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peachesofteal · 2 months ago

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Raspberry Girl Previous + masterlist + AO3 Simon Riley/female reader CW: 18+ daddy kink

You’re trying.

Your body language betrays you. The effort and the turbulence beneath, your eyes flicking rapidly through the parking lot, the ramrod straight line of your spine, your quadricep tensing and relaxing under his palm as he works his fingers from your knee up, back and forth.

“What’s wrong?” You sigh. Slump. Turn to face him with an anxious pout.

“I just… I don’t love the restaurant store.” He gives you a chance, and then prompts, pushes just slightly.

“What’s the rule?”

“Tell you when I’m scared, or anxious. Or overwhelmed.” He squeezes approval, and you continue. “It’s chaos, especially on a Sunday, and… it’s like a warehouse so the sound bounces… all of it is really loud.” You latch onto his forearm, hard intake of breath sharp before softening, your fingers applying firm pressure. He doesn’t mind. You’re anchoring yourself to him, with him. It’s all he could ask for.

“It’s okay baby, we’ll get it done and then go home. I’ll be with you.” Your head bobs repeatedly with a nod, but you make no effort to unbuckle your seatbelt or get out of the car. You need a little comfort, a little encouragement, things that are his job to provide, so he’s out of the truck on his side to open the passenger door, reaching over to unbuckle your seatbelt. “Close your eyes and open your mouth.” He works his thumb behind your teeth and rests it on your tongue, a pleased flush rushing through him when you immediately pull and suck on him. “Good girl.” You calm almost immediately, strained muscles and back turning plush, tight corners of your eyes smoothing away. When you lean in, looking for more contact, he decides to test the limits. Your limits. “Breathe through your nose,” he murmurs encouragingly as he presses deeper into your mouth, “there we go.” You try, but when his knuckles meet your lips and his thumb brushes your throat, the back of your tongue, you seize up, trying to swallow, trying to find air, and jerk away, gagging. He follows the movement, width of his hand against your neck with a finger against your pulse, keeping you steady and still through the swift rise and then decline of panic. It crashes like a wave, receding just as quick and leaving something in its place.

You blink rapidly, gears turning, so obviously trying to reconcile something you’re feeling, something he can so easily read. Worry. Shame. Spiral.

“Stop.” He brushes a kiss across your forehead. “Don’t go there. When it’s time, I’ll take care of you. Do you understand?” Your chest loosens.

“Yes daddy.” Music to his ears.

“Does your throat hurt?”

“It’s okay.” He cups the back of your head, guides you into his arms, and place your ear over his heart. You’ve started to tap your fingers with the rhythm, against your skin or his, self soothing, and it makes him whole. It’s not just a sexual dynamic with you, it’s everything, an entire soul under his shelter, a whole human using his heartbeat to ground themselves, and nothing is more fulfilling. “Ready to go?” You tug on him instinctively, hopping from the truck, keeping your grip locked in his.

“Yeah.” He smiles at your resolve, the confidence.

“Brave girl. C’mon.”

It doesn’t bother him that you lock up again, the store is a madhouse. It’s overcrowded, and loud, the metal roof of the warehouse doing nothing to dull the senses, bright lights and too many boxes, bags, things being tossed around.

You’re wide eyed, rooted to the floor, still clutching his arm in a stranglehold and he herds you towards a corner.

“Tell me.” You don’t start immediately, scrounging around for words, and he encourages with a gentle reminder. “Remember your rules baby.” It doesn’t take anymore coaxing after that.

“I’m overwhelmed.” You blurt, wincing, but just as he predicted, hoped, you visibly relax, and he takes your face in his hands. Holds his whole world.

“Proud of you sweetheart.” Tears shine in your eyes, dew drops in the corners, and when one falls he wipes it away. “Do you need me to finish your list?”

“Please, if it’s…” He doesn’t waste time, just moves you to the cart, stations you at the helm so you can steer and he can manage the rest.

“You’ll push the cart, and stay in the middle of the aisles. I’ll get the things you need.” You blow out a breath.

“Okay.”

“When?”

“Dunno. Sometime next week, I think. Wasn’t real clear.” Simon groans, rubs his nose into his palm and then pauses, listening for footfalls in the hall or the adjacent bedroom.

“Well, if they’re goin’ we are too. I’ll see what’s going on, let you know later.” Gaz grunts an affirmative and hangs up. He’s been restless, itchy, just like the others, but Simon’s in no rush.

Not now.

Not when he has you, here in house, with your things in his bedroom, his bathroom, with your toothbrush next to the sink. The slow migration of your stuff has begun and is in full swing, two fuzzy blankets, your switch, your kindle, even that weird pillow you have that you call Pusheen. It’s a stuffed cat of some kind, he thinks, and you use it as a pillow half the time, which means it’s little eyes are sometimes staring at him in bed.

But you love it, and you don’t know yet, but he loves you.

Every sweet piece, even the weird stuffed cat.

Which is why he’s dreading the next mission, the next time he loads onto an airplane and drops into an undisclosed location, the next time he has to turn his mind dark, shutter his heart, forget about anything that could interfere with completing an objective.

For the first time in his life, he doesn’t want it.

And he doesn’t want to dwell on it right now either, so he shoves back from the desk and closes his laptop, opting to find you instead.

You’re in the kitchen. There’s a beater in your hands, something else that’s new to him, and the rich scent of chocolate in the air.

“What’s this?” He tugs you close, holds you against him with your back to his chest, kisses your ear.

“Whipped cream.” You shiver, goosebumps raising the hair on your arms. “It’s for…. I made hot chocolate?”

“Is that a question?” He nips your skin. it’s getting harder to control the instinct, the urge to mark you in every way possible.

“N-no it’s… I made it. You can make whipped cream! I don’t know why anyone buys whipped cream in a can. I mean, I know. It’s because they don’t realize how easy it is. It’s really so simple and so much better. Obviously, people don’t have time to make it by hand, I know that, I’m not trying to make anyone feel bad, but…”

“But?” He squeezes your hip.

“But… it’s so good this way.” The stainless steel bowl glints under the kitchen’s pendant light. “Do you want some?”

“Of course.” You bounce a bit on your toes, the smile he dreams about lighting up your face. “I don’t think I’ve ever had hot chocolate.” You give him a shocked look.

“Wha… what?” He shakes his head and sips. It’s silky and smooth, but not something that would rot your teeth. There’s a hint of decadent bitterness to it, well balanced, a roasted coffee taste of some kind.

“Didn’t get a lot of sweet stuff, ’til you.” Whipped cream dots your upper lip and he tries to tamp down the rushing blood in his veins.

“That’s um… that’s…” He puts the mug down, already half empty.

“It’s what, sweetheart?”

“It’s nice.” You whisper, drifting closer, and he slides his hands up under your hoodie.

“Hmm,” You’re so soft, everything about you, head to toe, and you tremble under his touch, the circles he scrawls into your skin as you try to regulate your breathing. He can’t help himself. “You were such a good girl for me today, weren’t you?”

“Yes daddy, I tried.”

“You were. So good, and so sweet,” he taps your phone and sighs at the glowing numbers on the screen. Tomorrow. “It’s late, and you should be asleep already, go on.” He urges you away from the kitchen with a pat on your ass, even as you try to protest. “Bed, little berry girl.”

“I can clean up-”

“Bed,” he pauses, cocks his head and reaches for the bowl of whipped cream. “Will this still be good in the morning?” Maybe he’ll wake you up with his mouth on your nipples, tongue working circles through cream as he drags his teeth across them, pinching them so he can hear your surprised little squeak. He’d paint you with his own if you were ready, decorate your body with his cum, drag it down to your pussy and then smear it over your clit, working back and forth until you were making your own mess on his hand.

“Um… yes? If it’s left in the fridge.”

Maybe…

“Perfect.”

#peaches writes #simon riley #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #raspberry girl fic

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electronalytics · 1 year ago

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suguann · 1 year ago

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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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dmitriene · 7 months ago

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zombie simon ghost riley, it's not the rotten flesh, the unintelligible words he gurgles, the milky gaze of his lost eyes, it's more the way he clings to you, the way his dislocated jaw hangs down with raspy, loud sounds he doesn't holds down, how your fingers look, spanned around the width of his girthy, engorged cock, decorated with angry, black veins that seem to pulse in response to your touch.

how protective he is, lurking behind your back, growling, snapping, reacting to any sound around in case he'll need to protect you, your guard, pressing his hanging jaw over your shoulder, telling you something with his rasping sounds under your ear, looking at you almost puppy like, at lough you no longer can see the umber color of his eyes.

still, he's attractive to you, your precious simon, pressing closer to you needily when your lips brush over his masked forehead, he can't take it off, not with bits of his rotting skin already sticking to the fabric, far away from hurting him by now, but it's wouldn't be a pretty sight to look at, even with your gentle, hushed words about how he's still your pretty boy, and you never would push him away, his chest rumbling with broken, animalistic purr.

main masterlist. quidelines.

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likesomeoneinlovee · 12 days ago

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Need to sit on Abbots dick when I'm on my period, have me keep him warm while he massages my sore tits while I'm all whiny and soft over him

Jack never minded the mess. He’d encouraged it.

His strong arms cradled your form against his, pressing, and firm. You’d rock steadily and rhythmically on his cock, not rushed in the slightest, feeling how you stretched around his width, how your cunt swallowed him and was still left pulsing for more. Needy girl.

One of his soft, cotton sheets jumbled around the close-knit pair of tangled limbs, Abbot’s forehead rested upon yours as hot, puffs of breath fanned over your face. A broad, weighty palm crept up your side, squeezing and molding the skin as he tickled upwards. Your hips would wriggle against his, involuntarily twitching at the tentative touching.

“Jack…” You’d moan, lashes fluttering against your cheeks.

“I know, baby.” He hummed.

It hadn’t been the first time his name left your lips in no less of an impatient lamentation that fateful night. Jack’s cock twitched once, still nestled comfortably inside your tender walls, that just moments ago had been fluttering out and in with an orgasm. He was already missing that.

Clinically.

He shifted, just the teeniest of amounts against his soft, cushy pillows. One of those massive palms you just loved so dearly cupped the underside of your breast, and squeezed. The one symptom of your menstrual cycle that’d never fall short of getting Jack off is those tits. Suddenly, almost too tender, so full and ripe.

On his second squeeze, you’d whine, your body squeamish. And you’d let out a long, strangled,

“Jaaaaaaaaackkkkk…”

Jack, then would only add to the stimulation with a second hand to your untouched breast.

The warmth of his palms only made matters worse, your lazy body arched towards those meaty fists that gripped onto the mounds of hearty fat. A calloused, cruel thumb brushed over your hardened nipple. It was almost unkind of him to do so. Ultimately forcing the return of a throbbing ache in your clit. The same little, sensitive pearl that had been being beat by his fingertips for the last couple of hours.

Jack’s nosed brushed against yours, nibbling on your top lip.

“I know, honey,” He cooed, too soft, too abate to be lulling, “So sore…So heavy too…”

He’d kiss the top of your bust before licking a long, hot stripe over your collar bone, as his fingers sunk deeper into your tits. Adjusting his thighs, pressing you close, tummy to tummy. Shaky, your palms went to brace on his firm pectorals, every moan wavering out of your throat.

Jack had just continued on worshiping those two, pretty things he got to call ‘his.’ Something he had finally gotten used to, now it came easy for him to chant ‘Mine mine mine mine mine…’ While fucking you deep and slow, filling you up with hot, thick spend and pecking your shoulders. Something urgently pulled the corners of his lips upwards the more you tussled on his dick. Only egging on his relentless ministrations.

“Just relax, pretty girl,” He’d punctuate the gentle, breathy words with an open-mouthed kiss to your nipple. “Daddy’s here…Daddy’s got you.”

#the blurb series ™#THE WAY I WOULD **** THIS MAN SO HARD HE **** *** ******#jack abbot #the pitt #jack abbot x reader #jack abbot x you #jack abbott fanfic #jack abbot the pitt

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missaengg · 1 month ago

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Until I'm Satisfied...

Pairing: Sylus x f!reader Tags: nsfw, mdni, pure smut, tongue piercing, cunnilingus, clit play Word Count: 468 "Because I don't plan to stop until I'm satisfied." A/N: Inspired by this Twitter post. Art credit to 104ffinity. Literally wrote this after seeing this post so apologies if there's any mistakes!

Sylus parts your legs slowly. Reverently. His large hands grip you by your thighs, guiding them open just enough for him to slot his head between your knees. He trails the tip of his nose along your inner thigh, inhaling deep once he reaches the apex.

“Fuck, you smell intoxicating,” he growls, nuzzling your clothed heat.

The deep vibration of his voice radiates through your core, rousing your desire. Your arousal seeps through the flimsy fabric—the only item of clothing hiding your pretty cunt from his waiting gaze.

He presses a kiss to the curve of your leg and your pelvis. “This is mine.” He kisses the curve on the other side of your weeping sex. “And this is mine.” He inhales again, shuddering as he takes in the scent of your growing desire. “And this,” he rasps, trailing his tongue along the outline of your puffy lips, “this is all mine.”

The metal ball of his piercing flicks across your clit, and you flinch, a startled gasp falling from your lips. Without warning, he sucks down on your clit causing your hip to jerk, eagerly bucking up into him.

“Falling apart for me already?” he chuckles, amused, the sound deep in his throat. “But I’ve barely touched you.”

Sylus flicks the metal ball against your clit again, making sure that the full width of the piercing weighs on it. You squirm, your fingers curling into the sheets, your body instinctively trying to wiggle away, but the grip Sylus has on your thighs tighten, holding you in place.

“Uh uh uh,” Sylus tuts against you. “Naughty, kitten. I’m just getting started.”

Using his shoulders to keep your legs parted, he glides a hand up your inner thigh and hooks a finger under the damp gusset of your underwear. He pulls it to the side, exposing you to his hungry, carmine eyes.

“God, you’re fucking beautiful.”

Sylus breathes heavily, his gaze fixed on your sweet cunt. He drinks you in, taking a moment to admire how you glisten for him in the dim light of his bedroom, and then he lowers his mouth back onto your pulsing sex, running the length of his tongue along your slit.

“And you taste like fucking honey.”

His whisper wisps on your sensitive skin, tickling your need into a frenzy.

“And it’s all mine.” He gives your clit a sloppy kiss—wet and possessive. “All fucking mine.”

He glances up, capturing your eyes with his. Yours tremble as your breath quickens. A dark heat gleams in the depths of his. And then he smirks. Lazy. Dangerous. Predatory. One that causes you to swallow thickly and your breath to hitch.

“Lie back and enjoy it, kitten.”

His smirk widens.

His canines glint ominously in the light.

“Because I don’t plan to stop until I’m satisfied.”

Taglist: @xaviersknight, @godoffuckedupcats, @candiedcoffeedrops, @my-garden2025, @keithtopia, @fawnfaer, @natimiles, @raendarkfaerie, @flwerie, @mcdepressed290, @sickleddreamer, @ikesimpleton, @erikalovesss, @faeriana, @schrodingerskimdokja, @paneratargaryen4312, @sickleddreamer

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Divider courtesy of @enchanthings-a

#missaengg writes #sylus smut #sylus x reader #sylus #love and deepspace sylus #sylus love and deepspace #lads sylus #lnds sylus #love and deepspace smut #lads smut #lnds smut #love and deepspace fanfic #lads fanfic #lnds fanfic #love and deepspace #lads #lnds

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pjmxtra · 2 months ago

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trusting you⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

paring: experienced! 니키 x virgin!fmr

warning: smut! angst! fluff! fingering, size kink, p in v

an: first request thank you sm!! hope i did well. i had so much fun writing it.

“I don’t want to disappoint you, Ki,” you whispered, voice barely audible, swallowed by the closeness of his mouth on your neck. His lips moved slowly, reverently down the delicate line of your throat, lingering at each pulse point as if memorizing your rhythm.

You felt so small beneath him—so tiny and breakable in his lap, dwarfed by the width of his frame, the strength in his arms. He made you feel like porcelain, something fragile, precious. Untouched. Which, in a way, you were.

You’d never gone this far with anyone. Not because the chance hadn’t been there, but because it had never felt right. It had never felt safe. Until him.

Riki’s lips paused against your collarbone. Slowly, he lifted his head from the crook of your neck, and his dark eyes caught yours. There was no teasing smirk this time—no playful edge. Just concern. Just quiet, open patience. Your soft eyes stared up into his, wide and glossy, your brows drawn together as your hands twisted nervously in your lap.

You didn’t want to think about the others he’d been with—those nameless shadows that came before you. You knew he had experience. You knew he wasn’t coming into this with the same shaky hands and fluttering chest that you were.

And maybe you’d tried to convince yourself it didn’t matter. But it did. You hated that it did. It dug in deep, curled cold around your stomach, a silent insecurity you tried so hard not to let surface.

But it always found a way to rise.

Riki’s expression softened even more when he spoke. “Where’s this coming from, hmm?” His voice was deep, low like a rumble against your skin. His hands, large and firm on your narrow waist, tightened just a little—just enough to ground you. Just enough to remind you that you were here, in his arms, not some distant thought drifting away.

You looked down, unable to hold his gaze anymore, your vision blurring as your fingers clutched the hem of your shirt in your lap. You sat cross-legged on top of him, practically folded into his body, the top of your head barely reaching the underside of his chin. It made everything feel more intense, more real—the stark contrast between his strength and your vulnerability.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled, your voice thick with the tears you didn’t want to shed. “I know it’s dumb, I just… I can’t stop thinking about how I’ll never be like the others. I’m not… I don’t know what I’m doing, and I’m scared I’ll mess it up. That I’ll mess us up.”

Riki’s jaw tensed for a second, like the thought of you feeling that way physically hurt him. His hand moved up from your waist, big palm cradling your cheek, gently turning your face back to his.

Your eyes brimmed with tears, lashes damp and trembling. You tried to turn away, embarrassed, but he wouldn’t let you. He held you there, his touch so careful despite how easily he could hold you still.

“Hey. Don’t cry, sweet girl,” he murmured, his voice quiet and full of something unshakably tender. “Don’t let that pretty head of yours ever think you could disappoint me.”

He kissed your tears away—first your eyes, then the tip of your nose, then your trembling mouth. The kiss wasn’t rushed or rough. It was soft. Slow. As if time didn’t matter. As if all that mattered was making sure you felt it—that you knew it.

His arms wrapped tighter around you, drawing you impossibly closer until your chest was pressed to his and you could feel the steady thump of his heart beneath your hands.

You were completely enclosed in him, wrapped in his warmth, his strength. His scent. Like nothing else existed beyond the shell of his embrace.

“I want this with you,” he said, his voice just above a whisper now, his breath brushing your lips. “Not because you’re perfect. Not because you’re experienced. But because you’re mine. And I’ll take care of you… every step of the way.”

You nodded against him, your body relaxing in the safety of his hold. Your breath hitched when he said it—you’re mine. Something deep inside you ached at those words, a kind of ache that wasn’t pain, but longing.

You nodded again, too full of feeling to speak. You clutched at his shirt, tiny hands fisting into the fabric like you needed to hold on to something solid or else float away.

Riki pulled back only enough to see your face. His thumb brushed along your cheek, and then down to your chin, tilting your head up.

You looked so small beneath his gaze, so delicate in his lap, legs draped over his thighs like a doll placed in the arms of something far bigger. His size made you feel nervous, but not in the way that made you want to pull away. It made you want to fall deeper, to give yourself over completely and trust he’d catch you.

“Lie back for me,” he murmured, voice low, guiding you down onto the bed like he was laying down something precious. His hand stayed at your waist as you shifted, your body trembling faintly beneath him.

He moved with careful slowness, one knee resting between your legs, his frame casting a shadow over yours. Your breath caught again when his hands slid up your sides—slow, reverent. Like he was memorizing the shape of you.

“You okay?” he asked, and his voice was softer now, velvet-smooth, all the teasing long gone. “You can tell me to stop. Anytime. I mean it.”

“I don’t want you to stop,” you whispered, barely able to get the words out. Your voice shook, your fingers clinging to his arm. “I just… I’m scared.”

“I know, baby.” His lips brushed your forehead. “But you’re not alone. I’ve got you. I’ll take care of everything.”

The mattress dipped as he leaned down, his mouth ghosting over yours. His kiss this time was deeper, a little firmer. He kissed like he meant it, like he wasn’t just trying to make you feel good—he was trying to make you feel safe. Like this wasn’t just about bodies, but about trust. About you handing yourself over to him completely—and him treating that with the weight it deserved.

He took his time, undressing you slowly, piece by piece, whispering soft praise the entire way.

“So beautiful,” he murmured, his eyes roaming over your body like it was art. “So fucking soft. I could spend all night just looking at you.”

You trembled under the weight of his gaze, hands instinctively moving to cover yourself, but he stopped you gently.

“No,” he said firmly, but kindly, taking your wrists in one large hand. “Don’t hide from me. Not tonight. Let me see you, baby. Let me have you.”

You swallowed thickly, your chest rising and falling fast as you slowly lowered your arms. You felt bare in every sense—not just naked, but exposed. But Riki didn’t leer. He didn’t compare. He didn’t hesitate. He just looked at you like you were the only thing that had ever mattered.

His hands were everywhere.

Large, warm, calloused—so much bigger than yours, and they moved over you like you were something delicate he had to treat with reverence. His touch was slow, deliberate, every sweep of his palm down your trembling sides igniting a fresh wave of heat that settled low in your belly. He leaned over you, his frame easily caging yours in. His chest hovered just inches above your own, his forearms braced on either side of your head, muscles taut with restraint.

Your body was already trembling beneath him—nerves, anticipation, raw vulnerability all coiled into something electric. And he felt it. You could see it in his eyes, blown dark and focused entirely on you, and you could feel it in the way he touched you—not rushing, not pushing, just guiding, always waiting for you to follow.

“Spread your legs for me, baby,” he murmured, voice low, coaxing. “Nice and slow.”

You obeyed, heart pounding so loud you could barely hear your own breath. Your thighs parted shakily beneath him, small legs spreading around his hips, and his gaze dropped between you for a moment before he groaned softly, something deep and rough in his throat.

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” he muttered, running his hand up the inside of your thigh. Your skin jumped under the heat of his palm. “So soft. So tiny down here…”

You gasped as his fingers grazed over your folds, his touch featherlight but deliberate. He took his time exploring you, mapping out every twitch, every gasp, every time your hips lifted off the mattress in search of more. His other arm held you still, anchored across your waist, the sheer size of it a stark reminder of how easily he could pin you down completely if he wanted to. But he didn’t. He never took. He asked.

“Does this feel good?” he asked, dipping his head beside your ear, his breath hot against your flushed skin. “Tell me if anything’s too much.”

“N-no, it’s good,” you whispered, voice barely holding steady. “It’s really… it’s good.”

He smiled against your skin, lips brushing just beneath your jawline as two fingers slid between your folds and circled your clit, slow and lazy. You cried out softly, hips twitching up against his hand, and he hummed in approval.

“That’s my good girl,” he murmured. “Look at you… already so wet for me.”

Your cheeks burned, but the praise only made the heat between your legs build. Your breath came in shorter gasps as he worked you open with his fingers—first one, then another, stretching you so carefully, gently easing you toward the point where your body would be ready to take more.

His fingers were thick, his knuckles pressing just enough to make your walls clench, and you could feel how much bigger he’d be than this.

“Doing so good,” he whispered. “So tight. You feel how your little pussy holds onto me? That’s just from my fingers, baby.”

You whined, eyes squeezing shut, thighs trembling around his hips. He withdrew his fingers and brought them to his mouth, sucking them clean as he watched you with half-lidded eyes.

Then, he settled between your thighs again, one hand guiding himself to your entrance.

“I’ll go slow,” he promised, kissing the center of your chest, just over your heart. “I’ll stop the second you say the word.”

You nodded, breath shaky. “I trust you.”

That was all he needed.

You felt the head of him press against you—thick, hot, and unforgiving. The stretch made your breath catch, eyes wide as you instinctively tried to draw back, but his hand returned to your waist, holding you still, grounding you.

“Shh,” he soothed. “Just breathe, baby. You’re okay. Just a little more…”

Every inch was a new kind of overwhelming—his size, the fullness, the way your body struggled to accommodate him. He didn’t force it. He eased in slowly, watching every flicker of emotion on your face, kissing your forehead, your cheeks, your trembling lips.

“There you go,” he whispered when he was fully seated inside you, chest rising and falling heavily against yours. “You took all of me, sweet girl. Just like that.”

You could barely breathe, but the fullness… it was intoxicating. You felt split open, claimed, utterly owned. He stayed still, letting you adjust, his thumb stroking soothingly over your hip as he kissed along your jaw.

“Tell me when you want more,” he said softly, voice barely holding back the tension straining in his body.

“I want it,” you breathed, clutching at his shoulders. “Please.”

He groaned again, deeper this time, and began to move.

Each thrust was slow, controlled, his hips rolling against yours with a careful rhythm. You could feel how he tried to hold back, to make it good for you before himself. Your body gripped him tightly with every movement, the stretch still just shy of too much, and it only added to the intensity.

“You feel that?” he murmured against your ear. “That’s how deep I am inside you. Only you get this, baby. Only you get to have me like this.”

His hand slid beneath your lower back, lifting your hips slightly to change the angle, and suddenly the friction hit just right. Your back arched, a strangled moan escaping your lips, and he groaned in return, thrusts faltering for just a moment.

“That’s it. Right there, huh? There’s my good girl.”

You couldn’t speak anymore—only whimper, lost in the drag and push of his hips, the way he filled every inch of you so perfectly. His name fell from your lips like a prayer, breathless and trembling, as his pace built just a little faster, rougher—but never losing the tenderness.

His thrusts deepened, slow but powerful, each one pressing you down into the mattress with the full weight of him. You were small beneath him—stretched wide, trembling, completely pinned by the press of his hips and the sheer length of him inside you.

Your hands clung to his shoulders, nails digging in, and he didn’t flinch—he welcomed the mark, gritting his teeth as you arched under him, your moans soft and broken.

“That’s it, baby,” he murmured, lips brushing your ear. “Take it—just like that. Let me feel you.”

The pressure was building fast now—hot, thick, overwhelming. It started in your core, a slow tightening coil that grew sharper with every drag of his cock along your walls. He hit something inside you that made your breath catch, your eyes go wide as your body jerked beneath him.

“There?” he rasped, voice suddenly rougher, rawer. “Right there, huh?”

You nodded frantically, tears slipping from the corners of your eyes—not from pain, but from how much it was. The pressure. The pleasure. Him.

“I can’t—Riki—” Your voice broke, your body twitching. “I-I think I’m gonna—”

“Come for me,” he growled, suddenly burying himself deeper, his hips grinding hard and slow. “Come on, sweet girl. Let me feel how tight this pretty little pussy gets when you fall apart for me.”

Your whole body locked up beneath him. The orgasm hit hard, rushing through you like a wave that tore the breath from your lungs.

Your back arched off the bed, mouth falling open in a silent scream, legs trembling violently as your body clamped down around him. He groaned through gritted teeth, hips stuttering against you as he fought to stay steady through your climax.

“That’s it,” he hissed, watching you unravel beneath him. “Fuck, look at you…”

You were shaking, tears streaking your flushed cheeks, unable to stop the helpless whimpers as the aftershocks pulsed through you. Your body twitched every time he moved inside you, too sensitive, too full, too much—and still, you didn’t want him to stop.

“I-I can’t—” you whispered, broken, clinging to him.

“Yes, you can,” he said, voice softer now, lips brushing yours. “You’re okay. You’re doing so fucking good.”

And then, with a deep, guttural moan, his hips slammed flush against yours, and he spilled into you, filling you with thick warmth. You could feel every pulse of it, deep and slow, his breath ragged as he pressed his forehead to yours.

For a long moment, neither of you moved—just tangled together, breathing each other in.

When he finally pulled out, he did so carefully, cradling you like you’d break. You whimpered at the emptiness, body still pulsing around nothing, and he shushed you gently, laying soft kisses on your cheeks, your jaw, your lips.

“Shh, I’ve got you,” he murmured, gathering you into his arms, pulling you onto his chest like you weighed nothing. “You did so good for me. So perfect.”

You curled into him, limbs trembling, skin slick with sweat. You felt raw—used and loved all at once, stretched and filled and held. His hand ran slowly up and down your back, grounding you as your heart slowly returned to a steady rhythm.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice no longer rough but achingly tender. “Talk to me, baby.”

You nodded, still pressed against his chest. “Yeah… just overwhelmed.”

His arms tightened. “I know. I know, sweet girl.”

He kissed your forehead, holding you close, letting you rest there in the soft silence that followed. The bed sheets were damp, your body sore and tingling in the best way, but none of it mattered. Not with him holding you like that—like you were the most precious thing in the world.

“I love you,” you whispered, surprising yourself.

Riki didn’t hesitate.

“I love you too,” he murmured, voice a low, steady vow. “And I meant what I said. You’ll never disappoint me. You’re mine… and I’ll take care of you. Always.”

You buried your face into the crook of his neck, letting yourself melt into him completely—safe, wanted, loved.

And this time, you believed it.

#enhypen #enhypen x reader #enha scenarios #enha x reader #enha fluff #enhypen imagine #enha niki #enhypen smut #niki angst #niki x reader #niki smut #niki dabble #niki x reader smut #niki fluff #niki imagines #enhypen niki #enhypen scenarios

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lostintransist · 5 months ago

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Broken Beyond Bearing | Part 3

-.-. …. .. .-.. -.. .-. . -. / -.— —- ..- -. —. / .- … / - . -.

Part 1 found here | AO3

CW: A/B/O sexism I guess is what we should call this? Trauma reactions to doctors, awful in world politics.

Keeping his eyes on you Kyle’s concern rises with each shallow breath you suck between your teeth.

The nurse had been watching and held the door open as he directed Kyle to the first room on the right. Settling your body flat on the table he steps back, trying to give the nurse room to move. With two chairs, a small counter and a sink, and a ‘calming’ green on the walls the room looks exactly like he expects it to.

“How long ago was the exposure?” The nurse is taking your vitals and you stiffen as if your body hit rigor. “Ma’am if you don’t relax this is going to take longer.”

“Less than thirty minutes,” Kyle answers coolly.

The whine, primal and terrified, that comes from your throat as the blood pressure cuff is tightening has Kyle moving to where your head lays. Running the back of his knuckles down your cheeks he whispers to you. The scent of your fear, clear and uncontaminated with whatever afflicted you normally, flooded the room.

“Hey, hey. I’m here. You’re not alone. Everything will be okay.”

The nurse, an alpha by scent, makes a noise that pulls Kyle to look at him. The nurse, Johnson by the glance to his name tag, keeps his eyes on the monitor taking your blood pressure and pulse. Kyle focuses back on you. Your body regains mobility as the cuff is removed, eyes rolling like a horse looking for a place to run.

“Her vitals are all looking normal, the doctor will be in shortly,” Johnson shuts the door behind him. He must not be far enough away from the door when he starts talking to someone else. “Beta bitch in room one has track marks up both arms. I knew betas died from drugs more than any other gender but it’s wild to see that out here.”

Kyle would have stormed out the door to rip into the man if your hands hadn’t slapped into his, holding them tight. Pulling yourself upright from the reclined position you tuck your knees to your chest and rest your chin atop them. Letting go of his hands you curl them around your legs.

Sitting on a chair positioned next to the bed Kyle looks up at you, trying to catch your eyes.

Even when he could see the streaks of color through your irises no recognition lit your features. Concerned, Kyle stays sitting on the bed with you watching each breath and twitch. Nothing changes until the door opens with a faint knock.

“My name is Doctor Chen. Can you tell me what happened today?”

Like an automaton, you uncurl from your crunched position. Legs folded you straighten your back and rest your forearms on your knees palms aimed at the ceiling. Kyle had seen poses similar in meditation videos he would watch sometimes to give his mind a moment to relax. There is no peace in your pose. The width of your open eyes and the shallowness of your breath all remind him of victims he has saved from torture.

Memories that left their marks on his bones should not be reflected in your posture, he faced evil abroad and in the mirror to keep people like you safe.

He glanced at the man, dark hair, light blue scrubs, thick-rimmed glasses, and a white overcoat Kyle mostly associated with lab work. A quick draw of breath and Kyle marked him as an alpha. Dr. Chen did not look at you once, eyes staying firmly on him.

“We had an exposure to an allergen.”

Dr. Chen nodded once and sat on the small, wheeled stool that Kyle only ever saw in doctor’s offices. He wondered if they had to special order them or if they appeared in the building like fairies to offers of milk and bread. The man logged into his computer with a swipe of his name tag to an RFID reader and tapped a few buttons before turning to look at Kyle again.

“Do you know what the allergy was in reaction to?” He adjusts his glasses further up his nose.

“We don’t and would like to get some testing. Does this clinic do testing?” Kyle asked; all of his medical care happened on base.

Dr. Chen’s eyes glanced at you for the first time with a flare of his nose as he took in the fear salting the room with your uniquely beta scent. Kyle knew deeper than his marrow that you could turn off his brain and any explosive rage that he dealt with being an alpha. You didn’t use that now, but by the gods, he wished you would. The flash of disgust that whipped across Dr. Chen’s face ignited the soul-deep rage that existed with being an alpha.

“Dr. Chen,” the darkness, power, in Kyle’s voice brought the doctor’s face to him. “You will treat my wife with respect or I will ensure you don’t live to regret it.”

The cloying, nose-coating scent of Dr. Chen’s alpha rising to meet the challenge filled Kyle’s nose. He let the monster rise in his eyes, keeping his scent muted. Military training had to be good for something beyond the battlefield.

Kyle stands, placing his body between the doctor and the bed where you sit. Arms crossed and shoulders spread wide he used the mass of his bulk to show the barrier he could be. He didn’t know you, but Kate had seen something that prompted her to give them the care over you. You would not feel any harm if he could prevent it. You started to rock softly, eyes still unseeing. Then you begin to hum Edelweiss, effectively breaking the tension. Chen lost the staring match when he glanced at you.

“Do your job doctor, so I don’t have to.”

“That is out of line Mr—”

“Sergeant, special forces.”

Dr. Chen’s eyes narrowed but accepted the correction.

“Sergeant, your wife is doing fine by her visual inspection and her vitals agree. This clinic does not offer allergy testing but there are a few private practices here that you can call.” He turned back to his computer, typing in what Kyle assumed to be a summary of the visit today. “Most of what we do here for allergies is to stop the reaction and watch for any adverse effects.”

“I will need a copy of that report for our records,” Kyle stated it like a command he would give a private or a trainee. A firm ‘this is the course of action you will be taking’ that did not leave any room for questions or disobedience.

If Dr. Chen thought of arguing with Kyle, he kept it to himself. He left shortly after with a comment that Johnson would be in soon with the paperwork he requested. That is how Johnny found them, Kyle’s arms crossed and holding back his rage and you the juxtaposition of a peaceful body and an absent mind.

“You are more than you appear, wife,” Johnny took your hand, curling fingers around palms.

They wait in the cadence of your voice for nearly five minutes before Johnson appears, papers in hand. Kyle snaps a vice grip around the man’s wrist, pulling him close.

“Johnson. If I hear you telling tales about betas, and more specifically about my wife I will paint the walls of your room with colors not even crime techs will unsee.”

The man under his eyes paled quite impressively. Plucking the papers from his hand Kyle dropped Johnson’s hand and turned to his pack mate and partner in crime. Johnny’s thumb traced a track along the back of your hand as he watched the interaction play out before him.

“Can you carry her to the truck?”

Johnny’s eyes flicked as he watched the nurse flee from the room.

“Yeah. Up you pop bonnie,” he settled one arm over his shoulder and then the other before lifting you under the thighs to settle around his waist.

Still, you hummed, no life in your form. Kyle had a glare and a harsh, nose-blistering scent of rage for anyone who looked too long. Johnny settled in the back seat with you, buckling you into the middle so he could keep a hand on you and Kyle could check on you in the review mirror.

The drive home is tense, filled only with Kyle’s quiet mutterings about inexperienced winter drivers. When he turns onto the path home Johnny asks a question.

“What the hell happened in the clinic when I was on the phone with John?”

The steering wheel creaks under the pressure of Kyle’s hands.

“Nurse and doctor had some awful things to say about our wife, called her a drug addict, and couldn’t keep professional.”

“The hell? Why did they do that?” Johnny’s face in the rearview is tight with angry concern.

“It’s due to the beta laws that went into place ten…eleven? Yeah maybe eleven years ago.” Your voice is an unexpected addition to the conversation.

Kyle slows to a stop in the snow, throwing the truck in park and turning to look at you.

“What beta laws?”

He knows his gaze is harsh when you flinch back. Johnny wraps an arm around you and you settle a bit.

“There were laws on the books for a long time that weren’t really enforced,” you swallow and look from man to man before staring at your knees and continuing. “About how betas weren’t allowed the same personhood rights as alphas and omegas due to the lack of either consistent rut or heat. Apparently, the ability to do both is scary to the government. Several years back a group successfully passed a new law that said basically that betas should be treated like children, unable to sign paperwork without an approving authority, have bank accounts alone, apply for a credit card, or passport, you name it without the approval of an alpha or omega. In some places it went beyond that, stripping beta’s of all rights.”

Johnny muttered under his breath something that sounded like ‘What the fuck’ but Kyle kept his eyes on you.

“What happened to you?” His whisper hardens on your skin like ice.

There is no weak, scared beta woman here, only a beast that would peel him apart if he pushed. He didn’t scare her, but doctors did.

“No.”

Nodding once and accepting the answer Kyle turned back to driving. He would discuss this all with the guys after they had settled into bed. The interactions with the clinic staff were nothing like he had ever experienced before. Though as he thought of it he couldn’t remember the last time he had worked with a beta.

Simon and John step onto the porch as Kyle parks, as if they had been keeping watch for them.

The four men set about their tasks, hauling everything inside. You follow when Johnny reaches into the back seat and helps you out, hand tucked in his as he carries in a few bags. Simon sets about setting up the bed they picked for your room. Johnny settles you at the table, laughing and joking at you as he prepares a plate of food. Kyle and John set to work on creating the dresser. They don’t hear you laugh at any of Johnny’s stories but John points to you once and Kyle catches a glimpse of a smile. The sun slips away into the trees as each of the men finishes their task. Once the bed is made and the mattress settled on the frame John and Kyle lift the dresser into place.

The three men who had built things collapsed onto the couch facing the back wall of windows into the woods. Simon is settled between John and Kyle an arm dropped around each of them. You are standing on the back porch, head tilted back as you look at the ink-dark sky. The coat and boots you wear are those picked up today. Kyle didn’t think to wonder where Johnny had gone until he bounced down the steps with a bright bundle of fabric over one shoulder as he shoved a beanie on his head.

“Where ya going, Johnny?” Simon pitches his voice to carry but not to shout.

“Gonna give our wife a gift,” he winks at his lovers and pops out the back door.

Simon tightens the arm around Kyle.

“He loves you. That won’t change if he chooses to love someone new as well,” John murmured.

Kyle looked over at John who lay his head fully on Simon, nose buried in the scent gland at his neck. John licks the length of the gland causing Simon to let out a short whine.

Glancing back out to the back porch Kyle watches Johnny settle a shawl across your shoulders and sees in your profile confusion, hesitance. When you look down and clutch the shawl tight to your chest Kyle could only call the look on your face concerned acceptance. Johnny grinned at you like the sun had risen.

“To bed Simon, I can feel you grumble. Your rut starts soon. Let Johnny get our wife settled and let Kyle and I get you into bed.” John pushes up from the couch pulling Simon with him.

Kyle stands as well, eyes drifting to you and Johnny one last time. Standing side by side the two stare at the stars. John calls him from his observations and Kyle starts up the stairs after his lovers. His other lover will arrive with time.

Broken Masterlist | Masterlist

@lucienofthelakes @gg-trini @talia-the-gemini @thriving-n-jiving @z-wantstowrite @asialovesyou09 @literallegendicon @canthavetoomuchchaos @reinekoya @jsptmoche @demothers-empty-blog @hbaasaad

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peter-pumpkin-eater · 4 months ago

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All is fair in love and war, baby

Caleb x gn!reader

summary: Caleb finds your diary and you're panicked. Forced cuddles to make everything better :) this is set BE ((before explosion))

warnings: none, fluff

word count: 735

You can feel the pull of his evol drag you backwards, your socks slipping unable to stop your sliding. Your torso bends trying to catch the edge of the table.

“CALEB!” you shriek and he darts past you, taking a sharp turn to clamber up the stairs. His laugh filling the space behind him. “You DIRTY CHEATER!” you yell as you feel his evol fade from your body and finally getting your footing back. You push into a run again, slipping up the steps behind him, silently cursing your choice of comfy lounge wear today.

“All is fair in love and war, baby.” He giggles already at the top of the stairs taking a sharp turn to the right. To your room. To your room that you just accidentally let slip where you hid your diary. The same diary Caleb has been trying to find for months. The very same fucking diary where you thought it was a good idea to write down every time Caleb had annoyed you or wronged you. It was so incredibly petty and embarrassing. You pushed yourself jumping 2 steps at a time.

Throwing yourself against your doorframe, chest heaving, you see Caleb stand proudly in the middle of your room. Journal in hand.

“Drop it! Drop! Bad dog!” you point at him, waving your finger around. Puffing up your chest and squaring your shoulders, you try and make yourself look bigger and more intimidating.

Cute. Thought Caleb. A big nasty smirk spreading across his face. His eyes narrowed on you, watching your chest rise and fall, your face all flushed and angry. “Now let’s see…” he trails off, flipping the book open.”

“Ay! No!” you squeal, jumping at him. It takes Caleb by surprise, instinct kicking in to catch you. You grab at the book now digging into your thigh. Caleb quickly shifts your weight to one arm and stretches out the book away from you. He couldn't help but laugh.

“Finders keep-” his sentence was cut short by your hands grabbing at his face and squishing his cheeks hard. He kept a steady hold on your upper thigh, his fingers digging into the fat there. You hooked a finger into the corner of his mouth, pulling it sideways.

“Caleb, you have one chance. Drop. The. Book” With every word you pulled and squished his face, now getting your hands into his hair and yanking his head backwards.

A grunt gets knocked out of him and this time he stumbles backwards, the back of his knees hitting the edge of your bed. You both go down with a heavy thud. A yelp leaves you when met with his hard chest. Both of you momentarily dazed.

Caleb’s chest shook under you from laughing and you leaped at the book now thrown on the floor. Strong arms quickly wrap around your middle and throw you back onto the bed. Flailing your arms and legs around you try and squirm from him, but Caleb just drops his full weight down onto you.

“Oghf” you feel the air get squeezed from your lungs. Caleb continues to laugh, now muffled in the crook where your shoulder meets your neck. It sends a jolt through your body. “Off.” you shove at his shoulders. He doesn't even move a hair's width. “Get. Off!” you try again. Your arms getting tired from the dead weight now spread over you.

A minute passes of you laying there catching your breath and steading your heart rate. Caleb turns his head towards your neck. The drag of his dry lips faint on your skin.

“You fat fuck.” you murmur. He snorts.

Finally he props himself on his elbows. Just lifting his head and shoulders off you to see your face. You wish he didn’t. That stupid smirk is there, the one he wears when he thinks he’s won. You lift your hand to push into his face but he grabs your wrist and holds it there, letting his thumb rest on your pulse point. It jumps. You still had the pretty angry pout on your face he loved so much.

Honestly he didn’t care about the book. After this he’ll let you hide it again. And begin the cycle all over. Just to see you get mad at him when he ‘tries’ to find it. But right now, he’s going to enjoy you red faced and squirming under his body.

#LADS #LADS caleb #love and deepspace #love and deepspace caleb #caleb #caleb x reader #caleb x mc #love and deepspace x reader

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takmiblog · 1 year ago

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パワー・エレクトロニクス分野における省エネ化の位置付け

　小型化と省エネ化は、現代のパワー・エレクトロニクス分野における最大のテーマでしょう。この二つの課題を克服するには、機器の中でもっとも消費電力の大きいアンプや電源を高効率化する必要があります。しかし、従来のリニア方式アンプは、消費電力が大きい、発熱が大きく大型の放熱器が必要、バッテリのもちが悪いなど、多くの欠点があります。

　この欠点を克服する電力増幅回路がD級アンプです。D級アンプは、パワーデバイスをスイッチング駆動することで、８０％を超える高い変換効率を実現します。この技術を利用すれば、放熱器の小型化や長時間のバッテリ駆動が可能になるのです。

　本書は、D級アンプの設計テクニックと製作事例を集大成したものです。D級増幅段の回路設計法から、LCフィルタ、負帰還技術、市販の制御ICの使い方まで、実践で役に立つ知識を実験を交えながらわかりやすく解説します。

ーーーーー

D級／ディジタル・アンプの設計と製作

高効率に電力を増幅できるパワー・アンプの作り方のすべて

本田潤＜編著＞

CQ出版社

#jun honda #class d #power amplifier #power electronics #pulse width modulation

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ervotica · 2 years ago

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18+, lil smutty drabble of my fav dilf spiderman! @pxgeturner all for u baby, not very good but I forgot I wrote this for ages!

The first time Miguel fucks you he’s sure this is what heaven feels like.

You’re wet and warm and tight; you fit snugly around his cock as he splits you open, bullies his way in until the soft lips of your cunt flare and part for him. He’s tentative at first and then, as you moan and whine and wrap your legs around the thick width of his waist, he doesn’t feel so guilty for bringing tears to your eyes.

You’re a feisty little thing, only tiny in comparison to his hulking stature (not that its particularly difficult to be); you hiss and snark when he gives instruction, you pinch and gripe and poke at him until he presses you against the bed with his full body, flips you and twists your hair round his hand to use as leverage as he fucks into you deep. You’ve never felt so full, the breath knocked from your lungs as he pounds into you so far you can feel it in your throat.

You choke on it, gasping as a thick, calloused hand pushes your head into the mattress; he’s a weight right between your shoulder blades, a welcome one that only adds to the beautiful pressure building in your cunt from his fierce drilling into you; it’s like the lick of a flame the way he lights your body up, playing all the right strings to have you a writhing mess underneath him.

“Attagirl, ah, squeezing me tight, fuck!” He groans, fingers travelling from your head to your jaw, snaking and curling just on top of your pulse point and giving it a good, firm squeeze. You keen, the edges of your vision blurring out somewhat as he sends you careening into your first orgasm of the night in a blind, white hot state of pleasure.

You both know it will be nowhere near your last.

#miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara fanfiction #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o’hara fic #miguel o’hara x you #miguel o’hara imagine #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara x y/n #atsv x reader #atsv miguel #atsv fanfiction #atsv smut #writers on tumblr #writer #writing

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electronalytics · 1 year ago

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Ultra Short Pulse Width Titanium Gem Femtosecond Laser Market Analysis 2023 Dynamics, Players, Type, Applications, Trends, Regional Segmented, Outlook & Forecast till 2032

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jobean12-blog · 8 months ago

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My Lady

Pairing: Marcus Acacius x female reader

Word Count: 572

Summary: Being the General requires much of Marcus' time and although you understand that it doesn't mean you don't miss him always- not as much as he misses you of course

Author's Note: Every new little snippet we get of this man basically ends me so I just was feeling something small and cuddly and soft because I really just want to curl up on his lap and in his arms forever. Please and thank you! 😁Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovey @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy! 🥰

Warnings: it's soft and sweet and warm

Pedro Pascal Character Masterlist

He leans in, mouth hovering just over yours.

“They will be expecting me soon.”

He whispers this against your lips before his kisses trail along your jaw and down to the hollow of your throat.

Crowding your space a little more, he brushes his nose against yours, his soft lips and warm hands moving everywhere.

His face falls to the crook of your neck, and he groans. The sound vibrates all the way down your body and between your legs.

Your hands slide over the wide expanse of his back, the broad width of his shoulders and then ghost across his lips when his eyes meet yours.

“You are not making this very easy my love.”

“Hmm?” you hum with feigned innocence and rock your hips over him.

You’re seated in his lap at the edge of the bed, your thighs straddling his. You dip your head, and he meets you halfway, lips moving with yours, familiar and warm, through smiles and quiet sounds as his hands trace along the curve of your spine and then down to your ass to pull you tighter against him.

His kiss turns soft, the faintest, slowest, most feather light kiss imaginable, and you want a hundred more.

“I suspect Lucious will come looking for me any moment.”

“Then you should go General…before he does.”

Your kiss swollen lips turn up into a coquettish smile and his large hands flex on the softness of your ass.

You brush the fallen curls of hair from his forehead and then run your fingertips along the strong column of his neck.

He catches your hand, brushing his calloused thumb across your wrist, your pulse hammering beneath. He lifts it to his lips, kissing first the inside of your wrist, then your palm and finally brushing his mouth along your knuckles before pressing it to the back of your hand.

You start to push yourself off him, but he reaches out to grab your hips, sliding his hands up until they settle at your waist. He stands and drags you against his chest, one large hand smoothing along the curve of your body and up your arm until he can grasp the back of your neck and bring your lips to his.

He lets out a helpless sound and then a quiet groan, his kiss slow and warm. With effort he pulls back, running his fingertips down your shoulder and arm to your hand. He takes it in his and brings it to his lips again.

“My lady,” he murmurs, closing his eyes as he relishes the feel of your skin.

“General.”

He backs away, his eyes always on yours until he can no longer watch you and has to turn, grabbing his cloak and throwing it over his broad shoulders. He disappears in a flurry of fabric and heavy footsteps, and you fall back onto the bed with a sigh, counting the minutes until he returns to you.

When he does return, you’re waiting, and he takes a few purposeful strides toward you and you move quickly into his arms, pressing into him for more when he squeezes tight. His mouth is on your temple, your cheek, covering your lips in small bursts of kisses, lips opening, his tongue sliding to taste you.

His hands impatiently move over your waist, your hips, his words sliding across your lips as he tells me he missed you, missed you, missed you.

#marcus acacius x reader #pedro pascal #marcus acacius #general marcus acacius #marcus acacius x you #marcus acacius fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #marcus acacius x y/n #marcus acacius imagine #general acacius #pedro pascal x reader #gladiator 2

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dmitriene · 3 months ago

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cw: confused relationship, reader is pining.

there's something going between you and your captain, john price, a man meant to be your superior, the one who commands and leads, supports and holds up when you seem to falter, not an object of your almost pathetic obsession, the need that sat in your stomach, tension that can't seem to be unraveled, something unacknowledged but unmistakable, to be praised by the gravelly, smoky timbre of his voice, be that one special soldier, but even with a brand hot press of his mouth against your cunt, it's not enough.

john picked you out of everyone like some poor, desperate puppy, because he's not a man stupid, he sees it, the way you look at him, with eyes wide and searching, the way you react to the simple of touches, a brush of his heavy, beary hand settling upon your shoulder in an encouraging clap, and this warmth licks up your spine like a live wire, heat bleeding through layers and making you shudder, burning, your breath coming shallow to match the hammering of your pulse.

the sound of his voice, the gruff chuckles that escapes his lips when someone of the soldiers pull out an amusing joke, the crinkle of his eyes, cold, baby blues accented by the deep crows feet stretching from the corners, squinted to match the gentle, almost too small curve of the corners of his mouth, hiding beneath the thick, brown graying mutton chops that hover at his upper lip, it's makes your chest squeeze, body buzzing, muscles drawn too tight, a wild, ravenous affection curling tight in your ribs, and he sees it all.

how subtle you try to shift your thighs, rough fabric of cargos rubbing together, rustling, the sound drown down in the discuss of something important, a point of the briefing, and yet, you don't hear a word, pulse too loud, frantic and buzzing in your ears, with seeping arousal staining and drenching your panties, your posture coiling, bending a little bit forward, anything to squeeze your legs as hard as possible, force the maddening pressure to elevate the ache of your poor, needy cunt, making your stomach flip, knot, churn, and you don't notice the way john's piercing, thorough gaze lingers on you.

john knows, because he made you that way, and it's his business to take care of, to whisper you in his quarters, should the meeting end, to bring you down to where you so eagerly wanted to be, kneeling, pressing against him, nuzzling in the width of his panted, muscular leg, smell the laundry detergent and fading note of his cigars, stuck there because he brushes his fingers off after smoking, and your mouth hangs open, as you breathe in greedy lungfulls, letting his calloused, wide fingers twine in between the mussing locks of your hair, tugging feebly at the sensitive roots.

you adore the odor of his sweat, the tang of his tart, woody cologne, the aftertaste of cigars he carries on his lips, steady and languid as they steal and swallow down each small whimper and ragged, eager moan that escapes through your spit soaked, kiss ravaged lips, the sensation of his scorching warm, calloused wide palms tracing over each slope and nook of your body, the expanding of your ribs, pressed against his hair dappled, ample chest, his treasure tail and pubes tingling against your overstimulated skin, but you arch into the feeling willingly.

breached on john's meaty, engorged cock, your pussy stretched out it's vivid, the way your tender, slick soddening folds and lips part around the girth of him, veins bulging and squelching when he rams in deeper to grind in your gummy spot, the wetness of your arousal melding with his, leaving a sheen, dribbling down to the swell of your ass, dampening the sheets beneath that you curl into, as his presence swallows you whole, fills you full, wrenches you open orgasm after orgasm, so the next morning you would be trailing behind him all around the base like a puppy again.

main masterlist. quidelines.

#𐔌 . 𝘫𝘶𝘭𝘺 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘴 .ᐟ #john price smut #john price x female reader #john price fluff #john price x f!reader #john price comfort #john price x reader #captain john price fluff #captain john price x reader #captain john price smut #captain john price x female reader #john price drabble #captain john price x you #captain price smut #john price x you #captain john price fanfic #john price cod

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purinbunnii · 3 months ago

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“Teach Me, Toji”

⸻

Toji leans against the bedroom doorframe, arms crossed, veins flexing under his forearms, his eyes dark and glinting like a predator who’s already won. And he has—he always does when it comes to you.

“You seriously don’t know how to touch yourself, sweetheart?” His voice is thick with amusement, laced with hunger. “Can’t even finger that pretty pussy without me walkin’ you through it?”

You’re curled on the bed, knees bent, nightgown bunched up around your hips, heat pulsing between your legs like it’s alive. He’d told you to wait for him—told you—but your hands had drifted downward anyway, fingers ghosting over your folds without knowing where to press, what to do.

“I tried,” you mumble, cheeks flushed, hips twitching. “It just… doesn’t feel the same when it’s not you.”

Toji’s jaw ticks, eyes dropping to your glistening thighs and the faint trace of slick smeared across your inner skin. His cock throbs in his sweats, a thick, pulsing line you can see pressing against the fabric. He pushes off the wall and strolls toward you like a man headed for a feast.

“That’s ‘cause this slutty little cunt’s used to my fingers—fat fuckin’ cock too, huh?” His hand grips your ankle, dragging you down the bed until you’re laid out and helpless beneath him, legs spread like an offering. “You’re ruined, baby. All stretched out from me.”

You whimper. “Toji…”

He drops to his knees, spreading your folds open with two fingers, eyes laser-focused on the way your slick drips down to the sheets.

“Watch.” He grabs your wrist and guides your hand between your thighs, forcing your middle finger to slide along your slit. “Feel that? Right there—slow circles. Don’t rush it.”

Your hips jump, a breathy moan falling from your lips as you obey, rubbing soft, shaky circles over your clit.

“Good girl,” he growls, watching with narrowed eyes as you begin to rut against your own hand. “God, look at you. Humpin’ your fingers like you’re starved.”

You’re panting now, eyes hazy. “It’s not enough…”

“Of course it’s not,” Toji mutters, voice like gravel. “Those tiny little fingers aren’t gonna stretch that greedy hole the way mine do. But keep goin’, baby—I wanna watch you try.”

You whine, slipping your middle finger down to your entrance, pushing in shallowly. The burn is immediate—tight and unfamiliar. Your body isn’t used to anything less than the girth of his cock, thick and veiny, stretching you until you sob around it.

“I can’t—it’s not big enough—”

Toji snarls, suddenly yanking your hand away. “Fuck this.”

His cock snaps up as he yanks his sweats down, angry and flushed, dripping precum from the slit. The size of it makes your mouth water—and your cunt clench pathetically around nothing.

“You think this’ll help, huh?” He fists the base, thick fingers barely able to wrap around the width. “Wanna fill that desperate hole the right way?”

“Yes—yes, please, Toji—”

He grabs your thighs and slams forward, the head of his cock nudging your entrance before he sinks in with one brutal stroke.

“That’s how you fill a pussy,” he groans, eyes locked on the bulge in your stomach. “Fuckin’ made for my cock—made to be stretched out by your husband.”

You cry out, nails digging into the sheets, already close from the teasing, your body trembling beneath his weight.

Toji grins like a devil, leaning close to kiss your temple, breath hot against your ear.

“Don’t worry, sweet thing. We’ll practice fingering later,” he purrs. “But right now? I’m gonna ruin this cunt all over again.”

Your moan is swallowed by the sharp slap of skin against skin. Toji’s cock is heavy inside you—obscene, thick enough to drag against every nerve ending like he’s carving himself into your insides. Your pussy pulses around him, noisy and wet, sucking him in with lewd schlick-schlick-schlick sounds each time his hips drive forward.

“Goddamn,” he grunts, pace ruthless. “You hear that, baby? Listen to your greedy fuckin’ cunt—so wet for me it’s beggin’.”

And you do hear it. Sticky, wet friction echoing off the bedroom walls with every thrust, every snap of his hips. Your whole body is trembling, flushed hot, vision blurred by tears welling at the corners of your eyes from the sheer pressure inside you.

“Toji—Toji, fuck—too much,” you whimper, voice quivering.

He laughs low and dangerous, a hand sliding up your belly to your throat—not squeezing, just holding. Claiming. “Too much?” His eyes flash, glinting with something possessive and primal. “Sweetheart, you were fuckin’ humping your fingers like a bitch in heat not five minutes ago. Don’t act shy now.”

He rocks into you again, slower now—deeper. You feel the ridge of his cock drag along your front wall, a sharp jolt of pleasure zapping through your clit all the way to your toes.

Your hands claw helplessly at his arms. “It’s so deep—fuck, I feel you everywhere.”

“That’s the point.” He presses a hand to your lower belly and watches the way your flesh dips under his palm. “Right there, yeah? That’s where I sit, baby. All up in this tight little hole. You’re fuckin’ made to take me.”

A sound breaks from your throat—half sob, half moan. You’re unraveling fast, thighs twitching, mouth slack. Drool shines on your bottom lip from how hard you’re panting, barely able to form words.

“Can’t—can’t stop,” you slur. “Gonna come—please, Toji—”

His cock pulses at your words, thickening inside you, and then he’s leaning close, mouth dragging against your ear, voice a guttural whisper:

“Do it. Come on your husband’s cock like the good little cumdump you are. Show me how desperate this cunt is.”

The coil snaps—your back arches, eyes rolling, a sharp cry tearing from your throat as you clamp down around him, fluttering like you’re milking him for everything he’s got.

Toji growls, hips jerking. “Fuckin’ tight—shit, fuck, gonna fill you up—”

Hot, thick pulses flood your cunt in messy, deep spurts. He doesn’t pull out. He doesn’t even slow down. Just shoves himself in to the hilt, grinding in tight little rolls that smear his cum up against your cervix.

“You feel that?” he pants. “Take it. Take all of it. Gonna fuck a baby into this whorehole if you keep lookin’ at me like that.”

You twitch under him, overstimulated and soaked, pussy gushing with the mix of your slick and his release, dribbling down between your thighs onto the sheets.

And yet… you’re still needy. Still clenching around him.

Toji notices.

“You ain’t done?” He smirks, cock still hard inside you, soaked in slick. “Didn’t even teach you the second part yet, did I?”

Your eyes flutter, barely able to speak.

“Wanna learn how to do it with two fingers?” he whispers, thumb rubbing slow, teasing circles over your clit again. “Maybe three? Gotta get you trained up properly for when I’m away. Wouldn’t want my wife touchin’ herself wrong.”

You nod frantically, hips lifting.

“Say it,” he breathes.

“Teach me, Toji,” you beg. “Please—teach me how to do it right.”

His grin is feral.

“Oh, I will, sweetheart. But first? You’re gonna come again—on my cock this time.”

And he starts fucking you again.

Slow. Deep. Relentless.

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