#fem!reader insert | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lovelymindescape · 5 months ago

Note

can i request a thanos x virgin reader smut

Softened Edges (Choi Su-bong x Virgin!Fem!Reader)

pairing — choi su-bong x virgin!fem!reader

Summary - In the games you and Thanos were getting closer than friends. You have a special bond. Maybe that's because you told him in the games because you thought you're gonna die that you are still a virgin and that you want someone (him) that you trust to take it

warnings -most likely ooc Thanos. oral (fem receiving). unprotected p in v. implied cumming inside. Dirty talk. Virgin!Reader. Mild Roughness (Thanos's personality).Emotional Vulnerability. later established relationship. MDNI!

author’s note — not my first time writing smut but my first time Posting my smut writing , ignore typos , English is not my first language

The dim glow of the neon signs out on the street flickered through the window, casting hazy red lines across your shared bed. Thanos sat at the edge, rolling a cigarette between his fingers, the rough pads of his thumb pressing against the paper as if lost in thought.

“You sure about this?” His voice was deep, rasping with the weight of someone who had seen too much. He didn’t look at you right away, his dark eyes scanning the floor instead, as if giving you space to change your mind. You swallowed, fingers gripping the sheets beneath you. “Yeah. I am.”

That made him pause. Thanos wasn’t a man who hesitated often, but something about this—about you—made him move slower, more deliberate. He finally turned, setting the unlit cigarette aside before reaching out. His hand cupped your cheek, rough callouses dragging lightly against your skin. “I ain’t the kind of guy who does this ‘sweetly.’ His thumb brushed over your lower lip, gaze flickering with something unreadable. “But I can be careful.”

A shiver ran through you, nerves mixing with anticipation. “I trust you.” That was all it took. Su-bong let out a low sigh, as if shaking off whatever restraint was left in him. He pulled you closer, his warmth grounding you even as your heart raced. There was nothing rushed, nothing careless. For once, the man known as Thanos wasn’t taking—he was giving. And for the first time, you weren’t afraid to let yourself fall.

He let's his hand wander, his fingers softly tilting your chin up. The kiss starts slow—gentle, coaxing—before deepening, his tongue teasing against yours. His hands slide down your arms, tracing over your wrists before pulling you against him.

You shiver as his hands find the hem of your shirt, pushing it up inch by inch. "Lift your arms," he whispers. You obey, and the fabric is gone in seconds. His gaze lingers on your newly exposed skin, hunger flickering in his eyes , as he starts to plant little kisses all over. His fingers trail over your stomach, down to your hips, before slipping beneath the waistband of your shorts. Thanos pauses, searching your face for hesitation. "Still with me?"

You nod, breathless.

With one swift movement he also removes your pants off you , Thanos takes a step back and admires what he just discovered. "I don't say this with a real meaning often , but you're beautiful , very beautiful to be honest".

He eases you back onto the bed, his lips tracing a slow, deliberate path down your chest. With skilled fingers, he unclasps your bra, sliding it off with practiced ease. His mouth latches onto your breast, lips warm and wet, tongue circling your nipple in lazy, teasing strokes. Each flick sends a spark straight between your thighs. He doesn’t stop there. His kisses travel lower, grazing over your ribs, dipping to your stomach. With every press of his lips, he leaves his mark—soft nips, lingering heat—claiming every inch of you.

His lips travel lower, grazing over your ribs and dipping to your stomach, each kiss lingering just long enough to make you squirm beneath him. His fingers skim along the edge of your panties, teasing, not yet giving you what you need."

"You're already trembling," he murmurs, voice thick with amusement. "I’ve barely even touched you." Your breath catches as he hooks his fingers into the fabric, sliding it down slowly. He watches your expression, drinking in every flicker of anticipation.

The way you press your thighs together doesn’t go unnoticed. "Open up for me, sweetheart,"he coaxes, softly but his voice is low and commanding, with an edge of tenderness. "Let me see all of you."

Your heart begins to race in your chest. You part your thighs hesitantly, feeling exposed under his dark, heated gaze. "Good girl," he praises, running his hands over the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. His fingers trail upward, barely brushing over your core, enough to send a shiver through you—but not enough to satisfy.

You let out a quiet whimper, hips shifting slightly. He chuckles, clearly pleased by your sudden reaction. "So desperate already?" He dips a single finger between your folds, just teasing, gathering the slickness there before withdrawing again.

You bite your lip, frustration mixing with anticipation. "P-please..." His smirk deepens, but there’s warmth in his eyes. "Patience, sweetheart. I want to feel you come undone first." He leans in, pressing a lingering kiss just above where you need him most, his breath hot against your skin. Then, with agonizing slowness, he lowers his mouth.

His breath is warm against your most sensitive spot, the anticipation making every nerve in your body stand on edge. You barely have time to process the feeling before his tongue flicks out—just once, barely a touch—before pulling away again. The gasp that leaves your lips is embarrassingly needy.

"Mmm," he hums, satisfied. "You’re so sensitive. I wonder… how much more can you take?" Your fingers clutch at the sheets as his tongue moves again, this time with more purpose. He starts slow, dragging the wet heat of his mouth over you in slow, torturous strokes. His hands grip your thighs, keeping you open for him, completely at his mercy. "You taste so sweet, sweetheart," he murmurs between kisses, his voice thick with desire.

"I could stay here all night." Your mind feels hazy, lost in the unfamiliar but intoxicating sensations. You’ve never felt anything like this before—each stroke of his tongue sends a pulse of pleasure straight through you, leaving you breathless and trembling. Your hips buck slightly, chasing the feeling, but he immediately presses them back down with firm hands. "Ah, ah," he chides, amusement lacing his tone.

"Look at you, already so eager. But I’m in charge here, remember?" You bite your lip, embarrassed but unable to stop the soft whimper that escapes you when he flattens his tongue against you, applying more pressure. A tightness starts to build deep in your stomach, unfamiliar but overwhelming, and it only grows stronger as he adds a single finger, pressing inside you with slow, deliberate care.

"You’re so tight," he groans, his voice strained with restraint. "Relax for me, sweetheart. Let me in." His finger moves slowly at first, curling just right, coaxing pleasure from you with every stroke. His mouth never stops—lapping, teasing, driving you higher until the tension inside you coils impossibly tight. "That’s it," he breathes against you, feeling the way you tighten around him.

"Let go, sweetheart. Let me feel you fall apart." The pressure snaps. A cry leaves your lips as pleasure crashes over you, wave after wave rolling through your body. Your thighs tremble, fingers tangled in the sheets as you struggle to process the intensity of it all. He doesn't stop—not yet. He works you through it, tongue and fingers moving just enough to prolong your high, until the pleasure turns into oversensitivity and you're forced to whimper his name.

Only then does he finally pull away, lips glistening as he looks up at you with dark, heated eyes. "So beautiful," he murmurs, crawling back up your body to capture your lips in a deep, lingering kiss. You taste yourself on his tongue, but you’re too dazed to feel shy about it. "You’re not done yet, sweetheart," he whispers against your lips.

Your whole body trembles as the aftershocks of pleasure ripple through you, leaving you breathless and weak beneath him. Every nerve feels alight, oversensitive, but your mind is hazy, floating in the warmth of his touch.

He watches you, drinking in the sight of your blissed-out expression—your chest rising and falling, lips parted as you struggle to catch your breath.

A smirk tugs at his lips, but there’s something else in his gaze, something darker. "Still with me, sweetheart?" he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to your inner thigh. You nod weakly, but before you can fully recover, his hands slide up your body, covering you with his warmth as he moves to hover over you again. He kisses you—slow and deep, his tongue teasing against yours, letting you taste the remnants of your release on his lips.

Your body is still tingling, sensitive, but when he shifts between your legs, his hips pressing against yours, a different kind of heat starts to build. Your breath hitches as you feel him, heavy and hard, pressing against your entrance. "Mmm, you’re still shaking," he muses, brushing his lips along your jaw. His fingers glide down your side, soothing, grounding. "That felt good, didn’t it?"

You manage a nod, but the moment his tip nudges against you—just barely there—a soft gasp escapes you. He groans at the sound, rolling his hips just enough to tease. "So sensitive," he murmurs, voice thick with desire. "But you’re still so warm… so wet for me. You want more, don’t you?" Heat flares in your cheeks, but the way your body reacts—the way your thighs instinctively part for him—betrays you.

"That’s my girl," he praises, dragging his fingers along your hip before gripping it firmly. "I’ll go slow, sweetheart. I want you to feel everything." One hand finds yours, fingers lacing together as he slowly and carefully starts to push inside.

A soft whimper escapes you as he pushes deeper, stretching you inch by inch. The fullness is overwhelming, teetering between discomfort and something unfamiliar—something almost too much. Your fingers tighten against his shoulders, and he stills immediately, pressing a kiss to your temple. "Easy, sweetheart," he soothes, voice strained, as if it’s taking every ounce of control to hold himself back. "You’re taking me so well."

His hands caress your thighs, his thumbs drawing slow, grounding circles into your skin. He leans down, capturing your lips in a slow, lingering kiss—distracting, comforting, easing you through the adjustment. "Breathe," he murmurs against your lips.

You do. A deep inhale. A shaky exhale.

As your body relaxes around him, the discomfort begins to fade, replaced by a warmth that spreads deep inside you.

A new kind of pressure lingers there, unfamiliar but not unwelcome. You shift slightly beneath him, testing, and a soft moan slips from your lips at the sensation. His breath hitches. "Fuck," he groans, his forehead pressing against yours. His voice is rough, his control fraying at the edges. "You feel so tight, sweetheart. So perfect around me."

The praise sends a fresh wave of heat through you, and he notices—of course he notices. A smirk tugs at his lips, teasing, but there’s something deeper in his gaze. "Does it feel good?" he asks, his voice low, coaxing. You swallow hard, nodding shyly. "Words, sweetheart." His hips roll forward, just barely, sending a shiver through your body. "Tell me how it feels." "I—I like it," you admit breathlessly, your voice barely above a whisper.

His smirk deepens, but there’s warmth in his expression, something almost reverent. "That’s my good girl." Slowly, carefully, he pulls back before pressing in again, a slow, deliberate glide that has your nails digging into his skin. The stretch still lingers, but this time, pleasure begins to unfurl beneath it, curling low in your stomach. "That’s it," he murmurs, his voice a low rasp. "You’re taking me so well, sweetheart. Just let go for me."

His movements start slow—measured, gentle, letting you feel every inch of him as he fills you completely. He watches your expression intently, catching every flutter of your lashes, every gasp that spills from your lips. His hands never stop moving—one grips your thigh, keeping you open for him, while the other strokes soothing patterns against your skin. The teasing edge remains, but it’s softer now—less playful, more intimate. He leans down, capturing your lips in another kiss, this one deep and slow, matching the rhythm of his movements.

"You're mine now," he whispers against your lips, voice dripping with possessive affection. "Every little inch of you." A shiver runs through you, and something shifts. The pleasure starts to build, the sensitivity from before making every movement feel sharper, deeper. Your hips move instinctively, chasing the feeling, and he groans at the way you tighten around him.

"So eager now," he teases, but his voice is strained, as if he’s barely holding himself together. His pace picks up slightly, not rough, but more insistent—each thrust pressing deeper, sending waves of heat through your body. Your mind feels hazy, lost in the pleasure, the overwhelming fullness, the way he makes you feel completely his.

"I want to hear you," he breathes, his lips brushing against your ear. "Don’t hold back, sweetheart. Let me hear those pretty sounds." A soft moan escapes you, and he rewards you with a deep thrust, dragging another breathless whimper from your lips. His grip tightens on your hips, his control slipping as your body molds to his, meeting him perfectly. "That’s my girl," he praises, voice thick with need.

The heat in your stomach tightens, coiling, building, rising higher and higher. He feels it—feels the way your body clenches around him, the way your breaths turn shallow. "You're close, aren’t you , sweetheart?"* he murmurs, a smirk in his voice. "Let go for me, sweetheart. Come around me." His fingers slip between your bodies, finding your clit , drawing circles with his thumb , pressing just right—and the world shatters.

A cry escapes your lips as pleasure crashes over you, your body tensing, pulsing, unraveling beneath him. He groans, his pace faltering for a moment as your walls tighten around him, dragging him deeper into the sensation. "Fuck—" his breath stutters, his control snapping as he buries himself to the hilt, his own release hitting him hard.

For a long moment, the only sounds in the room are your uneven breaths, the faint hum of your racing heartbeat in your ears. He stays inside you, warm and solid, his body pressed firmly against yours as he presses soft, lingering kisses along your jaw, your cheek, your forehead. "You were perfect," he murmurs, voice softer now, his teasing replaced with something warmer, something deeply affectionate.

He shifts slightly, careful not to move too fast, his hands soothing over your skin. Taking care of you. "Are you okay?" he asks, voice gentle, lips brushing your temple. You nod, your body still tingling, your limbs heavy with exhaustion and warmth. A contented sigh escapes you as he pulls you against his chest, wrapping you securely in his arms.

He smirks, but there’s nothing smug about it this time—just satisfaction, love, and a hint of possessiveness. "Get some rest, sweetheart," he murmurs. The warmth of his body surrounds you, his arms wrapped securely around your waist as he pulls you against his chest. His heartbeat is steady, a soothing rhythm beneath your ear, grounding you in the soft haze of exhaustion and lingering pleasure.

"Are you really okay, sweetheart?" His voice is softer now, husky from exertion but laced with something deeper—concern, affection. His fingers trace slow, absentminded circles on your back, his touch tender in contrast to the dominance he held before. You hum a sleepy, contented sound, nuzzling closer.

His scent is everywhere , a mix of heat and musk, but beneath it lingers something undeniably him —comforting, familiar. He chuckles, the sound vibrating through his chest. "That good, huh?" Your cheeks warm, and you make a small, embarrassed noise in response. He tilts your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze.

His eyes—so intense before—now hold a different kind of fire, something softer, more possessive in an entirely different way. "You were perfect," he murmurs, brushing his lips against your forehead. A sigh escapes you as his hands continue their slow, soothing strokes along your skin.

He shifts slightly, sitting up just enough to pull the blankets over both of you before tucking you firmly against him again. "Do you feel okay?" he asks, his voice laced with genuine concern now. "Not too sore?" You shake your head, though there’s an ache settling deep in your muscles—a reminder of just how thoroughly he had you.

He seems to sense it because his hands drift lower, massaging your hips gently, easing any tension. "I’ll run us a bath soon," he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your temple. "But for now, just rest, sweetheart." You bask in the comfort of his warmth, the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath your cheek.

The room is quiet except for the occasional crackle from the fireplace and the sound of your intertwined breaths. Then—his fingers pause their gentle strokes against your back. A beat of silence lingers between you before he exhales, almost as if gathering his thoughts.

"I meant what I said earlier," he murmurs, his voice quieter now, more serious. You blink up at him sleepily, confusion flickering across your face. "About what?" His hand comes up to cradle your cheek, his thumb brushing over the flushed skin there. His gaze searches yours , something unspoken lingering behind his teasing smirk.

"That you’re mine," he says simply. Your breath catches. "But I don’t just mean for tonight," he continues, his voice lower now, more intimate. "I don’t want this to be just once, sweetheart." He leans in, his lips ghosting over yours , his breath warm and full of unspoken promises. "I want you."

His fingers tighten slightly against your hip, as if grounding himself in the moment. "All of you. Not just in my bed—but in my life." Your chest tightens, a different kind of warmth flooding through you now—not desire, but something deeper, something almost overwhelming.

"Be mine," he murmurs, his forehead resting against yours. "For real."

There’s no teasing in his voice this time—just genuine affection, quiet possessiveness, and a rare kind of vulnerability. The words hang between you, weighty and full of meaning. And as you look up into his waiting gaze, you already know your answer.

A/N : So , this is my first real story posted on here and it is pretty long from what I have before , also like I said this the first time Posting smut , so Feedback is appreciated !💜

Tag: @onecojg

#player 230 smut #player 230 #player 230 x reader #player 230 x y/n #choi subong #thanos x y/n #thanos x you #thanos x reader #thanos smut #thanos squid game #thanos #x reader smut #squid game x reader #reader insert #fem!reader insert #squid game s2 #squid game 2 #thanos x reader smut

460 notes · View notes

wisteria-bae · 6 months ago

Text

“Reader has black hair and blue eyes-“

THEN ITS NOT AN X READER!!???

Edit below cut

Hey guys, so when I made this post, I was extremely frustrated and annoyed. Now that I’m way more mellowed out and had the chance to read a lot of reactions and responses, let me act my age and actually clarify some things.

First, I want to apologize to those who were deeply upset by my post. My post overall was towards those who claim they don’t write for a specific audience, and yet put specific descriptions in their work. There is absolutely NOTHING wrong with adding certain details to your reader, such as gender or body type. The issue comes in when you don’t properly title and tag it as so, or completely ignore it altogether.

If you see my post as an eye opener and want to change up your work, then you have every right to do so, but please do not think that this is an attack or jive directed at you. It’s just that some of us readers want exactly as promised. That’s like blindfolding someone, telling them that you’re gonna feed them an apple, and then making them bite into a banana - peel and all.

I know some writers have said that they want to be more inclusive in response to my criticism. If that is what you truly want, then by all means, but I cannot stress enough: write what YOU want to write. Do not feel as though you’re being pressured to change what you put out; it’s just a means of how you categorize it.

Thank you to everyone who took the time to read, respond, and engage with my original post. I truly appreciate the perspectives shared, they’ve helped me see things more clearly and refine my thoughts.

9K notes · View notes

hanasnx · 6 months ago

Text

ᯓ★ “ I WANNA FUCK WITH THE LIGHTS ON ” — clark kent.

MINORS DNI 18+ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ NOTES: this movie isn’t out yet but i can’t wait that long to take advantage of my superman kick and fuck this man. unfortunately i don’t know much about his characterization other than the trailer content. WARNINGS: fem reader ノ established relationship ノ explicit sexual content ノ size difference ノ dick riding ノ objectification ノ p in v ノ praise ノ clark has huge dick syndrome.

“Just… take it slow.” CLARK KENT encourages, but it’s said more so for himself than you. A large, flattened palm emphasizes his instruction, gesturing for you to relax without grabbing you to take over your actions. You stop, his eyes flickering to meet yours questioningly, until he takes a shot in the dark. “Please.” It’s delightfully endearing, and it loosens you up a little.

“It’s not that, Clark, I’m just—you’re just so… you know,” Big. You try to hint at it without blurting it out. Hovering over his lap too long, a tremor builds in your thighs, and you bite down onto your lip as you let it pass through you in a shudder.

His expression adjusts as the realization dawns on him, “Ah,” he exclaims thoughtfully, and he tests the waters, bringing his hands to your body to rest in comfortable places. Your waist seems appropriate, and your fingers fiddle with the muscle in his shoulders as you keep chewing your lip. “Do you want me to take over?” the question is punctuated with a shift of his hips, arranging himself in a better position to begin, but even the marginal movement has you whining with need. It alerts him, tensing up instantly as he freezes while your pretty face twists in pleasured agony. You’re still wrapped around his reddened tip, and it’s a burning kind of stretch that makes you wish you could just shove him in all the way—at the cost of ripping you in half.

Through your heavy lids and thick eyelashes, you manage to meet his gaze with darkened pupils that don’t want to cooperate. You hum a pitiful “uh-huh” while you nod your head, signaling to him that he’s right. His thumbs on your torso stroke at your skin comfortingly, big hands clamped around you as he raises you. The lip of his head catches on the rim of your pussy, and you suck in a breath as an emptiness replaces what used to be filled.

“We’re gonna take it nice and easy,” Clark talks you through it, but even his exhale hitches when cold air hits his slit. Carefully, he lowers you back on, feeding his dick back into your silken walls before taking it away again—all to introduce your hole to his size little by little. The method chips away at your tightness, and you try to follow his movements with yours even if you’re weak in the knees. “Wanna look at me, duchess? Let me see your eyes?” He tilts his head, his curls falling over his forehead as he chases your gaze. You do your best to peel your eyes open one-by-one, granting him his wish as you pant through your open mouth taking his cock one agonizing inch at a time. The sight of you barely holding on when he’s not even halfway in, stretches a smile onto his face, and if you were more coherent, you’d say it’s one of pride as well as endearment.

One hand cautiously releases your side, while the other takes your weight entirely, bobbing you up and down as if you were no heavier than a fleshlight. His other slides between you two to seek out your pretty bud, resting his thick fingers on your thigh while his thumb comes to stroke at that clit. The new sensation slicks you up as quickly as it occurred, and you gasp at how elevated it all feels from a simple action like that. “That’s what you were missing. Right, baby? It’s hard to loosen up without it. You’re so tight…” You know he didn’t say it like it’s a compliment, but it makes your insides jump anyway. Your muscle contracts and suddenly he can fit a lot more in. “Does that feel good?” he asks, his thumb leisurely circling your bud as your pussy drools around him.

Desperately, you nod your head with a couple of “mm-hmm’s!” that lead him to speed up—introducing you to more of his length as he picks up the pace on petting your clit. Your hands abandon gripping his shoulders for stability and instead overlay his. Yours are dwarfed by him, but he takes your guidance, absorbing how you’re putting pressure on his knuckles and replicating it against your poor pearl, getting puffy from the stimulation and the lack of getting railed. It all lights a fire under your ass, and your body moves for you, bouncing in place to try and force more of his cock into you. You can’t overpower the Superman, but he does let you take it all down to the hilt—his strength making a sex toy out of you.

#10k #indy: drabbles #ch: clark #clark kent drabble #clark kent smut #clark kent x reader #clark kent x fem reader #clark kent x you #clark kent x y/n #clark kent imagine #clark kent fanfiction #superman smut #superman x reader #superman 2025 smut #david corenswet smut #reader insert #smut

10K notes · View notes

splishfish · 10 days ago

Text

Thinking about…

cw: Dubcon, nasty things, public things, piss kink...etc etc,,

Pt.1

~~~

Nasty!Toji Finds himself humoring his newly found piss kink, begging asking you to piss in his mouth and let your golden sap trickle down his throat. At first, you decline, you were still so embarrassed from when he so shamelessly licked your pussy clean of your piss a few nights prior! How could he even want something like that? But when Nasty!Toji falls to his knees, fisting his cock desperately and begging for you to fill his mouth with your ‘heavenly piss’, how were you supposed to decline him?

So when Nasty!Toji finally has you sitting on his face that night, his mouth latched onto your pussy and sucking hard, you couldn’t help the mewls and gasp of pleasure as you finally let your bladder go, filling his welcoming mouth with your honeyed piss.

You don’t really remember much from there, since he spent the next few hours slurping at your pussy and fucking you dumb, but you do remember the sticky ropes of cum that he let out when he first swallowed your piss <3

Nasty!Toji Makes you breakfast the next morning, having felt bad after fucking your pussy raw last night. He makes you eggs and pancakes, fluffy and sweet with a little extra something he fisted out of himself that same morning.

Nasty!Toji Who ‘accidentally’ sends pictures and recordings of your sloppy sex to his dear friend Shiu, each one focusing on your cum filled pussy or your fucked out face. He follows them up with ‘oops, didn’t mean to send that’ and then another two or three videos of you sucking his cock with your makeup smeared and his hand pulling your hair back.

Shiu only responds with ‘You’re disgusting’ and then a picture of the load he spilled in his hand.

Nasty!Toji Who can’t keep his hands off you even in public. He takes you out for dinner at this cute little shop downtown, only to end up fucking you in the alley right next to it before he can even make it inside the diner. Oh, but once he fills your sticky pussy full of his spunk, he makes you pull your panties up and sit your pretty ass down in a corner booth where he can finger his cum back into you while you eat<3

Nasty!Toji Who calls for a Taxi to take you both home, cause he’s too lazy to walk a block back to your place, and he doesn’t want your pretty feet to hurt in those heels you're wearing. Ah, but when you plop yourself down on the leather seat and blush at the ‘slurp’ noise your cunt makes when it hits the seat…how was he supposed to resist you?

Nasty!Toji Slides two hundred bucks to the Taxi driver before ripping your panties off and shoving his already leaky cock back into your pussy, pounding you into the back seat of the taxi and ignoring your cute pleas for him to wait until you get home…but with the way you fondle your tits and occasionally glance at the taxi driver, whos now fisting his own chubby cock, he knows by the way you cream on his cock that you don’t want him to stop.

It’s a few days later that Nasty!Toji realizes that you finally relented and stopped berating yourself, your ego and self esteem notably higher than before after all the sick and nasty things he’s been doing to you. He can’t help but puff out his chest in pride, kissing you stupid and pampering you all night with kisses and massages. After all, you deserve it after having to deal with his pervy actions for the past few weeks.

~~~

A/N: can we thank my amazing friend fairy for giving me some ideas for this one?!

4K notes · View notes

reiyaus · 6 months ago

Text

fem reader intended

husband nanami who quit working overtime because he hated seeing you stay up so late- dozing off on the dining table, a warm plate of food waiting for him at 11:37 on a tuesday night.

husband nanami who carries you to bed, making sure you were warm before focusing on getting unready himself. putting your health before his, like always.

husband nanami who make sures to eat the food you’ve prepared for him, appetite or not, because putting your cooking to waste would make him feel even more guilty (if possible).

husband nanami who likes waking up and catching you in the kitchen, dancing to the music while preparing his lunch. sometimes he even sees you taking small samples of his food before stopping yourself from eating the whole thing.

husband nanami who goes to work with his bento inside his bag, staring at it his whole shift and counting the hours until he gets to read what you’ve written him for the day.

husband nanami who stores all your letters inside the first drawer of his desk, rereading them as if they’re motivational quotes on a coffee cup whenever his coworkers and boss start testing his remaining bits of patience.

husband nanami who leaves the office building the moment his shift is over and heads straight to your favorite café, ordering every single one of your favorite pastries- not minding how the number keeps increasing with every beep.

husband nanami who surprises you, freshly out the shower, with a huge bag full of bread you’ve been craving the whole week.

husband nanami who helps you with your post-shower routine while ocassionally feeding you, laughing at how your eyes never left the bag the moment he came home.

husband nanami who makes sure you actually get to sleep before 10 pm, leaving no excuses as he carries you to the bed again, but this time you’re laughing and gripping onto his shoulders.

husband nanami who traps you in his hold, lulling you to sleep as he apologizes for all the times he made you stay up late- sleeping uncomfortably on the table.

husband nanami who gets to sleep another night with your face as the last thing he sees.

and husband nanami who wakes up another morning, with your skin being the first thing he feels.

#© ― bea's #fem reader #jujutsu kaisen #nanami kento #nanami x reader #nanami kento x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #nanami fluff #husband nanami #jjk x you #nanami x you #X reader #Fem reader #nanami x fem reader #jjk x fem reader #reader insert #jjk angst

12K notes · View notes

jeankirschteinsimp · 2 months ago

Text

You and your husband Nanami Kento went to the beach today. The sun was shining and it was overall a beautiful atmosphere. You sat infront of Kento and stared at him.

„What are staring at, hun?“, he said when he turned his head to you with a light smirk.

You then proceeded to crawl over to him and say „ i love your freckles, ken.“

„Oh yeah?“, he told you while a light blush creeped upon his cheeks.

„I wanna kiss all of them“ you claimed as you slowly kissed all of his freckles. One under his right eye, on his nose tip and one at the corner of his left lip. When you pulled back from giving Nanami Kento little pecks - he suddenly grabbed you by the throat and kissed you passionately.

You pulled back breathing heavily and told him „ i didn’t knew you had freckles on your lips, ken.“

„Well i wasn’t quite sure but you can check again y/n“ he quickly replied while smashing his soft lips on yours again.

#anime #anime x reader #fanfiction #x reader #jjk x reader #jjk fanfic #fem reader #nanami kento #nanami x reader #jjk nanami #reader insert #fluff

6K notes · View notes

scftangl · 3 months ago

Text

Me, getting distracted for a moment in just in smut and now I don't know what position they are in:

6K notes · View notes

nereidprinc3ss · 8 months ago

Text

bambi

in which spencer reid and fem!reader fuck like they missed each other (because they always do) and he teases her for her shaky legs

18+ (smut) warnings/tags: softdom spencer, piv sex (riding, a first for nereidprinc3ss) /oral f receiving (in that order) mentions of him accidentally grabbing her hips too hard, slight somno SORT OF like he starts going down on her while she’s sleepy and then she kind of goes in and out but its all consensual, sorry haters i fucking love sleepy sex and I always will, teasing, lots of praise, fluffy, established relationship, he loves her badddd, aftercare, literally nothing bad happens no angst for once they just are having sex cause they are in love which is arguably the most superior kind of sex! a/n: I don’t think I’ve ever written smut that is so wham bam thank you ma’am like really we just get RIGHT into it!! also no gif no pics we r going old nereidprinc3ss on this one I hope you loveeee!!!

You roll over onto Spencer and kiss once, long and deep and sweet. He hums into it, too whipped to pretend like he’s got self control or respect, hands finding the soft skin of your bare waist and settling there.

How it got to this point so quickly, no more than fifteen minutes after he walked through the door, you can’t say. Usually the two of you are a bit more domestic when he gets home from a case, but eight days is a long time to be apart, and the trail of clothing leading from the welcome mat to the foot of the bed attests to that.

So does the lack of teasing, of begging—at least, a lack up until this point. Right now, there’s only him, patient and content to let you play at being in charge. You pull back and reach down to grab him gently, aligning him at your entrance with a trembling hand. This part, you’re not usually responsible for.

He assures you with a hand to the small of your back, rubbing soothing circles. “You got it. Slowly.”

You do as he says, brow furrowing in focus as you sink down an inch or two onto him. Spencer’s breathing grows erratic as you take more and more of him, and in a heroic display of overachieving, you take the rest of him at once with nothing but a squeak. He laughs breathily as his fingers dig into your hips.

“Fuck—I said slow.”

You can’t think. The overwhelm of it all is too much as you crumple forward onto his chest. The subtle rocking you’re doing to try and alleviate some of the pressure in your core is apparently too much as he stops you by the hips, fingers pressing into those same tender spots.

Spencer’s breath is ragged. “Don’t… do not move.”

“Fuck,” you breathe into his shoulder, long and drawn out as despite his wishes you wriggle around, trying to get comfortable. “Oh my god.”

“My lovely girl, please… please don’t move,” Spencer gasps, a plead, and you try to stop for him, nuzzling even deeper against his neck. “I need a minute.”

“It’s too much,” you slur, dizzy as you try to adjust to the feeling. “Please.” You don’t know what you’re asking for. Maybe relief from the sensation that he can’t offer you. Maybe more.

Spencer is undone by you—the way you writhe on top of him, the way your voice shakes, the way you’re so totally and completely overwhelmed and he can feel it and he loves it.

“Baby,” he breathes, and he meant to say a lot more than that, but it’s the best he can manage when he is this overstimulated. “Baby,” he whispers again, wrapping his arms around you in an effort to ground you, to give you something else to focus on as you both get used to the feeling.

It’s going well—for a moment, before your back is arching.

“Spence, I need to move, I can’t—”

“Okay, okay.” He takes a deep breath, returning his hands to your waist and mentally preparing himself not to cum early. He’s desperate to give you want you want, to feel you like this. “Go ahead. Move, honey. Please.”

By the time you slowly lift your hips up and drop back down with a low cry, Spencer’s lost. His head falls back against the pillow and his eyes squeeze shut.

“Fuck,” he groans. “Oh, angel, I missed you.”

You do it again, motivated by his praise, and he can hear your little gasps and desperate gulps of air.

“I missed you so much,” you whine and clench around him, pleasure so intense it’s a resounding ache in the far reaches of your body. “Oh, fuck, Spencer.”

Spencer shivers. He loves when you make it personal, when you say his name like that and it becomes clear this isn’t just about the physical.

“My girl. Just like that. Doing so well, baby, just like that.”

Each pass of your hips has you whining. Your lips skim over his neck, not cognizant enough to actually kiss—only to know that you want the contact.

“Please can I go faster?”

Spencer almost doesn’t realize you’re speaking to him he’s so lost in pleasure. The idea of faster is as compelling as it is troublesome. Spencer doesn’t know if he can’t take faster, not when he has you like this, but he certainly wants to find out.

“Yeah, lovely. Do whatever feels good.”

You readjust and begin to pick up the pace, stumbling over a few false starts as it’s clearly more sensation than you’d been prepared for.

Spencer, on the other hand, has his eyes screwed shut tight, and is attempting to draw a two-dimensional Császár polyhedron on your back, but he loses his place with every twitch of your hips, so eventually he decides to trace imperfect Mandelbrots down your spine—anything to avoid thinking about how the pH of your body interacts with sweet vanilla perfume to create a scent so deeply intoxicating he’d leave his entire life behind just to trail after it, or how you fucking feel against him, on top of him, around him, how miraculous it is that you keep letting him touch you—

“Oh—” you whine quietly, a strangled sort of noise that has his heart skipping. Your hand tangles desperately in his hair as you rock your hips faster and faster and he lets out a tortured groan. “Spencer, oh my fucking god.”

“I know, baby,” he manages, endeared by the fact that you feel so good you have to share it with him. Even now you’re trying to explain it because you want him to be part of it—as if he doesn’t know exactly what you’re feeling already. “That feels good, huh?”

“Mm—f—eels—” you cut yourself off with a cry into the crook of his neck, and he holds the back of your head, vision greying as he stares unseeing at the ceiling because if he looks down this’ll be over too soon.

“You’re so good,” he breathes, “you’re perfect.”He hears you gasp at the same time as your rhythm falters, and presses a kiss somewhere indiscriminately on your head. “Gonna cum?” He murmurs in your ear, and you nod desperately, rutting against him hopelessly as your thighs tremble from exertion.

Even the smallest drop-off in friction has his head spinning like he stood up too quickly, so he gives himself enough leverage to start fucking you. You cry out and shift your weight like you’re going to try and evade the feeling—self-sabotage, you always do this—and he again has to hold your hips in an iron vice, just to force you to feel it.

“You’re okay, I’m gonna get you there.”

“Fuck!” You very nearly yell, still trying to wriggle away up until the very last second like the tide going out before the tsunami comes. When you do cum, your demeanor instantly changes—you get heavy and clingy and whiny as you rock back and forth through your orgasm.

“Good girl,” Spencer murmurs, being careful in the way he continues to fuck you until he reaches his peak as well, not long after. You shudder, and Spencer feels the way your entire body tenses the way it sometimes does after a particularly strong orgasm, and he fights his way out of the brain fog to rub your back with the skimming tips of his fingers. “Shh. You’re okay. Relax, baby.”

And you do, unwound by the dance of his hand and with a few shallow breaths that gradually deepen, until you’re once more slack on top of him.

“You’re incredible,” he exhales, with his lips pressed to your hairline.

So clearly overwhelmed, the only response you can muster is a soft squeak. Spencer laughs fondly, still mapping the soft curve of your back. He feels the way you’re still attempting to train your breathing and kisses your hair again. “What do you need, angel?”

“I’m s’posed to be taking care of you,” you slur. Spencer chuckles again and his brow knits.

“According to who?”

“According to… I was on top…”

“Yeah. You did all the hard stuff. Your legs are shaking.”

You whine softly. “No they’re not.”

His hand slides down to your thigh, and he rubs the trembling muscles.

“No? No Bambi legs for me this time?”

You squeeze them around his waist like you could shrink away from his touch. “Spence…”

“I’m teasing you, honey,” he murmurs, pressing kisses wherever he can reach. “You’re cute.”

“Hm.”

“Look at me,” he murmurs, angling his head expectantly as you slowly raise yours. The look on your face is so sweet—eyes half lidded, lips swollen and much higher in color than usual. Your cheek is warm to the touch. His heart flutters like it did on your first date, and the first time he kissed you, and the first time you fell asleep on his shoulder. This view will never get old. “Wow. Look at you, beautiful girl. Can I have a kiss?”

And you grant him his wish, with a long, soft kiss that’s worth every second of that burning feeling in his lungs, every time.

Eventually you huff out the remainder of your air against his well-kissed lips and your head flops to his chest.

“I’m sleepy.”

“So go to sleep,” he murmurs, so warm from your kiss he feels nothing could be wrong in the world at this moment.

“I can’t.”

“Why’s that?”

“’Cause you just got home ’nd I missed you and I wanna spend time with you.”

“We have three days to spend together. If you go to sleep now, we’ll actually get more time together tomorrow.”

“But it’s more about, like, how it feels—how much time it feels like we spend together right when you get home, and if I go to sleep now, it’s gonna feel like less time, and—basically you’re just not understanding my math.”

“What math?” He laughs, continuing to rub your legs all the way up to your hips, at which point you hiss and buck—a very visceral feeling when he’s still inside of you. “What? What hurts?”

“You tried to fucking tear my hip flexors from my body, is what hurts,” you grumble.

“Tender?”

“Mhm.”

“I’m really sorry, angel. Tylenol?”

“Mm-mm. Can you kiss me better?” Sleep stains your voice. Spencer smiles to himself.

“Yeah?”

“Mhm.”

“Lie down.”

Again you whine as you slip off of him, landing heavily on your back. He sits up, watches with so much affection the way you squeeze your thighs together and arch ever so slightly against the empty feeling.

“Spencer?” You whisper as he cups the top of your knees.

“Hm?”

“I love you.”

He pushes your legs apart gently so he can settle in between them and kisses you again. “I love you. So much.”

“Glad we’re on the same page.”

He presses a kiss to your head, down your neck, taking the scenic route to your hip bones, but you don’t seem to mind.

The feeling of his lips gentle on the tender flesh has you humming softly, eyes fluttering shut as he showers you with gentle kisses. His traces every place his fingers had pressed earlier—feels the way you relax further underneath him. Nobody’s ever let him in this deeply before, but you trust him with everything you have; your body, your soul, in life or death, awake and in sleep. He’ll never take that for granted. He will never pass on an opportunity like this, to be the one who takes care of you, who puts you back together, as long as you’ll let him.

Still dancing the line of consciousness, you part your legs, the slow drag of your bare thigh like a jumper cable to his heart. Fingertips trace desirous paths up your inner thigh and back down again. He recognizes this invitation for what it is, and he knows exactly how to give you what you want, but he asks first anyway.

“Was that on purpose?”

“I d’know what you mean. I’m so sleepy,” you slur, and he believes the second half of your statement to be fact.

Spencer pushes your thigh a little higher, and you’re completely pliable for him, completely gorgeous. As soon as he skims your thigh with a barely-there kiss, exactly the way you like, you’re lacing a hand in his hair.

“Please, Spence…” you murmur, and he can’t argue with that. He especially can’t argue when you widen your legs just that slightest bit more, and your arousal is opalescent between your legs.

He hums, trailing more kisses up until he’s setting the softest one yet against your clit. “Beautiful girl…”

The following gasp is so tiny he could’ve missed it if he wasn’t so attuned to your noises—and then he gets lost in you, making sure to keep his ministrations light as you already came twice recently and are sure to be sensitive. He doesn’t want to wake you from whatever twilight half-slumber trance you’re in, either, sensing that if he does you’ll fight all over again to stay up.

And admittedly, he adores being trusted to take care of you like this.

Your back arches as much as you’re capable of in this state, and he can’t help the way he just barely suctions onto you at that moment, coaxing a sighing moan so sweet and vulnerable and open it gives him chills. Fuck. He really wants to make you cum. But instead he practices patience, tracing you with the tip of his tongue, pressing gentle kisses everywhere you need them—he draws it out. For he doesn’t know how long.

The first time you get close, your hips begin to roll, and you spout little ah’s, but he talks you back down again, laughing lightly at your angelic cooing, your little sounds of sleepy pleasure. Even now you’re so responsive, moving against his mouth as he slips a finger into your soaked entrance, fucks you for a moment, and then retreats. Maybe he’s being unfair, but you don’t seem to mind.

In fact, you’re slipping in and out of sleep as he devours you for what feels like hours, one hand pressed lovingly to your stomach, stroking the soft skin there. Spencer’s never had this long to explore you with his mouth and he takes full advantage of every moment, but he keeps all his kisses and licks and touches gentle and reverent and so loving.

You don’t know how long it’s been, or how many times he’s made you cum when he finally retreats—you half-wake just as he’s finishing cleaning you up. Soon he tosses the towel aside and presses feather-light kisses to each of your cheeks, tear-stained and warm with pleasure. You feel completely drained and completely loved.

“Hi, sleeping beauty,” he murmurs, climbing into bed with you, at some point having gotten dressed.

You manage an embarrassed little laugh. More tears crawl down your cheeks as you roll to your side. Spencer brushes them away and pulls you into him, slinging your thigh over his waist. He chuckles.

“Shaky?”

“Stop,” you whine, embarrassed by his teasing, and hide your face against his chest. “That’s not my fault.”

“It’s nobody’s fault. It’s sweet,” he insists as he rubs your back. And then, a moment later, “So—do you think we’ve spent enough time together for tonight?”

“No.”

He sighs good-naturedly.

“You’re gonna wear me out, you know that?”

“’F you… can’t handle the heat… get outta the kitchen.”

When he next speaks you can hear the smile in his voice.

“Go to sleep, Bambi. Let’s see if you can walk in the morning.”

#spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer Reid fluff #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds smut #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfic

10K notes · View notes

c-monthecob · 27 days ago

Text

"Y/n threw her long blonde hair into a messy bun"

4K notes · View notes

mothstvrnz · 6 months ago

Text

Simon “Ghost” Riley x Wife!Reader

December 15th: “Mom! Dad! I know what I want for Christmas. . . A sibling!”

Note: You and Simon have a six year old daughter named Bellatrix; nickname Trixy

TW: suggestive towards end WC: 692

Requested: Nope!

・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・

“No.”

Simon says as Bellatrix suggests that she wants a pony for Christmas. A pony, really?! Neither of you are made of money, let alone have the money to buy land for said pony, the pony itself, nor the necessities!

You stifle a laugh as Trixy stomps her little foot as she angrily crosses messy writing off her Santa list.

“Maybe Santa will get it for you.”

You suggest, trying to lighten the mood of your angry daughter. She shakes her head as she scans through her list. Her deep chocolate brown eyes going up and down her paper before her eyes sparkle and widen.

“Mom! Dad! I want a sibling for Christmas!”

Bellatrix exclaims excitedly, proudly showing you her list with the word ‘sibling’ in all caps with bolded letters. Jeez, she must really want a sibling.

Simon snorts before biting back a smile.

“Bloody hell. . . You want a sibling?”

Simon asks, kneeling down to be eye level with your excited daughter. She eagerly nods, shoving the paper into her dad’s hands which he takes, clearing his throat; preparing to read off every item.

“Let's see. Pony; not happening. Bluey car; might happen. Oranges? Why in the world do you want oranges?”

He lists off with a laugh upon reading ‘oranges’. Bellatrix has always liked oranges, and gets one in every lunch she takes to school.

“I like oranges.”

Is all she says with her six-year old sass before Simon continues down the list with you peeking over his shoulder.

“Sibling, now that, that I can make that happen, but you'll have to talk to mom ‘bout that one.”

You feel your face heat up upon seeing him look up at you with a wolfish grin and wink. You shake your head before putting in your own input.

“Trixy, that's not quite how that works.”

You chuckle as you get down to her eye level with Simon, who's clearly biting back laughter.

“Why not?”

Your daughter asks, clearly confused on why you can't just get her a sibling. Seriously, don't they just kinda’. . . Appear? That's how it works to a six year old mind at least.

“Well. . . Think of It like making cookies. You have to make the dough, form the cookie dough, bake them, and then you have to wait for them to cool off.”

Bellatrix seems to understand that you can't just get a child from the multiple emotions running over her face. Then once you and Simon stand back up, Trixy speaks up.

“So how do we make one?”

She asks excitedly, earning a laugh from your husband who's laughing so hard he's got tears lining his eyes. You can't help but chuckle to yourself and rub the bridge of your nose. Simon walks away, little chuckles pushing past his lips.

“How about you think really hard about what you want, and we can come back to this later. Alright?”

You suggest with a smile as you guide her back to the table to write what she wants for Christmas, leaving the Amazon catalog you get each year next to her.

You walk away and to your bedroom, chucking to yourself at the face Beatrix made when you and Simon laughed at question.

“How do we make one. . .”

You giggle to yourself as you walk inside your room, Simon sitting on your bed, scrolling on his phone.

“I can answer that, and I'd be more than happy to show you.”

Simon says from his spot on the bed, which you quickly shut down.

“You sure you don't wanna’ make Trixy a big sister?”

He asks after tackling, leaving you a giggling mess as you try to get him off. Eventually, Simon flips the two of you over, him laying on his back with his large calloused hands surprisingly gentle as they hold you in place. You're straddling him now with your softer hands pressed onto his sculpted chest.

“Would you look at that? We're already halfway there. Would be a shame if we wasted such an opportunity, no?”

He chuckles deeply as he massages your sides.

“I guess it would.”

・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・

A/N: so, I'm taking a shot at shorter fics and not forcing myself to make fics longer 🥲

Anyway, would You guys want a part 2 to this? Because I'd be more than happy to write one!

489 notes · View notes

samisverycool · 2 months ago

Text

࣪ ִֶָ☾. yandere prince adores his personal maid.

he doesn't even bother hiding his favouritism. the contrast in tone when he talks to you vs anyone else is huge.

"oh, you think that suit looks better than this suit? of course, my sweet! whatever you say ♡."

"my sweet, i'd hate to be a bother, but could you run some errands for me? i know, i'm horrible!"

he'd coo and coddle you, as if you were a favoured child. trailing his silky soft fingers across your cheeks when you pleased him, though it wasn't very hard since he is absolutely enamored with you. then, some random servant would walk in, and it was like a switch was flipped.

"can't you see i'm busy? go away!"

"you're utterly useless! you know i can have your head on a silver platter, right?"

it was slightly off-putting.. you remembered the first time you were introduced as his personal maid, his eyes having lit up like a christmas tree. you didn't really know why he liked you so much, but it's better than being threatened with death for serving his tea in the wrong cup. you do try your best to appeal to all of his 'demands' (which are just suggestions at this point), because you have to remember your place.

which is by his side. forever.

"you'd never leave me, would you, my sweet?"

"never, my prince."

"good."

#yandere #yandere x reader #yanblr #yan blog #reader insert #x reader #fem reader #yandere x darling #yandere x you #guys i think this is yandere #fanfic #writing #male yandere #yandere writing

8K notes · View notes

cloudedcreams · 1 month ago

Text

[nsfw] thinking of an obsessive! ex with a darling who lets him hit one more time.

he presses a kiss against your lips, pushing his tongue inside as his hands wrap themselves around your waist. you can hear his muffled groans spilling into your lips as he passionately grinds himself against you, and when he pulls back the both of you are breathless, and it takes him only a moment before he lunges forward to place marks against your neck.

“y-your pussy’s fucking… perfect…” he trails off, desire leaking from his tone as he thrusts himself into you. though he can barely stop himself from seeing ecstasy he’s managing the strength to try and look you in the eyes, to scan your face over as he moans and to let the sight arouse him further.

“t-tell me that you love me. i-i wanna hear you say it, nghh, call out my fucking name and l-let me hear you lie to me.” he’s begging. his voice is shaking and he can barely force his words out but you can make out tears in his eyes as he pleads, both desperate and shameless.

and you don’t love him. you can barely find it in yourself to lie to him, to push his delusions and to think about later. to lie to him would only entangle yourself further in his mind, but it’s all he wants you to do.

he slows down, his cock throbbing inside you as he does. and he leans in towards you, his lips shaking as he presses them against your ear, to place a kiss upon them and whisper.

“i-i won’t go any faster if you don’t tell me, baby. lie to me. e-even if it’s not true, even though you hate me. lie to me because you know it feels good.” he’s saying.

he wants you to tell him you missed him, to tell him you’re glad you remembered the little things, to tell him you’re so fucking glad he’s still obsessed with you, because he knows that you’ll plague his thoughts until he dies.

#yan blog #yanblr #answered asks #yandere #reader insert #yandere oc #yandere x you #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #unhealthy relationships #yandere smut #fem reader #@cloudedcreams #obsessive yandere #obslove

3K notes · View notes

bananastarlo · 2 months ago

Text

Warning: NSFW!

Thinking about nerdy yandere who is more than willing to help you study for your next exam. You invite him over since you think he’ll be easy to take advantage of. After all, his shy demeanor and nerdy interests don’t faze you at all.

What you don’t expect is how easily his patience snaps.

“Please, try to at least follow what I’m saying — are you even listening?”

Now he’s inside of you, trying to at least get you to do something right.

“That’s wrong,” he grunts, slowing his pace and abandoning your pussy as you whimper and tremble in need. “Come on, baby, just like I taught you.”

You grind yourself against him, mind foggy from how many times he’s denied your orgasm when you didn’t know the answer to his stupid questions.

As you stutter out the answer he’s waiting for, he captures your lips in a sloppy kiss, shoving his tongue into your throat and igniting a burning ache in your tummy, the pool of arousal beneath you only growing.

And without warning, you feel his throbbing dick pumping back into you, filling you up perfectly as he begins to mercilessly pound into you. His sweaty body slaps against your own, combined with his loud moans, filling the room with the lewdest and most erotic sounds you’ve ever heard in your life.

“Tell me what you need. Tell me you need me, that you won’t ever need another man because I can make you feel so good. Ugh, f-fuck!”

His voice cracks as his eyes roll back, forehead glistening with sweat. He feels your cunt clench around him as you come undone under him, body shivering, waiting for him to cum too.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, feeling his own orgasm approaching at the sight of you completely disheveled.

You’re already overstimulated by the time he thrusts deep inside of you for the last time.

You can’t think straight anymore, but he makes sure to push his thick, heavy load inside you. When he finally pulls out and you’re still dripping, he drops to his knees in front of you, licking and cleaning up the mess you two made. You gasp. Looking down, seeing him like this, gazing up at you with that hunger in his eyes, makes you mewl in feverish delight.

“Look at you… being so obedient after all. You liked that, hm?”

All you can do is lazily nod, earning a cocky grin.

“Next time I visit,” he breathes against your skin, “you better have all the answers ready — so I can make you feel even better, yeah?”

6K notes · View notes

fromdove · 2 months ago

Text

you find him in your apartment. again. window cracked. boots still on. jacket slung over the back of your chair like it belongs there.

he’s sitting on your couch like he owns it, flipping through a half-read paperback he definitely didn’t bring. probably something you left lying around — some crime thriller he’s already tearing apart in his head.

“make yourself at home,” you say, dropping your keys.

he doesn’t look up. “already did. your lock’s still crap, by the way.”

“you say that every time you break in.”

“because it’s still true.” he finally glances at you, eyes tired but sharp. “what if i was someone else?”

“then you’d be bleeding on the floor right now.”

his mouth twitches. “cute.”

you toe off your shoes, drop your bag, move toward the kitchen. “what do you want, jason?”

“wow. straight to the point. no hi jay, how was patrol? want something to drink? here, take my couch and trample my boundaries some more?”

“you don’t drink anything that isn’t ninety percent caffeine or eighty proof.”

“true,” he says, stretching his legs out. “still rude.”

you eye him from the kitchen. his holsters are off, but the rest of the suit’s still there — the compression shirt, scuffed boots, scraped knuckles. he’s vibrating under the surface like he hasn’t slept in two days and isn’t planning to.

“you get hit again?” you ask, softer.

he lifts one shoulder in a shrug. “nothing important.”

“so yes.”

“do you want a play-by-play? i can act it out, real dramatic. throw myself against a wall. bleed on your furniture.”

“you already bled on my rug last month.”

“and it really tied the room together.”

you exhale through your nose. grab a glass of water, bring it over. he takes it without comment, drinks half in one go.

“why are you here, jason?”

this time, he doesn’t have a joke ready. his fingers tap the side of the glass, jaw tight.

“quiet,” he mutters. “it’s quiet here.”

you sit beside him. not close. not far.

“you ever gonna just ask to stay?” you ask.

“don’t need to.” he leans his head back, eyes closed now. “you always let me.”

“that’s not the same thing.”

“yeah,” he says, voice rough. “i know.”

the silence stretches. his foot nudges yours, casual, like he didn’t mean to. like he did.

“you gonna yell at me if i fall asleep here?”

“depends.”

“on what?”

“if you do that thing where you mutter weird half-words and twitch like you’re being electrocuted.”

he opens one eye. “that’s called trauma. look it up.”

“ever heard of therapy?”

“yeah. didn’t vibe with being psychoanalyzed by someone who’s never been shot in the face. weird, right?”

you huff a laugh. he shifts a little closer, not quite touching.

“you still smell like gunpowder,” you say.

“better than blood.”

“barely.”

he doesn’t look at you right away. just stares ahead like he’s watching something you can’t see. then, like it costs him, he says,

“couldn’t sleep.”

that’s all he gives you. not can I crash here? not I don’t want to be alone. just that.

but with jason, that’s enough.

you don’t ask. you just nod toward the blanket on the armrest.

“you want that, or are you gonna steal mine like last time?”

“wasn’t stealing. it was strategic heat distribution.”

“you’re unbelievable.”

“you say that a lot,” he murmurs, already leaning back into the cushions.

and still — he doesn’t leave.

not for hours.

4K notes · View notes