round the corner.”
“Sounds good.”
“Okay, I’ll be back in… say half an hour?”
When Larissa snapped from whatever incantation you put her, you were already grabbing your keys and a couple of bills to shove them right in your pocket.
She smiled when you walked up to her and kissed her cheek, “I’ll be as fast as I can. Go shower while I’m gone and then maybe we can watch a movie while we eat, yeah?”
“Sounds like a plan, sweetheart.”
You were about to pull but she was quick enough to catch the neckline of your shirt and drew you closer, pecking your lips one more time. “What if we both shower together? it will be quick I promise.”
“As tempting as you may be, I need to feed my woman, she gets grumpy and blames me when she’s hungry.”
With one last peck, you were out of the door, grinning and humming to the last song that was stuck in your head.
The mirror reflected a blurred image of her, right where she stood in front of the sink wrapped in her robe ready to pick up her toothbrush when suddenly Larissa took notice of how there were two in the holder: one for her and one for you. She took hers, put some toothpaste and started brushing her teeth.
Larissa leaned her lower back on the sink, and took her time to look around her. Two claw clips, two robes, two towels, two different mouthwash (you claim hers was too minty for you so you brought your own) there were always sets of two anywhere she looked around not that she mind that. 
She spit the foam and rinsed her mouth. When she walked in her bedroom, she saw the little trinkets you left on the left bedside table, more hair clips, elastic ponytail, your little lighter, the keys to your apartment, even your phone was there. Your side of the bed was unmade and she could see fallen hair strands on the pillow case where it was still dented in the middle from the last time you laid there. 
You had made your mark everywhere and she could feel her heart leapt to her throat.
Tomorrow would mark six months of your ongoing little arrangement with her and yes sex was good—well, actually, it was the best. Larissa had never felt the real pleasure of fingers and mouth until you came alone and shattered her years of boring sex life. She no longer needed to make a trip to the store in the middle of the night to buy batteries because her vibrator died in the middle of chasing her orgasm.
Fuck, you were too good for your own good sometimes and after making her come in the first five minutes of touching the first night, she knew she needed to keep your around.
She was still dressed in her robe and drying her hair when you came back. 
“Oh God, I’m starving. I need my calories now.”
While you put the take outs on the coffee table she went to grab a bottle red and two mugs. 
From the kitchen she still had a nice view of the living room, and she watched you with a starved look as you removed your hoodie, your shirt lifting up in the process. Oh, yes, she’d have her dessert later.
“If you were to undress me at least do it with your hands and not your eyes.” Larissa’s face visibly turned red, “And let me eat first then I’ll let you pounce on me.” You chuckled, shoving fries into your mouth.
On Monday morning, the woman was greeted with a massive file of work she had to go through, she meant to bring these home for the weekend but her plans went in a different direction when you called asking her if you could steal her for some late lunch at the restaurant nearby the campus.
When you both returned though Larissa wasn’t ready to let you go, she pulled you and locked her office before crashing your lips together, your hands bunching the skirt up around her waist and slipping your hand inside her underwear. You ended up pressing her on the wall, too impatient to even wait to settle down somewhere comfortable. With her legs spread and facing the wall, your hips pressing to her backside and her lustful eyes only intensified when she felt the growing bulge until it was hard and poking, begging to feel the softness of her cunt, to be swallowed deep and to cum inside.
With her underwear pulled down around her gorgeous claves, you took her with long deep strokes, face buried on the crook of her neck.
Her face went red recalling what happened that whole afternoon, how you both couldn’t keep your hands off of each other. She hadn’t been with anyone in a long time and it embarrassed her how the briefest touch of your hands to her thighs, or the whispers on her ears calling her pretty or hot had her panties always in twist…and on the floor.
She sighed, sitting down on the fine leather seat and started working. 
Maybe if she got it done early she’d call you. 
Larissa, however, was consumed by her work, forgetting other things that didn’t exist within the walls of her office. By the time she had a moment to herself after signing and writing corresponding emails and polishing her report for the upcoming board meeting, it was already four in the afternoon, her lunch was barely touched sitting in the corner of her desk.
The woman sighed, pushing her seat a little away from her desk and reached for her phone. She raised a brow seeing there were no text messages or even a single missed call from you. 
Usually there was at least one message waiting for her but today, there was none. She felt a pinch in her heart. No, no, she shouldn’t, she was not entitled to be upset, you weren’t her girlfriend. You two were just fucking around and maybe lately you had became a little too affectionate, blurring whatever rules you both had agreed on. Larissa felt like it was her fault, she let herself be enamoured, let herself to be too vulnerable for you. She let herself be comfortable. 
Rule number one: Never be too comfortable.
Well fuck.
It was another two hours more of work when eventually her body screamed for comfort and some proper meal. She switched the lights off and locked her office, calling it a day. 
When she arrived and put her car into park, her heart dropped. The lights were on and her front door was unlocked. It would have been wise to call the authorities immediately but she felt like this wasn’t an attempt to rob her. She slowly and gently pushed the door open, tiptoeing past the threshold but then the floorboards creaked.
“‘Rissa, is that you?” It was you. She knew your voice from every pitch no matter the distance. It was also impossible that she might be dreaming about this.
And before she had time to pinch herself, she heard the unmistakable padding of your feet across the floor as you approached her, and then there you were, in the flesh, right before her eyes. “Baby, hi…” all the anger and stress she felt within the day all subsided as a tender, sweet smile welcomed her. 
You had a spatula in one hand, and you were wearing one of her old Nevermore shirts. Her brow raised at the lack of underpants but that wasn’t her main concern at the moment so she willed herself to look up.
You then stepped closer to kiss her cheek, your freehand grasping on her arm as you stood on your toes trying to reach for her. 
“Okay lady you gotta bend down so I can reach you and don’t tease me about shifting. I'm too lazy and tired to do that.” 
Her body listened, bending down she felt your lips. “I hope you don’t mind, I used the spare key you gave me. I know I should at least let you know but I have a problem…”
“You’re here.” she mumbled, still in a state of shock.
“I am. I wanted to see you and I’m sorry I know, like I said I should have texted you first but my phone fell in the bath yesterday. I was taking some nasty shots for you but it slipped. I put in a bowl of rice in an attempt to salvage it but it was helpless. I hope you didn’t think I was ignoring you.”
“N-no, no, of course not.” You almost broke my heart.
“Good because I would never do that. Ever.” You kissed her light on the lips, merely brushing your lips together with no indicated force. Larissa felt herself quickly melting away in your touch. 
“I was going to call you at work but I don’t remember your number. Sorry.”
“And you drove all the way from the city just to tell me this?”
“Yes and I’d have to drive back again in the morning because I obviously have work but…yeah, I drove all the way just to tell you this and I cooked dinner and cleaned your house.”
Larissa felt like you were rambling too much so to cut you out of your own misery, she pulled you into a kiss, a long deep one with both hands cupping your face making you gasp before you were able to reciprocate.
Larissa could still feel the ache in between her thighs as she sat in the toilet. It was eleven in the evening and you were currently passed out in her bed, audibly snoring. She might have fucked you too hard, all of the frustrations were channeled in the way she took you and rode your lap resulting on multiple orgasms and it wasn’t like you were stopping her.
When she finished cleaning her hands and was ready to go to bed, something struck her in the midst of exiting the bathroom…her period two was weeks delayed. 
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shadesofyourcolor · 9 months
Text
He’s just like the others but He.. He tastes like magic..🖤
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earthtooz · 9 months
Note
Just an idea that popped in my head (because i love you and your writing) but how do you think gojo would react when he's sitting on couch, waiting for reader to get ready so they can attend a party,and she emerges from their room,wearing the sexiest red dress and red lipstick?
Like,one min gojo is tapping on his phone,the next minute he's choking on air 😂
no mentions of reader's pronouns but reader wears a dress and makeup, suggestive, kinda deviated from what anon originally wanted, gojo is dumb and in love nevertheless.
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“if you don’t kiss me this very second, i might die.”
“excuse me?”
“if you don’t kiss me this very second, i. might. die,” gojo parrots, putting more emphasis on his words, as his eyes burn blue flames of determination and unwavering grit.
a laugh slips past your lips, “you’re being silly, satoru,” is all you say before walking past him and towards the genkan where you put out the red heels you were planning on wearing tonight.
“but i’m being serious!” he whines, “you don’t want me to die now, do you?”
“what started this?” reaching down to put on your shoes, your boyfriend is beside you in an instant, holding out his hand for you to grab as if acting like a glorified stand. you take it easily, putting your weight onto him to balance. 
“when you’re looking this irresistible i can’t help it, and it’s a red dress, what do you want from me?” the white-haired whistles before bending down to his knees when you’re back on two feet. his hands then reach for the straps of your shoes, wrapping them up for you. “is it so selfish of me to keep you all for myself?”
he kisses your calf when he’s done, standing back to his full height. “well, you are a selfish man, after all.”
“only when it comes to you,” gojo reaches for your hand to place on his cheek. his other hand tightens around your waist, gentle with his grip, but fully possessive. “you’re too gorgeous for my health, i’ll die of jealousy before lack of attention.” 
you laugh, drunk on love and affection as gojo pouts at you. “oh satoru.”
“what?” exclaims the sorcerer. “you’re going to capture everyone’s hearts. i don’t like it when other men look at you.” 
“is that my fault?”
“no, never your fault, baby. i’ll fight off anyone who looks too long.”
you smile at him, eyes crinkling. “what am i gonna do with you?”
“stay with me forever?”
“if you’re good enough, sure.”
“how about a kiss, then?”
pinching his cheeks, you take a step away from him, breaking the hazy, lovestruck daydream that gojo had entered. “not when i have this lipstick on.”
(he takes a second to admire your retreating figure, only looking away when you send him a pointed and unimpressed look, to his dismay.) 
“why not?” his tone is one of utter distraught and like a magnet, the sorcerer finds himself drawn towards standing beside you again, hand snaking up to hold your hips as you check your appearance in the hallway mirror.
“it will leave a lipstick mark, duh.”
“maybe that’s what i want.”
“you’re awful.”
“just one kiss, please?”
“but it will ruin the makeup.”
“i’ll die otherwise, y/n, won’t you save me?” 
you scoff. “fine. one kiss.”
the look of pure joy on gojo’s face could rival the brightness of the sun and you wonder how you could ever learn to resist this man’s charms. turning around in his grasp, you pull him in for a kiss that fills his lungs with absolute adoration, a warmth that threatens to melt him into a puddle at your feet. 
his heart sinks when you pull away, and hits rock bottom with a ‘thud’ when you don’t return to him.
“hey! that was too short.”
“makeup, satoru,” you lecture pointedly. “we should probably leave now, don’t want to be too late-”
“-i think we just don’t go at all.” 
“that would be impolite and rude, we can’t-”
“-we can,” he murmurs before sealing your lips with his, this time with a lot more passion and weight than you likes. however, not one part of you moves to push him away, giving in to his touch despite how you know you shouldn’t. 
“satoru, you’re going to have lipstick marks all over you,” you reason against his lips.
instead, he kisses you harder. “just what i want.” 
when his hand bunches up your red dress in his grasp, you know you’ve lost this fight, bending to gojo’s wishes under him.
you arrive looking prim and proper whilst your lover’s neck is littered with kiss marks. 
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