gooddelice

[gooddelice]

These lazy mornings….

[gooddelice]

satoru is your ex for a reason.

one that you can't seem to remember as he rolls his hips against yours harder and harder, like hes purposefully trying to lapse your memory, fuck you so stupid you wonder why you broke up with him in the first place.

he was only supposed to come over to grab some of his things he had left at yours. his toothbrush and a few pairs of clothes were tossed into a box and then discarded in favour of winning you back.

is it working? maybe. the eyes he gave you were so wide and wistful and needy that you couldn’t help but let him carry you to the bedroom and eat you out for an hour before letting him fuck you

“you’ll take me back, won’t you baby?” he asks, fucking you deep into the plush mattress that finally doesn’t dip where he used to sleep at night. “your pretty pussy misses me so much, she’s squeezing me so tight…”

“gojo—”

he thrusts hard, kinda mean. “toru, baby. you call me toru, remember? say it right.”

“toru, you’re so fucking—“

“in love with you. i miss you so much; please take me back, baby! gonna make you cum so hard you forget we ever stopped dating to begin with, hm? actually— we should just skip the whole make-up thing and get married.”

[gooddelice]

[gooddelice]

werewolf who will die without your attention bc of how obsessed he is 👀 constantly in your personal space, scenting you to ward off others despite not having any actual claim since you’re still just “friends” though he likes to think you just haven’t realized how much better he would be as your mate, he listens to your every word, shows you how big and strong his is, that he can take care of you, and sometimes when he’s feeling lonely he’ll sneak into your house when you go to work and goes through your dirty laundry finding your underwear and unable to stop himself from palming his erection as he smells your scent on the fabric, tastes the sweat that soaked into the cloth

home so soon?

werewolf x female reader nsfw

He’s too close again.

You barely get the front door open before he’s there, looming in your space like a shadow that breathes heavier than it should. His eyes are sharp—hungry—and his nose twitches once, twice.

Then he frowns.

“You smell different,” he mutters, stepping in before you can stop him. His hand grazes your waist as he passes, like that’s normal for friends.

“I walked past someone in the hallway,” you say, shutting the door behind him. “Calm down.”

“I am calm,” he lies. His voice is gravel low, like he’s holding back a growl. “Just don’t like it.”

He turns to face you, all broad shoulders and heat. He’s panting like he ran to your apartment even though he lives five doors down. His chest rises and falls under his hoodie, arms straining the sleeves, like he wants to do something with all this energy.

“What’d he look like?” he asks suddenly. “The guy in the hallway.”

You stare at him. “I didn’t say he was a guy.”

He stares back, unblinking.

“Okay,” you sigh. “He was tall, brown jacket, nothing special. You can relax.”

But he doesn’t.

He steps in again, slow, deliberate, crowding you against the wall. You can feel the heat rolling off him in waves, his scent thick—cedarwood, heat, him—as he tilts his head down to breathe you in.

“Still too strong,” he mutters. “Hold still.”

“What are you—?”

He presses his nose to your neck. Nuzzles you. Breathes deep like he’s trying to erase every trace of anyone else. His hands come up, not quite grabbing—just bracketing your waist like he could hold you there, if you let him.

“You know I hate it when you smell like someone else,” he whispers, voice rough.

“You don’t own me,” you say, heart pounding.

His lips curl into a smirk against your skin. “Yet.”

You shove at his chest, but it’s like trying to move a brick wall. He leans back just enough to look at you properly, and god—he looks wrecked. Like he’s been starving for your touch, your time, your attention, and today was the day he finally snapped.

“You don’t get it,” he mutters, eyes locked on your mouth like he’s about to say something dangerous. “I can’t sleep if I don’t hear your voice. Can’t think straight unless I know where you are. My wolf loses his mind when you’re not around.”

You try to say something, but he cuts you off by leaning down, brushing his nose across your cheek.

“Let me show you,” he murmurs. “Let me take care of you.”

“I didn’t ask you to.”

“I want to,” he growls. “I’m meant to.”

He grabs your hand—gently, but firm—and places it on his chest. You can feel the wild beat of his heart beneath your palm.

“You feel that?” he asks. “That’s yours. It’s always been yours. You just haven’t figured it out yet.”

You stare up at him, speechless.

And then he smiles—fangs flashing just enough to make your pulse spike.

“I’ll wait. But not forever.”

You’d barely been out an hour before he let himself into your apartment.

The key you gave him “just in case”? Yeah. This was an emergency.

Your date had posted a picture.

Of you. All dressed up. Smiling. And someone else’s hand in the corner of the shot, resting way too close to your hip.

He growled the second he saw it. His wolf didn’t just stir—it howled. Scratched at his ribs. Snarled in his chest until he was pacing, breathing hard, sweat on his brow.

You weren’t answering his messages.

So now he’s here. In your room. Sitting on the edge of your bed like it’s the only place on earth that feels real.

His hands shake as they trail across your sheets, grabbing the pillow you sleep on and dragging it into his lap. He presses his face into the fabric and groans—your scent. Sweet and clean and so yours, it makes his head spin.

“I wouldn’t need this if you’d just pick me,” he mutters into the cotton, voice hoarse.

But his gaze shifts—and there it is. The laundry basket in the corner, still half-full.

He’s on it in seconds. Sifting. Searching.

And then he finds them.

Your underwear.

Soft. Thin. Still holding the heat of you in the fibers. He breathes in deep and shudders, jaw tight, eyes glowing faintly in the dim light of your room.

“I shouldn’t,” he whispers—but the words mean nothing. His hand fists in the fabric as he brings it to his mouth, tongue flicking out before he can stop himself. The taste of your skin, the trace of your sweat—it breaks something in him.

He groans, low and wrecked.

“I could make you so happy,” he murmurs, palming himself through his jeans, hips twitching. “You just don’t see it yet.”

He leans back on your bed, fists your underwear in one hand, and keeps his other wrapped tight around himself. He ruts into his palm, chest heaving, every thrust punctuated with soft, desperate sounds.

“Mine,” he growls. “You’re mine. He can’t have you.”

He bites back a moan, burying it into your pillow, and imagines your voice whispering his name. Imagines your hands on him instead. Your mouth. Your heat.

When he finally finishes, he’s gasping—sweat-damp and trembling.

He lies there in the dark, wrapped in your scent, heart still racing.

And he waits.

Because you’re coming home soon.

And next time? He’s not letting you walk out that door.

You should’ve been gone for another hour.

But your date kinda fell apart and he wasn’t really your type anyways. So, you came home early, keys jingling softly in your hand as you nudged the door open.

The air in your apartment felt… off. Room temperature sure, but a distinct smell of sweat in the air.

You stepped inside, confused. Quiet.

And then you heard it—faint, rhythmic sounds coming from your bedroom. Heavy breathing. Something low and ragged, not yours.

You moved silently, footsteps light on the floor. The door was open just an inch.

You pushed it wider.

And froze.

There—on your bed—was him.

Back curled. Shoulders trembling. Eyes closed, jaw tight with a moan that barely made it past his lips. One of your panties clutched in a clawed fist. And in his other hand—

Your breath caught.

He was pumping himself with slow, aching strokes, thick and flushed, hips twitching into the motion like he was holding back too much. His thighs were tense, the muscles in his arms shaking, sweat dampening the hair along his forearms. His body looked bigger, stretched taut with restraint.

Your laundry basket sat open beside the bed.

The pantie he held was yours—the one you’d worn to bed two nights ago. And from the way his nose buried in it between strokes, from the helpless growl that rumbled in his chest as he tasted the cloth, you didn’t need to guess what he was doing.

You stepped forward.

His eyes snapped open the moment the floor creaked. He froze.

Everything stopped. His hand. His breath. The heat that had been rising off his body like wildfire… stalled.

You whisper, “What the fuck are you doing?”

“I—I couldn’t help it,” he breathes. He sits up slowly, hands flexing on your sheets like he’s trying to ground himself. “You went out. With him. I saw the post, and—and I lost it.”

“So you broke into my apartment?” you hiss.

“You gave me a key.” His voice drops. “You trusted me.”

“To water my plants, not—this!”

He stared at you like a cornered animal. Half-wild. Guilt crashed through his expression, but it didn’t cover the arousal—the swollen flush of his cock, the gleam of precum at the tip, the way his legs wouldn’t stop trembling.

“You weren’t—” he started, then swallowed hard. “You weren’t supposed to be home.”

You shut the door behind you. Slowly.

He shifted to hide himself, but he couldn’t—not fully. Not with the size of him, not with the tension still trembling in his thighs and chest and groin.

And his ridiculously huge boner. No human could possibly take it.

“You’ve done this before.”

Silence.

You stepped closer. “Haven’t you?”

His eyes dropped. Shame darkened his face, and something deeper—something feral—pulsed underneath it. Like restraint was the only thing keeping him from begging.

“I needed to smell you,” he said, voice hoarse. “Just for a little while. Just… to be close.”

You looked down at the pantie in his hand, then at the twitching heat between his legs.

“This is how you stay close?”

A sound escaped him. A groan. Broken. “You don’t know what you do to me.”

You stepped closer still. He flinched—but didn’t move away.

“Then tell me.”

His claws flexed. His body pulsed, desperate and still leaking. “I can’t stop thinking about you. You don’t see it—you don’t feel it—but I’m always near. Watching. Listening. I hear every breath you take. I know when you’re sad. I know what your scent means when it changes.”

Your heart thudded. His voice was shaking now, like the words had been clawing inside him for weeks.

“I dream about you under me. Wrapped around me. Letting me scent you. Letting me claim you. Every time another man talks to you, I want to rip out his throat.”

His hips jerked as if the fantasy alone overwhelmed him.

“I waited. I didn’t touch you. I tried to be good. I thought maybe you’d see me. Maybe you’d realize how much I want to take care of you—how much better I’d be than any of them.”

You could feel the air thicken around him—hot, primal, ripe with suppressed need.

He looked up at you. “But you didn’t.”

You said nothing.

“So I came here,” he continued, voice almost breaking. “Because this—this is all I get. The smell of your skin on cotton. The taste of you in your sweat. It’s pathetic, I know, but it keeps me alive.”

He looked like he hated himself. So hard. So desperate. And still fucking leaking onto your sheets with your damn underwear in his hand.

You sat on the edge of the bed.

He stared at you.

Your voice was quiet, careful. “What were you thinking about… just now?”

He hesitated and you watched his jaw worked.

“I was thinking about how you’d sound,” he whispered. “Wrapped around me. Telling me I’m yours. Letting me fill you.”

He hissed softly, hips twitching again. “I’d be so good to you. I’d never let you be cold. I’d scent you every morning and every night so no one else would ever dare come near.”

You leaned closer.

“You want to be mine?”

His breath caught. A quiet nod.

You reached out and brushed a hand over his thigh—hot and twitching under your fingers. His cock throbbed.

“Then ask.”

His body shuddered. “Please,” he rasped. “Please, just once.”

A lie if you gave him a little he’d take more than a lot.

He would take everything.

“Let me show you. Let me knot you, mark you, make you mine.”

And oh, the way his voice cracked on the word mine—

It was feral. It was filthy. And it was honest.

He drops your underwear on the floor and sinks to his knees.

“I need it.”

Rough hands grip your thighs and pull you toward him—fast, greedy, shameless. His nose presses between your legs like he’s starving, mouth open, teeth grazing your inner thigh through your jeans.

“You’re soaked already,” he groans. “And I haven’t even touched you yet.”

You gasp as he hooks his fingers in your waistband and yanks your jeans down in one swift, brutal motion. He buries his face against you, licking through the fabric of your underwear, hot breath soaking through.

You whimper—hands digging into his hair—and he groans against you, so loud, so deep, you swear the air shifts around you.

“Let me taste it,” he growls. “Let me prove it.”

You don’t stop him. You can’t.

And so you let him.

[gooddelice]

Lusty for love

A/N: Happy Valentine's Day!

Cupid (monster) x fem!witch reader || sex pollen, (light) dub con, breeding, oral sex, dirty talk, praise kink

You were stupid. A bit more stupid than normal at least.

You were trying to get some new potions to work when you accidentally spilled the pink powder he gifted you specially for lust potions. The pink powder was obtained from the cupid species, they produced it on their wings and any human or monster would instantly fall into a lustful frenzy once they touched it. And that’s why it was so hard to get, they had to give it to you specifically with a very clear intent of lust...

Your cupid friend gave it to you as a birthday present, and you were supposed to drop an itty bitty quantity in each potion because every time someone used the powder, he would feel it. You promised not to use much, always controlling how many potions you’d make… But you weren’t expecting for it to slip your fingers and pretty much cover your whole body. Your skin was tingling and your brain was barely coherent when you dialed his number.

“I need your help,” you whispered against the speaker, not letting him even say hello.

His response was instantaneous: “What happened?” You could hear him batting his wings in the background, and you were sure he was already mid air coming to get you. He must have felt the powder activating.

“I- I dropped the pink powder on me,” you confessed, your breathing labored and your skin tingly.

Fuck, you were about to burst and you didn’t even move. You’d never felt such intensity before, it was like every inch of your body was electrified and caressed at the same time, even the touch of the clothes over your body felt erotic.

“Fuck,” he cursed. The air against the phone was enough to know he was rushing to your house, his wings almost deafening in the background.

“Please, please…” You barely made sense, your brain was fuzzy in a way that made your clit tingle and your panties were so wet you could already feel your juices ruining your pants.

“Fuck,” he cursed again. In other circumstances you would have blushed, your unrequited crush on your cupid best friend making you feel all kinds of emotions. But you weren’t thinking straight, and he was talking again: “I’ll be there in a few minutes, take your clothes off, rub your pretty little clit until you are dripping wet because as soon as I cross your window I’m going to be inside of you, and I won’t stop until you are dripping with my come for every single hole.”

His words drove your brain into a frenzy, the effect of the pink powder getting even stronger as you did as you were told, pulling at your clothes so fast and hard you broke something. You didn’t care, you’d deal with whatever tore later on. You laid on your potions table, not caring about everything falling down or the million little pieces of glass that were probably on the ground, you had only one focus: obey. Your fingers found your clit and you started rubbing rapidly, moaning against the phone.

“You sound so sweet, good damn it. I knew you’d be perfect,” his words meant nothing and all at the same time, your inside twisting and turning as your pussy contracted over nothing, making you whine and beg. “I know, love, I know.” You could hear him breathing hard, the powder probably affecting him too, and with each movement of his wings you could feel him getting closer.

The second your window opened with a big crash, you were begging for him and he was falling to his knees next to the table, not caring about the glass, grabbing your ankles and pulling your legs as far apart as possible. He set his big body between them, his wings so wide and soft you felt the tickle against your knees when he pushed your legs over his shoulders.

The first contact of his tongue against your tender flesh feels like lightning hitting your body. And it only turned better when his dexterous tongue found your clit. He ate you out like a starving monster, fucking in and out of your pussy with his forked tongue until you were screaming his name and asking for more. More. More.

You came in less than two minutes, with his fingers pressing against your G-spot and your brain turning into jelly inside your head. It was so much and so little at the same time. You needed more. You needed him inside of you in any way you could. You pushed your torso up, pulling your legs off his shoulders and shoved his chest back until he was a few feet back. You jumped off the table, not even feeling the tiny glasses on the ground as you walked over them.

It was like your orgasm only made you hornier, more desperate, you needed him more than you needed your next breath. “Let me suck you off, please, please…” You begged, your eyes fixated on his dick straining against his pants.

You fumbled with the zipper, and he helped you, looking at you with such tenderness that your heart was about to explore out of your chest. But first: dick.

“Okay, love. Okay. Whatever you want. You can do whatever you want to me.” His words sounded like a promise, and your brain was so fuzzy you could only nod as you fell to your knees. “Open up,” he ordered, taking himself on his hand and caressing your cheek with the other. He fed you his cock and you swallowed it down greedily. “That’s it, such a good witch for me, such a pretty mouth wrapped around my shaft. Fuck, do that again.”

You rolled your tongue over his head, pressing against the underside where you knew he was most sensitive. That cupid anatomy book coming in handy when you were wrapping your hand at his base and squeezing until you felt the ridges inside move. He cursed over you, his hand grabbing your hair so harshly you felt the tiny spikes of pain, but that only made you moan louder around him.

He cursed again, telling you nonsense as he moved his dick in and out of your mouth slightly. “Fuck, your mouth, love. You are perfect. You are so good to me. I’ve been wanting to have you like this forever. Good goddess, your mouth.” You grabbed his ass, trying to get him closer, further down your throat, but he stopped you. “None of that, I… I need you. I need to be inside of you. After that you can play with me all you want.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” your voice was airy and low, and without a doubt you knew your whole body was pink all over.

He helped you to your feet, claiming your mouth in a brain melting kiss before grabbing your ass and helping you back onto the table. His fingers found your pussy at the same time he positioned himself on your opening. “You are so wet, fuck.” He pushed the tip inside, and you were indeed so wet he slipped right in.

He cursed in so many languages you weren’t sure how many words he said, but you were in heaven. You reached Valhalla or whatever other heaven there existed out there. All at once. None at all… You touched the stars and came back to your body when he moved his hips back, pushing right back in and drawing a scream out of your lungs.

And then there was no more playing, only frantic fucking and dirty words.

“Do you like me, love? Do you like the feel of my cock inside of you? Do you like when I say dirty things to you?” You shivered, nodding frantically as you rolled your hips, chasing some of the pleasure he was promising you with his thrusts. “Of course you do, you love to be fucked this hard, this fast… You never had it so good, did you? None of your stupid boyfriends was as good as me. Say it.”

“None were… None as good as you…” Your voice was trembling, his thrusts too fast and harsh, but you couldn’t complain. You wouldn’t. It was that good.

“I know darling, I know nobody was as good as me. But you didn’t let me tell you that, did you? You were always with one or another, never enough time for me to fuck you as you deserved. To treat you as you deserve. To make you fucking mine,” he punctuated each word with a hard thrust that hit right over your G-spot, sending sparks of desire and pleasure to your brain until you were drooling over the table. “Tell me I’m wrong, tell me you don’t like me like that and I’ve been pining over you for nothing,” his anger was palpable in each thrust of his hips inside your pussy, his ridges undulating and massaging you from the inside.

“I CAN’T. I CAN’T. YOU ARE RIGHT!” You screamed as another wave of pleasure washes over your body.

But he wasn’t listening to you, he was too focused on his actions, on driving you insane. “You can’t because you like me. You’ve liked me as long as I’ve liked you and you’ve been denying us both. For what? For some flimsy human dick? No more, love. You don’t go back to anyone else anymore. You. Are. Mine. To. Please.”

“Yours. Yours. Yours…”

And then there’s fireworks behind your eyelids and your brain is short circuiting. You could barely hold your body up as he expanded his dick inside of you, the cupid trick of locking inside your tight pussy was multiplied by a thousand because of the pink dust, and you could only scream silently as he bred you to the brim and your vision turned white behind your eyelids.

You came back to your body resting over his chest, the soft feathers tickling your cheek as you looked down at his wet dick, still half hard. Your body still craved him, and you were about to act on it when he said: “For what’s worth… I really like you like that, too, love,” he whispered against your sweaty forehead, his breathing labored as his dick twitched in your line of sight.

You threw a leg over his middle, rubbing your still dripping pussy over his dick. “Prove it.”

And he did.

(He was also true to his promise to leave you leaking and bred from every single hole, but that’s a story for another day...)

[gooddelice]

[gooddelice]

[gooddelice]

Artist: Yansae • Title: Moby D!ck

[gooddelice]

orc boyfriend x fem!reader, smut, messy.

you always knew your orc boyfriend was a sloppy eater. he drooled, growled, tore into his food like it owed him something — but gods, he was your favorite mess.

what you didn’t know was how filthy he’d get when it was you he was hungry for.

you barely made it three steps into the house after work, your clothes clinging to your sweaty skin, hair stuck to your neck, when you heard his heavy footsteps. before you could say a word, he had you pinned against the wall, inhaling deeply like your scent alone could get him drunk.

"fuck... you smell ripe," he growled, voice thick with hunger. "don't shower. don’t you dare wash this off."

"can I at least–" you tried, but he was already dropping to his knees, yanking your pants and underwear down in one rough motion.

He shoved his face into your pussy, groaning like a beast in heat. "been thinkin' about this all day. Needed to taste you like this — sweaty, worked up... fuck, you smell so good."

you gasped as his tongue flattened against your folds, dragging slow and filthy. he lapped at you like he was starving, moaning into your cunt, mouth so wet and messy it had your thighs shaking in seconds.

"god," you whimpered, fingers sinking into his hair. "you’re making such a mess.."

he pulled back just enough to speak, his mouth slick with spit and you. "good. wanna drown in it. you want me messy, don’t you? want me to lick this pussy clean till you're cryin' my name?"

then he dove back in, tongue fucking you deep while his thumb circled your clit. "tastes better than anything I’ve ever hunted. better than blood, better than meat. this—" he growled, licking up a fresh drip, "—this is what I was made for."

[gooddelice]

you lie back against the pillows, still catching your breath, your werewolf boyfriend's arm snug around your waist as he pants softly beside you. the room is warm, your skin slick with shared heat, and your throat parched.

"can you pass me the water?" you murmur, pointing toward the bottle on the bedside table.

with a low grunt, he shifts slightly, reluctantly peeling away from you just enough to reach over and grab it. you watch as he uncaps it, expecting him to hand it to you. but instead, he takes a sip himself.

you blink, confused. maybe he was just thirsty too?

but then he leans back in, hovering over you with that mischievous glint in his eyes. you expect a kiss, but his lips press gently to yours, cool water slips from his mouth to yours, catching you off guard. You gasp softly against him, swallowing without thinking, flustered and dazed by the gesture, so intimate... so him...

he pulls back with a smug, satisfied grin, his hazel eyes glinting in the dim light. "still thirsty?"

[gooddelice]

you didn't want to marry your monster husband, but you had no choice. still, he courts you, wanting you to be happy, hoping that you'll come to love him. he brings flowers he's accidentally crushed in his huge hands, and rabbits he killed with his teeth. he builds you a nest, and decorates it with furs and skulls.

at last, he has charmed you. one night he serves you a fine meal of venison, cooked the way you like (even though he can't stand cooked meat), and you reward him. you climb into his massive lap, letting him feel your ass against his cock. it grows thick under his loincloth, but he's still afraid to touch you, to cross your boundaries.

so you take off your clothes and put his hands on you, showing him what you like. he worships every inch of your skin, blessed with your naked body. he licks and sucks on you until you splatter all over his mouth, and he hungrily licks it up.

when, shyly, he pulls out that fat cock, you want nothing more than to touch it. you can't even wrap your hands around it. how will this thing fit inside you?

but your monster husband is patient, wriggling one finger inside you as he pleasures you, then two. he pumps them until you're dripping, before he slides in the third. now you're full, so full—but still not as full as you want to be.

the wide crown of his cock barely fits, so he teases you with it for far too long, making your body starving for him. then he pushes in deeper, watching you take him, marveling at how beautiful you are. more and more of it fits inside you until you're stuffed so full you can barely breathe.

then, he fucks you. slowly at first, until you're used to his size, when his animal side takes over. he hikes up your thighs and plunders you, using you, devouring your body with every thrust. you fly higher and higher, still tangled up in the circle of his arms, until you can't contain your bliss any longer.

you squeeze him tight, oh so tight, and he can't help but unleash. he spurts so much of his seed inside you that it drips everywhere, coating your thighs.

he licks it off you, preparing you to take him again, now until the end of time.

[gooddelice]

Yandere alpha roommate: What!? I wasn't sniffing your underwear... okay I was... but just to check your pheromone levels! Don't want you going into heat out of nowhere and jumping on my fat dick while I'm asleep!

[gooddelice]

[gooddelice]

[gooddelice]

things that, unfortunately, make the brat listen:

“eyes on me.”

“use your big words.”

“you can ask better than that.”

“care to repeat that?”

“pretty little doll.”

“my love. you are far too wet to lie to me.”

“you better watch your tone.”

“that my good baby.”

“my good girl.”

“kneel.”

“watch that attitude if you still want to sit comfortably.”

“the brattier you get the softer i fuck you.”

“no buts.”

“behave.”

“on your knees.”

[gooddelice]

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