#me whispering into the fog | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hoshigray · 7 months

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𝐑𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐓𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 | nanami kento

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: dom! Nanami x fem/afab! reader - nipple play - hair pulling - doggy style + deep impact positions - restricted movements (using his tie on your hands) - overstimulation - pet names (angel, baby, love, sweetpea) - clitoral play - orgasm denial.

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: Oops, I did it again. Nanami being rough with his hands on your body. That's it, that's the tweet. Smthn quick thanks to MAPPA serving good food to the nanami fanatics on this week's ep

We all know Nanami Kento would treat his partner with the utmost care. There is no man you can put your entire faith in when it comes to your body than him. He's always perfect with you. Checking up on you to see if you're okay, rubbing circles on your back to calm you down from a haze, wiping tears on your face whenever he makes you feel so goddamn good. And let's not forget the kiss on the forehead he places so gently as he fucks you lovingly.

In terms of lovemaking and treating your body right, Nanami is undeniably the perfect candidate…

…However, there will occasionally be those moments when you’d want him to be just a tad rough with you. Nothing wrong with the soft, cutesy shit. No, no, you love it! But let’s face it; when you have a man who looks so deliciously alluring to the eye, with his broad shoulders and strong forearms that peek from his dress shirt, you can’t blame your mind for indulging with wilder thoughts. Especially when you express said thoughts to him.

And he listens to your request with his absolute attention. He’ll ask for confirmation before he does anything rash. And when you give him the green flag, your fate is sealed for the rest of the night.

“—Ggaahhh!! Ahaahnn!! Ken–Kentooo, you’re going—OhmyGod, OhmyGoood—“

“Shhh, don’t squirm too much, love.” He’ll whisper to your ear so hotly you nearly fall to your knees had it not been for his leg between yours, essentially making you ride his sturdy thigh. Your back pressed up against his abdomen while his hands roamed your body. One hand in your shirt, slipping your bra up to release your breast from the material, and for his hands to knead and play with your mounds. The other stuffed down your shorts and passed your panties, his fingers intimately close to your hot, wet folds. And you jerk when his ring finger presses down on your clit.

“Ahooo! Kento, stop, stooop!!” You don’t want him to stop — he knows you don’t want him to stop. “I’m gonna cum, it’s gonna happen—Nnnnmm!!!” He tweezes your nipple roughly, evoking an erotic shriek.

“You better come on me,” he demands you. Oh, how he sounds so hot when he does that. “Make my hand filthy like you, baby.”

But that’s only the beginning. Wait until you two move into the bedroom with his pelvis rutting onto the cusp of your ass. Face down to the pillow and ass up for Nanami to station you, and his hand in your hair, lightly tugging it. Sweat shields your body and glistens from the bedroom lights, your hands tied behind your back by his necktie. You’ve left with nothing to stand your ground, forced to take in his cock that churns your inner walls. And, God, it feels so fucking good.

“How’re you feeling there, angel?” Nanami, his pants and tie discarded with his shirt no longer buttoned up. The fingers in your hair massage your scalp. “Hmm? Are you feeling good?”

“…Uhhaaa—Ohohhh!” There’s no way you could give him a proper response in a position like this. Your head is so far gone that all you can think about is the commotion between your legs. The deeper he grinds his cock into your chasm, the deeper you sink into your blissful fog. Your hips begin to move involuntarily at this point; it just feels too exhilarating to stop!

However, attending to your bliss has its faults, especially when you’re not paying attention to the man making you feel this way. Because Nanami pulls your hair, forcing your face upright from the pillows. You cry at the sudden yank, exposing the drool and tears that trickle down your pretty face.

“You know better than that, Y/n.” His serious voice is on, your cunt twitches around his length. “I need your words to let me know how good you’re feeling.”

“Ahck—Mmmm…S’ too good, Kentooo. Y’ make me feel so good. So fucking—Ahannn…good….” did you mean for your words to slur? Who cares. Just don’t stop; please keep it going. Please, please, please—

Nanami chuckles at your words and lets your face fall back to the pillow. “Good.”

But don’t think the fun stops there. Nope. It just keeps getting better.

With your hands still tied, you now lie on your back to the comforter while he pistons his cock into you, one of your legs now on his shoulder to get a better angle to hit your sweet spots accurately. The wails you let out are uncontainable — there’s no point in stopping them from flying out your mouth. Your bottom lip is puffy from how much you’ve bitten it this entire time, and more tears fall to your neck.

Nanami looks at your expressions intently, mocha eyes never leaving your gorgeous face. It’s here that he finally withdraws his shirt and fucks you nude, sharing this intimate heat and passion with you. And, lord, he looks so fucking good right now. His tidy golden hair now with strands sticking to his forehead, sweat shared between your naked bodies, and his beautiful brown orbs taking you in like you’re the greatest treasure in the world.

“Ohhfuck, ohhhfuuckin—Ohhh!!!” Oh, God. With the way the tip of his cock precisely hits and scrapes your tender spots, you can feel your climax coming to get you. “Kento, Ken–Nnmphh, I’m gonna, I’m gonna—“

And then it vanishes. It didn’t come. Why? Because Nanami immediately removes his length from your slick-coated slit, the electrifying tingles in your body subside in seconds. Of course, you whine to him with doe, tearful eyes. So cruel. He’s so just cruel, but you love it.

“Mmmm, sorry, sweetpea.” You know he’s not sorry. The tiny mischievous glint in his eyes is telling. “Let me hear you beg for it first, the I’ll give my baby what they want.”

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suguann · 2 months

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PRETTIEST BABY—JJK MEN. * ˚ ✦

✎. they can't help it, they're kind of obsessed with you. | wc. 2k+

tags. fem!reader, thigh riding, slight food play, unprotected sex, mating press, spit play, object insertion, oral sex, threesome, spit roasting, rough sex, degradation, praise kink, pet names [18+ only]

featuring. nanami, sukuna, choso, gojo & geto

an. dividers by @/hitobaby | masterlist

↬ NANAMI

You don’t hear him when he walks in, too busy dancing around his kitchen to a song playing on the radio in that short sundress that always makes his pants feel tight. But at the sound of him setting his keys and briefcase down on the counter, you turn and give him a pretty little smile.

“Hey, I just put the kids down for a nap.” You pop a dollop of cream into your mouth from the bowl you’re holding. “How was work?”

Nanami can’t think straight enough to answer, too busy staring at your cheeks, how they suck in around your finger, and the sound of your hum when the sugar hits your tongue. The sound has him thinking about you humming like that around his cock, or wondering if you’d tease the purpling head the way you’re licking your finger.

He shouldn’t be thinking it at all—not when the babysitter should be here any minute to watch the boys.

But he can’t help it.

When you pull your finger out of your mouth, you have just enough time to squeak before his hand is palming the back of your head, and his lips come crashing down against yours.

He groans into your mouth, his hands carding down your sides before finding purchase at your hips to bunch in the skirt of your dress. You release the most adorable gasp when he picks you up, carrying you across the kitchen to sit in one of the dining chairs; his hold keeps you from falling off his lap as your legs drop from behind his back to around his thighs clumsily.

Nanami’s hands slide up from the swell of your hips until they cup your breasts, his thumb circling a nipple reverently.

“Prettiest tits,” he mumbles to himself.

You moan louder than you should with the kids right down the hall, your fingers flexing around his shoulders. “Oh!”

“Shh, honey,” he smiles faintly, pressing kisses against your open, panting mouth. “Don’t want to wake the kids.”

His thumbs brush against your nipples through your dress, his hands spanning almost the entire width of your rib cage. You shiver from how the fabric of your bralette and dress rub against sensitive, pebbling skin, creating an electric pulse with every pass that travels down to where you’re aching and empty.

You bury your face in his neck, rolling your hips over the hardness in his neatly pressed dress pants.

“Do you think you cum for me like this, sweetheart?” His lips move along your jaw, a distraction that makes your head fuzzy. But you still hear him, and your thighs clench around him in anticipation—a delicious sort of ache tingling up your spine with a subtle thrust of his hips against yours.

“I—ah—don’t think—not like this.”

“I think you can,” he coos, nosing at your neck, pressing another kiss there. “Come on, be a good little wife and cum for me.”

Oh, god. You’re going to cum from this—maybe from the filth dripping from your husband’s tongue alone.

Your thighs are slippery. You can feel it every time Nanami helps you roll your hips against him, and a sticky-hot heat swirls in your abdomen, moving all the way down to your curling toes. Your heart stutters in your chest to keep up with your rapid puffs of breath into his mouth.

You’re going to…You’re really going to—

His fingers twist your nipple, and like a switch, your mouth falls open in a silent scream, and you’re shaking in his lap. Nanami helps you move against him to ease you through it, whispering tiny indiscernible praises through the fog of syrupy bliss.

“So good for me.” You hear a zipper coming undone as your head slowly clears. “You can be good for me a little longer, and try to give me another, okay?”

↬ SUKUNA

He asks you to stay the night after he gets home late from a busy day at the gym—his clothes rumpled and hair sticking every which way. You get a little flustered at the thought of sleeping under the same roof as the stupidly attractive father to the kid you babysit, and you try to politely decline by saying, “I shouldn’t.”

“I can’t let you walk home in the dark,” he says, sounding just a tad tired as he heats up leftovers in the microwave. “Plus, Hana was disappointed when she found out you leave every night.”

“Really?” Hesitant, safe.

A little grin spreads across his face, making your breath stutter in your chest. “Yeah. Imagine how excited she’ll be when she finds you here in the morning.”

You bite your lip, already thinking about it. She is a sweet kid…

“If it’s…If it’s not too much trouble.”

“Cross my heart,” he tells you.

It’s surreal to think saying yes leads to him fucking you into his super soft king-sized mattress an hour later—you and Sukuna were never supposed to be a sweet mix of limbs and hot pants into each other’s mouths, and yet, here you are. If you’d known this would happen from wearing his clothes, you would have done it months ago.

He has two thick fingers pressed against your tongue to muffle your moans, the way you slightly gag around them sounding so much louder in your ears than the noises he’s trying to keep quiet. Your cunt feels swollen and sensitive just from him notching the head of his cock inside, only aided by the rough swipe of his thumb against your clit.

It’s already the most you’ve ever let any man do—no condom, nothing but slick skin—reasonable, responsible words turning to smoke with another inch inside you.

“Look at you,” he groans, a large hand covering the small impression of his dick pressing up against your belly. “So fucking tiny, I hardly fit.”

But he does fit, slipping in the last half inch, his thighs touching the back of yours, his fingers sliding a little deeper down your throat. The sudden need to get air into your lungs distracts you from the uncomfortable stretch between your thighs.

“Fuck, baby. Took me—ah—took me like a champ.” His breathing is labored, his voice rough. “How about a little more, okay?”

All you can do is nod, teary-eyed, whimpering.

When his fingers leave your mouth to palm the back of your thighs, you can’t control the too-loud whine that escapes your raw throat—high-pitched and surely reaching beyond his bedroom door. His shoulders press your legs further into your chest, making you feel smaller than you already are underneath his broad shoulders, and he brings his hand back up to your mouth to cover the moans you can’t hold in.

“Be quiet—so fucking tight, needed this—and let me fuck this toy cunt.”

↬ CHOSO

“Come on, baby, you can do it,” you tell the little boy, trying to make his way from the back steps to you sitting in the grass.

Choso watches from the porch, sucking on a lollipop as you play in the yard with his son. You hadn’t expected him to come home for a few more hours, and it’s hard not to look over at him, your cheeks hot from the amount of attention on you.

Neither of you spends much time together outside of a few pleasantries before and after work, asking about each other's day, him asking if Yuji was good for you—he always is—before you go home.

Then, one drunken night, you’d ruined everything by accidentally sending a nude to him (your boss, no less). Now, he hardly says a word to you; no, you leave in a rush—hair in your face, coat hanging off an arm—before he can open his mouth.

But Choso coming home right around Yuji’s naptime (he’s never home this early) is about to change that.

“So,” you start to say after setting the baby monitor down and curling up on the couch, “have you gone to that new Thai place down the street?”

“It’s down the street. Of course, I have.” He crosses the room, almost looking like a predator with the way he stalks towards you.

“Oh—”

In a matter of seconds, Choso easily has you pinned underneath him like a butterfly, the skirt of your dress pooling up around your waist. Your head spins from the proximity, chest heaving when he moves down, down—-

He lays on his stomach between your legs, carefully wrenching your soaked panties to the side to expose your cunt. Drenched and vulnerable on his couch, your thighs tremble as he parts your folds with his thumbs to reveal the wet, clenching part of you that’s suddenly desperate for his touch.

“You’re messy down here,” he hums, popping his sucker out of his mouth to spit against your folds. “Drippy.”

The melted red sugary confection drips from his mouth onto your clit before ducking his head to swipe his tongue through your slit, slurping up the mess he made.

“Choso—oh!”

Your hands fly to his hair, messing up the bun he has it in, and he groans into your cunt. It makes the muscles in your stomach jump, and you tip your head back against the arm of the couch. The noises he pulls from your throat are embarrassing, whimpers and moans that make you sound as desperate as you feel.

“Knew you’d taste sweet ever since you sent that picture of this pretty pussy.”

Another cry flies from your lips when he pushes the sucker inside you, and one of your hands comes up to cover your mouth, trying not to wake the baby—you don’t want this to end before it’s even really started.

“You look so cute spread out like this, letting me play with you like you’re mine.”

Then he suctions his soft lips over your clit, and your vision goes white.

↬ GOJO & GETO

You hadn't meant to interrupt your husband while he was in a meeting with Gojo. But it’d been important at the time—a reminder of an upcoming appointment that he forgot to mark on the calendar. Your daughter needed it for school.

Now you’re wondering if it could have waited—and at the same time, you’re glad you didn’t.

"Look at you, taking cock like a bitch in heat," Geto sneers down at you where you're sprawled out against the expensive leather couch in his office, mean fingers roughly tweaking your sensitive nipples raw through your sheer bra. "Couldn't wait for me to come home, huh?”

You whine around Gojo’s cock that’s currently stealing the air from your chest, his grip tight in your hair to keep you from pulling away.

“Fuck,” he mumbles, a grin on his lips. “Didn’t think your wife would be a good little cocksucker?”

You’re tacky-wet and sticky between your legs, staining Geto’s expensive pants, creating a large dark spot on the fabric below where his hips kiss the back of yours with every harsh thrust into you.

A distressed mewl leaves your lips when he reaches down to thumb at your clit. "Please," your voice cracks, garbled consonants, and vowels barely making sense on your tongue—overstimulated tears leaking past your hairline and onto the cushion under you.

“Shit, baby—” Gojo groans, practically fucking your face—a stark contrast from how Geto steadily presses in you. It makes you dizzy. “You keep whining like that, and you’re going to make me cum.”

Sweaty strands of hair cling to your temples as you writh underneath the two imposing men determined to ruin you. You feel like an exposed nerve—a tender bruise before it blooms—desperately chasing a release just out of your reach because Geto refuses to give it to you.

You don't stop yourself from bringing your fingers down to where he sinks into your slippery heat, hoping he'd just give in and fuck you how you want.

He scoffs but doesn't push your hand away. "Did I say you could touch my cock?"

You try moaning a response, only to have Gojo’s hips stutter into your mouth, a guttural sound releasing from his throat.

"But you're a slut for my cock, aren't you? Can't keep your—fuck—hands off it." You don't even answer, can't when the feeling of sticky ropes of cum paint your throat, making all the words stick to the back of your tongue—your mouth quivering as you remember to inhale through your nose.

Geto’s resolve slowly crumbles when you clench around his cock, his hips needily pressing into yours with a grunt. "Shit, princess, just like that. My messy, drooling slut."

Just when Gojo slips from your mouth, Geto starts pounding into you, making you squeal hoarsely and arch up into his firm chest. "Aah, yes! F-feels good!"

He brings the wide pad of his thumb up to your hot cheeks and wipes away the fresh set of tears collecting along your lash line. "C'mon, baby. Stop your crying and cum. Milk my cock with this greedy pussy of yours."

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riseatlantisss · 8 months

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Careful, he bites

Pairing : Astarion x female!reader around 900 words.

morning sex. in bed. with the most amazing vampire. that’s it that’s the plot ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

TW : 18+, shameless smut, oral sex (female receiving), fingering, tiny bit of fang kink

I love him a completely normal amount

You open your eyes slowly, savouring the blissful, heavy fog of sleep that still weighs on your mind. The voice that greets you is one you’re sure you’ll never tire of.

“Good morning, my sweet”, Astarion whispers against your ear. The bed smells of night-blooming flowers and cold winter air, just like him. His body is a comforting spoon, the nice coolness of his powerful chest sends shivers down your spine.

Your eyelids are still heavy and with a smile, you settle back in and bury your head in your soft pillow, eager for just a few more hours of precious sleep before starting a new day in the underdark.

Astarion, of course, has other ideas. He exhales and you can feel the light puff of cold air against the back of your neck. Icy fingers skate down your bare arm, dragging the strap of your night gown with them. He dips his head and nuzzles the junction of your neck and shoulder. He toys with the hem of your night gown before slipping beneath it to caress the curve of your hip. You revel in his low groan of appreciation as he discovers you’re wearing nothing underneath.

“Gods, the things you do to me,” he growls, voice muffled slightly as he breathes your scent. “Let me take care of you.”

Wordlessly, you nod and he wastes no time. He gives you a sloppy, hungry kiss that is all tongues, teeth and fangs, and then slowly lowers himself. His fangs leave burning trails across your skin, and you love every bit of it.

You can feel his erection grow next to your thigh and you raise a hand forward to touch him but he grabs your wrist and stops the motion.

“No, darling,” he grins, “it is all about you today.”

“But –” your attempt to argue is cut short as Astarion disappears between your thighs, wraps his wet lips around your clit and starts sucking. You let out an unbelievably loud whimper of pleasure and he smirks against your body.

Pinning your thighs apart, he works his tongue in an up-and-down motion on one side of your clit and then the other. You grind into his mouth shamelessly as his tongue continues working its magic. Without interruption, he slips first one finger, then two inside you, and pushes them up against your G-spot. You’re already starting to see stars as you feel his fangs settle in the soft mound of flesh above your clit. He applies just enough pressure for it to deliciously sting without ever hurting. Those tiny pinpricks combined with the sucking of your clit and the impossible rhythm of his fingers inside you made you cry out.

“Astarion – I’m– “ you try to articulate between two heavy breaths.

“I’m right there with you, my love,” he mutters and presses his fangs slightly deeper into your skin, as to urge you to stop fighting the wave of pleasure trying to make its way through your shivering body.

His tongue slips across that one spot on the tip of your clit that always sets you off, and suddenly you are coming on his mouth, grasping fistfuls of his silver hair and moaning and moaning and moaning. He pushes his fangs deeper and deeper into your skin as he rides out your orgasm with you, using his free hand to hold your hips steady. Your core spasms longer than a pulsing heart, each beat making you thrash helplessly on the bed as he pushes his fingers deep. He waits until you come down from your high before slowly sliding his two fingers out of you and into his mouth to lick them clean. The rest of the world begins to come back into focus but you do not care for it. You only have eyes for him.

"You are absolutely exquisite when you come," he chuckles in that ridiculously arrogant way he has.

He licks his lips as he rises, expression as lazy and smug as a contented cat. You haul him up and into your arms and kiss him hard. He wraps his strong arms around you protectively and takes a moment to listen to your breathing, still shallow from the love explosion. He finds infinite comfort in the repeated rise and fall of your chest. It proves to him that you are real, safe and here, right next to him.

Before you, Astarion had never known true bliss. Sex – even when it’s mindblowing – doesn’t fix the part of you that’s broken. Good sex soothes, but doesn’t cure, and Astarion, who’s been using sex as a valium substitute since he’s been free from his former Master’s control, knows it better than anyone. But with you, it’s not just sex. It’s safety. It’s intimacy. It’s respect. And it’s all he’s ever wanted.

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kissitbttr · 9 months

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holup— ima need a moment with my thoughts 🥵🥵 miguel sending reader’s ex a photo mid-sex is so petty and so him!! he would follow up with a video of himself giving you back shots (he’ll hide your face because he’s a gentlemen (๑˃̵ᴗ˂̵)), flip the camera around to show his face with a smirk and say “lose her number” because he’s a cocky ass mf

MAAAN you’re onto something anon, cuz a waterfall just breaks down in between my legs🤤🤤

“hmm, you like that huh, baby?”

his lips pulls into a lazy smirk, heavy panting as he pounds you from behind. both of his hands gripping onto your hips, talons digging slightly into the skin giving you the perfect pain of pleasure,

“yes papi—fuck yes” you mewl, mouth slightly wide open as you release another moan that makes his cock twitch. “i love how deep you get inside me”

he exhales a dark chuckle as he pounds faster, “sé que te gusta. dirty, dirty fucking girl.” then he leans slightly to whisper on your ear. “only for me, hm?”

you nod, biting down onto your lower lip as you’re running out of things to say. your brain tends to fogged when you have his cock deep inside your cunt, but you wouldn’t have it any other way,

as he about to fist your hair up, he hears a ‘ding’ coming from your phone. his brows furrowed curiously, because who the fuck is hitting up your phone at this hour? couldn’t be someone from work,

“who’s that?” he asks breathlessly as he watches you pull your head back before grabbing your phone and check,

“aw fuck”

“what?” he asks again, hearing you groan. “who is it?”

“remember Jonathan?” you ask as you look over your shoulder at him

oh man, he does not need to be told twice.

his expression then slowly formed into anger and annoyance, grunting in disgust as he snatches your phone,

“i’ll teach him a fucking lesson” he says through gritted teeth, hips snapping back into yours as he continues to thrust even faster,

miguel unlocks your phone, pressing the camera before he starts to take a video of your backside. the sound of your dirty moans are filling the room as he plunges deeper, his other hand coming to give your ass a smack.

the word ‘papi’ and ‘miguel’ keeps falling off your lips like a prayer, and it just feeds his ego even more. because he knows that Jonathan will watch this video and learns that you don’t belong to that sorry excuse of a man anymore.

no. you belong to him.

“tell me, baby” he adjusts the camera to the back of your head, making sure that your face isn’t in it. “who’s pussy is this?”

“yours” you say without any hesitation, knuckles turning white from gripping the sheets far too hard. “and no one else’s”

“good girl” he then flips the camera to show his face. his expression is dead serious, eyes locked into the screen as if he’s staring Jonathan in person. and for the icing on a cake, his fangs make a tiny bit appearance just to creep him off.

“lose her number, tú hijo de puta. or i’ll kill you” with that he sends it to your ex, throwing your phone to the side. “now he fucking knows to not text you anymore ”

hearing that makes you flush as you giggle. miguel’s hand slowly glide down against you back and pressing you onto the mattress so he can lay his body down completely on top. “my woman” he whispers lowly into your ear,

“hm, maybe next time if he does it again, you should take a picture of me sucking your cock, right papi?” you suggest with a sly smirk,

he groans at that, his hand coming up to choke you as the other supporting his weight beside your torso.

“ay, that’s why you’re my everything, mami”

#miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o’hara blurbs #miguel o’hara

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gildedmessiah · 10 months

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ooc tags p2

pro (what a beautiful face)

self pro (make me hip like badass)

starter call (lucifer whispering silently)

open (and now it’s rotten)

meta (what a curious life)

dash commentary (behold the lord of flies)

saved (the fog is here omnipresent)

#pro (what a beautiful face)#self pro (make me hip like badass)#starter call (lucifer whispering silently)#open (and now it’s rotten)#meta (what a curious life)#dash commentary (behold the lord of flies)#saved (the fog is here omnipresent)

0 notes

bernadelli · 11 months

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ooc tags p2

pro (what a beautiful face)

self pro (make me hip like badass)

starter call (lucifer whispering silently)

open (and now it’s rotten)

meta (what a curious life)

dash commentary (behold the lord of flies)

saved (the fog is here omnipresent)

0 notes

hungharrington · 7 months

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hi, gorgeous. currently daydreaming about steve’s innocent, shy girl climbing on top of him while he’s in a chair and she’s ready to ride him but his huge hands settle on her hips to stop her and she’s looking at him all confused and ready to do her part but he just says “just sit here and look pretty for me,” before he begins to absolutely pound into her, one hand on her hips and the other holding her jaw to make her look at him. he’s just praising the hell out of his little angel baby for taking him so good because he’s just so big. the mental image of his furrowed brows and clenched jaw as he watches her completely melt on his lap from pleasure has me clutching my peARLS

– sittin’ pretty

U KNOW WHAT!! UR THE DEVIL! THE DEVIL!! anyways this request had me feral the moment i started writing it… it gets a little soft at the end tho fem!reader, light choking, hella praise kink, what the request says basically <3 and around 1.7k MDNI this entire blog is 18+

It’s hard to press down your shyness as you tug the tight elastic of your underwear down your calves. They pool at your ankles. You step out of them and resist the urge to cave in and cover yourself.

“C’mon, c’mere sweet girl,” Steve says softly, his hands smoothing over the top of his tan hairy thighs. He pats them to urge you over.

Everything feels a bit stilted as you tiptoe over to the big comfy armchair he’s seated on, with his thighs parted. You can feel a surge of slick between your thighs at the sight of his aching cock, the head all pink and drippy just for you. It lies back against his happy trail, the vein on the side prominent.

Steve offers you his hand, palm up. You take it and let your knees gently find either side of his hips, hovering hesitantly above him. Heat swirls between you, mixing with the fog of lust that emanates heavily from Steve. His adoring face gazes up at you, but his are eyes dark in a way that makes your tummy twist up.

“Hi, pretty.” He murmurs, guiding your face down for a kiss. You sigh into it sweetly, hands gripping his shoulders.

“Hi.” You whisper back, against his lips. His kiss and reverent gaze give you courage, leaning back to plant one hand on his knee. Your other hand reaches between your two bodies and curls around his throbbing cock. It’s warm and hard, twitching at the sudden stimulation. Steve hisses lowly, his tummy flexing as pleasure jolts through him.

Even though you’re shy, that doesn’t mean you’re not impatient. Today, there will be no working him up til he’s begging to be inside you, no matter how much you desperately want to. Instead, you waste no time, tilting your hips forward to let the head of his cock catch against your entrance in a way that makes you moan. Your thighs ache a little with the slow pace you lower yourself — but Steve’s cock is always a stretch.

It stings, just the slightest, but enough to make you revel in it. You sink down, hand shifting forward to hold his hip to prop yourself up, and your eyes flutter shut in pure ecstasy as his hard cock stretches you open— unaware of how Steve fights to keep his eyes open, drinking in every minuscule expression on your face.

“That’s it, honey,” He coos, sweeping his hand up your hip to tug you down an inch more. You mewl, body shuddering as you clench around him. It feels fucking mind-melting how good he feels filling you up. “That’sssss it.”

You’re whimpering by the time he’s fully hilted in you, your thighs pressed down against his own. Steve’s panting a bit, hairy chest rising and falling as he struggles to keep himself in control. You’re so wet, so warm, and god, you’re still so shy even when you’re sitting on his cock — averting your eyes even as your tight little hole clenches around him. When did he get so lucky?

Try as you might, there’s not stopping the pitiful gasp that comes out when you lift yourself back up, his cock gliding almost all the way out of your cunt. You can feel the mess you’re already making on him, can already feel the subtle ache in your thighs but none of it deviates you from your plan. You’re going to ride your boyfriend like there’s no fucking tomorrow.

But right as you prep yourself to sink back down, Steve’s hands stop you, shooting out to grab you by the hips. You pause. Shyness creeps back in.

“Wha…? Is something wrong?” You ask.

Steve’s quick to comfort, one of his hands reaching up to cup your cheek. “Hey, hey, everything’s fine. I just—“ He shift his hips up a bit and you shiver, eyes fluttering closed without thinking. When you open them again, he’s grinning.

“I just want you to sit here and look pretty for me, hm?” He leans up to kiss your cheek and it makes you entirely too distracted for what happens.

His tummy clenches, muscles tightening, as his hips suddenly snap up, thrusting his cock back deep into you. You squeal.

“Steve!” Your hands propel forward, grasping his shoulders, but he doesn’t pause. His hands on your hips tighten as he holds you in place, drilling up into your wet cunt, hard and fast. Pleasure dribbles through your core, hot and melty. His thighs slap against your own, causing them to buckle and you sink down a little lower — only forcing his cock deeper inside you.

You whine, all of a sudden overwhelmed, and tuck your face away— all too aware of how every time he fucks up into you, you make a needy little uh.

And, well, that just won’t do. With one hand keeping your hips secure, his other wanders up, creeping in around your neck. Even as he fucks you roughly, his touch is still gentle. His big hands can stretch across the expanse of your jaw— and he uses it to coax your head up. You’re already looking teary eyed, warm enough in the face that he can feel it with his hand, all from how much you’re enjoying it. Steve loves it.

“Baby,” He manages to rasp out sweetly. You gasp, hiccupy and high pitched, embarrassed by the wet squelchy noises he’s fucking out of your cunt. “Look at you, my baby. Doing so good for me, huh? Taking it so well, angel.”

You lean into the hand around your throat further, letting him curl his fingers around it a bit tighter. One of your hands flies up to grasp his wrist, needing, craving the connection.

“Steve,” you cry, delirious from the pleasure. His cock fills you over and over, unravelling you from the inside. “Steve,” You repeat his name uselessly, mouth hanging open as a whiney moan takes over.

“I know, I know.” He coos, sweet as he can be while ruining you on his cock. He’s got a furrow in his brow, his jaw set, perfect brown eyes searching your face— always looking for which button to press next, which way to make it better for you. God, you love him.

“So fucking good, isn’t it angel?” He grunts. “Perfect fuckin’ cunt, just made to take my cock, isn’t she?”

“Yes!” you keen, the words tearing from your mouth. “Yes, yes, yes, fuck,” Pathetic whimpery noises flow out freely, your grip around his wrist tightening as you feel heat gather low in your tummy.

“G-God, fuck,” Steve groans, the first hint of desperation leaking into his words. His hand around your throat tightens in the slightest, a soft pressure that has your head spinning. “Can fucking feel you getting close.”

His words make you moan, your thighs slipping further down — your hand shoots out to brace against the arm of the chair, desperate to keep him going, to reach your peak.

“Your—“ A whimper slips into his voice. “Fuck. Your pussy gets all tight when she wants to cum— y’wanna cum?”

You’re nodding along before he’s even finished his sentence. With how hard he’s fucking you, hips thrusting up against yours, it’s a wonder he can even see it. You whimper out a “Yes.” just in case.

“I know you do.” He groans loudly. “Deserve to, too. You’ve been so good, so fucking good, yeah?”

His hand holding your hip slips forward, snaking towards your clit and pleasure twists the coil in your tummy up tighter and tighter. His rough thumb pushes against it, sloppy but effective. You wail.

“Y’deserve to cream all over my cock like a good girl, don’t you?” He rasps, throat a bit wrecked from every sweet sultry noise thats passes his lips.

You’re not even sure if it’s words coming out your mouth anymore, just a whiney mess of yes’s tangled up in your moans. Steve whines, the rhythm of his strokes beginning to falter as his own orgasm begins to rear up. You whine and your hips move on their own accord— bouncing down on his cock to meet his thrusts midway.

“Yes, yes, fuck, you’re so good, y’look fucking perfect bouncing on my cock,” Steve rambles, that perfect pussy-drunk expression beginning to take over him. His moans turn to whines and with one desperate whimper of your name, you topple like a house of cards.

Pleasure unravels you. Your hips stutter and drop down, trying to cram every inch of Steve into you as you can, while your other hand claws weakly at his tummy. Heat scorches every nerve inside you, delicious and overwhelming all at once.

The scratch of your nails, the clench of your wet cunt, the pitiful crying noise you make, all of it sets Steve off — his back arching and hips bucking up, trying to get more of your hot, wet pussy. His face screws up, a high whine tearing out his throat as his hands grapple to circle around your back, trying to get you closer.

It’s a sweat press of skin, chest to chest. You twitch and moan, face tucked away safely in his neck, as Steve lets all his noises out into the curve of your own. It’s deeply intimate — enough to make your shyness peek back up when Steve digs his face out after a minute of laboured breathing. His face is pink, his expression blissful.

“You,” He huffs tiredly, eyes scanning your face worriedly. “You okay? Wasn’t too rough?”

You melt a bit, a breathy laugh escaping you. “Yeah, I’m okay.” You chuckle. Nerves rear their ugly head within you before you can flatten them. “Was I— that was good?” You check.

Steve laughs softly, nuzzling in closer to you. He smells fantastic. You can’t help how you mirror him, nosing along his cheek, letting your eyes slip shut.

“Baby, I think you melted my brain.” He says, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

#i became my own number one enemy: they fuck for almost no time at all but came so quickly #BUT #it’s beddie byes #u guys can just pretend they were already fucking on the bed before this #and changed positions <3 #jay writes #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #steve x reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x reader smut

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epsilontauri · 2 years

Text

i can‘t believe that i have to do this bc my header is full, anyways:

hi and welcome to my blog

some basics:

name: here it’s just fog, a remnant of my old blog name. you can figure out my middle name with my current blog name. have fun. /gen

age: 27

sign: sagittarius sun, cancer moon, leo rising

gender, sexuality and so on: agender nonbinary transmasc // bisexual // polyamorous

brain stuff: adhd, autism, depression and a lot of trauma from just existing. god had to nerf me or i would have beaten them in hand-to-hand combat by the age of 12.

special interest: danmei/bl/yaoi (yes it’s cringe get off my dick), medical science, cats and several re-occurring hyperfixations

i‘m basically just reblogging shit and post selfies/outfits or vent in the tags. it’s mostly memes and popular posts, but occasionally your dashboard will be flooded with whatever i‘m interacting right now or my special interests.

i don’t have notifications on my phone. none. asks and tagging me might get under, i‘m sorry about that, but i won’t change this.

other:

i will block you when: you give me weird vibes, are an asshole in general or your blog looks like the sex spam bot blogs. you know which ones.

other social media: ask me, but it will take a while until i respond and won’t guarantee that i‘ll share it with you.

#about #me vibes #fogsface #fog whispers #nebel speaks in hashtags

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ervotica · 5 months

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“C'mere, sweetheart-“ & “Breathe, just breathe-" with finnick please 🤍

a life of our own

pairing: finnick odair x reader

summary: finnick helps you find yourself again when you’re rescued from the capitol. you’re desperate to trust him again.

warnings: hurt/comfort, a lil fluff, a lil angst, r was tortured and brainwashed in the capitol after catching fire (i got sooo carried away with this but i luv it! hope you enjoy, please remember to like/comment + reblog!)

hunger games masterlist

Your chest is red-hot with anguish; it’s all you feel lately. Confined to this white room, locked in, spending all your time waiting for something that won’t come.

Nothing is real anymore. Your life is a thick fog that you can’t decipher, can’t tell which bits of it are real and which were planted by the Capitol. They made you a weapon against the revolution, against Katniss and Coin and Finnick.

You know him, that much is evident in your unconscious reactions. The way your chest tightens and squeezes when he walks into a room, how your breath catches and you hunger after his touch despite not knowing exactly why. But you know that he’s familiar and that - at one point or another - you loved him.

He visits routinely like clockwork, every day at around the same time. And each time you don’t push him away, don’t flinch at his touch like you do the others, his confidence grows.

Your doctor has been practicing memory games with you, which parts do your life are real and which are fabricated. You repeat them in your head over and over and sometimes they slip out when you’re talking, too. You’ve been incorporating opinions on top of the basic facts you know, and you’ve been including what you know about him.

You rock on the bed with your knees to your chest, feet tucked underneath you as you recite everything you can remember about him. You mutter it under your breath, tongue clicking as you whisper.

The door creaks and you stop dead mid-sentence. Finnick slips in without a word, pulling a chair up to sit by you. He doesn’t miss the way you eye him warily, watching every movement, every tick of his jaw and twitch of his muscles. You’ve always been perceptive- it’s one of his earliest memories of you. How you watch people.

He sits and watches you in return; you trace every inch of his body with your eyes, the bruises on his arms, the points of his shoulders, the slope of his nose and chin, the curve of his jaw.

“Finnick,” you say. He smiles; his fingers rest on the edge of the bed.

“That’s right.”

You reach out to touch him; he stays dead still as instructed by your doctors, but lets you lift his hand to place it in your own much smaller one. You turn so you’re sitting cross legged facing him, holding his hand in your lap. His heart could burst with the way you’re looking at him, a cocktail of fear and longing in your eyes. Something else lies deeper than that, like you’re being pulled through the rubble of your own mind and to the surface. Something a lot like love.

“Can I ask you something?” Your voice is small, more timid than he’s ever heard from you.

“Anything.”

“You love me. Real or not real?”

“Real,” he murmurs.

“I think I love you, too. I know I did before. I just don’t know which parts of my brain are real.” You fiddle with his fingers, the pad of your thumb rubbing over his knuckles methodically. If this is the only way you’ll ever touch him again, he’ll take it. He’ll take every scrap, every morsel of affection he can eke out of you. Whatever you’re comfortable with.

“We can figure that out together.” He’s soft as he speaks to you and it’s a voice that you remember. A very distinct one in your memory.

“Finnick,” you say again. He nods and shifts closer.

“Sometimes you call me Finn,” he starts, pressing lips to your knuckles. “Or honey. Or idiot if you’re mad at me.”

You smile and he catches a glimpse of you in there, engulfed by everything you’ve seen, everything you’ve been told. But he knows he can pull you out.

“I don’t think I’d ever be mad at you,” you mumble. He purses his lips thoughtfully.

“Well, sometimes I am an idiot. And I know you tell me that because you want to keep me safe.”

You’re in agreement there, not knowing everything but knowing undeniably that you would do anything to protect Finnick.

You shuffle over in the bed and tug at his arm. He tilts his head curiously, knowing what you’re asking but not wanting to be presumptuous.

“You want me to come sit up there with you, sweetheart?”

“Yes please.”

“Okay.” He settles himself next to you, legs outstretched where yours are tucked up tightly to your body. “If it gets too much, you tell me and I’ll go, okay?”

“I don’t want you to go.”

“Then I won’t.”

You shuffle round and swing your legs over his own so you’re almost completely in his lap; his arm comes up and over your shoulders automatically, like muscle memory. This is how you are in your clearest memories- together, a tightly knit partnership. He’s holding his breath, waiting for you to realise what you’re doing and lose composure, but that moment doesn’t come. You just sit and close your eyes, ear to his chest, listening to his heart beat.

“I’m tired,” you croak.

“You want me to leave you to sleep?”

“No.” Your voice is thick and uneven where you’re full of all these new emotions that you can’t quite place. “Will you stay?”

“I’ll stay as long as you want.”

He pulls the thin blanket over your body and smiles as you needle in close to him, face in the juncture of his neck. Hiding with him instead of from him.

“C’mere, sweetheart.” You relax at the pet name, your body going lax against his own as you start to fall asleep.

You can’t be asleep for more than 30 minutes before you start to stir. You’re muttering in your sleep as you start to twitch and reach out for something.

Your brow knits and it forms a crease in the middle of your forehead as you start to cry.

“Honey, c’mon,” Finnick murmurs, his hand pressed to your neck in an effort to rouse you. “It’s just a dream.”

His chest aches; he can’t bear seeing you in this state, knowing there’s not much he can do to make it better. Thinking it’s his fault for not getting to you in time.

You scream and wake with a start, wide-eyed and frantic. Your eyes flit around the clinical looking room as you try to gauge your surroundings and reorient yourself.

“Honey, it’s okay. It was just a dream, you’re safe.”

You scramble back and push him away, curling yourself up into a ball at the foot of the bed. Tears paint your cheeks and they shine in the harsh white lights, hiccuping sobs. He crouches a metre or so away, palms up, arms outstretched in hopes you’ll make contact again.

“Breathe, just breathe,” he says. “You’re okay. I’m here, I’m not gonna let anything happen to you.”

You’re like a wild animal the way you look at him- panic-stricken and agitated, frenetic in the way you move.

“Honey, it’s me. It’s Finn.”

You swallow thickly and nod, your body slowly starting to unfurl.

“Finn,” you sniffle, holding out your arms. “Finnick.”

He creeps closer still and you practically throw yourself into his arms, face against the hollow of his throat, arms locked around his middle like a vice.

“I have you. I’m right here,” he says, over and over like a mantra. A promise.

“I don’t wanna live like this anymore.”

“You’re not going to,” he whispers. “I’ll be here until you feel well enough and then we can start planning our life. Together.”

“Okay.”

Your fingers card through the short hairs at the nape of his neck, wet eyes meeting his.

“I love you. I know it now, I can remember that.”

“I love you too,” he says, craning his neck to meet your eyes. “You’re my girl.”

You’re hesitant as you tilt your head up to press a kiss to his lips but he welcomes it, his thumb and forefinger holding your chin in place as he pecks you a few more times.

“We’re gonna have a life of our own, I promise.”

“A life of our own.”

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whimsyprinx · 1 year

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(sorry if this is worded weird, i have a lot of brain fog right now)

we haven't talked but i see you on my dash a lot and i think you're really neat. like one of those people who makes me think "it'd be cool to start talking to them but i'm not sure how to approach".

i hope this doesn't seem insincere coming from someone on anon, i mean it genuinely. i also hope i'm not overstepping or anything

I think it’s worded fine but I’m also 1.) bad at wording things and 2.) also have brain fog

thank you anon, it does mean a lot to hear that, if I’m being honest I’m not the greatest at starting or holding conversations but I do love hearing from y’all and do try to like be someone who y’all can talk to comfortably. If you ever decide to speak to me I’d love to hear from you regardless of how you approach and if I never hear from you I’ll cherish the ask you sent instead. You seem lovely

and it doesn’t seem insincere, you’ve got no obligation to send this off anon or even at all and I wouldn’t ask you to come off anon to prove your sincerity! being on anon is comfy cozy, the only reasons I don’t send more asks on anon is because I forget who I send asks to. You’re not overstepping either, thank you for the kind ask I know I keep saying this in regards to yalls rearrange but it does mean a lot to me

#whimsy whispers #asks #anon #thanks for the ask!#I also apologize if my response is worded weirdly because again I also have brain fog #your ask is very sweet thank you for sending it to me

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luveline · 6 months

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hellooo!! im not sure if your requests are open so feel free to ignore this but i was wondering if you could write for tasm!peter where the reader just got her wisdom teeth removed and she’s all loopy on anesthetics and forgets peter is her boyfriend? i saw this video where this girl got her wisdom teeth pulled and forgot she was dating her boyfriend and fell in love with him all over again😭😭

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZPR7sGQo5/

thank you for your request! ♡ fem, 1k

"Here she is," the nurse says gently, walking you out with his arm behind your back. "Alright, say hi to Peter."

"Hi, Peter," you mumble, eyes on the floor.

Peter grins at you, worry warm at the back of his throat. "Hey. Is that everything?" he asks, nodding at the nurses paper bag of aftercare.

"Everything you'll need." The nurse helps Peter take over, hoisting your arm over his shoulders before stepping away. "Alright, feel better, okay? And don't hesitate to call if something comes up. We're here to look after you."

You seem appreciative in your fog, but it's hard to tell. Peter curls his arm around your hip and gives it a soft rub as he leads you to the stairs. Whoever devised the floor plan here had murder on their mind —the second floor is completely inaccessible. Luckily, Peter has a lot of strength at his disposal.

You can feel it. "Woh, you're strong," you murmur.

"You know that already." His grip on you tightens, pretty much carrying you down the tight staircase.

"Do I?" you ask. You make a sound like you're hurting, a squeak.

"I'd hope so." At the end of the staircase, he sits you down, worried you're not feeling well. "You okay? I can princess carry you if you need me to."

You look at him with wide eyes. He turns to check there's no one standing behind him, but you're really looking at him. "What?" he asks, touching your knee, imploring. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

"You're Peter?" you ask.

Ah, the amnesiac effect of anaesthetic. His touch turns comforting, stroking your thigh with as much care as he can drive into his palm alone. "That's me. Hey, if you're forgetting me, does that mean you're not mad at me for last Friday anymore? 'Cos I know you said you forgive me but I can tell it still pisses you off–"

Your eyes fall to his hand. "Why would I be mad at you?" you ask.

"I finished the milk and put the carton back in the fridge, even though I promised I'd stop doing it. You see the jug and think there's milk left. We were gonna have macaroni and cheese..." He nudges your fingers with his. "Are you okay? You don't look like yourself."

"What do I usually look like?"

"Not so, you know. Daunted."

"You're really handsome," you whisper, refusing to meet his eye.

"Oh, you think so?"

You nod like your head is too heavy. You're embarrassed, you sweetheart, oh my god Peter could cry into your lap.

"Let's get you to the car, baby."

"Where are we going?" The gauze gives you the world's most adorable lisp, and it turns your gasp into a hum as Peter stands you up.

"Home."

"Together?"

"Yeah, we live together. It's a nice place, and you're a great decorator, you know? It's cozy."

"Thank you," you say shyly.

You're not not shy with him, but it's been a long time since you got so quiet over a practically innocuous comment. He wants to see how you'll react to real compliments, over the top stuff that he one hundred percent means. It's a little mean, but when will you ever be like this again?

He helps you out past the desk and onto the street to your car where it's parked a half a block down. "Don't worry about all this, okay? I'm gonna take such good care of you, sweetheart. There's an ice pack and a brand new comforter with your name on it waiting at home." Peter smiles at your starry eyes as they flash to his, amazed at his simple plans. "How does that sound, beautiful? Is there anything you want before we head home? Anything that would make you feel better?"

"You're gonna take care of me?" you ask breathlessly.

"That's my job. That's my number one boyfriend duty."

"You're my boyfriend?"

"I am!" he says happily, laughing as he speaks. "For a while. I've been trying to take things further but you're always really shy about getting married–"

"You want to get married? To me?"

Peter presses a soft kiss to your cheek. "You're the only person I'd ever want to get married to. We already picked the flowers–"

"We did?"

He laughs again, all your questions. He loves regular you but loopy you is especially endearing. "Last time I got super drunk, yeah. You never let me forget it."

"So you love me?" you ask, stopping short.

"I love you so much," he says immediately, hugging you into his side. He dots another kiss against the top of your head. "You should remember that even if you don't remember me."

"I love you," you say quietly.

Peter doesn't know if that's your memory returning, or if you've fallen in love with him in the last fifteen minutes. He could easily fall in love with you that quickly, and yet he's still amazed at your confession.

"That's good. That's great. Thank you, sweetheart," he says, desperate to hold your face in his hands but weary of causing you future pain. "There's your car," —he points, lowering his head to yours to make sure you can see it, hand now protectively held between your shoulder blades— "let's go home now. Yeah?"

You start walking again at his requests. He can pretty much see the steam rising off of your face, giddy with happiness at these revelations. You're together, you're in love, and you think he's handsome. He wonders what you'll have to say about his biceps in this state of delirium; you go crazy for his arms sober.

Which reminds him.

"I totally have another secret to tell you," he says, unlocking the car as you approach and helping you into the passenger seat.

"What is it?" you ask.

Peter closes you in and skirts around the door, climbing into the driver's seat. He's glad that New York is as ridiculously loud as ever, because not even the closed doors or your sodden gauze can smother the way you shriek.

"My boyfriend is Spider-Man?!"

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