#quicken patch

[kitimeq]

ִֶָ𓂃 ࣪˖˙⟡ first time’s a charm 🤍 xavier 星回 ⋆⟡࿐

࣪˖˙⟡ pairing: xavier x reader.

࣪˖˙⟡ summary: your first time with xavier proved to be much better than you expected considering his inexperience—who knew that he was in fact doomed since the moment you both started?

࣪˖˙⟡ word count: 2k

࣪˖˙⟡tags: 18+, mdni!, first times, jumping right into action, something short inspired by juyo’s art (@/juyonu on tt, @stardustdusting on here!), desperate xavier, blood but no gore!, soft and kind of wholesome at the end? u know me already, teasing, whipped xavier, shits and giggles, dorks in love, love confessions.

inspired by the art on cover by @/juyonu on twitter, @stardustdusting on tumblr!! please follow her there, she’s one of my fav artists ever ♡

ִ𓂃 ࣪˖˙⟡⋆⟡࿐

Soft huffs and quiet moans were all that you could hear, his head nestled in the crook of your neck as he pressed open-mouthed kisses to every patch of skin he could reach. The clock beside his bed displayed a time far too late for him to still be awake, and yet, the night was far from over, the passion with which he handled you showed no signs of burning out.

Your one hand stroked his hair, gently brushing through the silver strands and sliding your fingers over his red, sensitive ears; the other nestled in his tight grasp, fingers intertwined. Your head turned to him and you pressed a kiss to the side of his head, your eyes closing to savor the feeling of him deep inside you for the first time ever.

One of you trembled, but you weren’t sure who; your bodies pressed so closely they became one, your heartbeats beating to the same rhythm. He whimpered above you, a sound so scarce and unique you wanted to hear it again at once—thus you wrapped your legs around him, pressing him closer, closer, deeper inside you and you stifled your moan just to be able to hear his breath hitching in his throat.

“Are you feeling alright, Xavi?” You asked quietly while he was thrusting inside you gently, unhurriedly, his movements deep, inexperience made up for by his enthusiasm and wandering hands, which seemed to be adamant on touching every part of your sensitive body. He moaned in response, his hips quickening their pace, a surprised gasp of pleasure leaving your mouth at the sudden change.

“M-Mhm—Yeah—S-So good—” His head tilted slightly, his face turned downward to watch how he was disappearing inside you, his mouth opened in awe. “I feel like I’m… melting—” He grabbed your chin with his free, shaky hand, and he kissed you, his tongue slipping inside your mouth eagerly, cutting off everything you wanted to say. Every praise you wanted to utter, knowing that it was his first time and he was already making you feel this good.

As if you were made for each other; two stars, drifting in the vast universe, fortunate enough to cross paths. Each thrust perfect, because it brought you two closer. Each touch welcome, because it was always meant only for you.

“Xavier—!” You suddenly felt both of his hands touching and squeezing at your breasts, and he finally let you breathe, his mouth clasping around one of your nipples instead. He licked and sucked like a man starved, his hips loosing their rhythm, rutting into you clumsily, chasing the pleasure. He was desperate to make you feel just as much as he was feeling, painfully aware that you were handling this a lot better than he was.

His brain turned into mush quite a while ago, while you were still so excruciatingly there, capable of forming coherent sentences, meaningful words. He pitied you, he cursed himself, he wanted you ruined—matching the state he was in, because it was the most blissful he ever felt in his whole life.

He needed to get you there with him, this single focus on your pleasure the only clear thought swirling around in his mind.

“Let me touch you some more, please…” He moaned quietly, his hips snapping harder with every second, “You’re so soft… So, so sweet… I had no idea it would feel this good, I’m—I’m not sure I can live without you, without feeling like this anymore…”

The wet sounds were getting louder, his pre-cum mixing with your increasing arousal, his hands kneading through your breasts gently, his lips not leaving your skin, kissing and sucking, leaving delicate marks wherever they traveled. “You—Hah—You’re getting tighter… I’m sorry, I—I think I need to—” A moan escaped his lips and you grabbed his face with your hands, looking straight into his bright, half-lidded eyes, clouded with desperation. He brightened visibly, mouth opened in a whine, lips pressing a quick, wet peck to yours. One. Two. Three pecks, quick, almost matching the pace of his hips, his moans pressed between your lips.

“It’s okay, baby. You’re doing so good. So, so, so good, Xay.”

“Yeah? Am I—Mmh—Am I making you feel good, too?” His face nuzzled into your palm, his lips left another one of his small kisses inside it. His hot breath grazed at your wrist, making goosebumps spread all over your body. He whimpered and sped up the pace of his thrusts again, making you see literal stars with how far he was reaching inside you. The droplets of his sweat dripped onto the skin of your stomach and breasts, making you gasp in response—their coolness meeting the warmth of your body, adding to the sensations and overwhelming you in the best of ways.

“Ah—Ah—Of—Of course, bunny. I—I’ve never felt better…” The truth slipped from your tongue and he grunted, a soft smile brightening his features, the force of his thrusts increasing, as if he wanted to prove that he could do so much better, if only you continue to let him.

You will. Always and forever.

“That so? I—I want you to melt too—” He breathed out, his chest and abs tensing with the force of his thrusts as well as the strength it took him not to cum on the spot. He wanted to savor that moment for a while longer, to look at you sprawled under him so entrancingly, your body taking him in fully, your beautiful face flushed and glowing, twisted in pleasure that he was finally able to give you. “You’re so—so, so pretty. My pretty baby. My beautiful little star, you’re gonna make me—” Xavier sinked his teeth into his bottom lip, slowing down his thrusts, a silent prayer slipping from his lips to stretch that moment of absolute bliss, to restrain himself from cumming for a while longer.

“I’m so close, Xavier… Xavier…Mmph—” Your voice was cut off by his lips on yours, your whines and cries swallowed by his mouth, his name spoken so sweetly was making his mind hazy and body trembling dangerously. He let go of your pout with a loud pop, a string of saliva connecting you both, his lips swollen and shiny.

You looked angelic, and he finally accepted that he will not last much longer, your voice ringing sweetly in his ears, your frame filling his entire field of vision. He was so obsessed with you it scared him.

“Can I—Ah—come inside you? Please? Please, can I? I will do anything, I will—”

Drip.

Another cold droplet of sweat landed between your breasts, his head hung low, right above you.

Drip.

This one slightly warmer, his big hands touching your cheeks, his pace quickening when you whispered a string of ”yes, yes, yes” only for him to hear. He moaned and shook his head, his body glistening with sweat, your own shaking with the incoming peak.

Drip. Drip.

Drip.

The droplets now warm, landing onto your skin and sticking to your moving body, the sensation making your brows furrow. While he was still thrusting inside you with vigor, you grabbed his face and raised it with shaking hands; what was previously a moan turned into a gasp the moment your eyes met with his face.

Because the droplets were no longer just sweat.

Blood. There was blood coming out of his nose, staining his lips now, his tongue peeking out to taste it, the metallic taste familiar on his tongue.

“Xavier, you’re—AH—Mmm! You’re bleeding—!” The blood now flowed to his chin, landing on his chest as he raised his head. He huffed out a laugh and hastily wiped it away with the side of his arm, smearing it under his nose but never stopping his hips from moving inside you.

“I—Hah—I always knew you’ll be the death of me, starlight.” His tone was soft, teasing. And the last thing you saw was his angelic face, flushed bright pink, hazy mirth in his eyes, and a smile plastered on his face—and you reached your peak, sharp moan cutting through the bedroom, your spine raising upwards with the intensity of your orgasm. He caught you instantly, his strong arms circling around you, face burying into your chest, and pink, plush lips opening in a broken moan the moment he came inside you, so intensely he started to shake.

And when your body finally went pliant in his arms, your heavy breaths and soft sighs filling the air, you felt his lips spread into a smile against your warm skin. He turned his head up to look at you again, one eye opening slowly, his chest raising and falling rapidly, his heart thrumming against yours—his deep blues caught staring at your face with so much love and devotion you wanted to burst right then and there.

And there it was again—a soft laugh escaped his lips, the blood still staining his upper lip, nose and chin. Small droplets of it were now smeared on your body, too.

“Mmm, M’ sorry. M’ sorry, star, you just felt and looked so wonderful I couldn’t help but spill all I had—” You burst out laughing, cutting off his joke, your hand playfully pushing at his shoulder. He immediately joined you in this moment of happiness, his soft giggles mixing with yours.

Then, he caught your hand in his and brought it to his lips, placing a soft kiss on your knuckles. A satisfied sigh left your lips as your body was now pressed between him and the soft, velvety covers. He brought his face to yours and grazed your nose with his, a gentle smile still adorning his face. He was glowing—a mesmerizing flocks of light filled the whole room, casting you both in a warm, cosy light—an image of his everlasting passion and affection, a love letter to the way you made him feel.

“How are you feeling, my love?” He whispered softly against your lips, and you pecked his mouth, another giggle escaping you. He shifted inside you, making you hiss quietly, your body still tender, your senses heightened.

“Hmm, perfect.” You answered, and he nuzzled your cheek, the tips of his ears still red. He was probably smearing his blood all over your face at this point, but you didn’t find it in yourself to get mad at him, not when its appearance was the sign of his pleasure. “You were perfect, Xavier.”

“And so were you. Perfect. God, so perfect I—” He raised his head again and pressed his forehead against yours, his eyes closing for a moment, basking in the afterglow. His hands were holding your cheeks now, his thumbs stroking the warm skin delicately, and you grabbed his forearms, returning the gesture. “I love you, my star. I love you so much. And I’m never going to let you go. Ever.” The last word a gentle whisper against your temple, followed by a lingering kiss. “I hope you’re okay with that.”

You blinked down your happy tears, refusing to let them fall, and your mouth opened to respond to his confession. But before you could bare your heart before him, he continued to speak in that soft, enticing tone of his.

“And I’m sorry for bleeding on you. You were just squeezing me so hard I nearly went out like a light—”

“You’re such a dork!”

Another hit on his arm, this time harder— meant not to hurt, but an answer to his endless teasing. His bubbly laugh quickly mingled with yours, and a comforting moonlight slipped through the curtains, embracing your restless figures in its gentle glow.

This marked the end of your first night together, along with the beginning of your shared future, laced with the feelings of comfort and never-ending joy. Countless years spent in each other’s embrace, countless nights of hushed whispers and soft laughs. Some days easier, drifting by leisurely; others harder, ending in tears and uncertainty.

But every single day special, because you were by his side now. Every single one extraordinary and important, filled with new experiences, new places, new opportunities.

And while he held your body close that night, his ear pressed to your chest, basking in the enchanting melody of your beating heart, Xavier thought dreamily that he couldn’t wait to experience them all—as long as you were beside him.

ִֶָ𓂃 ࣪˖˙⟡⋆⟡࿐

hi!! i hope you liked it, even if i wrote that one really quickly. i got suddenly inspired and wanted to write it in one go!!

it surprised me that it’s my 2nd published xavier work, especially when i feel that i write for him so much!! i have abundance of his fics sitting in my drafts—my toxic perfectionism, lack of time and love for long one shots are my greatest enemies in this case. but i hope to publish some more things with him in the future!! i still have my xav bunny mini series and lumiere 2part!! im really proud of them so i will post them for sure! <33

thank u for reading what i wrote, i hope that you liked it even a lil bit and that you’ll let me know if u do <3 i appreciate every single like, reblog and comment and i treasure every single one of u. thank u for being here with me <3

[sweetcalebb]

Watching Caleb ! ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊

wc: 1.3k

a/n: this was another request!! yk who you are anon <3 hope this was okay!

content: voyeuristic reader, exhibitionist caleb, solo masturbation, slight dirty talk, praise kink (caleb), you guys match each other's freaks

––

You feel it the moment you shift closer. He's hard. Really hard. Right against your thigh. You freeze, your heart leaping in your throat as you pull away.

"Caleb, I'm sorry—"

"Hey, hey." His hand darts out to wrap around your waist to keep you from going too far, his voice strained. "Don't worry about it. I can... handle it later."

Guilt prickles your skin.

"I know," you start, the words muffled as Caleb kisses you again. "I wish I weren't so nervous.. I mean, I want to do things with you but I—I just—"

You're ranting now. You can feel him smiling against your lips, like your rushed words are somehow endearing.

But it's all true. For the past few months, all you guys have done is hold hands, kiss, cuddle a little, maybe even tease the idea of doing more, but never actually following through.

And Caleb never pushed you. Never. If anything, he was always the one who pulled back when he felt you tensing.

"Pips, I promise it's fine."

Then he's kissing you again, slow, like maybe his lips will convince you.

But you shift again, and you feel him again; he must be painfully hard. And you know Caleb. He'll endure this for hours if it means your comfort.

"Does it hurt..?"

Caleb lets out a breathless laugh against your lips. "No. I'll be fine," he repeats.

You swallow hard, your heart racing. "Maybe it wouldn't be so scary if... if I got to watch first."

Caleb blinks, gently pulling back to look at you. "Watch?"

You nod, biting your lip. "Only if you wanted to."

His breath hitches. Then slowly, he starts again, "You.. want to watch me—" He pauses, clearing his throat like saying it out loud in front of you is more embarrassing than actually doing it. "Jerk off?"

Your cheeks flush a dark red, nodding again. But when he's silent, you quickly blurt out, "But you don't have to—! I'm sorry. That was weird—"

Caleb shakes his head. "No, no. I just... wasn't expecting that is all." He hesitates for half a breath, searching your eyes—then he slips his underneath the waistband of his sweats and starts tugging them down.

"I can show you if that's what you really want."

He's shaking, his breath a little uneven. Whether it's from need or nerves, you can't tell. Maybe it's both.

"I do."

"Are you sure?"

You nod, pulling back to watch him.

At that, he tugs his sweats the way of the rest down and starts palming himself through his boxer. He's slow. Teasing. Not deliberately, he just can't help it. He's been like this for hours. He wants to make sure he wrings out every drop of his release.

He lets out a small breath when he thumbs the underside of his cock.

Your breath quickens, heat pooling in your stomach as you watch him.

There's a damp patch on his boxers when he finally tugs them down to free his aching cock. He's been leaking the minute he started kissing you. But again, your comfort always came before anything else.

Carefully—almost like he’s afraid you’ll change your mind—he wraps his hand around himself.

He meets your gaze, his dick twitching at the way you just... stare. You look at him as if he's something sacred and pure. Not as what he is—filthy and so desperate for you it hurts.

"You..hahh.. you're really gonna watch me?"

Your eyes dart up to his face. "Yes.. I really.. wanna see how you do it."

Caleb groans, his grip on his cock tightening. "Yeah, okay."

He strokes himself faster. Just slightly. Enough to feel a familiar heat creep up his spine. "Oh, fff—" He bites his lip, eyeing his glistening cock. "I'm.. I'm so sensitive right now."

You blink, then quietly ask, "Is it because of me?"

Caleb grunts, his jaw tight with the effort of holding back. "Yeah. Because of you."

This type of stuff has always scared you. The male body part always has. But you find an odd sense of comfort in Caleb.

He just looks so good—every part of him.

"T-talk to me.. Fuck.. Please?"

Your mouth suddenly feels dry.

"I don't—I don't know what to say. You just..." You squeeze your thighs together, heat rushing between your legs when he looks at you like that. So expectantly. So devoted.

"You look so good like this." Your eyes dart down to his weeping head and you lick your lips. "So pretty."

Caleb groans, pre cum leaking out and coating his fingers. "Y-yeah? You think I'm pretty?"

You nod.

"Say it. One more time."

You feel a lump in your throat as you slowly breathe out, "You're so pretty."

Another strangled sound slips past his lips as he rocks his hips into his touch.

It's unfair, how he can look so good doing such filthy things. His eyelashes flutter against his cheeks every time he can't handle looking at you, sweat clings to his brow, and his stomach curves inward whenever he strokes himself just right.

"What are you thinking right now?"

Caleb lets out a breathless chuckle, the sound caught between a moan and a groan. "Nng'no. No, I can't tell you that, Pips."

Oh, God.

“Please tell me,” you whisper, your voice smaller but firmer.

Caleb groans, jaw clenching. “Pips… fuck… I shouldn’t.”

“I want to know,” you breathe, leaning closer, your pulse hammering.

His hand stutters around his cock; he can’t stop.

“I’m thinking about…" his eyes flick over yours like he's debating whether he's really about to say it. Then— "I'm thinking about how pretty you’d look on your knees for me. Mouth open… fuck… begging to taste.”

His voice breaks, shame and desire blending together. “God, it’s so fucked— I shouldn’t—”

But your thighs clench, heat pulsing so hot it hurts. "No. Please tell me more."

His hand stutters over his cock, lips parting on a broken pant. "I—I might come too fast." Even as he says it, he doesn't slow down. He keeps working himself over at the same pace like he can't help it.

Because he can't. Not when you're staring at him like that and leaning closer like you need to memorize every debauched second of this.

"I want to know what else you're thinking."

"Pipsqueak..."

"Please."

Caleb gives in with a groan. "I'm thinking about.. how I wouldn't last a second in you," he admits, his hips jerking into his hand. "One thrust and I'd—hah... fuck—I'm gonna—"

He tips his head back, eyes fluttering shut. He can't even warn you before he's cumming.

He gasps, his muscles growing taut as he gently works himself through his orgasm.

He's a mess. His chest is heaving, his breaths are leaving him in broken little pants, and his shirt is stained in his cum.

Caleb breathes hard, looking at you through hazy eyes.

"Holy crap.. I didn't—I didn't expect that to feel so good."

You can only stare. He's still so beautiful. Even after he's been wrecked.

You don't know what possesses you to do this next. But wordlessly, you grab his hand, bring it up to your lips, and lick off his arousal.

Caleb shudders, his dick giving a valiant twitch as your tongue swipes across his fingers.

"Sh—shit. Pips, wait, it's probably salty."

When you pull back, Caleb's brows are furrowed with concern. But you just lick your lips and give him a sheepish smile.

"It tastes good."

Another twitch.

Caleb groans. "Don't say stuff like that. You're gonna make me hard again."

A quiet laugh bubbles out your chest. "Maybe I can watch again..?"

Caleb huffs, bringing his (not cum slick) hand around the nape of your neck and pulling you into a soft kiss. "Fine. But give me a minute, yeah?"

You nod, smiling against his lips. "Or maybe I can actually try..?"

"No, no, you don't have to do anything you don't want to, Pipsqueak."

"I want to."

"..Really?"

"Mhm.."

Caleb huffs, squeezing his eyes shut. "Okay, give me a second then."

You giggle, kissing him back.

––

WORKING AS FAST AS I CANN‼️

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[little-miss-dilf-lover]

bucky barnes + prone boning. 18+ fem!reader, mdni. 420 words. 'old man' mention bc im me and I can't not include it watched thunderbolts yesterday, im still feeling lots so get a load of this

⎯ ☆ ⎯

the position he’s got you in is comfortable, quite lazy really: laid flat on your stomach, the side of your face resting on tightly crossed arms. the scrunched pillow sitting under your stomach acting as a prop of elevation for bucky, your slightly raised hips aiding the opening of you.

he cages over your back, arms bent beside yours, lips ghosting the shell of your ear from the closeness. his slow and laboured rhythmic breathing matches the pace of his leisure fucking — the focus of each thrust on depth and feel, rather than speed. every full wind of his hips produces the faintest of exhales from you both, your blissed sounds merging and muffling into the darkness of the room.

every time he rolls into you, you each move in fluid motion against the mattress, like you’re both synchronised waves. you bend your knees, ankles crossing and lifting as they hover above the cheeks of his ass.  another point of elevation tightening your pussy’s hold on bucky. 

he lustfully groans at the new feel, muttering indecipherably into the lobe of your ear. “can’t last,” he adds between a couple pumps, pressing a needy litter of kisses to where he just spoke — stubble grazing across the sensitive spots along the base of your neck.

his pace quickens ever so slightly, barely noticeable really. but it becomes apparent that he’s chasing the edge. his chest begins to brush briskly up and down the blades of your shoulders, skin skimming yours with the increased speed. 

“you gon’ come with your old man, sweetheart?” he asks, the question practically rhetorical — no need for vocal response. voice low and tone thick as he whispers directly into your ear. “hm?” he nips at the lobe, holding it carefully between his teeth.

you nod, the motion rather haste. a measly whine accompanies the action and your eyes flutter closed. with his metal hand planted just in your view —his fingers only a short couple inches away— you reach for him. and when he spots your touch, he’s lifting a palm to place atop the back of your hand. vibranium fingers lacing into yours, lips hovering the patch of skin under your ear.

you clench around him intermittently, your breath hitching and growing all the more strained with every rock of his cock. 

“you’re right there, aren’t you?” he muffles into your hair, his forehead resting on the side of your head — strength seeming to be lost in his neck. “I can feel it.”

“yeah.”

“then let go.”

⎯ ☆ ⎯

[hughesmybaby]

Can you write something about Jacaerys velaryon x targaryen wife reader

Where she gives birth to a baby that looks like jace and it bothered alicent but they don't care? :3

Saving Face (Jacaerys Velaryon x Targtower!Reader)

(a/n): i’m sorry this request took over a year but my, what a great idea! i hope you like it

word count: 3.0k

summary: with what was supposed to be a happy moment in the new chapter of your family with jacaerys, only wounds linger when your mother is unhappy with your child's appearance.

warnings: slight angst, family tensions, complicated family relationships, implied incest (the targaryen way), not alicent hightower friendly

request status: OPEN

The joy of his newborn child is nearly eclipsed by the fear that his beloved would be called to face the same humiliation his mother endured upon his birth.

Even in distress, his beautiful wife still looked otherworldly silver hair spun in gold, and with her pale lavender eyes, he would not have that ginger sucker of joy to rob him from this life changing celebration. His relief that his beloved survived the precarious birth, worried about her lithe frame and the prostration it weighed on her during the pregnancy.

His little boy, his beloved son, a fragment of the other half of soul and his own. He is perfect, with his ten little toes and fingers, and he is all his.

Jacaerys is thankful his mother was in the birthing room with him and his wife, breaking protocol (as always) to be with the mother as she went into labour. Without her, he thinks he would’ve been hysterical and lost his mind without her guiding hand and comforting presence in seeing Y/N in distress.

“Where is my mother?” Y/N cradles the babe to her breast, as he suckled in his mother’s warmth and he feels his heart drop to his stomach as her face contorted in disappointment.

The child yearned for nourishment, and the midwives guided the young mother so she could feed the child with her milk.

The Dowager Queen remained unyielding even as her step-daughter arose as Queen, and she was still given some privileges even with her dispute with his mother. The marriage of Jacaerys and Y/N, her youngest daughter, was made as a desperate attempt to patch the two sides together and make peace as his mother sat on the Iron Throne.

Her mother attended the wedding, wearing a dark muted forest green that still appeared obsidian in certain angles, but the flame patterns could not be missed on her gown.

A mockery indeed as if she did not accept his mother’s ascendance to the throne and wanted her small rebellions in forms of cloth, he would not grant her the satisfaction of his reaction, for the sake of the realm and his wife, her daughter. It would be too scandalous to do so.

When his beloved was called abed, all pretense of dignity and calm collapsed underneath him. Whatever confident front he had broke apart as fear consumed him, sweat dripping from his forehead, hands shaking, heart beating wildly as he realized his wife was to cross the barrier between life and death to birth their child.

Seeing Y/N’s clean white robes stained the bed in scarlet as she quickens and the pain increases as the babe nears reminds him of the chills whenever he walks the path from the princess’ chambers to the queen’s, the same path forged in blood when his mother then Princess Rhaenyra, the crown princess and heir to the Throne, had to face the humiliation called upon by her stepmother, now Queen Dowager Alicent.

His blood boils when he sees the auburn former queen walk that path meekly nowadays on her way to see her daughter, as if it was all an act when she had pulled rank and caused so much suffering to his beloved mother. Jacaerys fears his wife, now the Princess of Dragonstone will have to walk those same halls, perform the same walk of shame and mummery with all the courtiers of the Keep to bear witness.

There is no possibility he will allow her to endure the same, he would bring fire and blood to all of Westeros shall she have to face that, yet it brings him relief when he reminds himself that woman is no longer Queen but his mother is, Queen of her own right and first of her name, and yet all the same, that woman is also his mother-in-law, mother to his darling. And grandmother to the child that shares his blood.

Jacaerys never left the side of his wife even when her birth continued onto the hour of the wolf, his hands intertwined with her own, assuring kisses on her temple and cheek and encouraging her when she would cry she wanted to relent. Across from him stood his mother, whose locks resembled her half sister and his wife, an experienced mother who has felt such joy and such sorrow too, with a maternal comfort gained with experience.

He would not allow a woman filled with hate to the brim in her heart to rob him of the joys of fatherhood and the relief of his wife safe and sound after such birth to their babe. Jace felt relief like no other when he began to see the dark haired head of the child crowning, and the guttural, final scream she exerted as the child exited her womb.

Jacaerys comforted and whispered assurances of gratitude and encouragement to his lady wife, that she be reminded how grateful he was of her efforts to grow their family, of her devotion and love for him, and fulfilling her duty with nothing but grace, peppering kisses all over her flushed face.

As he caressed the fine hair of his child much like own while he fed from his mother’s breast, his elated expression dropped as if in a chilling reminder when she asked for her mother. As despicable as that woman was, he could not deny her wishes if it brought her reprieve. Jace smiled and promised her that she would be coming and has been informed of the birth of her new grandchild.

When Y/N was beyond earshot, he approached the young midwife with a hardened gait, grinding through his teeth. “If the Dowager Queen wishes to see the prince, she will make her way here herself. She can walk, can she not?!"

While his wife was preoccupied and in isolation during the last few months of the pregnancy, Jace had made efforts to convince his mother to move the Lady Alicent to the second floor below the palace where the current royal family lived. “To remind her of what she’s done to us and may feel the pain we have endured.” He told Queen Rhaenyra, who was hesitant but accepted afterwards.

Jacaerys marched his way outside the ornate doors where his wife and their babe rested, raising his chin and standing with his chest puffed out, a cold indifferent expression, back straightened and fists clenched white as his wife’s mother made her way up the stairs with difficulty.

In the years since her queenship, the then young queen had begun to develop striking pain all over her body, especially down her spine and legs no matter what the maesters or foreign healers would advise. Jacaerys thought it was fitting for when he would make his mother walk up with him and his newborn siblings, bleeding across the hallways and staircases due to the green queen’s attempt to humiliate them.

Perhaps he is his mother’s son, as diplomatic, gracious, intelligent and cunning as he may be, grudges linger.

He could hear a pin drop as the auburn haired woman nearly stumbled down the final stairs and tripped over her gown, with a few septas rushing over to assist her but he showed no commiseration.

The doors swung open as Alicent limped towards her daughter’s bedside, slightly softening in consolation her daughter was safe in childbirth and the child was kicking like a goat.

“Praise the Mother, my girl.” She brushed her blood-smeared fingers over her silver hair shakily, whispering. He did not miss the glimpse of disappointment when she noticed the dark brown hair of the child, even when the boy had her pale lavender eyes.

Alicent cleared her throat, avoiding the gaze of those around her. “I see that the prince strongly resembles his father.”

Jacaerys’ eyes narrowed in suspicion, instinctively reaching towards the pommel of his Valyrian steel sword. “Is that supposed to be a problem, Dowager?” He stomped forward, hovering above his wife and child.

“Not at all, my prince. He is a handsome boy-”

Queen Rhaenyra noticed the tension beginning to develop and interrupted with a smile. “She means no ill, Jacaerys. Merely an observation.”

“An observation?! She wished to have us named as bastards to replace you as heir with one of her spawns and humiliate you.” He raised his voice, accusatory at his mother’s former adversary, and he could feel Lucerys next to him, pulling him away to calm him.

His wife Y/N, exhausted and delirious from the birth, began to grow pale and overwhelmed from the commotion around her, just as her babe broke out in tears and wailed. The Queen ordered everyone but Jacaerys to exit the room and give the family their space. The door shut with a thunderous thud.

…

Hours later, the midwives finished cleaning up the afterbirth, bathed and cleaned the lady and the child before they both fell asleep in new linen sheets and fed.

Jacaerys never left his young family’s side, despondent he had lost his cool, distressing his family during a vulnerable moment, turning what should have been a celebration into an altercation.

He cringed as he could only imagine what the murmurs and whispers about his behaviour and the events that followed with his wife’s mother would share about him. He had brought this upon himself and his family.

AS Y/N began waking from her first rest since the labours, he turned to her as soon as he could hear her rise from her sheets, reaching for her hands in his.

“I have failed you, wife. I should have protected you but I have only raised in anger over old wounds and created altercations when I should have.” Jacaerys felt his tears brim, cheeks red with ignominy and shame.

Her eyes fluttered awake, still weary from the long delivery but visibly more rested already. She shook her head in understanding with an enervated sigh.

“I understand your relationship with my mother has been tense, for what she had done to Her Grace and your family. But I can assure her she has changed, if she is not with me, she is on the knees at the Sept begging for forgiveness and giving alms-”

“She looked at our son the same way she used to look at me and my brothers as children, when she would use her tongue to call us bastards! I fear she will do the same to you and the boy. What good will alms do if she still wishes to see me and our son six feet under ground for the colour of our hair!?” Jacaerys exclaimed, lips quivering in fear as he felt tears brim in his eyes.

Y/N brought their son closer to her arms, only comforted by the sight of her child and her beloved.

“I will handle her, trust me. She thinks I do not pay attention to these things, but I do.” She reaches her free hand to his, unmoving to not wake the babe and squeezes his larger palms into her own.

Jacaerys sniffles, wiping his tears with his sleeve. “I do not wish to drive you apart from your mother, my love. I only worry about you and our family’s safety, and the throne. That you and our son may not suffer on my behalf.”

Their son had just begun to fall asleep in her arms, and she began bouncing him instinctively, quickly gaining the ropes of what it took to be a good mother. Jacaerys knew she would be nothing like her own mother, eagerly learning from his mother Queen Rhaenyra, speaking with other royal and noble mothers and even listening to wet nurses and nannies on how to rear children best.

“Are you sure you can handle this conversation? Would you like me outside or in the room with you?” He asks with uncertainty, not entirely confident with his wife even with her own mother.

The wife of the heir to the Iron Throne and Princess of Dragonstone nods fiercely. “You forget I am a dragon too. We do not bow to these snakes that suck from their prey.”

…

In the overmorrow on the first day of spring, Y/N had just put her son in his cradle, handcrafted in limestone and marble with seahorses and dragons, lined with sheets of silk with pearls and aquamarines, befitting the future King, and the scion of Houses Targaryen and Velaryon.

She hummed as she watched him sleep, having gone through feeding him herself to the surprise of the wet nurses she had followed through, unlike most royalty. She swore she would leave nursing and care to others if she had no other choice.

Underneath sat the hearth of the magenta and mauve swirled dragon egg surrounded by pieces of coal, emitting whirls of smoke that signified the life alive in those eggs. The egg was special as it was the first from her young ride, a nervous flighty thing who only managed to hatch when she found out she was expecting herself, rarely only having one dragon when most on Dragonstone laid many.

As she hums old Valyrian nursery hymns from the crypts of ancient Valyrian text retrieved from the tombs of the Keep’s libraries, she recognizes the steps of her mother without a glimpse.

In her jade hued robes, Lady Alicent was quaint yet undaunted to remind the court of her former standing as once the queen who ruled these halls. A black veil hid part of her auburn hair that turned to flames in certain lighting.

Her mother grimaces with a smile that does not reach her eyes, but relief is painted all over her being. “You are well, daughter? I presume so is the babe.”

Y/N curtly interrupts her. “The babe is your grandson, my child when I am your flesh and blood, mother. Most importantly, he is the future heir to the throne, second in line to my husband.”

Alicent frantically fidgets with her fingers, tugging at her old emerald rings in consternation.

“Of course, yes. His name, Aemon, is fitting for a future monarch.” She could hear the strain in her mother’s words, laced with lies. All her life she had learned those sealed with malice and deceit.

“You forget yourself, mother. My husband and my children are of the blood of the dragon, as do I. You do not understand the ways of the dragon, in your jealousy of wanting to unseat my sister and put Aegon on the throne. Your attempts to disgrace and dispossess my future husband and his brothers has brought the Stranger hanging over mine and my own son’s head!” Y/N chides in betrayal, voice tinged with disbelief her mother would do such a thing.

“Y/N-”

“I could not believe you, mother, that you still harbour such ill will after many years. My marriage with Jacaerys should have buried whatever disagreements you may have had with Queen Rhaenyra, but you value imbuing hate and division on this house more than choosing the peace and stability of this kingdom!”

“Your husband and your son are unbecoming of what Targaryen princes are supposed to look like-” The Dowager attempted to reason, but was impeded as her daughter held an imposing hand towards her.

“Unbecoming? Have you not glimpsed into a mirror? You are nothing of what a Targaryen queen should be, a mere second son’s daughter who brought nothing of value to the throne, and only sought discord to advance her family. Who replaced the Targaryen tapestries with ones of the Seven in hopes of bringing your radicalism to the rest of the kingdom!”

Guards barge in the doors of the babe’s nursery, their armour and swords clattering loudly in the quiet hall.

“What is the meaning of this?”

Y/N coldly turns away from her mother, even as she frowned the same way she would. “By order of the Princess of Dragonstone with the seal of approval of the Prince of Dragonstone and the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms,

I order your arrest for treason, and insubordination not only for your past grievances but your efforts to call my son a bastard. You will be stripped of your privileges of Queen Dowager, and turned into a septa who will serve the Seven for all her days.”

The former queen is astonished, struggling among the grips of the soldiers who surround her. “Daughter, you are mistaken, please do not do this to me. For all I have sacrificed for this realm and for your father, you must understand why I am the way I am.” She pleaded on her knees, hands clasped as she cried for mercy.

“No, you have served your ambitions and my late grandsire’s treacherous longing for power and the throne, that you would put the Hightower banners and replace Targaryen customs with the Seven and southern ways, that you would tear the kingdom apart for it. I have given you too many chances, forgiving you and turning the cheek in hopes you have accepted it and at least been happy for me, but I am a fool. I am not as forgiving as my father was to your digressions!”

Y/N paced slowly around her mother, sorrow on her face, but no regret or forgiveness.

“You are lucky I will not be putting you in a cell, because for better or for worse, you are still the mother who birthed me. But you would understand, there is nothing a mother would do to grant protection to her children.”

The princess dazed into the window, grasping onto the rails as she heard her mother being dragged out the halls and stripped of her royal ordinances. She could feel herself biting into her nails nervously after years of no longer doing so.

Jacaerys sauntered carefully, approaching his wife with comfort, rubbing her shoulders and bringing her into his arms, looking down at their son as he slept.

“Was I not too cruel, Jace?” She whimpered, weeping into his arms as she was devastated at whether treating her own kin in such a way was a fatal mistake.

He rests his chin on the top of her head before pressing kisses on her temple. “I understand why this troubles you, wife. As abominable and misguided she was, you still are her blood, her daughter.”

She glimpsed at her son, cooing at him as he quietly sleeps. “As a mother, I want to be nothing like her. My son will never be safe while she is around.”

[euno11a]

oof-

Now you’ve touched yourself, it’s kinda hard not to when you have an insatiably hot boyfriend. The relationship isn’t extremely new, maybe a few months in, but not new new. You both have had phone sex, needing that sudden release when he was out on deployment. But every time you touch yourself, you do it only to the point when you begin orgasming. Key word: begin.

the mutual masturbation has been common for you two since the beginning really, letting yourselves reach that amazing peak. So the first time you two got a little tipsy and felt that need growing a wet patch on your panties, Simon knew what to do.

he fingered you, stretching out your wet and gummy walls for him, making sure that you would be able to fit him in your tight cunt. His low, guttural groans did nothing good for you, making your clit throb and hole clench around his fingers.

“Fuck, look a’ you. Takin’ my fingers so fuckin well.”

he groaned into your neck, his hand picking up the pace. The wet sounds from your slick filled the room, making your hands link around his neck and pull yourself closer to him. The tight feeling you get before cumming getting closer and closer.

“Si- Simon! Almost…almost the- ah!” You squealed into his neck, thighs tightening around his hips that held your legs open for him. His fingers quickened again, rubbing that slightly rigid spot inside you that made you mewl loudly.

When your orgasm hit, you expected him to stop, just like you always did. But when he didn’t, you arched your back and reached down to grip his wrist. “Simon! N-no, too much!” You screamed after you felt another surge of pleasure, making him finally stop.

you felt him pull away slightly, looking down at his lower abdomen that was glistening with liquid. He looked back at you with a dark look in his eyes. “Didn’t take ya for a squirter, love.”

the heat rose to your cheeks, voice coming out slightly hoarse. “I haven’t…haven’t squirted before…”

a devious smirk made its way to his face before he leaned down.

“Lets see if I can do it again.”

[lhseungs]

* ˚ ✰    — ‘ KISS IT BETTER ’  p.sunghoon

. . . WARNING / TAGS: smut 18+, minors dni, masturbating, fingering, sunghoon just watching you masturbate, virginity losing (implied), praise

. . . SYNOPSIS: your boyfriend sunghoon walks in on you moaning his name while fucking yourself. wc - 775

. . . A/N: another literal copy and paste from my og blog oops. new works coming soon though so stay tuned!

two years. you and park sunghoon have been together for two years and still haven’t fucked, but you blame it on yourself. you’re always so hesitant when it comes to this, never going further than a makeout session with your boyfriend. you love him, you do, but your nerves took over every time you sat on his lap, tongue in his mouth and the boner so evident in his pants. you always felt bad cutting it short, sensing the disappointment in hoons eyes even though he’d tell you, “whenever you’re ready!”

the burr of the pink vibrator on your clit and your quiet moans were the only sound in your bedroom. a wet patch formed on your panties as you pressed the vibrator harder against you, growing bigger the longer time passed. you needed to release some pent-up stress that piled up throughout the day and what better way to do it than masturbating? all your plans were canceled for this moment, this moment of peace.

sunghoon crossed your mind. your sweet and wonderful boyfriend with his long and thick fingers, his long, messy black hair that you just wanna pull, his sweet and soft lips. unconsciously your fingers slid into your panties, vibrator getting momentarily cast aside. you inserted two fingers into your cunt and started thrusting, imagining it was his. sunghoon’s name fell from your lips, your back arching as you quickened your pace.

so enveloped in your pleasure, you didn’t hear keys rattling outside your front door. you didn’t hear your boyfriend call your name as he slammed the front door shut, and you definitely didn’t hear him drop bags in your kitchen as he headed to your bedroom door. no, all you heard was your moans echoing the room as you came, sunghoon’s name slipping through as well.

before being able to recover, your bedroom door opened revealing your tall boyfriend, white t-shirt too big on him revealing his collarbones, and black jeans growing too tight as a result of his hardening cock. “is my precious girl putting on a private show?” he asked, lips curling. “just for me?”

you didn’t even have a response for him, too embarrassed to even form words. you realized the vibrator was still on when all you were able to do was whimper in front of him. “turn that shit off,” sunghoon scoffed, walking closer to your bed to yank it off of your clit himself. “why use toys when i’m right here.”

“hoon-“ you muttered, not moving an inch as you watched your boyfriend take the vibrator and throw it to the side. he grabbed your ankles and pulled you closer to the edge of the bed.

his large hands rubbed up and down your thighs as he took in your beauty. “do you need a little help, sweetheart?” your eyes widened, but you nodded nonetheless. he instantly brought his hand to your soaking panties and moved the fabric away from your dripping cunt. “‘m gonna make you feel so, so good.”

sunghoon started with one finger, slowly inserting it into your pussy and thrusting it at a brutally slow pace. you were too stunned to even tell him to go faster. the fantasies that you were having just minutes earlier were coming to life, and god his fingers were better than you imagined. sunghoon inserted another finger and increased his pace.

your hands gripped the bedsheets, back arching as his fingers hit just the right spot. his long fingers reached places your own could barely skim, sending you to heaven. he moved up and faced you. “such a beauty for me,” he said, “and you’re all mine.” he crashed his lips into yours, sucking on your tongue as he continued to finger you. mouth still on yours, he thrust his fingers faster and harder and you couldn’t stop yourself from moaning against his lips. you grabbed his hair, pulling it as sunghoon’s fingers curled in your pussy, making the knot in your abdomen tighten. you yanked him away

from your lips, moans fully echoing the room.

“fuck, fuck. sunghoon, FUCK!” you screamed his name, vision turning white. without being able to even tell him, you came, legs shaking as you creamed around your boyfriend’s thick fingers.

he pulled away from you completely and licked his fingers one by one, sucking your juices off his digits with a smirk on his lips. sunghoon locked eyes with you, still catching your breath from your orgasm.

“now, tell me,” he asked, pulling his pants down in the process. his cock sprang free from it’s restraints and your mouth watered at the sight. “wanna have a little more fun?”

. . . TAGLIST: @sailoryuns @gukkiebug @skibidihan @tobiosbbyghorl @wontechno

[redcherrykook]

──── ๋࣭ ⭑ one time for the present ! ( a & s )

‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿

↳ part of 𝓦𝓗𝓘𝓢𝓚𝓔𝓨 ꩜ .ᐟ

❝ [ husband!Jungkoook universe] ¡! ❞

✎ summary: angry sex with your possessive husband. spanking, lil degradation (slut, cockslut, whore) , possessive!Jungkook, dacryphilia, marking, rough sex, THIS IS TOXIC YES OK. hand restraints with belt, aftercare

note from cherry: #needthat again ughhhh. i managed to write again, i hate not being able to live out my passion, burnout is real

‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿

Jealousy is an ugly emotion.

It seeps through the cracks of your secure attachment, stains it the rotten red color of anger- makes your blood run cold, your warm fingers itch for destruction. Become weapons that scratch upon the surface of your moisturized skin, open a space for your veins to release their contents.

But jealousy does not last forever.

Catching the reflection of your golden wedding ring- the bond you swore to take to your grave on the happiest day you have ever- will ever have, just its small glimmer, proceeded by the streaks of leaving gentle kisses of reassurance on it, that is sufficient to wash away the sin. Regain control of your mind- exhale, if you will.

Sometimes you wish jungkook would be jealous,

"You´re not moving until i say so" you yelp quietly at his growl, knowing the bruises on your knees are here to say once they push into the hardwood below, your chest presses straight into the side of the bed. Morals fade into the same hues of purple that surface your skin in agonizing slowness. Ruthlessly, your husband hikes up your black mini skirt, exposing the back of your thighs to his narrowed gaze,

"Fucking slut, you´re pussy´s drippin´ love pissing me off? Gets you nice and wet for cock?" he presses four of his finger flat against your cunt, roughly sliding them against the soaked cotton.

While it may seem like he is, the thing that surges his anger, makes him tick like a flicker held up to gasoline- that, it reached far too deep to be jealousy. Grabbed his heart in a caged hold no one has seen the key of, digging its daggers into every blood vessel, seeking control.

You belong to jungkook. The seams that neatly attach your every fiber to his soul, they´re tight. Unbreakable, nonetheless, he could feel them burst whenever someone else- someone without his approval, took it to themselves to linger a hand on you, friendly or not, it wasn´t theirs to touch. No one should know what your skin feels like under their fingertips, how the smooth feel compliments the gentle vanilla scent radiating from it.

"aah- please i´m sorry baby" you whine, biting an imprint of your teeth into your swollen lower lip as he spanks your sensitive skin, hooks his fingers into the lace to reveal your seashell to him, before spanking the glistening delicate vulnerability between your thighs again, twice more. The slap vibrates on your clit, thrums you with joys of poisonous excitement, the same vile wrongness that strains jungkook´s cock against his black jeans, makes his pulse quicken.

"You´re gonna be sorry baby, this body´s mine, pussy´s all mine" he gropes at you reddened cheeks with his calloused palms. Stretches and kneads the flesh as if to ground himself in your body, cement himself into every exposed patch of you- you hear him scoff, the droplet of slick tumbling between your thighs must´ve caught his attention. Jungkook´s grunts, the rough sound of leather being messed with fills up your ears- he´s taking his belt off.

"Gonna make sure you can do nothing but take how i´m gonna fuck every last drop into you, make you remember who the fuck you belong to, understand?" his words slip through gritted teeth, you become so small under his dominating presence, nod meekly at his request because the idea is simply so arousing that the attempt of talking back dies down in your throat- squeezed tightly by the utter obedience you need to give him.

Your husband tugs both your arms behind your back, holding your smaller wrists into his hand, the tension in your shoulders makes you whimper quietly "Words, need to know you´re still with me" he says, momentairly sobering up from his drunken focus, "understand" you say in that weak, submissive voice of yours - and it´s all he needs to slip back in.

Your femininely manicured hands fling into the tight enclosure of his black leather belt, wrapped tightly around the skin, far, far beyond the last punched hole. He knotted it twice, making sure it sits without a chance to budge. Twisted pleasure of your masochistic tendencies and the guilt of his actions mix with the way you seem to moan at the sensation of the smooth material restarining you. He pulls once, testing to see your shoulder blades flex, how the curve of your back gets dragged into him erotically while your hardened nipples rub against the bed.

A sight for him, him only, he thinks to himself. Truth- nasty, unrelenting truth be told, the absolute power he felt over your- his wifes- vulnerable, bruised body, knowing it was laid out in his palm to make you shiver, make you cum over and over again, sprinkle your dew of love to your promised lover- it was what he needed. Physically, mentally, Jungkook craved to possess you. Set reminders over and over again that it was soley him, the sound of his growly honey voice, the shape of his heavy cock, moulding your walls to take every thick inch- him, that could make you feel like this.

"Jungkook, s´too tight" you mumble, snapping him out of his thoughts. He reciprocates with a cocky laugh, rubbing his digits along your exposed cunt, zeroing to your wet panties clinging around your unstable knees, "Too bad, you´re little slut though, I´m sure you can take it can´t you?" he awaits your answer, pumping his stiff and leaking cock right behind your dripping entrance, the lewd noise makes you whimper, wishing you could see how good he looks with his length in his hand. "Can take it for you, only you"

Just as the last syllable leaves your mouth, he shoves his entire girth into you, wastes no time by pulling you back into him by the belt, forces you to meet the loud slaps of his pelvis connecting to you. Your husband isn´t oblivious to your manipulative undertone, giving in to what he desired to hear- you´re his. He had to show it to you again, plunge it into your system with the present of an overwhelming orgasm but- what use would it be if you knew you belonged to him? He knew, cat and mouse- you test his limits to run away, have him chase you, find punishment in the corners of mind that he´d rather lock away- keep hidden to contain the urges to a minimum. He knew you push him: just to get pushed back twice as hard.

His thrust start deep, harshly burying himself into your tightness- the warmth engulfs his senses recklessly. His narrowed eyes roll back in an instant- the pornographically beautiful sight of your arch, plump red flesh of your ass meeting his hips is alluring as much as it infuriates him- he wishes to drink in every glimpse of your body- watch his soaked cock disappear into your stretched hole- but his eyes are occupied with your spine- your bound wrists scraping the leather, your waist- he´s obsessed with the every fraction of your revealed body- with you. It belongs to him, he chants in his head- mine,mine,mine.

"Feels so good- you´re so big kook- so good to me" you stumble out, sinfully engaging in his controlling ego that longs for your praise- "Yeah? Am fucking my tight- shiit- tiny pussy so well"

It evoked something raw in him earlier that night- when your coworker Jaehyun rested a friendly arm on your lower back as you passed a group of people, your eyes instantly found your husbands. He send you a knowing glare- the line has been crossed, there was no need for a yellow card, a warning anymore. Deciding if it already came this far- you should push his buttons further. Dive deeper into the punishment you´d have to face under the tangle of your marridal sheets. The dice has been rolled. Turn to Jaehyun, smile- thank him. Almost innocently, but Jungkook knew better. Turn back to meet your husbands gaze again, find him clenching his jaw, just what you wanted. Just what had led you here- back hurting, covered in sweat that represents his utter force, driven by the very thing he tries to lock away- tries to stop from coloring his heart deep red.

"Oh fuck kook- s´too deep" you cry out desperately, a tingling burn spreads over your exhausted shoulders, dripping down the pebbled buds that furiously rub against the bed, travels down your ribs, reaches the throb of your untouched clit. Jungkook´s cock dips into you, bottoming his fat tip out before pushing all the way back in- meeting your spongey g-spot with vigour, pushes and pushes- your throat burns with the restless moans that pool out alongside your spit, decorating the corner of your mouth.

"You´re such a whore, look at you whining over your husbands cock- fuck baby, let another man touch you- he could never make you feel like this- ´could never fill your cunt like I can" The current of his anger releases into you as he leans his torso forward- connects the hard lines of his abdomen to your breakable bound arms, it crashes over you like a wave so all consuming you can´t help but want to drown in it- lose your breath to the sting of his teeth digging into your shoulder, "belong to me, tell me, you´re mine. fucking mine every inch" he commands, groans loudly as he sucks another array of purple hues into your body, his wedding ring adorned hand clasps around your strained throat, tilting your parted mouth up to be able to listen to the words sloppily roll off your tongue- "You- belong to you Jungkook- haa-ah, fuckin´ yours baby" The hint of desperation in your helpless devotion makes him bite down into your soft skin once more- he reverts back to his original position, pumps himself into your abused cunt, hands flinging to your hips, delivers another harsh slap to your cheek- ounces of his frustration flow to his head, overtake his ability to remain in control of how he fucks you, feeds every drop of his feelings for you to swallow "thaat´s right, my fuckin´ cockslut, mine- he could never fuck you like this- shiit look at those bruises baby"

Although your vision doesn´t reach the depths of your marked skin, it is impossible to dismiss the burn, the shake of your thighs giving out underneath you- the sting of his overflowing love rooted into your shoulder with his finalization of a bite imprint- you´re bounded- behind your back by your hands, by his suffocating personality that you willingly indulge in because there is no reassurance much like the awareness of being owned- held captive by a beautifully fucked up, deep red heart, one that compliments your longing to be kept treaure forever.

"Hold it f´m you hear me? you´re not coming yet" you drop your head against the bed, unable to hold up the tension any longer but it still runs down your spine- not for long, Jungkook´s hand grasps a fistful of your messy hair into his hand, yanks you back to curve into him deeper- "shiiit baby, yeah- you´re so fuckin´ good for your husband" he growls, spiraling at the softest sniffles that he barely manages to notice between loud whines of his name- but he does, somehow increases the pace of his hips pistoning into you from behind, slaps his tight balls against your swollen clit- more, deeper- he throbs and throbs, feels your walls sucking him in so fucking well because you´re clinging at the scraps of being good for him- "Jungkook fuck- please, please" you beg and the slight crack in your tearful sweetness makes him snap, he´s weak at the bottom of his knees- realizing that you have him wrapped around your finger, dignity tied to your tears, your voice, your body and fuck; every plea. "Come with me baby, so good, my fuckin´ wife, my good little slut"

There´s not much that fades into your now purified wishes, compareable to your vision spotting at the intensity of your own tantalizing orgasm, synced with your husband pulsating length that paints your walls white- hips stuttering with a prolonged groan- the remainders of your foolish plan wash away, carried by the previous roaring of his pleasure, returned to the peaceful tide- disguised as Jungkook´s hands untying the belt, his strong arms sneaking around your stiff torso.

"Ssh baby, m´here" he whispers, drawing soothing circles on the gentle softness of your stomach, his swollen lips kiss apologies into your neck, painting over the colored bruises he left in his hunger.

"I love you baby, i love you so much" the words set you down in his loving, graceful hold, he flips you around, kisses your tear stained cheeks- lifts you to bed and cradles your head to his chest- fingers massaging into the spot where he pulled you closer with rage and lust. His pure white heart aches at the scraped, red skin that lines your wrists- the leather had cut into it a bit. "Oh god sugar, i- i shouldn´t have done it so fastened, does it hurt a lot? do you wanna slap me?" he asks- seriously so with those doe eyes that swell in affection- you smile lazily, kiss his cheek as a silent acceptance of his equally silent apology. "Don´t be silly, it´s okay baby" you say, nuzzling into the wet skin of his tired neck, "I love you"

"I love you more sugar. Can i see your butt? wanna make sure it´s okay" you giggle, turn around obediently and he lets out a miniature sigh of relief.

"looks good" he says, softly grazing the aroused skin with his knuckles,

"thank you" you chuckle, rubbing your nose to the flattened tip of his own, he smiles, leans in to kiss you- sealing once again, you belong together.

[sparklykaminarii]

PATCH UP DUTY! ༉‧₊˚.

synopsis: your shinobi boyfriend got hurt on a mission, and luckily for them their trusty girlfriend is here to help! (mentions of wounds and blood, SFW) FT. Gaara, Naruto, Sasuke, and Shikamaru

a/n: finally im back!! missed writing more than I expected lol also sorry naruto fans I didn't know what to do with him really!! (⁠ ⁠≧⁠Д⁠≦⁠)

☆ SILENCE. (FT. GAARA)☆

"You don't have to do this, (Y/N)." Gaara murmurs, resting his arm on the table. You ignore his comment, unraveling a roll of gauze. Sitting there patiently, he watches as you carefully formulate your supplies with precision.

Grabbing a chair next to him, you begin to treat his wound. A large slash down his forearm, yet shallow enough to not cause any substantial issues. But the bleeding alone was enough to make you pout.

Meticulously dabbing a cloth over his wound, not a single word escapes from either one of you. Steady breathing fills the empty silence, a comforting phenomenon that always came along with Gaara. He wasnt the type to speak unless he had to, even then his sentences remained short and meaningful.

Picking up a swab coated in sterile saline, then patting it along the gash, You glance up to check Gaara for any signs of discomfort, an instinct that came along with treating injuries.

Suddenly, your rhythmic movements halt abruptly.

Your eyes meet.

For a moment neither of you move. His cold teal eyes grasp yours, indecipherable but fierce. Almost like he was studying you, memorizing the way your eyebrows furrowed with concentration, the way your eyes squint slightly as you focus. There's no falter nor embarrassed look away—only fixed tranquility.

He still doesn't look away.

Gaara isn't the type of person to shy away when he's caught staring, especially if it's something he's infatuated by. Instead his gaze intensifies, as if he's trying to understand something—himself. Why does he feel this odd warmth in his chest every time he's around your vicinity? Why does his heart slow but his breathing quicken as soon as he feels your delicate touch? It's all so new to him.

You catch a glimpse of something that crosses his face. Although hard to catch, you still caught it. A rare tenderness he rarely allowed himself to show.

"...Does it hurt?" You ask gently.

Immediately, his lips part, like he wants to say something. But instead, he simply shakes his head "No. It's fine."

However, his eyes still haven't let you go. At least not yet. Not until you look away first, flustered by his silent potency. And even then, he's still watching, his thoughts unsolvable, his heart struggling to make sense of feelings he's never felt before.

☆ BIG BABY! (FT. NARUTO) ☆

"Ow, ow, OW— (Y/N), you're killing me!" Naruto whines throwing his head back like he's just been stabbed in the chest.

You glare at him, pressing the antiseptic soaked rag against the scrape on his cheek. "It's just a tiny scratch, you big baby."

"A tiny scratch?... Do you see the SIZE of this thing? I was fighting for my life out there!" He puffs, pointing at the scrape. You sigh loudly, muttering about how ridiculous he is, Naruto crossing his arms childishly at the comment.

Tossing the rag aside, you grab a glass bottle filled with ointment. "You literally get punched through walls, but this is where you draw the line?" You retort, leaning in closer to spread the ointment more precisely

But unknowingly, you closed in the last bit of space between you two, the lack of air making Naruto's brain go fuzzy. Actually, he was completely frozen. Too stunned to speak. His usual goofy demeanour falters for just a moment, his breath pausing as heat rises to his face. He's blinking rapidly, unsure of where to look. He's lost in the way your fingers gently grasp his jaw, tilting his head slightly backwards. And he's fixated on the pacing of your breathing too, feeling the warm air against his cheek.

Fuck. You were way too close. He swallows hard, "Uh..." He scrambles to find his words, for the first time, the Ultimate Knucklehead Ninja is speechless.

You raise an eyebrow, feigning innocence as if the close proximity wasn't a part of your plan. "What? You were just talking a mile a minute, and now you're quiet?" You spit, lips curled slightly as you spread the thick medication across his cheek.

Naruto quickly averts his gaze, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. "N-Nothing... Just... uh... you must be really focused, huh?" He lets out a nervous chuckle, trying to slow down the sudden pounding in his chest.

Rolling your eyes, you twist the cap back onto the bottle. Adjusting himself on the couch, Naruto tries to retrieve his cool, as if his face weren't a bright tomato red. You continue patching Naruto up, still bickering back and forth with him. Only this time, he seemed to be a bit more jittery and shaky with his responses.

But later, when you're finished and packing away your supplies, you swear you hear him mumble something under his breath. Something that makes you smile not matter how much you stifle it back.

"Man... I think I just feel for you even harder..."

☆ STUBBORNESS (FT. SASUKE) ☆

"I'm fine."

You exhale sharply, ignoring Sasuke's regular resistance. Placing a cloth over the gash and then applying mild pressure, you attempt to stop the bleeding from his neck. "You're bleeding, Sasuke."

He doesn't flinch, nor does he wince. Instead he's just sitting there, stuff but compliant. His arms are crossed, like this whole situation was just some minor inconvenience. Of course. It wasn't unusual for Sasuke to act so detached, always pretending to be unaffected yet his body always said the opposite.

You shake your head, "Just let me help, okay?"

Sasuke sighs through his nose, but doesn't dispute with you any further. That was the most compliance you'll ever get out of him.

The wound on his neck wasn't deep, simply messy. Dried blood strips near the opening, and despite his bluffed collectiveness, you could tell he's exhausted. It wasn't uncommon to see Sasuke injured, oftentimes training tirelessly, or engaging with enemies he underestimated way too much. But this time, you could tell he wasn't just worn out physically.

Too lost in your thoughts, you accidentally prod the cloth a bit too harshly, making him tense up for a moment. Not a flinch, but you swore you heard his breath quietly hitch.

"Sorry," you murmur.

Sasuke though, doesn't say anything. But as you continue, grabbing other materials, you treat his wounds with extra care. Fingers grazing his skin with gentleless, you begin to notice something. His breathing slows. His once taut shoulders are now relaxed under your touch.

He isn't just tolerating this, but he's allowing it.

There's something strangely intimate about this silence. Perhaps it's the way, you're the only one he lets close like this.

Then you feel it. His gaze locked on you.

Holding the gauze in your hand, you pause.

"Sasuke?"

But still, no answer.

You peek up at him, expecting his eyes to rush away like they always do, but he doesn't. His distant black eyes are now fixated on you, unreadable, steady, yet softer than usual. They lacked their usual sharpness, but instead grew of quiet observation.

The sight sends your heart into your throat.

"...What?" You ask, voice barely above a whisper.

He blinks, laggard and calculated. His lips part ever so slightly, like he's about to speak but he doesn't. Instead, after a moment, he exhales and mutters, "Nothing."

Taking in his answer, you continue on with patching him up. But his gaze lingers, still focused on you. Even after you finish patching him up. Because as he stands to leave, his lips part open again, like there's something on his chest that's dying to come out.

And then, he turns away, his voice—low and nearly inaudible.

"...You don't have to worry about me so much."

☆ GENTLE (FT. SHIKAMARU) ☆

"This is such a drag..."

Shikamaru groans, resting his head against the wall as you kneel beside him, tending to the slash across his chest. He's always complaining and always acting like everything takes up so much of his precious energy. But he hasn't moved an inch since you've started.

"You say that like I'm the one who got you hurt," you mutter, blotting a rag over his wound.

A long and slow breathe escapes his lungs, "Tch. Guess that's fair."

His voice is low and sluggish, like sitting here was simply exhausting. Despite having a fresh injury, he seems to be half asleep. Typical. You should've expected him to act like this was more tiring than the actual fight.

"Hold still," you say, pressing a bandage against his skin tightly.

Shikamaru doesn't even flinch. Doesn't really react at all, really—except for the way his eyes flicker downwards watching the way your fingers dance over his chest, you brows knitting together in silent concentration.

You don't notice at first, only until the silence begins to grow way too suspicious.

You glance up, only for him to be looking back at you.

You waver, gripping the roll of bandage.

"What?"

But, he only blinks at you, hushed but calculated, unbothered at the fact you just caught him staring. In his eyes, there's no sign of embarrassment nor instant divergence. Just quiet deliberate eyes, like he's studying a foreign topic.

"You're being weird," you comment, focusing your attention to bandaging him up.

Shikamaru's lips twitch into a lazy smirk. "Nah. Just thinking."

"Thinking about what?"

He pauses, and so do you. His eyes dart towards something—not away but lower, to where your hands are still resting on his chest, rising up and down as he breathes.

"You're pretty gentle," he murmurs.

Your breath catches to the back of your throat. But before you can respond, he leans his head back again, shutting his eyes like he's done speaking.

Shaking off the unexpected heat in your cheeks, you huff "You say that like you expected me to be rough."

"Didn't say that," He mutters, eyes still shut.

"Then?"

He exhales a small tired sigh. And then without opening his eyes:

"I think I could get used to this"

Your hands still for half a second, but he doesn't say anything else. Instead he lets the silence between you two settle, as if it were meant to be there.

And when you finally pull back, he doesn't move right away.

Like he's in no rush to leave your touch.

[hans-wh0re]

Best friend Chan headcanons (mdni)

Just your friend Chan giving you some aphrodisiac chocolate without letting you know...

Best!friend!Chan who's been planning this for weeks, touching himself at night to the mere thought of how you might react. His cock is already half-hard just from you sitting beside him, your innocent movements driving him insane. Every time your shirt rides up or your legs spread slightly, his mind floods with filthy scenarios.

Best!friend!Chan who pretends to casually offer the chocolate while his heart pounds, already imagining your thighs trembling around his head later. His breathing hitches watching your lips wrap around it, cock twitching violently at how your tongue darts out to catch a melted drop. He shifts subtly to hide his growing bulge.

Best!friend!Chan who nearly cums in his pants just watching the first signs take effect - the way you start fidgeting, how your nipples slowly harden beneath your shirt. His perverted mind catalogs every detail: your quickening breath, the slight flush on your chest, how you keep pressing your thighs together. He's never been so hard in his life.

Best!friend!Chan who can barely contain himself as he watches you start to pant, your legs spreading unconsciously wider on the couch. His cock is painfully hard now, straining against his zipper as he notices a small damp spot forming on your pants. He bites his lip so hard it nearly bleeds, fighting the urge to throw you down right there.

Best!friend!Chan who's trembling with need as he watches your hands start to wander, fingers unconsciously brushing over your hardened nipples through your shirt. His own hands grip his thighs white-knuckled, cock leaking steadily as you let out a soft, needy whimper. The sound goes straight to his groin, making his hips twitch involuntarily.

Best!friend!Chan who's breathing becomes ragged as you start grinding subtly against the couch, clearly desperate for friction. He can smell your arousal now, sweet and heady in the air. His cock throbs painfully as he watches a bead of sweat roll down your neck, disappearing beneath your collar, imagining following its path with his tongue.

Best!friend!Chan who nearly loses it completely when you moan his name softly, clearly unaware you've even said it. His perverted mind catalogs how your thighs are quivering now, how your pupils are blown wide with drug-induced lust. He can see your nipples straining against the thin fabric, begging for his touch. The wet spot between your legs has grown visibly larger.

Best!friend!Chan who's barely holding onto his last shred of control as you start pawing at your own clothes, whimpering with need. His cock is so hard it hurts, precum forming a dark spot on his pants as he watches you writhe. He knows you're almost ready, almost desperate enough to beg for it.

Best!friend!Chan who's practically vibrating with anticipation as your movements become more frantic, more desperate. His own arousal is almost painful now, cock throbbing in time with each needy sound that falls from your lips. The way you're squirming, grinding shamelessly against the couch cushions - it's better than any fantasy he's ever had.

Best!friend!Chan who watches entranced as your hands start roaming more boldly over your body, fingers trailing fire across oversensitive skin, not caring any more if he can see you or hear you. His breath catches when you arch your back, shirt riding up to expose a tempting strip of flesh. The sound of fabric rustling as you writhe fills the otherwise quiet room, punctuated by your increasingly vocal whimpers.

Best!friend!Chan who's dizzy with want as he watches your control crumble further, sees you starting to palm yourself through your clothes with shaking hands. His own fingers dig crescents into his thighs as he fights to stay still, to let the aphrodisiac work its magic completely. The wet patch between your legs has grown obscenely large now, your arousal perfuming the air.

Best!friend!Chan who nearly breaks when you start begging incoherently, his name mixed with desperate pleas falling from your lips. His cock jerks violently at each breathy "please" and "Chan" and "need you." The thin veneer of his restraint fractures further as you start tugging frantically at your clothes, too far gone to even coordinate your movements properly.

Best!friend!Chan who's trembling with the effort of holding back as you finally turn to him with glazed eyes, reaching for him needily. He can see how wrecked you already are - clothes disheveled, skin flushed and glistening with sweat, pupils blown wide with drug-fueled desire. The sight of you so desperate for him, so completely undone, makes his cock pulse dangerously.

Best!friend!Chan who finally, finally lets his control snap when you crawl into his lap, grinding against his painfully hard length shamelessly. His hands immediately grab your hips, guiding your movements as you sob with relief at the contact. He's imagined this moment countless times, but nothing could have prepared him for how perfect you feel writhing against him, how sweetly you moan his name.

Best!friend!Chan who growls possessively as he flips you onto your back, pinning you to the couch. His hands roam greedily over your body as you arch into his touch, begging for more. He can feel how wet you are even through your clothes, can see how desperately you need him. The knowledge that he did this to you, reduced you to this needy, wanting mess, makes his head spin with power and lust...

It's been a while since i wrote anything so excuse me if this isn't good. Also excuse any mistake this was not proofread at all.

[screampied]

໒꒱ ₊˚ ‘ FREAK LIKE MEEE ! ’﹒

𐚁̸ sum. jjk men kinks and their kinks/fetishizes . feat. gojo, toji, sukuna, nanami, choso.

warnings. fem! reader, unprotected sēx, edging, praise, degradation, sir kink, semi-public sēx, hair pulling, edging, overstim, mentions of breēding, blindfolds, dry humping, spīt kink, mdni.

𐚁̸ an. requested by anon

☆ NANAMI KENTO.

“ah—you’ve got some nerve,” nanami would pant. he’s got you right where he wants you. you’re leaned over his desk, ogling as he starts to realign himself. “it’s like you just misbehave on purpose, sweetheart,” and his voice was silky warm, tender. you moan once he lifts up your skirt yet again—you’re sopping wet, a dampened patch coats the middle part of your panties. “have you been touching yourself?”

“n—no,” you purr out, although it was clear as day that you were purely lying. he could tell, nanami was a lot of things but he wasn’t an idiot. you felt so feverish, the head of his thick cock spilts inside of your cunt and you whimper out. throughout the office, all that could be heard was the faint sounds of his fax machine and the lewd squelches your sweet cunt sings out in pure harmony. this was so risky, yet you loved every second—you craved more, the thought that one of his colleagues could walk in or hear the two of you made you ten times more soaked. “yes,” you correct yourself, gnawing on your lip before you feel a sudden restraint on your hands.

nanami inhales deeply, a low groan departing from his lips before he grabs both of your wrists. “such a messy girl. can’t even finish my shift,” and he yanks his tie from his attire. nanami then swiftly ties your wrists against your back with his tie, fully buried into your cunt. he leans up close, so close—a hand gently wrapping around your throat. “gotta break this pussy before i get any work done, ‘s that what you’re telling me, my love?”

“y—yesss,” you whine out with strained lungs, before he starts to vigorously quicken his pace. relentlessly, he starts to take you over his desk. with parted legs, you moan out in sheer ecstasy. your pencil skirt was lazily pulled up to your waist. with the skirt a bit wrinkled because of his grip he makes your arch go further for him whilst pulling you closer against him. “harder, fuck me harder, kento.”

“baby, this is a place of business,” he chortles, a sharp angle of his hips makes you feel all of him. so thick— the stretch was godly, making your eyes widen and your lips quaver. so fucking big. his base thwacks against you so sloppily, swollen balls filled up with so much that your heart own mouth salivates at the thought of it flooding inside of you. “when you’re in my office, it’s ‘sir,’ okay?”

you purposely don’t reply— he gifts your ass with a spank, making you whimper out as a response.

“yes s-sir,” you moan, the sharp sting making you jolt forward against the edge of the wooden desk. your words were so candied, so sweet..

with the way your cunt constricts around his hefty length—you were emitting out such various moans for him. so loud, nanami can’t help but press himself up against you even more and move a hand to go over your mouth. “m-mphhh.”

“any louder ‘n they’re gonna here you, gorgeous,” he whispers against the shell of your ear. nanami even goes as far to licking against your earlobe, sending shivers all through you. each slow languid stroke continues to get more deeper, pretty soon you start to coat the entirety of his palm with your slick saliva. “you want my boss to hear what a messy girl you are in my office?”

he chuckles, watching you slowly nod in reply as he’s jackhammering his thick cock into you again, and again, and again. so repetitive, by this point you’re all cock drunk.

“but silly girl, you’re not supposed to want that,” and his strokes become slow yet deep—he reaches everywhere inside of your stretchy walls with ease. nanami groans at how good your pussy keeps him hostage. his voice was so abnormally low too, all up against your ear. a hand of his trails down your spine , your wrists still behind your back. “but of course you do, my wife can’t help but be a little messy for me, huh? she just can’t help it, all she thinks about is me bending her over my desk— oh, you sloppy girl. drooling all on my hand.”

his hand removes from your mouth and you’re moaning at each of his languidly deep hits. “gonna c-cum, ‘m gonna cum, kento.”

“ah ah,” he mutters, spreading your legs just a bit further. the heels you wore sunk into the floor as your mouth pries open even more. loud moans ring and reverberate throughout the room before you correct yourself.

“sir . . sir, ‘m gonna cum,” you swallow thickly, feeling him shove such thick inches in and out of you. your lungs fill up with heavy oxygen, you whimper as your head leans against the front surface of his desk. a scatter of papers going against your skin. briefly, all you could see was random markings of paperwork with neat writing, his familiar signature throughout all of them. “can i cum s-sir? pleasepleasepleaseeee.”

nanami hums, soft padded fingertips gliding against your hips as he holds you in place— he’s so deep inside, the tip of his cock kisses and mashes against your g-spot for the nth time before he groans out. “go ahead, make a mess on my desk, sweetheart. make a mess so i can make you clean up for me,” and you’re basically being rammed against the furniture, hot breaths pouring through your lips before you gasp. simultaneously, you cum—coating nothing but a pretty white ring around his shaft, his thrusts coming to a slow halt before he pauses. “. . oh,” he tilts his head back, at a lost of words for a second.

you hear the dangle of his belt from his pulled down slacks before he smiles, witnessing as you lose yourself completely—so lewd, you’re convulsing and twitching on his cock, whining for him to keep going before he tugs on your wrist. “good girl, such a good girl,” and he chuckles, watching you spread your legs open more, awaiting for him to continue. “aw, is the messy baby not satisfied?” and he’s so close up to you, his breath fans against the minuscule hairs of your neck before he’s buried so deep. you feel every inch, his hand wraps around your throat once more before he purrs in a low voice once you shake your head. “no? welllll that’s too bad,” and his voice was smooth as silk. it lowers a bit and you whine once he suddenly pulls out. “sorry, my love. not during business hours. this is all you’ll get from me,” and he turns you around to kiss your forehead, smirking at your little pout. “don’t be like that, i love you too, brat.”

☆ SUKUNA RYŌMEN

more than anything, he’s just simply into spanking your pussy.

without question—he’d have you right on his lap, preferably where he’s taking a seat on his high and mighty throne. the king of curses, occupying himself with his favorite pussy girl.

“oh my, such an impatient woman,” he’d coo up against your ear. the soft fabric of his kimono rubs off amongst your skin and you whine once you feel him spread your thighs open. “now let’s see if you’re as wet as i remember,” he whispers in a gruff tone—you’re rightfully soaked, the minute his fingers skim against your panties, he’s greeted with a sopping wet coat of your arousal. sukuna hums in amusement, watching you squirm and wriggle within his hold. “how cute,” he’d snicker, dipping a single digit into your folds. you lean back against his chest, biting on your lip before moaning out. one finger turns into two—sukuna then swirls it around before continuing to speak. “did you touch her while i was away? and don’t lie, this pussy will answer for me if you don’t, girl.”

“no—” you reply in a shuddering tone, his fingers were so long, creating a circular repetitive motion inside of your cunt before he collects a good amount of your sweetness. it sticks against his fingers the more he rummages throughout your pussy. “i didn’t touch myself, ‘kuna. promise.”

“. . . who?” he furrows his brows, abruptly pulling out his fingers before gifting your wet pussy with a mean spank. “who the fuck is ‘kuna? that’s not my name, princess.”

you whimper out, the sting feeling so good. he was purely teasing—you knew that, and your legs shook a bit solely from the impact. you bite your tongue before feeling your thighs struggle to keep themselves open. “s-sukuna?”

“tch. foolish woman,” he grumbles, sharply bringing more spanks towards your cunt. you’re so wet, dripping with so much slick that he starts to get addicted. your body language was adorable. each time he spanks it time and time again, the back of your head rubs against his chest. it makes him snicker, playfully pinching your clit just to make you sob out another melodic moan. “when it’s just you ‘n me, you’re on my lap ‘n i’m dealing with a pussy this wet, it’s ’my lord’ to you, know your place.”

with a pout, you rub against his wrist. having a little brat left in you, you purr out a, “but sukuna-”

“whore. i know you heard what the fuck i said,” he grits, giving you another spank. yet he then realizes you said that on purpose, just to make him spank your sopping wet cunt again. it feels so good, you feel hot everywhere—a sensation of tingles own throughout your body before sukuna’s palm caresses against your exposed womanhood. “freaky girl. you like that, huh? like feeling my hand hit against this nasty little mess?”

you nod, the smoothness of his hand sending you shivers before you feel the nerves buried inside of your pussy throb at full force.

so so good, another whimper wretches from your throat before you squeeze onto his knee. “course ya do. can’t help but be a nasty girl,” he grunts, and he shoves his thick slenderly fingers back inside your cunt. you swallow him so good—he groans, feeling the warmth of your pussy suffocate his digits oh so easily. “my nasty girl.”

his words only makes your pool a heat grow even more, your throat feels all dry—yet you’re starting to feel yourself salivate. with his fingers and the rapid speed of it, you could cum in just minutes. seconds even if he was feeling frisky. your legs were all sprawled out and you were just seeing colors— the way his fingers simultaneously curl up inside your folds was so filthy.

“just look at this mess,” he snarls, softly burying his fangs into his neck—a classic lip bite. as you’re laid against him, he feels his dick start to twitch in his briefs. you were so cute, trembling all from nothing but his simple touch. his words were filled with such lewdness, each time his digits rummage through your cunt, that same pop noise commences. so wet, you were in the midst of approaching your climax. it came at such a speed, your thighs shook and your jaw was practically hanging open.

it’s coming, it’s coming..

those exact words kept echoing into your brain, pant after pant departing from your lips before you whine.

“suku—m-my lorddd,” and once you correct yourself, he again pulls out his fingers covered in your sheeny slick before spanking your cunt. “oh, ohmygodddd, ‘m gonna c-cum, feel it coming, p-please.”

“what if i don’t want you to cum yet?” he teases, dragging his middle finger down your slit. by this point, your legs were a mess—shaking so strenuously that it brought jagged earthquakes to shame. the rupture that was about to take place was reaching at such a speed that even you couldn’t keep up. his warm breath fans against your earlobe before he lightly bites into your neck. “what if i want you to wait a little lo—”

“s-sukuna, sukuna, fuuuck,” you whine out, not even caring you broke character— it finally came, and not only did you climax but you ended up squirting. it shot out and he goes quiet, a devilish snicker shortly following afterward.

instantly, a crying orgasm gets tugged from your throat and you whine once he plugs his fingers back into your slick folds.

“. . awww,” he purrs seductively against your ear, watching as you lose yourself right on his lap. your legs fail to remain still, you were seeing pure splotches of white. your stomach seizes as you resume to breathe, heavy breaths snatching from your throat before you rub against his wrist for the umpteenth time. “you made a mess on my lap, naughty girl,” and then he chuckles once you pick up his hand only to make him continue to feel against your pussy. “should make you get on your knees ‘n clean it. like the good obedient girl you are. my little squirter girl.”

☆ CHOSO KAMO.

choso craves dry humping, he’s a needy baby. doesn’t even want you to strip your clothes off. he just needs you, no, he wants you.

“i missed you too, choso,” you’d giggle, feeling him wrap his strong broad arms around you. he was so warm, immediately as you walk through the door, you feel him press up against you. his scent, he smelled so good— it goes through your sinuses before you gasp once he makes you bend over the counter. “heh, baby. i can’t shower first?”

“. . . wait,” is all he says, his voice shakes as he brings clammy hands towards your hips. hitched breaths slip from his mouth as he whines, suppressing a few moans by sucking against your neck. such tender skin, he feels so hot and dizzy. choso’s wearing nothing but sweats. as you’re hunched over the kitchen counter, you feel the imprint of his exhilarated dick galvanize against your shorts. “i missed you all day today,” and his voice—although it being low, it was so sweet and genuine. a hint of want and desire runs underneath it and he makes your hips slowly grind against him. “sososo bad,” he swallows, the teeth shattering friction making cute whimpers elicit out from his sheeny spit-glossed lips. “i want you, i want you, can we—can i do this?”

you let off a small laugh. “can you what, hump me? why not just fuck me, baby. i’ll just—”

“no, nooo please,” he murmurs in a shaky voice, stopping you from pulling down your shorts. “this is fine, i don’t want you to . . to take off your clothes. i just . . i want you, i want you like this.”

you can’t help but feel your pussy twitch at his words, not just his words but his entire deliver of it all. “go ahead, baby,” you mutter in a soft encouraging voice, grabbing onto the edge of the cold counter. you could have sworn you heard a sweet cacophonies of ‘thank you, thank you’s’ escape past his lips.

he’s so needy, trembling breaths waft against your skin as he’s making your ass go up on him. with two hands, he grabs the mounds of your rear before giving it a slight teasing squeeze.

“babyyy,” he whimpers, gently seeping his teeth into your neck. softly, he sucks against the skin, feeling a little mark press into your skin from his canines. “god, i want you so bad. you feel so good against me like this, s-so warm,” and his words almost sound angelic. you giggle, starting to move against his sweatpants as he holds your waist. “yeah, keep doing that. f-fuck against me, please,” and your rhythm was slow but steady. you can feel his bulge press up against your shorts, he was big.

you only imagine how he’d feel from the inside— not just grinding against him, although you weren’t relatively complaining. not at all, the friction felt way too good. even you started to moan a bit once he makes the swerving of your hips pick up just a bit faster.

choso gasps—once your ass brushes up a particular spot, he whines. “o-oh fuck,” and you’re curious as to what happened—but instead of saying anything, he just starts to hump against you harder. “f-fuck, fuck, ‘m so hard. gonna make me cum through my p-pants, baby fuuuck.”

he became more and more vocal as the minute passes—you were feeling the heat brew up, not only against your ass but into the very depths of your abdomen too. choso’s usual pent up hair was down, going all in his face and he moans at your next few words. “it’s okay, baby. you can make a mess on me. cum for me, ‘cho.”

“your voice alone ‘s gonna make me a messy boy,” he whimpers out, feeling the brief twinge— the strain of his cock making him kiss his teeth in pleasure. “gonna c-cum, gonna cum,” he chants, and his voice was getting raspier and raspier. you swerve your ass against him ever more before seconds later—you feel a sudden damp spot.

choso grows quiet, looking down to see the slowly darkening spot coat against the grey fabric of his sweats. “hngh,” he pants, holding you still. you giggle, facing forward and it’s almost as if you can feel his eyes stare down your back. “this is the f-fifth time i ruined my sweats you bought me, baby.” he pouts, now wanting to feel the real thing—being inside of you, falling in love with the warmth of your pussy burying inside of him yet again.

“i’ll wash it for you,” you hum, turning around to finally face him. he’s so cute— flustered entirely, despite it just being dry humping, it might as well pass as simple doggystyle for choso. you stroke his cheek, bringing a kiss towards the side of his lips before his mouth twitches. adorable. “you wanna join me in the shower, baby?”

“o-oh, yes please,” he nods, and he grabs onto your hand. “can we . . can we do this in the shower too?”

you sneer, intertwining your fingers with his as he leads the way. “yeah, but this time with our clothes off okay?”

“okay.”

“good boy.”

“m-mhm.”

☆ GOJO SATORU.

gojo likes to be tied up and restrained—blindfolded even, he loves it all.

“mhm, make it tight too baby,” he teasingly says, lowering his voice purposefully. you’re straddling him, feeling his dick bury inside of you idly before you shoot him a glare. he rolls his eyes once you successfully wrap the blindfold around his eyes, then proceeding to tie up his wrists. “hehe, i’m only letting you do this because i’m bored, just so y’know.”

“shut up,” you mumble, flicking him back. he lands against the pillow and that same sly grin never leaves his face. gojo’s impatient— albeit, the downside would be that he wouldn’t be able to touch you. that thought alone brings a pout to his face. “are you ready now? or do i need to hold your hand.”

gojo giggles. “ooh, someone’s sassy today. i like that,” and he feels your hips starting to move. his hands were stretched out against the bed and he grunts once he feels your warmth hug him tight like a vice. “i let you get away with hah anything.”

“yeah you do,” you whisper, watching as he moves his head around a bit at the sound of your voice—he’s so hot, his entire body temperature rises up the more you grind your hips forward. gojo tries to maintain his little tough act but fails miserably, he’s quite literally folding underneath you. your fingers run down his neck and a moan slips out. “still sensitive from cumming too early, pretty boy?”

“don’t call me . . . that,” he swallows, another moan eliciting from his throat once you kiss all over his face. your touch, his true weakness. it had him feral, the way your ass grinds against him makes him suck his teeth. “but baby, this is torture,” he pants out, feeling your hands roam everywhere on his body— he tenses up, feeling your fingers skim against his bare chest. “if you can touch me, i should t-touch you too.”

“you always touch me,” you murmur, and he’s so deep— the fatness of his cock stuffs your cunt full to where you’re squeezing him down. he groans, wishing that he could just hold onto your hip. gojo’s head goes back and he smothers his glossed lips together. with the brief swivel turning of your hips, you move against him faster until he starts to spasm underneath you. “aw, so you are still sensitive from cumming too early, ‘toru.”

he groans, a pout spreading against his lips before he whimpers. “i—i’m not,” and he pauses his words before out of nowhere— slip.

gojo’s dick slips out of you and the moment it does, he goes ballistic.

“w-what happened?” he whines, feeling his now flaccid cock slither underneath your folds. you just sit there— almost forgetting he couldn’t exactly see, only feel. he’s all flustered, feeling your folds gradually rub against his length. “f-fuck, put it back in. don’t grind on me, angel.”

“i don’t think you deserve it yet,” you tease, reaching between his legs to stroke his dick. gojo groans, and he’s really feeling everything. the nerves inside his body had him shaking, your touch alone drove him crazy— once he slipped out, gojo wouldn’t stop begging and pleading for you to put it back in. the pout on his face never leaves before you kiss his lips as an attempt to shut him up. he doesn’t though, each mwah from you and he continues to speak, a total blabbermouth. “not until you say pretty please.”

he grouses stubbornly. “huhhh. do you know who i am?”

“you’re a bottom who’s underneath me.” you snicker.

gojo’s at a loss for words, damn. that was probably true— to be fair, he was underneath you. you were straddling his lap, watching as he becomes more and more needy for you to be inside. his hips sweetly jitters from the sudden yearn for you to be back inside. he missed the warmth of your gummy walls gripping him down tightly. “you’re being a brat, you just wanna hear the strongest beg for you, huh?”

“the strongest but i’m the only one who can make you whimper.” you kiss underneath his chin, watching as his dimples poke into his skin.

“if i wasn’t restrained i’d have pinned you down, hmph,” and his pout only stretches. you drag your pussy against his length before he eats his words, a cute whine escaping. “y-you fuckin’ brat, when ‘m free it’s over,” and his lip quivers. “baby, just put it back in, okayyy okay.”

you hum, wrapping your arms around him and he loses himself from your touch. his dick was so hard, pinkish tip desperately awaiting to be stuffing you full by now, but alas—you were stalling. “say pretty please ‘n i’ll put it back in.”

after fourteen tremendously long seconds, gojo gives in with a cute whimper following. “pretty please, pretty please put it back in so i can f-fuck you again.”

“so good for me,” you kiss his cheek, watching him quaver from your touch—he’s panting heavily before he feels your hand wrap around his cock, aligning yourself again. “aw. the strongest, more like the whiniest.”

“i— i hate you,” he whimpers at you mocking his infamous title. “now finish fucking me, brat. pleaseee.”

☆ TOJI FUSHIGURO.

he’s definitely into face fucking, if he’s ever annoyed about something or needs to unwind after a long day, the solution is nothing more than your pretty tight throat.

“knees, girl. get down f’me.”

you’d comply, your knees hitting against the soft carpet before you stare up at him—he inhales, sharp gaze lowering at you. “boo. eye problem?” he sassily says, a hand lightly grabbing onto your hair, using your head as leverage. “you know what to do. need to feel that fuckin’ mouth.”

“could be a little nicer.”

“don’t try me, little girl.”

toji takes a breath, watching as you unzip his jeans—always, he had such a bulge to him. it never failed to poke out through his pants. so delicious, you lick your lips at the sight of his hefty boxers all out in the open—basking in your pure eyesight. you don’t waste any time, whipping out his thick cock. he’s so pent up, angry mushroom tip a pinkish red color. toji’s got a few specks of black hair that coats near his base, a gossamer string of spit departs from your lips the moment you kiss his tip sloppily.

“. . . yeahhh,” he rasps out lowly, fingertips dragging through your scalp. toji’s standing tall, his dick had somewhat of a upward curve to it. with staggering inches, you were always taken aback, he loved feeling the brush of your lips skim across his frenulum. a strained breath yanks out from his lungs once he starts to feel you sink down. your throat was so warm, so wet, so tight. his head throws itself back and he chews down on the soft part of his bottom lip. “thaaaat’s it, take that shit. take it down, babygirl.”

you’re slow with your pace, taking him all the way in until his tip mashes against the roof of your mouth. if it wasn’t for your technique of breathing through your nose, you’d gag. a hand was just about to wrap around his length before he lightly smacks it away. “nuh uh, no hands. you got it.”

he snickers at your pout, watching as your hands go back down toward your sides. you make sure to swirl your tongue against his leaky tip, your pace was perfect— he swallows, tightening his grip against your hair before he makes you go faster. your head’s bobbling, quickening before by this point he’s purely face fucking you now.

“s-shit, good girl. ya gonna let me ruin this mascara, yeah?” and his voice itself was the definition of seduction—so rough, gravelly with each syllable it pronounces. your tongue lays flat, wrapping your lips around his dick before his thigh starts to bounce. “. . . damn,” he huffs out, and your jaw starts to feel heavy over time. toji’s so big, the sensation of your tongue has his head spinning. “keep those pretty eyes up here,” he murmurs, another free hand gripping underneath your chin. what a mess, your own saliva starts to pour down the sides of your mouth. “such a sloppy girl,” he titters, swiping a thumb against your lips. you stare right into his eyes and he returns you with nothing more but a sly smirk. “my sloppy girl though, right?”

you nod, feeling your mascara start to run— still, you’re breathing through your nose before you feel him start to tense up. “ah, fuck,” he grumbles, now he’s just kissing the back of your throat with his rude cockhead. “mhm, this sloppy throat ‘s gonna make me flood it with cum,” and green viridescent eyes flicker back down at you. he lightly taps against your cheek, feeling the outline of his dick. “thirsty, baby? been talkin’ about how much you had nothin’ to drink.”

again, you nod your head whilst still giving him eye contact. toji’s got your mouth stuffed full— he groans lowly, practically dragging your head back and forth against his cock. “yeah you are. open up that jaw for me ‘n i’ll clench that thirst, baby,” and he feels your maw open—your tongue lays flat, and you know he’s preparing to release. you start to even feel yourself throb between your thighs, yet you stop yourself from touching yourself. “so pretty,” he puffs out in short singular breaths. with a hand, toji wraps his right hand around his fat girth of a length before he pulls his dick out. “say ah.”

“ah,” you mimic, lolling out your tongue for him and he sneers at how obedient you were—so good for him, pink tongue ready to be painted with nothing but his worthy semen. tongue pointed out, toji fists his cock a few times—giving it a few solid pumps on your tongue before momentarily, he cums. thick satiny ropes, the moment it shoots out into your throat, upon instinct your eyes briefly squeeze shut from the taste. bitterly bitter, yet you wanted all of it. every single drop. you moan, awaiting for him to finish pouring every drop inside.

“f-fuuuck,” he grunts, painting the inside of your mouth with such strings of cum that it leaves your cheeks all puffed up. “swallow it, baby,” he mumbles, completely out of breath. you do, a few remnants of his seed glistening on your lips before he squeezes your cheeks together. “good,” and he bends down to your level, pushing your lips together. toji slyly grins, staring into your eyes before murmuring. “now, give me a kiss. don’t be greedy, i want a taste too.”

you whine, pulling him into a sultry, sloppy kiss. tongues collide against each other— tangling and twisting, various strings saliva forming into a cobweb before he pulls away, licking near the bottom of your lip where a few sprinkles of his own cum remained. “still thirsty?”

“y-yes, toji.”

“heh. thought so. dehydrated ass girl.”

[thef1diary]

Dreamy Desire | C. Leclerc

Kinktober 1/11 ~ Somnophilia

Summary: Even though you were in deep sleep, Charles found you irresistible.

warnings: 18+ smut, somnophilia obvs, fingering, oral, unprotected sex

wc: 1.6k

kinktober masterlist

© thef1diary 2024. all rights reserved. Do not copy, steal, translate, or repost any of my work

The steady rhythm of your breathing fills the room, a gentle sound that lulls Charles into a state of restless anticipation. Moonlight spills through the window, casting a silver glow across the bed where you lie, the comforter having slipped down to reveal more of your body. Your legs are slightly spread as you shifted around in your slumber, the hem of your night slip dress riding up, exposing the delicate fabric of your panties. 

He sits beside you, eyes tracing the delicate lines of your face, your slightly parted lips, down to your spread thighs. 

He knows he shouldn’t, knows that waiting for you to wake up is the right thing to do. But tonight, something inside him stirs more intensely than ever before. The way you lie there, so peaceful and unaware, ignites a desire in him that’s impossible to ignore. You’ve discussed this before, shared your desires and given your consent, but Charles hadn’t been tempted until now. It’s a trust he’s grateful for, an offer he’s careful to respect even as his pulse quickens with anticipation. 

Charles reaches out, fingertips brushing lightly against your cheek. Your skin is warm, soft, and he lets his hand linger, savouring the undisturbed contact. His breath catches as you shift slightly, your body responding to his touch even in deep sleep. It takes all of his self-control to keep his touch light, refraining from letting the bulge in his boxers make all the decisions. 

In the quiet of the room, his mind races with thoughts of you, of how much he loves you, desires you. A smirk plays on his lips as he realizes how utterly vulnerable you are, allowing him to ruin you in any way he chooses. 

His hand moves down, tracing the curve of your shoulder, then the length of your arm. He leans in, his breath warm against your neck, inhaling your subtle distinct scent. It’s intoxicating, this quiet intimacy. He presses a soft kiss just below your ear, barely more than a whisper against your skin. 

Your body reacts, a shiver running through you, and Charles freezes, heart pounding. But you don’t wake. Instead, you shift again, turning slightly towards him, lips parting in a sigh. The sound is like music to his ears, and he can’t help but smile. 

His hand continues its journey, removing the comforter completely before sliding his palm underneath your slip dress, lifting it higher. The warmth of your body against his palm sends a thrill through him. 

Unable to resist any longer, Charles leans in, his lips brushing against your inner thigh. After peppering a few kisses, he moves higher, his kisses growing bolder as he reaches the edge of your panties. He can feel the warmth of you, the heat radiating from your core as he spots the wet patch on the flimsy fabric. 

His hands slide under the hem of your dress, fingertips grazing the fabric of your panties before gently pulling them aside. The sight of you, so exposed and vulnerable, ignites a fire in him. He lowers his mouth to you, his breath warm against your skin, and begins to kiss and lick with a reverence that borders on worship.

You moan softly in your sleep, a sound that spurs him on. His tongue teases your sensitive folds, tasting you, savouring every moment. He knows your body, knows what you like, and he takes his time, enjoying the way you respond even in your unconscious state. 

Your hips start to move, a natural response to his ministrations, and he can’t help but smile against you. He slips two fingers inside your cunt, the slickness and heat pulling him in. He begins to move them in and out, matching the rhythm of his tongue on your clit.

The soft sounds you make, the wet sound of your slick, the way your body reacts, it’s almost too much for him. He wants to wake you, to see your eyes filled with desire and love, but he can’t help but feel a tad bit selfish too, wanting to keep this moment for himself. 

Charles continues, his mouth and fingers working in tandem to bring you pleasure. You shift around, eyes still closed, and he feels you clenching around his fingers. He knows you’re close, so he stops. 

Removing his fingers and detaching his mouth from your clit, he pulls back, watching a string of spit connect to your pussy from his lips. He raises his fingers to his lips, lapping up your taste with his tongue. 

He watches as your chest rises and falls, knowing you’ve fallen into the depths of sleep again. He wanted you to wake up clenching around his cock, whining and begging as soon as you woke up, which was all you were good for anyways. Always begging for him, to stuff you up with his cock. Nothing else ran through your mind, and this time he was going to prove it by waking you in that manner. 

Spreading your thighs further, he shuffled up after discarding his boxers. He paused for a moment, wrapping his hand covered in your slick around his cock, moving it up and down as he admired your compliant state. 

Your hardened nipples were visible through the dress hiked up to your waist, your spread thighs and wet pussy was a sight for him, and him only. 

Charles takes his time, savouring the anticipation as he strokes himself, eyes locked on you. Your peaceful form is almost too much for him to bear. He loves you deeply, but in moments like these, the raw, primal desire takes over, and he can’t help but revel in it. 

He leans forward, positioning himself between your legs. He teases you, running his head up and down your slit, coating himself further in your slick. You twitch, hips moving on their own accord as he pushes inside with deliberate slowness. The tightness, the warmth, it’s all so perfect, and he has to bite back a groan. Your body welcomes him, even in sleep, and he watches as your face contorts slightly with pleasure. 

The feeling of you wrapped around him is intoxicating, and he takes a moment to control himself, not wanting to rush this. He starts to move, slow and deep, each thrust measured and deliberate. He can feel the tension building, knows you’re on the edge even in your sleep. 

Your eyes flutter open, a soft moan escaping your lips as the sensation pulls you from your slumber. You shift slightly, your hands finding their way to his shoulders, then into his hair, pulling him closer. The look in your eyes, that hazy mix of sleep and desire, is everything he hoped for. 

“Charles,” you whisper, your voice a breathy moan. “Please…”

“Shh, go back to sleep, chérie,” he mumbles, his lazy thrusts hoping to lull you back to sleep. 

You try to hold onto the pleasure, but the slow, deep rhythm of his movements is soothing, making it difficult to stay awake. Your hands move through his hair, a soft, instinctual gesture that makes him shiver. Charles’s eyes remain locked on yours, filled with an intensity that speaks volumes of his desire for you.

The feeling of him inside you, the warmth and fullness, is comforting and intoxicating. Your body reacts to him, hips moving in time with his gentle thrusts, but your eyelids grow heavy, the call of sleep too strong to resist.

Charles watches as you struggle to stay awake, a small smile playing on his lips. He knows how much you crave him, how much you need this, and it only fuels his desire to give you everything you want.

“That’s it, just relax,” he murmurs, his voice low and soothing. “I’ve got you.”

Your grip in his hair loosens, your body melting into the mattress as you begin to drift off again. The sensation of him moving inside you, combined with the warmth of his body pressed against yours, lulls you further into the depths of sleep. 

He feels you clenching around him, a sign that your body is still very much aware of his presence even as your mind slips away. Charles’ movements remain steady, the slow and deep thrusts designed to keep you on the edge of consciousness. He watches you, captivated by the way you surrender to him, trusting him completely. 

As he feels your body beginning to build again towards release, he knows he’s close too. The slow, steady rhythm becomes a little more insistent, his own need becoming harder to control. He wants to feel you cum around him, to know that you’re as lost in this as he is. 

His hand moves between your bodies, finding your clit and rubbing it gently, knowing exactly how to push you over the edge. Your body tenses, your breathing hitches, and he can feel you getting closer and closer. 

He leans closer, whispering in your ear, “cum for me, mon amour.” 

The command, mixed with the pleasure he’s giving you, is enough to send you spiraling into bliss. Your body clenches around him, and a soft cry escapes your lips as you cum. 

The sensation of you tightening around him is too much for Charles. He thrusts deep one last time, his own release hitting him hard. He groans your name, his body shuddering with the force of his orgasm as he spills inside you. 

As you both come down from the high, Charles kisses you softly, his lips lingering on yours. You nuzzle closer to him once he pulls back, wrapping your arms around him to keep him close. “You need to do that more often,” you say, your voice still laced with sleep. 

Charles chuckles softly, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Anything for you, chérie.”

With a final sigh of contentment, you drift back into a deep, peaceful sleep. Your dreams and reality blur together, the only tangible evidence of your dreamy desires becoming reality are the mingled traces of your arousal and his cum slowly leaking from your cunt onto the sheets. 

taglist: @cheer-bear-go-vroom @ggaslyp1 @nominsgirl @moll1701 @mrs-saturday @teamnovalak @sassy-chan @ruti26-11 @kennysimp101 @falling-feels-like-flying @laeblue @tremendousstarlighttragedy @bountychanti @savewaterdrinkvodka @cloud-55 @aarchiives @holylovercopsludge @black-fireproofs @lazydragonpeach @biancathecool @myownwritings @rebelatbay @ethereal0810 @leclercsluvs @01rrdbull @fallingforfalll2 @lilorose25

[valyriandreamer]

Perculiar Lady

summary: Jacaerys Velaryon is a devoted husband to his wife, no matter how peculiar she can get.

paring: jacaerys velaryon x reader

The late afternoon air held the hint of salt from the sea, mingling with the fragrance of wildflowers that grew stubbornly between the cracks in the ancient stone pathways. You were crouched near the edge of a patch of lilies, your hands delicately prying a small beetle from the wet earth.

Jacaerys stood behind you, watching with a soft smile as you turned the tiny creature over in your hands, your purple eyes reflecting the fading sunlight as you examined the beetle’s wings. The mud clung to the tiny insect's body, but you didn't mind the dirt; your focus was entirely on the small, helpless thing in your palm.

“Look,” you said quietly, turning to Jace with wonder in your voice, “its wings are stuck.”

Jace knelt beside you, resting on the balls of his feet as he extended a hand. You placed the beetle in his palm, trusting that he would be as gentle as you always were with the world’s smallest creatures. He turned the insect carefully, his thumb brushing away the mud that had ensnared it. You watched him with a mixture of fascination and love. Jace was patient, where others would have dismissed your concern as childish or odd. He never once called you mad, not like your mother had whispered behind closed doors when she thought you weren't listening.

“Are we taking it to our room?” Jacaerys asked with a soft smile, his eyes meeting yours. His brown eyes, warm like honey, always made you feel seen, truly seen, in a way that no one else did. Not your mother, not the maesters, not even your father, who tried to love you but could never understand you.

You gave a small laugh, one that sounded more like a breeze whispering through the trees. "I don’t think it would like the room," you replied, brushing a stray silver-gold strand of hair from your face. "It belongs out here, I think."

Jacaerys nodded. He understood. He always understood, even when you struggled to explain yourself. He placed the beetle back on the ground gently, and you watched as it scurried off into the grass. The small moment passed, but it left a warmth in your heart. These moments with Jace were everything to you.

The wind shifted, and you froze. The hairs on the back of your neck stood on end. You could feel them again—the ghosts. The invisible presences that followed you everywhere, the ones no one else could see. Your chest tightened, your breath quickened, and the world around you blurred at the edges.

Jace was by your side in an instant, his arms wrapping around you, pulling you close. He didn’t ask what was wrong; he didn’t need to. He knew. He always knew. The panic that clawed at your insides like a ravenous beast began to subside under the familiar pressure of his embrace. You focused on the steady beat of his heart, grounding yourself in the rhythm of his breathing.

“They’re here again, aren’t they?” Jacaerys whispered into your hair, his voice low and comforting.

You nodded, burying your face in his chest, the rich scent of his skin calming you further. “I can feel them,” you whispered back, your voice trembling. “Watching… waiting…”

Jacaerys held you tighter, his chin resting on the top of your head. “They can’t hurt you. I won’t let them.”

You wanted to believe him, wanted so desperately to believe that the things you saw, the shadows that loomed just beyond the edge of sight, were only in your mind. But how could you, when you could feel them so keenly? When they whispered to you in the dead of night, filling your dreams with images of things long dead and forgotten?

Your mother, Alicent, had always looked at you with a mixture of pity and fear. From the time you were a child, she had treated you as if you were fragile, almost breakable. The day she had agreed to your marriage with Jacaerys had been one of the rare moments when you had seen relief in her eyes—as if you were finally someone else’s responsibility, no longer her burden to bear.

But Jacaerys never made you feel like a burden. He had taken you as his wife not out of duty or convenience, but because he had truly wanted you. He had seen your strangeness, your peculiarities, and had loved you for them. Even now, as you stood in the fading light, haunted by the unseen, he held you as if you were the most precious thing in the world.

“I’ll chase them away if you want,” Jacaerys said, pulling back just enough to look into your eyes. His hand brushed against your cheek, his touch feather-light.

You managed a small, shaky smile. “You’d do that?”

He smiled back, that lopsided grin that made your heart ache with affection. “Of course. I’ll chase them all away, every last one of them.”

You knew he would. You knew he would humour you, would run through the garden or the halls of Dragonstone, waving his arms and calling out to the ghosts to leave his wife in peace. It was absurd, but Jacaerys never cared about appearing foolish, not when it came to you. He had done it before, on more nights than you could count—banishing your invisible tormentors with all the seriousness of a knight battling real foes.

But tonight, you didn’t want him to chase them away. Tonight, you only wanted him to hold you, to remind you that no matter how strange or broken the world seemed, there was still something real and solid in it—his love.

“I just want you to stay with me,” you whispered, resting your forehead against his chest.

Jacaerys nodded, his arms never loosening. “Always.”

The two of you stayed like that for what felt like an eternity, standing in the middle of the garden as the sky darkened, the first stars appearing overhead. The wind whistled through the trees, and somewhere in the distance, the waves crashed against the cliffs, but here, in Jace’s arms, the world was quiet.

The ghosts were still there. They always would be. But with Jace, you could bear them. He was your anchor, the one thing that kept you tethered when everything else seemed to slip away. You knew that the whispers would return, that the panic would strike again, and the shadows would come creeping back into your mind. But as long as Jacaerys was there, with his steady heart and his unwavering love, you could face them.

He was the husband you never thought you would have. The kind of man you had been told you didn’t deserve, that you would never find. But Jace had chosen you, strange as you were. And he had stayed through all the dark nights and haunted days.

You tilted your head up to look at him, your eyes meeting his. “I love you,” you whispered, the words so quiet they were almost lost to the wind.

Jacaerys smiled, his hand cupping your face as he leaned down to kiss your forehead, his lips lingering there for a moment longer than necessary. “I love you too.”

And in that moment, you believed him. You believed that no matter how haunted your mind was, no matter how broken you sometimes felt, there was still something whole and good in the world.

It was him.

It was Jace.

And for now, that was enough.

part 2: Gossiping Corridors

[delilahsturniolo]

୨୧ matt loves making out with you while you dry hump him . . .

dedicated to @bernardsbendystraws and the tripettes gc <3

the air is thick, heavy with the scent of sex and the low, ragged breaths that fill the room. you're straddling matt, your laced panties absolutely drenched as your soaked cunt grinded slowly against matt’s pants, creating a wet patch. his hands are secure around you, pulling you closer, driving you into him, his eyes locked on yours, burning with a possessive fire.

your mouths crash together, a hungry, desperate dance. his tongue claims yours, a relentless exploration that leaves you breathless, wanting more. your hands are tangled in his hair, your nails digging into matt’s scalp, pulling him closer as you try to deepen the kiss. he starts to move, a slow, deliberate grind against your core, the friction igniting a fire within you. his hips rock against yours, a hypnotic rhythm that builds with each deliberate pass. "that's it, baby," matt murmurs against your lips, his voice a low, seductive rumble. "feel that? that's what you want. that's what you need. tell me about it."

"fuck..." you gasp, your voice thick with need. "oh god... it feels so good... i want you... i need you... i need you inside me, now..." matt leans back, watching as you moved your hips, letting you put in the effort. "oh yeah? you want it, don't you? you're begging for it. you're getting so wet for me." he slides his hand between your legs and inside your panties, his fingers finding the wet heat, the core of your desire. he teases you, a slow dance between your pleasure points, sending jolts of pure bliss through you. "fuck..you feel so hood around my fingers sweetheart..you want more don’t you?"

"yes." you moan, your body arching against his, desperate for the release. "yes, please... don't stop... i can't wait..." his movements intensify, the rhythm quickening, the friction building to a fever pitch. he grinds against you, pushing you higher, driving you to the edge. "you're mine," he growls, his voice a low command. "you're all mine. you're a fucking mess for me pretty girl.”

"oh, matt," you moan, the sound a broken plea. "please... i'm so close..." he grabs your hips, encouraging you to grind against his leg quicker. his words were a slow, deliberate torture. "say it. say you want it. say my name, baby. tell me what you want me to do. tell me how you want it."

"matt..." you cry out, your voice trembling. "fuck me, matt... please... i want you to... i want you to..." he suddenly leans in, his eyes burning with a primal fire, and he silences your desperate pleas with a kiss, a deep, demanding kiss that steals your breath and claims your mouth. his tongue plunges deep, a desperate dance that mirrors the rhythm of his hips. you moan into his mouth, your body convulsing with need, your hands clutching at his shoulders, desperate to hold on. you immediately came with one last loud moan, making a mess all over matt’s lap.

he pulls back, just enough to look into your eyes, his gaze intense. "such a good girl.." matt whispers, his voice a low growl. matt doesn't speak any further, he doesn't need to. his hands move, finding their way back to you, his touch a slow, deliberate burn. he cups your face, his thumbs tracing the curve of your cheekbones, his eyes devouring you. then, his hands move lower, finding the clasp of your bra. with a deft movement, he releases it, the delicate lace falling away to reveal your breasts, plump and swollen from the intensity of your climax.

you gasp, your head thrown back, your hands tangling in his hair as you try to deepen the kiss. "fuck, matt..." you moan, your voice thick with desire. "yes... more... please..." he obliges, his tongue swirling around your nipple, his teeth nipping gently, making you arch into his touch. his other hand finds your other breast, his thumb circling the hardened peak, driving you wild. the friction is exquisite, a slow burn that builds with each pass.

"you like that, don't you?" he murmurs against your lips, his voice a low growl. "you like being touched? you like me touching you like this?" you nod. "yes... oh god, yes," you moan, your body writhing against his. "fuck... please, matt... don't stop..." you gasped, beginning to quickly move your hips against matt again for some sort of friction.

you knew you had a long night ahead of you…

© delilahsturniolo | do not copy, reuse, or modify any of my works.

💌: aaaaaannnddddd goodnight i’m going to sleep

[hatethysinner]

Hey hey i plowed through all of your Remmick fics today and 😛😛😛 tewww good. May a request a smut/fluff(or both I aint complaining) of a stupid little pathetic Remmick and reader who has to clean him up after feeding one night? please and thankss

ʜᴏᴜɴᴅ ᴅᴏɢ

ᴡᴄ: 4.08k

ᴀ/ɴ: the floor is where remmick belongs. thank you lyn for giving me an excuse to continue to feed my unhinged pet!remmick kick bc that one fanart + the whimpering audio... i've been SO HORNY FOR THIS MAN!!!! and to think i originally wasn't into the idea at all???? who even am i anymore? this is just a small taste of the depravity you'll be getting in the pearl fic btw

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: 18+ MDNI (!!!!!!), the filthiest smut i've ever written, no plot all porn, feral!remmick, pathetic!remmick, pet!remmick, sub!remmick, dom!reader, actually unhinged!reader, matching each other's freak, graphic violence, murder, arousal from murder, dacryphilia, begging, masturbation, cunnilingus, face sitting, orgasm denial, p in v, ride em cowgirl, unprotected sex, praise/degradation kink, very light sadism/masochism, drool, spit kink, blood, bloodplay, monsterfucking, squirting contest lets see who can squirt the farthest, miscellaneous horniness, excessive use of pet names, excessive use of good boy but i'm kind of obsessed with it

It was past midnight when you heard him scratching at the door.

Soft at first—light little scrapes of claws against wood. Then heavier. More urgent. A faint thud, as though something heavy dropped against the porch boards, followed by a low, warbling growl that didn’t sound human at all.

You set down your embroidery and tilted your head, straining to listen through the walls of the old wooden house. Outside, the swamp hummed and hissed with frogs and night insects, the thick, humid heat pressing against the windows like breath.

Then came another sound. A long, slow dragging noise. Something being pulled over the porch planks, heavy and wet.

Your pulse quickened, not with fear—but with a heat that curled low in your belly.

Because you knew exactly who was on the other side of that door.

And exactly what he’d brought home this time.

When you opened it, the smell hit you first—coppery and rich, warm and wet as a fresh kill. It poured into the hallway, mingling with the tang of swamp water and sweat.

And there he was.

Remmick.

Hunched low on the porch, shirt ripped half-open, suspenders hanging loose off his shoulders, chest heaving like he’d run ten miles through the grass fields. His hair hung damp and wild over his forehead, streaked with darker patches where blood had soaked in. His lips were peeled back in a grin too wide for a man, fangs gleaming slick and red.

And clamped between those fangs—like a hound with a prize rabbit—was a man’s wrist, limp and pale, trailing a body behind it like a ragdoll.

Remmick gave the limb a hard tug, dragging the corpse another foot closer to the door, leaving a thick, glistening smear of blood across the porch boards. His eyes glittered an inhuman red as he gazed up at you, panting softly through his nose, chest rising and falling.

“Darlin’,” he crooned, voice rough and muffled around the corpse’s arm, “lookit what I brung ya.”

He let go of the man’s wrist, letting the body drop with a thud that rattled the boards.

A ripple of pleasure rolled through you at the sight.

Because God, he was beautiful like this.

Splattered with blood, hair stuck to his temples, eyes blown wide and starving. A monster. Your monster.

And you knew, without him saying a word, that he’d done it for you.

Not because you’d asked. But because some part of him—deep and primal—needed you to see what he could do. Needed your approval.

Blood dripped from his chin as he crawled forward on hands and knees, leaving dark streaks across the porch. He moved like an animal, shoulders bunched, hips swaying, his breath hitching in little, excited gasps.

“Y’said… y’said I been good lately,” he panted, eyes flicking hungrily over your face, down your neck, then back up. “Thought… maybe… ya’d like a present.”

He was trembling. Not from fear—but from the strain of holding himself back. His fingers dug into the porch boards, claws half-extended, as though every muscle in him wanted to leap at you.

You felt your lips curl into a slow smile.

“Well,” you said, stepping closer so your slippers brushed the blood soaking the threshold. “Ain’t you a good boy.”

He whimpered—a soft, pleading sound that no human should’ve been able to make.

A thick line of drool, tinged pink with blood, dripped from his lower lip to the porch. He licked it up messily, eyes fluttering closed, hips giving a tiny, unconscious roll as he rutted the air like a dog scenting a bitch in heat.

“Wanted… wanted t’ show you…” he gasped. “How good I can hunt. How… how strong I am for ya.”

Your gaze drifted to the corpse sprawled behind him. The man’s throat was torn out, ribs crushed inward like a paper bag. There was so much blood it had soaked through Remmick’s trousers, splattering his pale skin, matting the hair along his forearms.

And he was hard.

Even crouched low like that, you could see the thick bulge straining against his fly, a dark wet spot spreading where precum leaked through the fabric.

He crawled closer until he could press his bloody cheek against your thigh, smearing crimson over your nightgown. He nuzzled there, breathing you in, voice breaking as he whispered,

“D-did I do good, darlin’? Y’ain’t mad, are ya? Didn’t mean t’ mess up the porch… just… couldn’t wait no more. Had t’ bring ya somethin’…”

You carded your fingers through his blood-clotted hair, feeling the sharp little tremors rolling through his body.

Because the truth was—nothing made Remmick come apart faster than making you proud. Than serving you.

And as you glanced down at the ruin he’d dragged home, then back to his trembling, eager eyes—you felt more heat pool low and heavy between your thighs.

Because Lord help you… you’d have to clean him up.

And you were going to love every second of it.

“Bring it inside,” you said, voice calm and cool, though your pulse thundered behind your ribs.

Remmick blinked up at you, pupils huge and glassy, like he was half-drunk on blood and your praise. “Y… y’want me to…?”

“Now, Remmick.”

A shiver rippled through his body. “Yes, ma’am.”

He turned and seized the corpse by the ankle, hauling it over the threshold without a second’s hesitation. Blood smeared in long, glistening streaks across the floorboards, pooling thickly under the man’s slack jaw as Remmick dragged him further into the house and dropped him unceremoniously near the hearth.

You trailed behind him, lips pursed as you surveyed the crimson trails soaking into the grain of the wood, spotting where droplets had already flung across the walls, the furniture—even your favorite rug.

“Remmick.”

He froze mid-crawl, fingers splayed on the floor, shoulders bunching like you’d struck him. “Ma’am…?”

“Look at this mess,” You swept a hand toward the blood-slick path he’d left in his wake. “My house looks like a hog slaughterhouse. Again.”

His ears seemed to pin back like a dog’s, his voice breaking. “I… I’m sorry, darlin’—I ain’t mean t’—”

You stepped closer, tilting his chin up with your fingers. “You know what happens when you make a mess, don’t you?”

A trembling breath escaped his parted lips. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Good.”

And you walked away from him, your hips swaying as you moved to the armchair nearest the hearth. You sat down with deliberate grace, crossing your legs slowly, the hem of your nightgown rising just enough to show a glisten of skin.

“Strip.”

He obeyed instantly, peeling away his shredded shirt and shoving down his trousers, leaving him naked, streaked with blood, his cock flushed an angry red and leaking a glossy trail down his thigh.

You let your eyes rake over him, tongue pressing to the back of your teeth. “Now stand there. And don’t touch yourself.”

His voice was hoarse. “Please… please, darlin’, I’m—”

“Shut up.”

He whimpered.

Then you spread your legs. Slowly. Luxuriously. Letting the nightgown fall open over your thighs as your fingers dipped between them, parting yourself to show him how wet you already were.

Remmick’s head jerked back like he’d been punched, a choked sob escaping him as he took in the glisten of slick on your folds.

“See this?” you murmured, dragging two fingers through the wetness, swirling them over your clit until your hips gave a faint little jerk. “This is what a good boy might get. But you ain’t been good, have you, Remmick?”

“N-no, ma’am,” he gasped, voice quivering as his hands curled into claws at his sides. “I’ll—I’ll clean it, I swear, I’ll clean everythin’, please just lemme—”

But you ignored him, leaning back against the chair as you circled your clit harder, letting out a soft, breathy moan.

“God, m’so wet. All from you, Remmick. You look so fuckin’ filthy right now…”

He was shaking, drool starting to slide from the corner of his lips, dripping down his chin as he stared, unblinking, between your thighs.

“Ma’am… please…”

“No.”

You moved your other hand down, spreading your folds wider as you slipped two fingers inside yourself, your mouth dropping open on a ragged moan.

“Ohhh, fuck… feels so good…” you panted, pumping your fingers slowly as you made sure to put on a show, letting your moans grow louder, wetter, obscene. “Wish you could feel how tight I am right now… how hot…”

Remmick let out a choked, keening wail, his cock jerking violently as more precum spattered the floor. He tried to reach for himself—and immediately snatched his hands back when you glared.

“Don’t you dare.”

“Please—please, I’m beggin’ you—I c-can’t—” His voice cracked, trembling as more spit leaked past his parted lips. “Lemme taste it, please, I’ll be so good, I’ll—”

You ignored his sobbing pleas, fucking yourself faster, letting your breath hitch and your thighs tremble as your orgasm crept closer.

“Oh, fuck… m’gonna come, Remmick… oh God…”

He let out a sobbing moan that sounded painful, his hips jerking like he was trying to fuck air. Drool dripped in fat strings onto his chest, streaking the dried blood still caked there.

“Please, darlin’, please—”

Your back arched off the chair as you came, your moans echoing through the blood-soaked parlor. You rocked your hips against your own hand, dragging out every pulse of pleasure until your vision swam.

When you finally came down, you pulled your soaked fingers from between your legs, your chest heaving as you stared him down.

Remmick was panting like he’d run five miles, eyes wide and starving, his entire body trembling.

“C’mere.”

He scurried forward on hands and knees, settling anxiously between your spread legs.

You held out your wet fingers. “Clean.”

He threw himself forward, latching onto your hand like a starving beast, tongue dragging over every knuckle, every crevice, sucking your slick off your skin with wet, greedy slurps.

“Good boy,” you murmured.

He moaned around your fingers, hips giving another helpless jerk, precum dribbling steadily from the flushed head of his cock.

When you finally pulled your hand away, you cupped his chin, tilting his face up.

“Keep your mouth open.”

He obeyed instantly, lips falling open, drool pooling as he stared up at you, wide-eyed and desperate.

You leaned forward and spat into his mouth.

A thick rope of saliva fell across his tongue, glistening with your taste.

He swallowed it without a second’s hesitation, a low, guttural moan vibrating in his chest.

“Good boy,” you purred. “Now lie down.”

An aching, panicked sound tore from his throat as he scrambled to the ground, eyes wide and focused on you, chest shuddering with every ragged breath. His arms were pinned tight to his sides as if he didn’t dare move without your command.

You straddled him slowly, letting the blood on your inner thighs smear across his ribs as you settled your weight over his hips. His eyes followed every inch of you, pupils blown black, jaw slack.

You dragged your nails lightly down his chest, just enough to leave faint red lines. “All this mess you made tonight… and for what?”

He tried to answer, but you slapped your hand over his mouth, leaning down until your lips brushed his ear.

“For this. For me to sit on your fuckin’ face. S’that all you’re good for, Remmick? Lappin’ up my cunt?”

A muffled, shattered whimper vibrated against your palm.

You lifted yourself, knees sliding further up his torso, your wet heat hovering just inches from his face. He tilted his head back, panting open-mouthed, eyes wild and pleading.

“C’mon, baby,” you murmured, grinding your hips forward just enough that a string of slick dripped onto his chin. “Make me come again. Only thing you ever do right.”

He lunged.

There was no hesitation, no delicacy—he surged up into you, mouth wide, tongue driving between your folds like he was trying to crawl inside you.

“Fuck—”

Your head snapped back as he buried his face against your cunt, tongue plunging deep, then dragging up hard and flat with obscene, wet sounds.

He was ravenous.

Slurping, sucking, growling low in his chest, nose mashed against you as he inhaled sharp, desperate breaths like he couldn’t get enough of your scent.

“Jesus fuck,” you snarled, clutching fistfuls of his hair as you ground down. “That what you wanted? Get blood all over my floor so you could eat my pussy like a fuckin’ animal?”

He moaned wildly in answer, tongue twisting deep inside you, then flicking out to lash your clit so fast and hard your thighs started to tremble.

“Goddamn, Remmick—shit—”

You rocked your hips forward, forcing more of your weight down onto his mouth. He whimpered but didn’t pull back, letting you smother him, his eyes fluttering half-shut as he focused on licking you raw.

Every breath he tried to take came out as a choked little gasp against your slit, his chest bucking as he struggled to keep up with your grinding hips.

“Fuckin’ filthy monster,” you snarled, tilting your hips so his tongue hit deeper. “This what you were made for? Lickin’ up my mess like some rabid mutt?”

A muffled yes vibrated against you as he tried to answer without pulling his tongue away. His hands twitched at his sides, fingers curling like claws, but he didn’t dare touch you or himself.

“Say it,” you ordered, grinding harder. “Say what you’re good for.”

He ripped his mouth away just long enough to sob, “F… fuckin’ made t’ eat your pussy, ma’am… th-that’s all I’m good for—”

“Damn right,” you spat, slamming yourself back down onto his mouth.

He yelped but instantly resumed his assault, tongue thrusting into you in desperate, messy plunges, slipping up to flick and circle your clit until sparks exploded behind your eyes.

Your thighs began to quake as your orgasm crept up fast and brutal, the heat inside you coiling tighter and tighter with each frantic suck.

Remmick was moaning loudly now, sloppy noises echoing off the blood-splattered walls, as if he was getting off on how you shook and sobbed above him.

“Fuck—fuck—gonna—oh God—”

You didn’t even finish the sentence.

Your second climax slammed into you like a freight train, your vision whiting out as your hips bucked uncontrollably. A gush of come spilled out of you, splattering his cheeks, his chin, soaking his hair and streaking down his throat.

He didn’t flinch. Didn’t pull away.

He drank it.

Tongue darting to catch every drop, mouth sealed around you as he sucked hard enough to make you scream.

Your body convulsed on top of him, muscles locking as you let out a raw, broken wail. Slick kept pouring out of you, soaking him until his whole face glistened, until the taste of you and the scent of blood mingled into one thick, intoxicating perfume.

When the worst of it passed, you sagged forward, chest heaving as you fought to catch your breath.

Remmick was still licking gentle little stripes up your slit, tongue trembling, eyes half-lidded with adoration and feverish lust.

“Good fuckin’ boy,” you finally rasped, reaching down to slap his soaked cheek lightly. “Now clean up your mess, and do it right.”

He whined, tongue flicking out faster with something desperate to prove.

But suddenly, you lifted yourself up off his face.

Remmick let out a pitiful little wail, his head snapping upward, eyes wide and wet. His hands jerked against the floor as he tried to grab you, fingers clawing at the air, but your knees were still planted firm on his biceps, keeping him pinned and helpless.

“N-no—no, please—don’t go,” he sobbed, “please, darlin’, I—I wasn’t done, lemme finish—”

You cupped his flushed, slick-covered cheek, your thumb brushing lightly over the edge of one crimson-stained fang.

“Patience, Remmick,” you cooed, voice dripping sweet venom. “Now carry me to the sofa.”

He blinked at you, breath shuddering, then nodded so fast his hair flew around his face. “Y-yes, ma’am—”

He clambered upright, still trembling, chest heaving as he bent to slip an arm under your knees and another around your shoulders. Even soaked in blood and trembling like a leaf, he lifted you with ease, holding you cradled tight to his chest.

He stumbled a little, feet sliding on the blood-slick floorboards, but he managed to carry you across the room, eyes flicking to yours every few steps as though terrified you might vanish if he blinked.

When he reached the sofa, he eased you down, setting you delicately on the cushions like something fragile and precious. He hovered there above you, hair wild, blood streaking his chest, cock bobbing angrily between you both.

You didn’t give him a chance to speak.

Instead, you grabbed his shoulders, pushed him back into the sofa, and swung a leg over his thighs, straddling him.

Remmick gasped, head falling back, throat exposed and shining with blood and sweat. His hips bucked upward instinctively, trying to slot himself into your heat, but you lifted yourself just out of reach, hovering your soaked folds an inch above his flushed, leaking tip.

A low, desperate whimper crawled out of his throat.

“Darlin’, please—”

“Uh-uh,” you chided, pressing a palm to his chest to hold him still. “Tell me how bad you want it.”

His eyes snapped open, wild and hungry. His fingers clawed helplessly at the cushions beside his hips as he tried to thrust upward again, only for you to push him firmly back down.

“C’mon, Remmick,” you purred, leaning in closer, your lips brushing his ear. “Tell me how much you need my pussy.”

He broke.

“I—I need it, I need it so fuckin’ bad—God, darlin’, I’m hurtin’ for it, please—please, let me feel you, I’ll do anythin’—I’ll clean the whole house, I’ll sleep on the floor, wear that collar, let ya leash me up and drag me wherever y’want—“

Your grin curled wicked as you teased your wet slit against his throbbing tip, coating him in your slick without letting him push inside.

He choked on a sob, his hips trembling, cock twitching violently as more precum spilled out to mix with your juices.

“Say it,” you whispered. “Say exactly what you want.”

“I—I wanna be inside ya—wanna feel ya squeezin’ me—wanna come in ya, fill ya up so good y’don’t ever wanna leave me—please, baby, please, I’m beggin’—”

Halfway through the last plea, you slammed your hips down in one vicious drop.

Remmick screamed.

A ragged, animalistic sound tore from his chest as your walls clenched around him, swallowing every inch of his thick length in one slick, blazing-hot plunge. His eyes flew wide, rolling back almost immediately, fangs snapping down as he clutched at the back of the sofa like he was trying to hold on for dear life.

“SHIT—oh fuck—darlin’, I—I can’t—oh God—”

But you didn’t let up.

You set a ruthless pace, bouncing hard on his lap, hips smacking down with sharp, wet slaps that echoed off the walls. Slick spilled down your thighs in messy rivulets, drenching his lap as you fucked yourself on him, grinding deep enough with each thrust that your clit scraped the base of his cock.

He was gone.

Sobbing, eyes streaming tears, chest heaving as he babbled a flood of words that barely made sense:

“So fuckin’ tight—oh God, y’so warm—feels so good—can’t breathe, darlin’, y’gonna break me—fuck—fuck—thank ya—”

You licked a long, slow stripe up his cheek, catching the salty tang of his tears mixed with the faint iron of blood still streaking his face.

“Mmm,” you purred, breathless as you slammed down even harder. “You taste divine, sugar.”

And then you crushed your mouth to his, devouring him in a bruising kiss, moaning into his mouth as the tang of blood and your own slick flooded your senses, your tongue stroking over his fangs as you swallowed every broken whimper he offered up like worship.

You felt it—felt the way his whole body was trembling, the wild, frantic pulse of his cock deep inside you, the way his hips gave these tiny, desperate jerks that spoke of a man right on the edge of breaking.

You pulled back just enough to snarl against his lips.

“Don’t you fuckin’ dare come without me.”

Remmick let out a shattered sob, forehead pressed to yours, eyes glassy and wild. “Y-yes, ma’am—yes, I—I won’t—”

“Say it.”

“I-I don’t deserve t’come without ya,” he gasped, voice rising to a shrill, breathless cry as your walls clenched tight around him again. “Don’t deserve it—wanna come with you, wanna feel you take it—please—please—”

You rocked your hips down harder to make a point.

“You wait for me,” you hissed, slamming your hips down with punishing force.

“Y-yes—fuck—yes ma’am—” His voice cracked, high and wrecked, tears streaming down his cheeks as he panted open-mouthed, spit glistening on his lips. “I’m—I’m holdin’ it, I swear—I swear—”

You could feel the coil winding tighter and tighter in your belly, heat flooding your veins, sparks dancing behind your eyes as you ground yourself down harder, chasing that final, devastating release.

“Remmick—” you gasped, fingers sliding down to clutch at his wrists where his claws twitched and curled uselessly in the air beside you. “Help me. Push me down—hard.”

He obeyed instantly, claws biting lightly into your hips as he slammed you down onto him with all the strength in his wrecked body.

Your world exploded into white.

You let out a strangled, guttural moan as your orgasm crashed through you, your vision whiting out as your walls seized around him, milking him in greedy, convulsive ripples.

And Remmick howled.

His hips snapped upward one last time, driving himself so deep inside you that the blunt head of his cock kissed your cervix, and then you felt it—thick, hot spurts flooding your cunt, pulsing into your deepest depths as he came with a sobbing wail.

“Fuck—fuck—oh God— m’comin’—darlin’, I’m comin’—”

Your name tore from his throat as he kept rutting into you in tiny, frantic thrusts, shoving his release as far into you as your body would take it. His eyes rolled back, fangs bared, drool spilling over his lips as his claws gripped you hard enough to bruise.

And through every wave of bliss, every aftershock that left you shaking and gasping, you felt him pouring into you, thick warmth seeping past your already stretched entrance, spilling over his thighs and yours.

He collapsed against the sofa, still pulsing inside you, chest heaving as he sobbed your name over and over, his voice wrecked and trembling.

“Fuck—fuck—God, thank ya—”

Smack.

Your palm landed lightly against his cheek, not hard enough to sting, but enough to snap his glazed eyes open, confusion swimming in the crimson depths.

“Remmick.” Your voice was soft, sing-song. “Who said you were done?”

He blinked rapidly, lips parting as he tried to gather his breath. “I—I didn’t mean—I’m sorry, ma’am—I’m sorry—”

You cocked an eyebrow, tilting your head. “Mmm. You better be.”

Without another word, still trembling and leaking inside you, Remmick slipped his arms under your back and thighs, lifting you effortlessly off his lap. Your slick spilled warm down his shaft and onto the sofa cushions as he rose, your bodies still pressed close, your breath brushing his neck.

He staggered slightly, knees buckling as aftershocks rippled through him, but he caught himself, gripping you tighter, holding you like something precious.

You let out a low laugh, locking your arms around his neck, your legs hooking around his waist so he couldn’t put you down even if he tried.

“Where are you takin’ me, baby?” you murmured, lips ghosting over his ear.

He panted, voice ragged. “Bath, ma’am… gonna… gonna get ya clean…”

“Mm. S’what I thought.”

He started toward the bathroom, feet leaving sticky prints of blood and other fluids across the wooden floors as he carried you. His hair hung in damp, tangled strands, sweat and blood drying in rusty streaks over his pale skin.

As he crossed the threshold, you glanced back over your shoulder at the carnage left behind—the smeared crimson trails, the cooling corpse near the hearth, the splatters reaching all the way to the walls.

It should have looked like hell.

But all it made you feel was a bone-deep, feral sort of satisfaction.

You turned back to Remmick, your chest pressing to his as you leaned in to place a soft, gentle kiss against the curve of his cheek, smiling wickedly when he turned to look at you.

“Good boy.”

[sturniqlo]

KINKTOBER WEEK 5 | FOCUS- M.S

summary: where matt chooses to play video games over his girlfriend and it ends with him not being able to touch her for a while

cw: cursing, SMUT; dom(?)!reader, masterbating!f, oral!f receiving, hair pulling, fingering, making out

an: this is super super short, i honestly hate it, but happy kink-o-ween | until next kinktober...

masterlist | kinktober | join my taglist

-----------------------------------------------

it was friday night and y/n was over matt's house. ever since they started dating, she always spent the weekends at his house. no matter how she felt, she never missed the opportunity to stay a weekend at his. today was no different, she had driven to his, her duffel bag packed to the brim, and she was now laying in his bed.

however, ever since she got here he's been sitting at his desk playing fortnite. matt had probably spoken less than forty words to her. she was getting needy for his attention.

"baby!" y/n says for the hundredth time. "yes?" matt turns his head before looking back at his screen. "get off, pay attention to me." she whines. "wait until i win a game, okay? i get this really cool prize if i do." he quickly turns back and sees that he had gotten killed.

"fuck!" he said, his hand coming down on the desk. "please?" she pouted. "m' almost there, babe." matt fixed his headset and went back to playing. she sighed, tapped her fingers on her chest, thinking of ways to get his attention. calling out for him and telling him clearly didn't work,

she huffs, feeling the familiar ache between her thighs. she had been on her period for the last couple of days and and it was torture without matt's touch. now that she was off, he didn't touch her. he was literally right in front of her, yet he didn't pay attention to her. she decided to take care of the problem herself.

y/n pulled her sweatpants off and tossed them on the floor and the cold air littered goosebumps on her legs. she centered herself in the middle of the bed and propped a pillow against the headboard and laid against it, pressing her feet flat against the bed.

she lifting her hips and pulled her panties down to the middle of her thigh. her hand trailed in between her thighs to her wet folds. "shit." she sighed in relief when she felt her cold fingers on her clit. matt turns his head around as he hears her moan out. the sight of her touching herself makes him get hard instantly. "holy shit- babe." he takes his headset off before heading over to her.

y/n is quick to speak before he can get up. "no, you stay over there until you win a round, okay? i told you- fuck- several times to pay attention to me." he whines as she continues to play with herself. "please, baby. i'm- i'm sorry." matt looks at her fingers going in and out of her.

"once you win- mm- you get to touch me. and if- if i cum before you win- shit- you don't get to touch me." her pace quickened. matt felt himself get hard in his sweatpants. "but, baby." she shook her head. "focus on your game." her jaw slacked when she massaged the spongy spot inside of her. "fuck- fine." he sighed, turning back around in his chair his head turned back to her twice more before finally focusing on his game.

as he played with shaky hands, the loudness of her moans increased and it was hard for him to focus. the sound of her little whines went straight to his cock and he was now forming a wet patch in the front of his grey sweats. his leg bounced up and down as he tried to win as fast as he could, he didn't even care about the prize anymore, he wanted her. to touch her, to taste her.

"mm- oh shit!" she gasped as she lightly pinched her clit just like matt always did. she rolled the swollen bud in between her two fingers and it drove her crazy. "matt- i'm gettin' so close." she bit her lip trying to suppress her moans so she could get the full sentence out. matt heard her and his grip on the controller tightened. "baby, wait- please."

as much as she wanted to teach him a lesson. she listened to him and removed her fingers from her clit and slipped them into her tight hole. she moaned, even though they didn't fill her up like matt did.

y/n pumped her fingers in and out of her. the squelching sound of her sopping pussy hit matt. "fuck." he muttered to himself hearing the erotic sound. he was so into his thoughts that he didn't even realize he had won.

YOU WON

click anywhere to claim your prize

he didn't care to click, he tossed his controller onto his desk and pushed himself off of his chair and made his way to y/n. her eyes were closed in pleasure and matt saw her arousal covered fingers going in and out of her, her panties were still tucked in between her knees. matt wasted no time in pulling her legs, bringing her to the edge of the bed and removed her panties all the way off.

"matt!" she gasped when she felt his mouth connect with her pussy. "taste so fucking good!" he moaned against her. the vibrations adding to her pleasure. "f-fuck- so good." her hands tangled into his hair, pulling just how he liked it. matt threw her legs over his shoulders and continued to devour her while she was a whimpering mess. "don't stop- i'm so close. putting your mouth into good use, yeah? how 'bout you put your fingers to use." her jaw slacked when she felt his tongue prod at her hole.

he placed one last kiss on her clit before removing his mouth and bringing his two fingers and slid them up her slit, coating his fingers with her arousal. his fingers toyed with her bud, he loved to see her legs try and close. "yes- so good." she nodded against the bed. the two fingers slid back down and entered her hole- stretching her out. matt felt her warm walls tighten around his fingers.

"so tight for me, baby." he licked his lips before placing his mouth on her clit while his fingers thrusted into her. "shit! keep going, please! feels so good. fucking love your fingers in me." the sting of his scalp hurt so good.

a few sucks and thrusts later, her legs were shaking and she was coming. "i'm cumming, matt. fucking- holy shit!" her legs shook and she tried to close her legs around his head. matt kept them open, still licking her clit. once she started pushing his head away, he kissed up her clothed torso up to her lips. "m' sorry, m' never ignoring you again. always gonna be there to help you, m'kay?" he mumbled against her lips.

she giggled, wrapping her arms around his neck bringing him closer. "go claim your prize, babe." she pulled away and looked into his eyes. he shook his head.

this was his prize.

[nymphoniah]

come undone | logan howlett

paring: old man!logan x younger!reader

AN: i can't stop thinking about old man!logan guys, i think its turning into a problem um... but here's a quick drabble about you being needy, and him being the gruffy old man he is, you decide to take matters into your own hands <3

content/tags: NSFW, minors DNI (18+ only), old man!logan, explicit age gap (reader is in their 20's), logan spoils his girl, thigh riding, daddy kink, swearing, pet names

you find logan resting in his office, seated on his leather arm chair. his white button up is messily undone, revealing his worn out beater underneath. his chest hair peeking through the shallow neckline of the shirt, leaving your mind to wonder about.

he catches your gaze and flashes you a smile, "c'mon doll, sit in your old man's lap", he coos, signaling you to come over with his middle and pointer finger.

and how could you ever say no to logan?

you couldn’t help but approach him. curling up in logan’s lap, you rest your head against his broad chest. your fingers gently rubbing against his ribbed tank top that fits snug against him. his body isn’t what it once was before, but he still remains defined and muscular, filling the tank top perfectly.

logan’s salt-and-pepper beard tickles your rose tinted cheeks as you litter his face in kisses. you can’t help but take in his beauty, every wrinkle, scar, age spot; for him being over 200, he absolutely aged like wine.

moving your fingers from his chest to the shell of his ears, you swiftly remove his prescription glasses from his face. you press your lips gently against the crow’s feet that defined his tired eyes, making him crack a tiny smile.

“you’re so handsome, logan.” you sigh, placing his glasses onto the side table placed on his right. you rest your head back on his chest, taking a deep sigh. the scent of his cologne floods your senses, bourbon and vanilla.

you shift around, straddling yourself onto his left thigh. your legs wrapped around him like a vice whilst your core pulses for attention against his tense quad.

“looks like someone’s needy,” he teases, placing his firm hands on your hips, gently guiding you back and forth against him. “cmon baby, take it out on me.” you gently rock your hips, keeping a slow and steady pace.

with his old age, he’s lost his stamina for sure, but he always has the energy for you. making sure that you get off, anytime and anywhere. you’re his princess, and he always makes sure to spoil his sweet little girl.

your hips rock in tandem against his thigh as he rhythmically bounces his leg to match your pace. you mewl in pleasure, tilting your head back as ecstasy fills your mind.

logan places gentle, sloppy kisses against your neck, making sure to pay close attention to your pulse point. he’s nipping at the soft skin of your neck, concentrating on one area enough to leave a maroon bruise the next day.

both of your movements become more erratic. as your pace quickens, his hands move to your chest, groping your breasts, thumbs nimbly working at your buds, rolling and gently tugging on them.

you hiss out in pleasure, teetering on the edge of pain and pleasure. “so close…” you whimper, biting your bottom lip tightly to alleviate the growing tension in your stomach.

“let it out darlin', i know you can do it for me,” he grunts into your neck, his hands finding their way back to your hips, pushing you harder down onto him.

absolutely soaking through your panties, you can feel the patch of wetness you left on his light washed denim jeans. you’re faltering on the edge, not wanting to let yourself go so soon.

“c'mon, i know you want this princess," he murmurs into the shell of your ear, nibbling at your earlobe.

"let go for your daddy,” he groans as he pushes your hips down, forcing you to grind harder against him. logan utters a string of sweet nothings in your ear, ending with a you can do it darlin', and you finally tick.

you wrap your arms around his neck, bringing him closer to you, your pants becoming more and more exhausted. your hips thrust forward and hard around him one last time, and the knot in your stomach finally snaps.

“f-fuck logan, fuck!” you whine, your combined moans filling his office.

you gently pull away from him, pressing your forehead against his, your lust blown pupils meeting his stern gaze.

“yknow how to rile me up,” he says cheekily, gently molding your ass between his fingertips. “almost got me to come in my pants like a teenager,” logan snarkily adds.

“shut it old man,” you quipped, taking his glasses from the side table and placing them back on him so that they sit on the edge of his nose bridge. you press a quick kiss to his lips which soon formed into a smirk.

logan looks up at you through his glasses, hanging on the curve of his nose— a perfect sight you can never get enough of.

“now let me show you what this old man can do…”, he murmurs against your lips.