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yoon-kooks · 1 year

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seven tattoos later | jjk

🐰pairing: fuckboy!jungkook x tattooartist!reader

🐰genre: fluff, smut

🐰summary: if the hottest fuck boy in town made it a point to visit your little tattoo studio every week, how many tattoos would it take to make you fall in love with him?

🐰word count: 3.3k

🐰warnings: unprotected sex, slight exhibitionism, sex on the couch, doggy, hes big and rough, lip tattoos, hickeys, lil bit of drinking, hes so annoying in this im so sorry

As you close up for the night, you look out the window and count at least four couples out for a dog walk. It’s past eight, but still warm and bright out. It’s like the sun never stops shining. Summer sucks like that.

Maybe you’d appreciate the sun a little more if you had a puppy to walk or at least a handsome guy friend to drag you outside so you aren’t just rotting away in your empty tattoo studio on a Friday night. Everyone’s apparently on vacation or getting married in Hawaii or something, so work’s been exceptionally slow this week. Fuck summer.

It’s lonely.

You might even miss Jeon Jungkook, the last person you ever expected to get along with. The first time he walked into your studio, he didn’t waste any time in hitting on you and making it painfully obvious. You were convinced he only walked in and got a tattoo that day because he thought you’d be an easy lay.

That was around two months ago.

“What do you think would look good on me?” he’d asked while scrolling through your portfolio. You knew exactly what he was doing. He wanted you to take in his good looks, imagine the carved out physique beneath that leather jacket. That’s what guys like him do. And he was far from the first male client to ask you that. He wasn't special.

“I don’t know, maybe like a bunny or a duckling?” You just said the first things that came to mind—your two favorite animals. You didn’t give a flying fuck about what design would actually look good on someone you’d just met. Your icy heart definitely doesn’t warm up to people that quickly no matter how hot they are.

“Bunnies are cute,” he said without hesitation. You swear he was staring right at the dainty bunny tattoo on your collarbone. Then he tapped the top of his left hand, the one without all the other tattoos. “I’ll take one right here.”

At the time, you didn’t think he was serious. (He was serious.)

“So, for touch-ups and stuff, it’d probably be good if I had your number, yeah?” he asked, leaning against the counter and admiring the final product on his hand. Him and his cocky ass smile. It’s annoying how hot he is. Unfair, too.

After inputting your number into his phone, you needed to make one thing very clear: “Send me a dick pic and I’ll tattoo all of your exes’ names on your forehead.”

“I promise no dick pics,” he chuckled. He must’ve taken your threat as a cute little joke. “But I would like to take you out sometime.”

For a moment, you just stared at his handsome face. Everything about him was bright and shiny. His pretty eyes, the art wrapped around his arm, that confident smile. The sun had nothing on him.

But the thing is, you knew better than to trust guys like him. They’re always saying shit they don’t mean. And you were tired of being let down by those empty words.

What would make Jeon Jungkook any different from the fuck boys who’ve burned you in the past?

You didn’t know enough about him to answer that question, but you also weren’t willing to get to know him.

It was for the best.

So after you politely declined the invitation, the boy nodded, waved farewell, and jogged out the door. At least he was decent enough to accept his fate and move right along. (He wasn’t.)

Just when you thought you’d gotten rid of him, he spun around. “See you next week for the touch-up, Y/N.”

He was still smiling like an idiot. You didn’t understand why.

“You’re not gonna need a touch-up in a week,” you shouted back as he dashed off. Fast little fucker. You doubt he heard you, but it didn’t really matter. With all those other tattoos, he already knew how touch-ups worked.

Besides, what were the odds of him showing his pretty face again after rejection? Every other client you turned down never came back. Not even for a touch-up.

You didn’t believe for a second Jeon Jungkook would be back.

A week later, he proved you wrong and waltzed right back in like you never rejected his ass. Of course he did. The week after that, he had three of your designs etched into his hand. And he just kept coming back for more, week after week.

Somewhere along the way, you learned he’s a wedding photographer, an artist like you. He’s shown you his photos a few times even after you specifically said you hate weddings. The photos were gorgeous, though. As much as weddings make you want to gag, the sweet moments he captured had the reverse effect. Somehow, you were envious of what those couples had.

You’ve also overcome the impossible task of learning to tolerate his dumb humor. It’s probably because his laugh and smile are so contagious. He won’t stop running his mouth until he sees you smile either, especially when you’re having a bad day. Your cheeks hurt whenever he’s with you.

Fast forward two months and he now has a total of seven of your tattoos. It feels weird not seeing him this week, not breathing in his woodsy cologne, not leaving your mark on his perfect skin. But you suppose that’s just what happens when the guy who’s been annoying the shit out of you suddenly goes to Hawaii. The withdrawal symptoms are kicking in.

Your world is a whole lot quieter. It’s peaceful for once. And yet, you miss that chaotic idiot.

Fuck summer. Fuck people who get married in Hawaii.

Your phone buzzes just as you finish cleaning up. Hopefully it’s someone who wants to book an appointment. (It’s not.)

When you read “jungcock,” you roll your eyes with the faintest smile—the perfect example of your clashing feelings for the boy.

jungcock🥴 [8:24PM] “Got time for me tonight?🫦”

Y/N🐰 [8:24PM] “arent you supposed to be in hawaii rn?”

Y/N🐰 [8:24PM] “and dont use that emoji ever again”

jungcock🥴 [8:25PM] “I’d never choose Hawaii over you😌”

jungcock🥴 [8:25PM] “(They called off the wedding)”

jungcock🥴 [8:25PM] “🫦”

[8:25PM] [jungcock🥴 is now blocked]

[8:31PM] [You’ve unblocked jungcock🥴]

jungcock🥴 [8:31PM] “Is that a yes?”

Y/N🐰 [8:31PM] “i hate you a lot”

jungcock🥴 [8:32PM] “Hear me out”

jungcock🥴 [8:32PM] “What if😳👉👈 I brought snacks?”

Y/N🐰 [8:34PM] “fine”

You groan and shove your phone back into your pocket. Sometimes you wonder how you let this dork finesse his way into your life. Where did you go wrong?

Jungkook arrives at your studio ten minutes later with your favorite peace offerings—soju and pancakes. Ah yes, this is how he finessed his way to the top.

“Ooh snacks,” you hum as if you didn’t believe in his ability to pick something up on the way over. “What kind of pancakes did you get?”

“Your favorite, obviously,” he nods, handing you the warm box and a fork. There’s something about the way he crosses his arms, as though he’s just waiting to catch your reaction when you open it. Why does he look so fucking proud of himself?

“I never told you my favorite pancakes.” You raise a brow. The only thing you told him was your favorite pancake place. But they have like a million different options, ranging from classic (blueberry and chocolate chip) to fancy (tiramisu and that edible gold stuff). There’s no way he can magically guess your favorite pancake.

“Just open it.” He gives you his idea of a “playful shove” on the shoulders, which would’ve knocked you over with the pancakes if he hadn’t grabbed a hold of your wrist. He was definitely that annoying kid on the playground who chased around all the girls he had a crush on.

You mumble on about him being too rough as you open the box. To your surprise, it’s strawberries and whipped cream drenched in red syrup on top of a fat stack of pancakes—aka your favorite pancakes.

You look up from the mountain of strawberries and tilt your head at the boy like a confused puppy.

“I asked the waitress with the purple hair what you normally order,” he explains.

“Okay, but she doesn’t know me by name. How’d you describe me to her?”

He takes a few steps closer until you get a whiff of that woodsy cologne you missed so much. You feel the tips of his fingers trace along your collarbone. He’s not so rough anymore. In fact, the warm caress just barely grazes your skin, as if to tease your body. You’ve always lowkey looked forward to that tiny bit of warmth while working on his tattoos. Maybe he’s always been aware.

“I called you a cutie with a bunny tattoo.” His nose scrunches when he smiles this time, giving your skin one last poke. “She knew it was you when I showed her the one on my hand.”

Of course Jeon Jungkook walked into your favorite pancake place pretending to be your boyfriend. Of course he did something as embarrassing as showing off what appears to be matching tattoos. All for the sake of bringing you your favorite pancakes on an otherwise shitty summer night.

“Now she’ll think we have matching tattoos,” you say softly, shoving his chest. “How am I supposed to show my face in there ever again?”

“Hey, I don’t have a problem with the whole matching tattoos thing.” He puts his hands up to protect his chest from your wrath in case you’re feeling feisty. “I’ll just pick it up for you again.”

You’re not feeling feisty, so you give the boy a thumbs-up and bring him over to the couch in the back corner of the studio where you usually eat or take naps.

At long last, you stab a piece of pancake and strawberry and coat it in whipped cream before shoving it into your mouth. It’s delicious. “Is it mean if I say I’m glad the Hawaii wedding was canceled?”

“Because you’d be lonely without me here?” he teases.

“No, it’s because you bought me free pancakes, you simp,” you grin, handing off the fork to the simp so he too can get a taste of heaven. He passes you the soju in return even though you’re already feeling a little giggly.

“It’s not free,” he denies. “I’m supposed to be here for another tattoo, remember?”

After a tiny sip, you set the green bottle aside and grab Jungkook’s hand with both of yours. It looks so silly with all your tattoos surrounding the cute little bunny in the middle. He’s silly for letting you do that to him.

“I don’t think there’s any more room on your hand for another one,” you giggle. “Where am I gonna tattoo you next?”

You wonder how many tattoos he has under his clothes. Maybe he’s already got them all over the place. Then, eventually, his body will run out of space and you won’t be able to tattoo him anymore. That would suck. You kinda like his company.

“What about a lip tattoo?” you chirp, tapping on his lower lip with your index finger. When he doesn’t swat you away, you tug down on his lip ring to check for a hidden tattoo there. Nothing. “I have one.”

“You do?” His eyes immediately fall on your red strawberry lips. You pull down your lower one for him to see tiny black letters that read “bad girl.”

“My ex did it. I was supposed to tattoo ‘bad boy’ on his lip, but he chickened out,” you shrug. “Isn’t that crazy?”

“Wait, I thought you can’t stand matching tattoos?” He’s such a good listener. Boyfriend material.

“I didn’t have anything against them up until that point,” you hum as you play with his wavy hair. The perm is cute on him. “But that’s basically when my perspective changed.”

That’s when you lost faith in men. When you grew to hate the idea of marriage. When you started rejecting every guy who approached you, even if he was half as hot as Jeon Jungkook.

“Well fuck your ex,” he frowns. Yeah, fuck him. No, wait. Your ex isn’t the one you want to fuck right now. “You’ve convinced me. The next tattoo I’m getting is a lip tattoo.”

“Got any design ideas for what you want there?” You climb into his lap, cup his chin with one hand, and play with his lip piercings some more. You’ve never been this up close and personal with Jungkook, but you like it. You can already feel his cock hardening beneath you through your leggings.

“Your lips,” he says without hesitation. Cheesy, but you’ll take any excuse right now to close the gap between you and him.

Just like that, something clicks in your body, and your lips just find their way to his. You’re not sure how much of it is alcohol and how much is your actual feelings for the boy, but it doesn’t really matter. Not when the kiss tastes like strawberry pancakes. It’s perfect.

You throw your arms over his shoulders as he kisses back. He’s already got his hands slipped up the back of your little tank top.

Your hips start to roll against him.

“Should we close the blinds?” he asks against your lips. “Unless you like an audience.”

You glance at the window. The sun is finally going down, but of course people are still walking their dogs. Maybe they didn’t get the memo that it’s officially fucking hours, not dog walking hours.

Normally, you’d be all for closing the blinds and turning out the lights, but your ass is nice and comfy in his lap and you’d rather not change that. Plus the back of the couch should hide 90% of what’s going on.

You shed your tank top off and toss it onto the coffee table next to the unfinished pancakes. His big eyes flick to your lacy black bralette.

“Let them watch.” You press your lips into his neck and suck away like a vampire. The hickeys you’re about to leave him with will have to make do as temporary tattoos for now. You’re not gonna have time to tattoo him tonight.

“You sure you want people to see you so desperate and needy like this?” he asks as you wiggle out of your leggings. His hands immediately find your ass and give it a good squeeze.

“I’m not needy,” you whine, your naughty hand feeling how large his cock is through his joggers.

“I think you’re pretty needy, Y/N.” Two fingers slip past your thong and spread the wet lust between your legs. He has the biggest smirk on his face as your body squirms to his touch. You do everything in your power to hold back a gasp. “Do you want me to fuck you that badly?”

Yes, but you’re not going to admit it. Ever.

“No way,” you answer with confidence. He helps you out of his lap and you let him prop you up on your hands and knees so he can get a good look at your ass. “This is just my way of thanking you for the pancakes since we both know you aren’t getting that lip tattoo tonight.”

“The lip tattoo can wait.” You feel your thong drop to the couch where it belongs. Two very strong hands hold you at the waist. “You’re my number one priority tonight.”

As he fills you with his cock, you’re already melting to the heat between your legs. Your weak little arms lose all their strength. You reach for your fluffy white cloud pillow to muffle your moans and let him do all the work from behind.

The tight hold he has on you is a mix of possessiveness and all the sexual tension built up over the past two months. You wonder how many times he thought about bending you over and fucking you silly in the midst of getting a cute little frog tattoo. You’ve seen the way his lustful eyes look at you during his appointments. You’re not that oblivious.

“Nice ass tattoo, by the way.” He pinches the bit of skin with two pink butterflies. You’d always regretted that one because not everyone shares the same appreciation for it, but that tiny love pinch made it all worth it. “You and your cute little tattoos.”

He slides in and out, pounding your deepest spot, and drawing a pathetic whimper from your throat every few seconds. Doesn’t help that he has a finger or two rubbing away at your swollen little clit. That’s when you realize you’ve been missing out on amazing sex for far too long. Seven whole tattoos. That’s how long it took before you gave in.

He’s already rougher now than the playful shove that nearly knocked you over earlier. Good.

This is exactly what you need after such a boring work week.

“What would you be doing now if I were taking wedding pictures in Hawaii?” His voice is getting breathier. He’s working hard out there.

“Gagging at all the romantic shit you’d be sending me.” Even if he weren’t physically there with you, you know he’d still find a way to be annoying. He’d let you know he’s still thinking of you.

“Don’t worry, I won’t make you gag tonight.” You don’t have to turn around to know he’s got that dumb smirk on his face. “Maybe another time. If you’re into that.”

Your response is a soft moan into the pillow. The thought of his cock shoved down your throat isn’t as repulsive as you would’ve thought two months ago. Giving head isn’t usually your thing, but you’re open to trying it with him. You’re glad he can’t see you lick your lips.

He doesn’t slow down either, instead picking up the pace and going harder. Your fingers dig into the pillow, your whole body dripping in pleasure. It feels too good.

“Mm, Jungkook,” you pant like a poor puppy with your ass up in the air. Your little clit can’t take much more of his fingers. You’re so close.

“Thought you couldn’t stand me,” he teases as you tighten around him. He’s so annoying! During sex, too. “And now you’re about to cum for me?”

“Fuck you,” you gasp as the wave of pleasure passes through you. His fingers and cock help you ride out the high. He’s lucky he’s a sweet guy with a strong sex game. Otherwise you wouldn’t have fallen for his annoying ass.

As soon as he pulls out, he flips you onto your back, staring down at you with his cock in hand. A few extra pumps along his length is all he needs to get his release and drizzle your belly with his creamy glaze.

He climbs over you to give you a soft peck on the lips. You’ve been with a lot of fuck boys before, but you can’t remember any of them kissing you once the sex was done and over with.

This boy is different.

He lets you lie there, basking in the afterglow as he searches the studio for a clean towel. When he finally gets ahold of one, he offers a hand to help you sit up and gets you cleaned up.

“All jokes aside, I’m happy you were here tonight,” you say in a tiny voice. “Fuck Hawaii weddings.”

He chuckles in his usual adorkable way. “You should come to a wedding with me sometime—when I’m not working, of course. Maybe you won’t hate them as much as you think.”

You lean in for another kiss. There’s still a hint of pancake on his tongue, but it's even sweeter. “Sure.”

The corners of his lips curve upward in satisfaction. The annoying little shit is about to jump out. You can feel it. (The annoying little shit does not jump out.)

“Now finish your pancakes,” he smiles. For once, it’s not him looking all smug and shit. And it’s really endearing.

Somehow, he just keeps proving you wrong. In a good way.

You look at your favorite pancakes on the table and wave them off. “Nah, I’m good.” Once more, you scoot your ass onto him and press a finger to his lip. “I think I like the taste of you better.”

#bts smut #jungkook smut #bts scenarios #bts imagines #bts fanfic #bts x reader #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x reader #jungkook tattoo #bts fluff #jungkook fluff #bts fuck boy au #seven tattoos later

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lowkeycasanova · 3 months

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In exchange

ace x afab!reader

Plot: doing ace's skincare mixed in with some c0ckwarming

(idk how i feel about this)

slight smut

"Oh come on! Please!"

Following Ace into the bedroom, you give him a pouty look. He tries to ignore you but miserably fails.

"Why do you wanna do it so badly?" he sighed.

"I think it would be fun and a way for you to relax. Plus, you'll look extra handsome when I'm finished." You've been trying to get him to let you do some sort of skincare routine on him for the longest, especially since he really doesn't have one.

"And what do I get in exchange?" he cockily smirks at you, tilting his head to the side.

You shrug. "I don't know. What do you want?" He pauses as he thinks for a moment and then his grin widens and walks closer to you.

"I'll let you do it...if you let me put it in."

He lowers his voice on that last part, being cheeky.

Your lips slightly part upon hearing his proposal. Ace had become pretty fond of cockwarming recently and wanted to do it often. It doesn't always end up with sex. He just likes to be inside you, close and warm and you can never say no to that.

"Fine." you agreed.

He plops himself down on the edge of the bed. You join him after filling your hands with the essentials from the bathroom, setting it all down next to him. He grabs you by your waist, pulling you on top of him. When your crotch meets his, you can already feel how hard he is through his black shorts and he gives your ass a gentle smack.

"Got everything?" he asks.

"Yeah." you nod.

"Alright, you know what to do." he says, as if he was waiting for you to take the initiative. He smirks, so full of himself.

You reach down and move your underwear to the side as he tugs his hard cock from out of his pants and you take him by the base, guiding and slowly sinking down on him. His erection filling you up completely. You let out a satisfied moan and he bites his bottom lip, humming in content. He presses a kiss to your cheek before leaning back with his weight on his arms, allowing you to do whatever.

As you go through your products, his hands gently massage your bare thighs and ass, patiently waiting. Grabbing a headband, you put it over his forehead to keep his hair back. While putting the cleanser on, his eyes flutter shut and you take a second to notice how long his lashes are. So natural and honestly unfair. You try to focus on putting on the moisturizer under his eyes, but now you can't seem to ignore the urge to start grinding on him. The way he casually fills you up like this should be a crime.

When you lean closer to work on his eyebrows, you accidently buck your hips. A soft grunt escapes your lips at the friction you created.

"You okay?" he asks with an innocent smile but you know all too well he's being the biggest tease ever.

"Yeah," you breathe out, gripping his shoulders to steady yourself. "I'm good."

"Cool." he smiles before closing his eyes again.

You manage to finish the routine without losing your self-control.

"Okay, I'm finished." you say, and the next moment, his eyes appear once more as you take the headband off and his hair falls in his face. He looks breathtaking. His skin is shiny, glowy, and just absolutely stunning. The hottest man ever if you didn't know that already.

"My face feels clean. How do you like it?" He simply asks.

You wanna say something, but have no idea what. Instead, you lean down and give him a hard kiss. That'll let him know your answer.

Forget self control. Immediately, you start rolling your hips, doing what you've been wanting to do for the past twenty minutes. Ace doesn't seem to be against it. His fingers grab a hold of your lower waist, urging you to keep going as your kisses get more heated.

"Fuck." you breathe out, laying your eyes on Ace. His eyes were glossy already and his chest heaved in an attempt to catch his breath for a moment.

"That feel good babe?" he pants, leaning in to kiss the crook of your neck.

"Yes, you feel so fucking good." you moan out, feeling your orgasm build up.

To add, he slightly lifts you up and starts to thrust up.

"Cum for me. Cum on the cock your riding so well."

His words plus the sound of skin slapping was pushing you towards to edge even more.

You grab ahold of the back of his neck before you smash your lips on his again and your release washes over you. His name rolls of your tongue over and over along with breathy groans. He follows a few moments later, gripping your ass with satisfaction as he comes inside you.

After slowing down, you remain on his lap as his cock softens inside. Caressing his cheeks, you admire his newly hydrated face and can't help but smile at how he looks.

That cocky grin returns. "Maybe I should let you do my skincare more often if it ends like this."

#one piece ace #ace x reader #ace x you #ace smut #portgas d ace x reader #portgas d ace smut #portgas d ace x y/n #one piece smut

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gutsby · 9 months

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Playing Dangerous

Pairing: Detective Dixon x Reader

Summary: Working undercover in a seedy part of town, homicide detective Daryl sees you in your skimpy club attire and mistakes you for a hooker. A wrongful arrest makes for a funny way to foreplay, but you’re still game.

Warnings: NSFW. Thigh riding. Brat taming. Daddy kink. Dubcon elements vis-à-vis power imbalance and forceful facefucking, plus some dark-ish dirty talk, face slapping, overstimulation where Daryl keeps making you cum after you say that you’re finished (all meant to be consensual).

Notes: Big big thank you to @dilfsandmartinis for this filthy lil idea!! 🫣🩷 Requests are always welcome :-)

Shitty was an understatement.

This was a full-blown, top-notch terror of an evening, rivaled only in its sheer lethality by the time you once broke your nose and got arrested twice in the same day.

Tonight was likely to be a close second, though.

You’d spent all of ten minutes in the center of that hot and sweaty club, fighting madly not to drop your drinks or lose your purse, when suddenly, simultaneously, it seemed every guy around you had lost the power of self-control. You were prodded and groped like a shiny slab of meat ripe for any man’s hands—and no matter how hard you elbowed each offender, you couldn’t find reprieve. You were constantly being grabbed.

You’d grumbled as much to your friends, and they’d told you to ‘lighten up’ and ‘not be so surprised when you were wearing something like that.’

Something like what? A super mini skirt and a bustier?

You promptly informed each member of your party they could kiss your ass, and left.

That had been almost half an hour ago, and you were still currently stuck outside the club waiting for a lift. In the snow. With no jacket, or adequate covering.

Every time a taxi passed, you’d wobble over to the street corner and wave your hand, but on each endeavor, without fail, its driver would shoot you a dirty look and speed right off. Like you had, ‘I’M GONNA ROB YOU’ written on your forehead or else smelled of rotting flesh.

You were mystified, distraught, and supremely pissed off. You didn’t know what you were doing wrong.

The second you saw a semi-reputable looking Dodge Charger pull up to the curb, you decided you’d had enough. Uber or not, you needed a fucking ride.

You stalked over to the vehicle, already seeing its passenger side window creeping down on your approach. Your arms were quick to fold over your chest as you bent down and scowled,

“Could you please take me home?”

The man you saw inside looked polished. Well-groomed.

You hardly had more than a second or two to inspect his appearance, though, because in an instant, he was leaning over the center console to shoot you a smile.

“How much, hon?”

You heaved a sigh of relief. Finally, someone was taking you seriously.

You reached for the door handle and tumbled right in.

“Any price, just name it,” you groaned. You rubbed your face with both hands and leaned back in the seat. Almost unable to believe your stroke of good fortune after so many failed attempts, you let out a shaky, but grateful, breath and spread your legs just a little to get comfy.

“Good,” the man to your left said, calmly, evenly...then, “Now put your hands where I can see them.”

You lowered your hands from your face and gave the stranger a puzzled look.

“What?”

“Hands, show me hands,” he said, voice raising ever slightly in volume.

What the fuck was he on? Staring you down with that stupid, self-righteous face, lip curled in a melodramatic snarl like he could’ve been one of those lousy fuckin’—

“Police,” he barked. Louder, this time. Flashing a badge before your panic-stricken eyes and clenching his jaw.

Your hands flew up instinctively.

Was it illegal to hail a cab now?!

You didn’t have time to think, or blink, or do much else besides breathe when the well-dressed man got out of the car and instructed you to do the same. Your hands and feet seemed to move of their own accord as you gingerly slipped out from the front seat of the car to the cold wintry night outside. You were pushed to your knees on the concrete sidewalk and made to kneel.

To your right, you saw a gaggle of college kids strolling by—some pointing, others laughing, but all watching in muted awe as the undercover cop circled to your back.

“You have the right to remain silent—” he started, reaching for the handcuffs on his belt.

“Excuse me?!” you hissed.

“—anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law—” he continued. A couple gentle clinks and suddenly your wrists were in chains.

“What’d I do? What the fuck did I do?”

“You have a right to an attorney,” he droned on, heedless of your cries as he read your Miranda rights, “If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you.”

You felt tears spring to your eyes as both cuffs locked into place and you were being hauled back onto your feet, sniveling and sobbing before throngs of amused onlookers. Your face burned with embarrassment.

“I didn’t know it was a crime, officer— I didn’t know, I swear— I-I-I’m so fucking drunk!” you blubbered as he guided you swiftly to the rear of his car. You practically bawled when he opened the back door.

“I just really needed a taxi!” you wailed, legs shaking as he started to lower you into the vehicle.

At that, he stopped.

He tugged you back on your feet and spun you around.

“A what?” he asked.

“A taxi,” you cried, “All the other drivers kept— kept driving away, I thought, I-I don’t know, I thought you might be another Uber driver or something.”

The man’s expression betrayed a change, though you couldn’t decipher just what that was through your tears. You sniffled and tried to wipe your cheek with your shoulder but ended up smearing more makeup in your line of sight. You whimpered at a pathetic pitch.

“Taxi,” the police officer repeated, seeming to mull over the word in his mind like it was the latest addition to the English language. He frowned.

Through your tear-streaked vision, you could just then detect the faintest trace of affliction…even remorse? His eyes wavered between your face, your ensemble, and the ground below, making a couple quick circuits before finally settling on your wet, bleary gaze.

His voice sounded strained to you now.

“You weren’t…trying to have sex with me?”

Your breath caught in your throat. You coughed, blinked, looked the man up and down and hardly knew to even shake your head with how blind-sided you felt.

“W-What? What?”

“You’re not…a prostitute?” the man said, almost pained.

That query threw you for a loop just the same. You pressed your weight on the car and sensed a strange unsteadinesses seize your limbs. This undercover cop thought you were a hooker—and a cheap one at that, game for any price the man was offering—and presently, you felt queasy. You looked down at your outfit.

It surely wasn’t that revealing, was it? He couldn’t have been so easily convinced of your profession by a...pair of glossy go-go boots, latex skirt, and lacy top, right?

Okay, you looked a little bit like a hooker.

Worse yet, you noticed a wad of cash stuffed between your left tit and armpit, from the time you tried to bribe the bouncer for a ride while leaving the bar. A loose cigarette stuck behind your ear, two hickeys suckled into the skin of your neck, and a teensy bag of blow to boot, tucked haphazardly between an assortment of Trojans and Magnums strewn lazily throughout your purse.

Alright, you could’ve been cast in the next Pretty Woman remake, but who cares? Half the girls in the club were dressed just as scantily, if not more so.

You somehow mustered the strength to squeeze your hands into frozen little fists behind your back and gave the officer a brazen look.

“Think I don’t have anyone better to fuck?” you scoffed.

The detective’s expression went from inscrutable to uncomfortable in fewer than two seconds. He seemed hardly able to look you in the eye any longer, casting sidelong stares at the crowd growing larger on the sidewalk. Collective curiosity piqued at the sight of a cop and a would-be streetwalker making small talk outside of the club, he knew he had to get out of this. Quick.

“I’ll, uh, take ya home, ma’am,” he said under his breath.

Before you could either accept or reject his offer, he had your cuffs undone—discreetly—and your body shuffled hastily inside his car. You heard the door slam shut and saw the officer make quick strides toward the driver’s side. You raised both brows as soon as he re-entered.

“That’s it?” you quipped.

“What?” he returned as he started the engine.

“You make that hot-shot unlawful arrest in front of all those people, and you’re not even gonna say sorry?”

The man made every effort not to shoot you a look in the rearview mirror. Slowly, he pulled into the street.

“Well...y’know, you do look the part. But I’m sorry.” Proffering one of the most pitiful apologies you’d heard in your life, the detective fixed his gaze on the road.

You knew he was bluffing. The man was humiliated as shit, too coy to come clean with the fact that he’d just made an egregious error, and now offering you a ride all to make himself out to be the good guy—and quite possibly avoid a wrongful arrest lawsuit.

Maybe it was the residual amounts of alcohol still coursing through your veins or else the cocaine, but you couldn’t let the dipshit get off that easy. You scrambled your way up to the front of the car.

It was at that moment Detective Dixon sincerely wished he’d driven the squad car—complete with a cage, of sorts, to keep inmates locked away in the back seat—rather than his unmarked vehicle, to be making arrests that night. He stifled a groan when you plopped down in the passenger seat next to him.

“What do you mean, ‘looked the part,’ hm?” you quizzed, burning a hole through the side of his head with how intently you were watching him.

“Put yer seatbelt on,” the man rolled his eyes, attention never straying from the long line of cars ahead of him, “And where do you live?”

“Over on ‘Fuck 12’ Avenue, Officer...Dixon?” you answered sarcastically, scanning his chest for a nametag.

“Detective,” he corrected, “Friends call me Daryl.”

“Detective Dixon, I am not your friend.” You smirked, and for the first time, you thought your discomfited front-seat companion might be tempted to crack one too. You watched him fight his base instincts, however, and force a frown instead. Still not tearing his gaze from the road, he reached over, blindly, for your seatbelt.

“C’mon now, buckle up,” he urged, echoing the words of a concerned father but somehow making it sound far more sexy when he said it. You swallowed a giggle and swatted his hand away.

“Detective!” you feigned an offended gasp.

“Ah, hush up, will ya?” Daryl muttered as his broad, veiny hand continued fumbling for the seatbelt, “You know it’s against the law to— shit!”

The two of you simultaneously leapt in your seats with near-identical sounds of...shock. You, feeling his fingers accidentally graze that tender spot between your legs and him, in turn, finding it unclothed. And soaked.

Detective Dixon retracted his hand just as fast as he’d sunk it in place, only holding it up in the air for an instant—but that was all either of you needed to see that his digits were glistening. You clamped your legs tight together and sucked in a breath.

Under any normal set of circumstances, you would’ve been much more in tune with the way your body was reacting to external stimuli. With all the commotion of your almost-arrest and the subsequent desire to exact revenge on the undercover detective, you hadn’t even realized how physically aroused you were.

Still reeling from his touch, you sank back in your seat. Suddenly more conscious of your bodily fluids than ever before, and embarrassed.

“I’m so sorry,” Daryl blurted out in a hurry. Gripping the steering wheel and pretending not to notice the slight wet slip of his right hand.

You couldn’t speak. He wouldn’t dare to venture a look to see if you might.

Now this would make for one hell of a career-ending lawsuit, Detective Dixon thought with a grimace. Wrongful arrest, soliciting sex on the clock, making unwanted advances on a woman who was technically, in a sense, being detained in his car while he—

Jumped, again, the second he felt your hand on his own.

You were pulling his arm over to your side of the car.

When Daryl turned his head, he paled the instant he saw you bring his hand to your mouth. Watched you pucker your lips and move them over his still-damp fingertips. Then suck them inside your mouth, three at a time.

He nearly swerved off the road and took out six civilians.

“Eyes...on the road, detective,” you murmured quietly, words garbled by the obstruction of his fingers.

Daryl swallowed thickly, and then, reluctantly, turned his attention to the street. He didn’t see much of what was in front of him.

“13 Peachtree Place.” You plucked his fingers out of your mouth just long enough to tell him your address. Then you went right back to suckling down the skin, letting your tongue glide gently over the tender, slick digits.

Daryl stifled a groan. There was no fucking way this was happening.

Guided by the faintest idea of where your neighborhood was located, he pulled off onto a side road and tried hard not to let out a sound when you sucked his three fingers to the back of your mouth—and felt your throat seize just a little at the sudden intrusion.

You pulled him out of your mouth with a wet pop and started over his lap.

You, yourself, were hardly more aware of what you were doing than why you were doing it, a slave to your sensory impulses and a sucker for a man in brown slacks. You crawled across the lap of the plainclothes officer who’d accused you of ‘selling yourself’ just minutes ago, only to show him what you were happy to do, free of charge.

It wasn’t your most gloriously feminist moment, to be sure, but then again, when were you going to get another chance to fuck the police and get off scot-free like this?

You palmed Detective Dixon through his pants and smiled when he whined just a little.

“Bet you wish I was selling, huh? Wish I was some pretty little thing for you to use at your convenience?” you purred, stroking over him gently.

Daryl gritted his teeth but said nothing in return. He brought the car to a stop under a red light.

You didn’t like the quiet types. You squeezed him harder in your hand, felt his erection grow even larger between your fingers, and moved up to press a kiss on his neck, tasting tiny beads of sweat there.

“How badly did you wish I was a whore, detective?”

When you leaned in for another couple light kisses, you were startled to feel a hand at your own throat, jerking your face up to his.

“Already knew you were the second I saw you.” he returned, deadpan, before your wide and unsuspecting eyes.

When the light turned green, he released your neck and reached for the back of your head. You let out a muffled whimper as he shoved you down against his crotch, stiff as a rock underneath your cheek.

“Why? Does a whore wanna suck it?” he asked, pressing his foot on the gas.

At a moment’s notice, you were robbed of your slight dominant edge and made to grovel under his touch like a bitch in heat. Daryl rubbed your plush lips over the mound in his pants like he was proud to make you feel it. And you, yielding as ever, made no attempt to keep from being manhandled because, if you were honest with yourself, you knew that you wanted it that way. You smiled against the cotton blend of his trousers and made a soft moan along the fabric, letting him drag you by the hair any way that he pleased.

When he yanked your head up and the car came to another stop, you weren’t surprised in the least by the trail of saliva that followed your lips. You locked eyes with his steel blue set and grinned again, quite stupidly.

“Well?” Daryl pressed, giving your hair a sharp tug.

You thought the sight of your watering mouth and blissed-out expression would have sufficed for an answer, but clearly, he wanted more. You worked gracelessly over the belt buckle and zip beneath your chin, and had his cock freed in seconds.

The car sped up again. Detective Dixon’s grip tightened on your scalp.

The second your lips latched onto the head of his dick, you knew you’d be in for a bumpy ride. He hissed as soon as the warmth of your mouth enveloped him, gripped the wheel like a vice, and made sure to spare your throat no expense the second he came to a sloppy halt.

Either your car was in bumper-to-bumper traffic, or the man couldn’t drive for shit while getting road head. You’d put a large sum of cash on the latter if you had it.

Regardless, you bobbed your head up and down and tried your best to suppress the urge to gag when you could. It was tough work, flattening your tongue down his length, gripping his cock at the base, sucking hard until your cheeks hollowed out, and then bump went the whole fucking car, and suddenly your throat was forced to take four more inches in the span of a second.

You lifted your head to protest but were swiftly met with a firm hand holding it down. Keeping it down.

“You’re done sucking this cock when I say you’re done,” Daryl informed you sternly, sucking a breath through his teeth when you gagged around him once more.

He pulled you off just long enough to breathe—and answer a question.

“You live over by McGinty’s? Or MacManus’?”

“McVeigh’s,” you supplied in a shaky voice. No one ever got the Irish pubs around you right.

Daryl hummed and shoved you right back onto his dick, pretending to take no notice of the way you gripped his thigh or tried to groan, ‘Fucker’ against his shaft. Your oral cavity was presently flooded with cock, pre-cum, and saliva, and the longer you sucked, the harsher he got to pushing your head up and down. Your eyes stung with tears.

“In through yer nose, darlin’, almost there,” he hummed, smug as ever. Whether he meant you were close to your house or he was about to cum down your throat, you couldn’t be sure. Your mouth slipped and squelched gently over the man’s throbbing member and made tiny whimpers when you felt you might climax any minute.

In a clandestine act, you moved one hand down your body while you continued blowing Daryl’s brains out. You were half-cockdrunk and hardly more sentient than a sex doll, it seemed, but you could’ve sworn you were quite discreet about the endeavor between your legs. You had just grazed the slick wet seam of your slit, about to press two fingers to your clit, when a hand jerked at a clump of your hair. Hard.

As soon as your mouth was disconnected from his shaft, Daryl landed a tart slap on your cheek.

“My baby need something?” he said, almost tauntingly.

You blinked up at him, failing to understand, until he reached down and pried your hand away from your heat.

“If tha’ wet, greedy cunt needs sum’n, ya better tell me.”

You were amazed how deftly he appeared to maneuver the car now, just pinching your face between forefinger and thumb as he veered down winding streets. When you paused a second or two to answer, you were punished with another slap.

“Just wanted a touch,” you whined, trying to rub the cheek that was stinging and finding yourself outmatched by Daryl’s grip. He squeezed you even tighter.

“Then you say that next time. With your big girl words,” Detective Dixon grunted, bringing the car to a sudden halt and hauling you into his arms.

You looked small splayed across his lap. Perhaps even tinier just straddling one leg, as you were, body writhing beneath his touch and moans and whimpers bubbling up your throat one at a time.

When you looked around, you realized you were home.

Part of you wanted to bolt, for a second. Go sprinting up the lawn toward the safety of your home and jump straight under the covers, a place where you would be free to touch yourself as you pleased—no smug homicide detective breathing down your throat.

But, as you straddled his wide, beefy thigh and felt one gentle pulse of the muscle underneath, you knew you were done for. He saw just as clearly as you that your body was in need of release. Not from your fingers, not from his tongue, perhaps not even from the fat, throbbing cock that had been fucking your mouth the whole way home.

In this moment, all you needed was for him to bounce you on his thigh, let you ride, and make you cum.

Your expression must have looked exceptionally pathetic when you tried stirring your hips and felt two hands stop you cold in your tracks.

“What did daddy just say about big girl words, hm?” Daryl’s voice took on a tender lilt so unlike anything he’d said or done before that you almost didn’t hear the word ‘daddy,’ or think it strange at all. It seemed so natural playing off of his tongue.

“I need you, daddy,” you whimpered.

To say you were putty in his hands was still something short of the truth. You were damn near liquified underneath his touch, half-limp and wholly yearning as the man steadied you in place and began his delicate ministrations like you’d never experienced before.

The once callous, largely cruel law enforcement figure took on something of a gentle affect as he ran his hands up and down your body and let you ease yourself into his touch. There were kisses, caresses, and all sorts of soft little touches on your skin that made you feel pampered and prized, even precious in his eyes. Was this really the same man whose cock had been choking you to the point of tears just minutes ago?

Daryl hiked your skirt up your hips until the sight of your bare, needy cunt was all he could see. Still, he stayed cool and trained his eyes up to yours.

“How’s that feel, honey?”

Even as still as a stone, you felt sparks of hot energy fly up from your center. Remembering your big girl words, you replied, ‘So good, daddy, I just need some more.’

Daryl seemed happy to oblige his good little girl and made sure to shift his knee a little to the right. At the slightest bit of friction, you moaned.

“Oh, daddy,” you whined, leaning in to that praise-heavy dynamic Daryl seemed keen to play out. When he bounced his foot once or twice, shaking your whole body as he did, you sucked your bottom lip between your teeth and grabbed hold of his thigh. Even rolled your hips right back to his movements.

As light, tender sounds tumbled past your lips with increasing frequency, so too did Daryl’s mouth impart more gentle kisses and dirtier words for your ears to hear:

“Such a pretty little thing, ridin’ daddy’s thigh like tha’.”

“Grindin’ tha’ needy wet pussy all over my leg.”

“Gonna make a mess fer daddy? Show me how much my sweet girl’s been needin’ a good fuck?”

You loved every last filthy syllable. You braced hard against his leg and rutted up and down, in circles all around until you thought you could’ve soaked his whole pant leg. Meanwhile, he was bouncing his thigh, stroking your sides, and making sure you were never wanting for affection or praise as a soft swell of pleasure came dimly into view.

When he flattened one palm across your tummy and told you to lean back, you knew the end wasn’t far from sight.

Daryl took hold of your hips and made an even quicker cadence with his leg, bouncing you fast and hard and hopelessly tight against his thigh as he drank in every one of your moans coming out.

You pressed one hand to the window—long since fogged up and opaque with the hot breaths you were panting—and placed the other on Daryl’s shoulder.

You could tell by the glint in his eye and the grin on his face that he loved you like this. Spread out and desperate for release as you rocked your hips a vicious course over him, using his body for leverage as you fucked his leg for all it was worth.

“Tha’s my girl,” Daryl beamed, practically scintillating with joy.

He watched you rut your hips again and again in the most obscene sort of fashion, riding his thigh with a moan never far from your lips. You squeezed his shoulder.

“Daddy, I—” you started, only to swallow your words with a whimper the second Daryl started bouncing his foot even faster.

“Daddy what?” he teased, pretending not to notice the elevated pitch to your whines.

“Fuck— you know what!” you cried.

“Nah, pretty baby, I ain’t got the slightest clue,” Detective Dixon was exuberant now, grinning from ear to ear as the pleasure visibly mounted inside of you, “Fuck my leg a little harder and tell me how it feels.”

You did. He helped. Even gripped your hips and moved them for you, keeping that breakneck pace as you moaned and writhed and sank your nails into his shoulder as the feelings just got to be too much.

With one last strangled cry, you came all over his thigh.

And, whether that climax lasted two seconds or two hours, the man beneath you didn’t really care—he kept bouncing his leg as you finished, and long after you had, as well.

You seized both of his shoulders this time as you tried to slow his movements. He made no such effort to oblige, only flashing a smile and nodding his big, dumb head as he said:

“I want one more.”

What? No fucking way, you thought, communicating as much through your frantic eyes and the shake of your head. Daryl kept right on moving his leg and holding you firm to that mile-wide wet spot on his thigh, which only grew larger and larger the longer you rode him.

As a bizarre, unfamiliar feeling sank to the pit of your stomach and twisted, you weren’t sure whether to laugh, cry, or cum all over again—luckily, your body decided for you and graced you with yet another orgasm. You gritted your teeth and tried not to scream as a wild wave of a new sensation washed over your senses…

And Daryl kept bouncing that fucking knee.

Mind-numbing waves of ecstasy came crashing closer and closer than ever before, and frankly, you couldn’t quite tell how, or when, you’d ever cum again until you did it, you felt it: walls clenching back and forth while your vision blurred with pleasure. A sound wavering somewhere between a scream and a plea—Daryl, keep that goddamn knee to yourself, for fuck’s sake!—tore out of your chest and prompted you to sink all ten nails into flesh that told your sly detective it was time to stop.

Your whole frame was shaking by the time his foot came to rest. If you hadn’t been so fucked-out and sensitive, you just might’ve jumped out of the car the second it did.

But you didn’t. You stayed frozen in place, let your vision return apace, and didn’t let your eyes stray an inch from Daryl’s smug face while your third orgasm subsided.

Fighting every urge to giggle when he squeezed your ass and begged for another.

“Fourth one’s gonna cost ya, asshole.”

“Oh yeah?” Daryl said, grinning, “What’s your price?”

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon smut #daryl dixon one shot #daryl dixon imagine #daryl x reader #the walking dead #twd daryl #twd fanfiction #twd imagine #smut

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etherealxwitch · 1 year

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warnings: unprotected sex, degradation, praise kink, begging, mean!eddie, mentions of overstimulation, thigh slapping

“Thank you, t-thank you!” You’re cumming on Eddie’s tongue for what feels like the millionth time tonight, and you can’t help but thank him for making you feel so good that your legs are shaking around his head.

“Awe, sweetheart.” He pulls away from your sensitive cunt. His lips and chin are shiny with your slick. “Look at you being good for me and using your manners.”

You tried to say anything else to him, but all you could do was mumble as you felt the aftershocks of your orgasm. “I…”

“Huh? What is it?” Eddie sat back on his heels, bringing his rough hands under your knees before bending them toward your chest. “I haven’t even fucked you yet, and you’re already dumb? C’mon, use your words for me.”

You looked up at him, your eyes tired but your hands clawing at him to come closer. “One more… please?”

“Only one? I think you can give me two more, yeah? You’ve been this obedient so far.” Eddie grabbed the base of his throbbing cock and ran the tip of it through your sticky folds, letting it catch on your sensitive clit. “Think you can handle it?”

Your legs shook in his hands the more his leaky tip slapped against your clit. Honestly, you’re not sure how much more you can handle, but you did know that you needed him inside you. You were clenching around nothing just from the thought of it.

“I-I can try.” You tried to wrap your legs around Eddie’s waist, but he was too strong for you.

He looked down at you, eyes dark and full of lust. “You won’t try.” Without warning, he slid his cock into your aching and needy cunt, until his balls wetly pressed against your ass. “You will give me as many orgasms as I want, got it?”

Your nails raked down his tattooed arms, leaving red marks in their way as he filled you so deep. “Oh, my- yes!”

Eddie slapped one of your thighs, his rings making your skin sting in the best way. “Yes, what?”

“Yes, sir. Yes, sir!” You threw your head back against the pillows as he let your legs go. You immediately wrapped them around his waist, trying to pull him deeper inside of you if that were even possible. “As many as you want…”

Eddie leaned down so he was closer to you. His forehead against yours, as he slowly pumped his cock in and out of you, drawing the prettiest whimpers from your body. His lips teasingly brushed against yours, a smirk on his face. “That’s it, baby. You’re always such a good girl for me.”

#eddie munson smut #eddie munson #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fic

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guccifrog · 7 months

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lipstick 💋

chris sturniolo x f!reader

summary : chris loves watching you put your lipstick on.

warnings ⚠️ sub reader/ head (?)/idk/dick sucking i guess

this was my fav one-shot I wrote so far anyways go read think fast or I'll tickle ur toes and eat your dog

⋆.°🍒๋ྀི࣭⭑

If there was one thing that gets Chris on his knees, it's the sight of you putting on your favorite shade of red lipstick.

He loves watching you gently trace the outline of your lips, carefully filling them in with the soft crimson color. it's like he's watching a painting come to life right before his eyes.

He could feel the blood draining from his face, knowing exactly where it was going instead, as he imagined your soft lips wrapped around his hardness. The way your tongue would dart out to wet them, leaving a shiny, red trail as you took him deeper and deeper.

Chris was pulled out of his daydreaming by the soft sigh that escaped your lips. He looked up to see you frowning slightly at your reflection in the mirror, running a finger along your bottom lip. The way your eyes fluttered closed and your lips parted slightly as you did so only added to the intense lust building inside him.

He wanted nothing more than to push you up against the mirror and claim those lips for himself.

Chris slowly got up from his seat, unable to tear his gaze away from you. He walked over to where you were standing in front of the mirror. His hand reached out, tracing the curves of your hips, skimming over the fabric of your dress. His fingers graze the lacy edge of your bra, sending a shiver down your spine." what's wrong baby?" he whispered, leaning in closer.

"it looks bad, doesn't it?" you asked, biting your lip nervously, unaware of the effect it has on him. The sight of your plump lips parted ever so slightly, revealing the hint of your pink tongue behind them, drives him insane.

Chris leaned in even closer, his lips almost touching your ear, "No, it doesn't look bad, baby. It looks fucking amazing." He whispered, kissing your neck just above your shoulder. "You're so fucking gorgeous" he murmured, tracing his fingers over the lace of your bra. His other hand found its way to your hip, pulling you closer to him. "Let me see if I can fix it."

He kisses your neck again and then slowly pulls away, his lips brushing against your earlobe. slowly turning you to face him, the lipstick in your hand forgotten for a moment. He looks at you with his eager blue eyes, and you feel like you're drowning in them. His hands cup your face.

He leans forward, his lips barely brushing against yours, "I want you so bad." He whispered, The feeling of his warm breath against your skin sends a shiver down your spine. You can feel the hardness pressing against your stomach, and it only makes you want him more.

You feel a burning sensation deep in your core as you part your lips. Chris doesn't hesitate, pressing his lips firmly against yours, their warmth and familiarity sending a wave of desire through you. His tongue darts out, exploring the depths of your mouth, tangling with yours as he deepens the kiss. His hands slip down your back, cupping your ass, pulling you even closer against his hardness.

The kiss seems to last for an eternity, but Chris pulls away, breathing heavily. He looks down at you, his eyes dark with lust. "on your knees." He demands, his voice rough, You feel a thrill of submission course through you and without hesitation, you drop to the floor, kneeling between his legs. Your heart races as you take in his appearance, his messy hair that falls perfectly on his forehead, his flushed cheeks, and the way his chest heaves up and down as he tries to catch his breath.

His hand tangles in your hair, pulling gently as he guides your head towards his erection. You hooked your fingers into his belt, undoing the clasp and lowering his pants and boxers with a gentle tug. His cock springs free, thick, and hard. Your mouth brushes against the tip of him, teasingly, Your lips part, and you taste the precum that beads at the tip of his length. You suck in a shuddering breath, opening your eyes to look up at him as you slowly take him into your mouth.

The warmth of your mouth, and the feel of your tongue on him, sends shivers through his body. He moans, threading his fingers through your hair, urging you to take more of him."Ah, fuck" he groans, as you suck harder, taking more of him into your mouth. You can feel the veins pulsing on his cock, the muscles in his thighs tensing beneath your hands. His hips begin to move, fucking into your mouth, pushing you deeper, and seeking more contact.

You feel his hand on your head, guiding you as he thrusts deeper into your mouth. The taste of him fills your mouth, and the salty flavor mingles with the sweetness of your juices. You can feel your eyes start to water as he continues to push harder, and faster. His hips slam into your face, his groans filling the room, and You close your eyes shut, focusing on the warmth of his skin against your lips.

"don't close your eyes" he grunts, his voice ragged and needy. You feel the vibrations of it against your skin, sending a thrill through you." look at me, baby," You obey, looking up at him as he watches you with a mixture of lust and possession. His hands slip from your hair, finding their way to your neck, gripping you tightly as he thrusts deeper into your mouth.

The taste of him is intoxicating, and you can feel the heat building inside you as you suck him harder. His hips begin to move faster, his breath coming in ragged gasps. His cock feels impossibly hard and thick in your mouth, and you can't help but wonder how it could ever fit inside you. You can feel the head brushing against the back of your throat, making you gag a little.

You know that he's close, and you want nothing more than to feel his release deep in your throat.

As his thrusts become unsteady and uncontrolled, you try to match his rhythm, sucking harder and moving your head in time with his hips. His cock throbs in your mouth, the head pressing against the back of your throat, and you feel the first hot, salty rush of his cum spilling onto your tongue.

" swallow it," he demands, his voice rough and desperate. You do as he says, swallowing his release in greedy gulps, feeling the thick, salty fluid slide down your throat. He watches you intently, his hips finally slowing as he comes down from the heights of his orgasm.

With a shuddering sigh, he pulls his softening cock from your mouth, letting it flop to the side. You look up at him, breathless and flushed from the intensity of the moment. His eyes meet yours, dim with passion, and he reaches down to stroke your cheek with his thumb. "You're so fucking amazing," he whispers, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to your now-swollen lips.

The red lipstick you applied earlier was now smudged all over your face, and you could feel the warmth of your skin where he'd touched you. You were still panting heavily, trying to catch your breath as he leaned in to kiss you again, smiling against your lips. "God, you're so perfect," he murmured, before pulling away slightly to look at your face again. His eyes studied your expression as if he were trying to memorize every detail.

You felt a shiver run down your spine as he traced your cheekbone with his fingertip. "Come here," he whispered, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you closer, pressing your body against his. He chuckled softly, the sound vibrating against your ear. "You're going to be the death of me," he murmured, before leaning in to kiss you again, deeper this time.

taglist ☆@mattestrella @chrisfavoritepepsi @sunsetsturniolos @littlebookworm803 @sturniozo @sturniolooooo @athaliahxoxo @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @ev3rgreenxtrees @nonamegirlxsturniolo @mooniethesimp31 @ducksturniolo @ifilwtmfc @pepsiimaxx @sleepysturnss @lustfulslxt @ilovemattsworld @hrt-attack @flowerxbunnie @leprechaunbirthdaygirl @secret-sturniolo @that-general-simp @swangelss @familynotfandom @fuckshitslover @styles-sturniolo @lvr-111 @opheliaofficial07 @kiarastromboli @hearts4chriss @braindead4l @sturniolosreads @mattsturnzzz09 @itssophiasstuff @mayhem-72 @b2cute @buckys-celestes @graceciesiels22 @urmom2bitch @junnniiieee07 @breeloveschris @b2cute @1horrormoviewhore1

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puppykento · 6 months

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caught on film - bsf!satoru x fem!reader [drabble]

a/n: i always feel like gojo is the hardest to get down personality wise so... hope he's okay here and you all like it :3

c/w: 18+ content, mentions of cheating(not satoru), p in v, creampie, consensual filming, revenge :3

It's only natural that you run to Satoru, your best friend, after finding out your boyfriend was cheating on you. He's quick to comfort you, rubbing your back sweetly as you cry, cooing gently in a tone much different to his usual cocky one. He waits until you've calmed down before he speaks again, tilting your face up with a finger under your chin to make you look at him.

"Hey... I have an idea of how you can get back at him."

You should have known when he told you he had an 'idea' to get back at your boyfriend before you confronted him that it'd be something like this. Satoru's got your legs up, your ankles resting on his shoulders as he fucks you, your phone in his hand so he can record the whole thing. He aims the camera as your face as he grinds his pelvis against your clit, capturing the way that your pretty lips part to let out a moan.

"Bet he's never seen that face before, huh, baby? Not sure he's ever even made you cum with how needy you're being." He coos, shifting the camera from your face so its aimed downwards, the phone screen showing how Satoru slides out until only the tip remains in your tight pussy before he drives his cock back in harshly, tilting his hips so he can hit your sweet spot on the way in.

The feeling has you gasping, your back arching as he pounds you into the mattress, every thrust making the headboard smack the wall. His free hand reaches up to grope one of your tits, giving it a squeeze as his hips smack the fat of your ass. He lets out a low groan, the hand holding the phone shaking slightly.

"Come on, baby. Tell him his shitty dick can't make you feel as good as mine can." He moans out, his cock kicking inside of you as he feels you clench down on him. He tilts the phone up, aiming it at your fucked out face. "Go on, princess. Tell him who owns this tight - ah, fuck... tight fuckin' cunt."

"Y-you, 'Toru. Fuck... he's never... never made me feel this good. Only you can. M'yours." You moan, crying out in pleasure as he rewards you with his thumb on your clit, swiping it back and forth until he brings you to the edge. A smug grin spreads across his face as you soak him in your arousal, and he pulls back slightly just so he can record how shiny his cock was - evidence for your soon to be ex of how good Satoru made you feel.

"No, no. I bet he hasn't, sweet girl. You poor thing, stuck with a man who couldn't make you cum." He says with mock sympathy, rocking his hips into you with more desperation now, his eyes fluttering shut as he feels his own orgasm building. "Fuck, baby. Lemme fill you up?"

He opens his eyes only to see you nod vigorously, a sight that has him grunting while he attempts to stave of his release for a moment, if only to feel your pussy wrapped around him for just a little longer. His breath catches in his throat as the tension in him snaps, your name coming out as more of a growl as he shoots his load deep inside of you.

He takes a moment to recover before switching off the recording with shaky movements, leaning forward to drop his forehead against yours. Once he's caught his breath, he pulls out of you and flops on the bed next to you, lazily draping an arm over you.

"You think he'll get the idea you're not his anymore, cutie?" He says with a cheeky grin, squeezing you against him. "Or should we record another one, just to be safe?"

#nyx drabbles☆#satoru♡#jjk smut #jjk x reader #gojo x reader #satoru x reader #gojou satoru x you #satoru x you #gojou satoru x reader #gojo x y/n #jjk gojo

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mikisspeak · 1 year

Text

Turn ons’ on OP men

Male! Reader

Corazon, Shanks, Zoro, Sanji.

MINORS DON’T INTERACT

•The content below is explicit and it may blur the romantic concept of a minor’s mind. Please have discretion and do not read it if you’re under 18, i am not responsible of whatever problem you may present by reading this at a young age.•

Corazon/Rosinante Donquixote

•Seeing you walk around with his feathers coat.

Nothing looks more sexier for him than you on his clothes, the black feathers making your pretty eyes shine but more important how adorable you look. May be associated to his size kink but walking around in a clothe so much bigger than you just gives him more desire to pull you to his room and fuck you with feathers an’ all.

“Fuck..! Keep it like that, tightening around me so well…”

“Cora-san..!” You whimpered under him, whining and sandwiching most of your moans, you weren’t exactly allowed to be in bed with him.

“I think this coat fits better on you..Make sure to use it more often.” He kissed your forehead with a smirk and kept pounding into you.

Akagami no Shanks

•Jewelry.

Nothing looks hotter for him than jewelry of any type: Long necklaces, golden or silver chains around your neck, chokers, earrings..There’s something of the cold shiny material that gets him going all night. It’s just time till he drags you to the nearest private place on the Red Force to fuck you right, your pretty necklace hanging from your not-covered chest as the cold metal of your rings wrap around his length.

“Keep sucking me like that—oh god..” He whimpered the quietest he could as your jeweled hand pumped the base of his cock and your lips sucked his tip and the half of his length.

“Good boy..Sucking me so good with those pretty lips..~” he smirked and gave you a chuckled as his hand came to play and spin the rings on your fingers that were still wrapped around his girth for a sure grip.

Zoro

•You training.

God if he could choose one thing of you that is hotter than summer on Texas he would say watching you train. The way your locks of hair stick to your forehead; how your lips are slightly parted as you do cardio, or your heavy breathing while running. It all looks so fucking hot to him. The thin later of sweat makes your muscles shine slightly to the sun and when you throw your bottle of water on yourself by the heat he can’t help but groan at the sight of your wet shirt getting more transparent and showing your pecs. He’ll definitely fuck you from behind, taking you by the hips as you tried to do your plank repetitions.

“Your ass is so tight, you’ve been getting me hard all day with your stupid training routine, you can’t blame me— Ah!— now..” He groaned as he fucked you from behind, your pretty moans leaving your lips as clapping skin filled the room.

Sanji

•Taking his cigarette and blowing the smoke on his face.

As usual you were on the kitchen, sitting on the cabin as Sanji ended up cooking for the crew. He lit a cigarette as usual and offered it to you after him giving a few puffs, you took and, wanting to tease him, blew the smoke right on his face as he spoke to you in front of your face. His face got all red and damn, you weren’t going out of that kitchen any time soon.

“Sanji! Oh fuck, like that!” You moaned as the blonde man sinked between your legs, sucking hardly on your sex as you gripped his hair for dear life.

“Give me your sweet taste..” He mumbled, diving in his job again, people in this ship wouldn’t eat anytime soon.

A/N: Hope you liked it!

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bachibabe · 9 months

Text

— Heaven

synopsis: choso never expected spring break to be so difficult, honestly. just a few weeks to relax with his brother and his brothers girlfriend… it sounds like the dream doesn’t it? seeing his brother happy, so in love with you. but heaven for one is hell for another-- and it seems to be your very life goal to make him live with both.

✧*̣̩┊: choso x fem! reader (some itadori x fem! reader)

✧*̣̩┊: wc: 7.0k

✧*̣̩┊: content: dubious consent at times, cnc + full consent at others, switch! reader,switch!choso, dom!reader, sub!choso, nipple play, voyeurism (choso listens to itadori and reader have sex), m!masturbation, pervert choso, massages, blowjob, p in v, overstimulation, multiple creampies, choso is kinda gross, cheating!reader (as far as choso knows), choso is refered to as puppy/cocktoy, degredation (choso receiving), choso degrading himself too, please lmk if I missed any!

✧*̣̩┊: notes: it’s lily! back again with another perverted jjk man! this turned out way longer than i originally thought it was going to be. originally it was just going to end with the masturbation scene buuutttt i got a little carried away :DD i love how this fic came out and i hope you guys do too <33

18+ → minors / blank blogs dni

God, he wants to die. He deserves to. Choso has no right to live after the way he’s been looking at his brother’spretty little girlfriend. He deserves to be jailed for life, eyes gouged out for even considering sending a glance to your ass; bent over grabbing something from a cabinet in the kitchen. Leggings that are too tight, practically transparent. He swears he can see the tinge of your pink panties through them.

He should die. He places his face in his hands, arms propped up as his legs. One of them bouncing in, fuck, he doesn’t know what. Really doesn't know what. He doesn’t think he wants to, honestly. God how did it end up like this? How did he end up here– Itadori perched up on the counter, while you start to work on breakfast. How is he going to make it out alive? How is he going to survive spring break?

It wasn’t supposed to end up like this. When Itadori, his dear, beloved brother called, asking if it was fine to bring his girlfriend home for break, Choso thought nothing of it. Even if he hadn’t met you, Itadori told him plenty. Every conversation he had with his sibling always found itself filled with fond stories of you. The nice date you went on, the delicious food you cooked for him. How horribly you destroyed the poor guy in mario kart. He thought he already knew you— it felt like he did at least.

He could tell the moment you walked into their family home that he didn’t. He had no clue the woman you were. A problem he would never be able to rectify. How terrifying that was for poor Choso. Can you imagine? Your little sweater crop top, unzipped low to put your perfect, pretty breasts on display. Your jeans, fitting just so right around your hips, practically putting your ass centre stage for the world to witness.

He hits his forehead with his hands a few times, trying to get rid of the image of your lips. They were in a pout, gloss on them as your jut out your bottom lip. You kissed his cheeks. Held both of your tiny hands around one of his large ones.

“Thank you for letting me stay Choso, you’re the best big brother to Itadori ever!” Your voice rang so pretty, shiny, new in his ear drums. A sound he had never heard before invading his senses for the first time. He simply nodded his head, hugging his brother after you took a step back. Introductions were fast, Itadori dragging you off to give you a tour of their family home. It was probably to his benefit, to get you away like that. He didn’t know how long he could hold back the colour rising to his cheeks.

You were beautiful, gorgeous, even. Any adjective in the world to describe your beauty, he would use it. But that would never be enough to make a man like him crack. One with morals, one with some shred of pride. While the interaction left him slightly flustered, he quickly brushed it off of his shoulder. It shouldn’t matter anyway.

Only it does when you’ve positioned yourself between his legs, tongue between your lip as you put your all into the game of mario kart against the two men.

“I can’t see the tv from up here!” Your peach voice whined after your second loss in a row. “I’m more comfortable on the floor anyway.” You tell them, a slight pout on your lips.

“You’re such a sore loser!” Itadori laughs, teasing as you slide yourself onto the floor. Right in front of Choso’s place on the couch. He looks down, eyes increasing in size only a fraction as your frame is incased by either side of his legs. His eyebrows raise, legs shifting farther apart as to not touch you. He wants to be respectful, afterall.

“Uhg! As if!” You shoot back, a small glare landing on Itadori. Though Choso can tell none of it is serious. Suddenly, before he can think about the action any further, you turn to him. Delicate hand placed on his knee, nails digging into the flesh ever so slightly. Anyone else wouldn’t notice it. But of course Choso does. Of course he had to. Because he's a disgusting pervert who blushes from the touch of a woman. Well, not any woman. Just you.

“You don’t mind, right Choso?” Your voice is practically a purr, eyes filled with nothing but the glow of innocence, “Here’s the only spot that’s comfortable.” God, he swears he sees your tongue flick over your bottom lip, wetting the surface. But he forces himself to shred that to pieces. A trick of the eye.

He nods his head, “Guests comfort.” He swears, your smile might blind a man. You threw your arm up, a small victory, your body turning back around.

“‘Sides, Yuuji’s gonna start kicking me when I win anyway. He’s such a baby!” You stick out your tongue in mock disgust, Choso’s face moving into a light smile.

“Am not!” Itadori argues back, throwing a pilling in your direction. Choso’s smile only grows, catching the pillow right before it lands on your face. Your voice squeals in delight, making a quick, mocking joke back in the direction of Yuuji.

“He is. A baby in every way. You know when we were younger he used to sing this song–” This time, instead of a pillow, Yuuji throws his body, pinning Choso to the couch. A hand clamped over Choso’s mouth. You break out into something that sounds like music– oh. It’s just your laugh. Choso can’t help himself laughing either.

Itadori starts laughing as you begin to beg, to do the same song that he had done when he was younger. Eventually he gives in, turning the night into somewhat of a good memory. Even if you remained planted, not daring to move from him even after a movie was put on. Falling asleep, head propped against his leg.

Yuuji carried you to bed that night, Choso retiring not long after.

If Choso was any slower, he would have completely missed the way you looked at his arm. The way your eyes trained to the muscle of it. The way your eyes would sharpen ever so slightly, your teeth almost biting your lip whenever you even gleaned at his calves or thighs.

If it was just that, he could handle it. Even if he is a man, he’s not primal. He has self control. Even if he found you attractive, that means nothing. Probably. You’re his brothers’. It would be pathetic for him to fall over something so simple.

Only it wasn’t so simple. It never could be.

He quickly learned how dangerous you could be when it was just him home. How little you cared for the intricacies of being coy when no one was watching.

“God your tits are so big~” Your voice feels like a moan in his ear. Your hands wrapped around him from behind, squeezing his pecks. Nails digging into him, so much so that it almost hurt. “It’s no fair…”

His face is flush, his posture stiff. Stunned into an unmoving demeanour from just how… direct you’re being. That is the best word he can think of for it. At least it is right now when his head is all scrambled at the feeling of your perfect chest pressing into the firm muscles of his back. Your breath right in his ear with every short exhale.

When he came home from work, tired and useless, the proposition was innocent enough: ‘Ah Choso~ You look so tense from work! That’s no good, you know? Oh! Lemme just give you a little massage yeah? Help you relax right up!’ That look on your face, so docile and cute, didn’t help any retorts he had under his belt. Not to mention, any persistence he thought Yuuji had was far surpassed by you. Begging to give poor, old Choso a massage. Fix his creaky joins and stiff bones.

Maybe it was the wear he had received from an all-too-hard day at the office, or maybe it had been a lapse in judgement from the cloud that seemed to cover him. However the decision came to be, he thought it might be good. A nice chance to finally relax a little.

He had been needing a massage lately, anyway, the certificate Yuuji had bought him rotting away in his closet from his last birthday. Yet, he just didn’t have it in him to actually book the appointment, no matter how desperately he wanted to feel the muscles in his body unwind. Honestly a little nervous to have a stranger's hands on him.

But you aren’t a stranger. You’ve become friends.

So, when you urge his shirt off, saying that you don’t want it to get all sticky with lotion, he doesn’t fight back. Letting you slight the slightly scratchy material of his dress shirt over his head. He lets your pretty hands work out the hair ties in his locks, allowing the neglected black hair fall over his shoulders. He needs a haircut, he knows it in the way his hair falls a little lower than it ever had before. Plans, yeah. He has lots of things he needs to do. Dinner, cleaning, making sure the report comes in on time. God he doesn't need another lecture from–

“Fuck-” His is sudden, low as you press into one of the knots permeating his back. He hadn’t even expected it to come out. He doesn’t think you did either, based on the little squeal that leaves your throat.

“Did that feel good?” You ask simply, continuing to rub circles deep into his shoulder blades. Your tone light, happy. Probably from helping someone relax, yeah, that's probably it. “I’ve taken a few classes, I was thinking about becoming a masseuse awhile ago.” He knows your glossy lips are smiling.

A breathy exhale leaves his lips, your thumbs digging into another sensitive tangle. “Oh really?” He’s not focusing much anymore. There must be some kind of drug laced in your touch.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” You giggle, hands cresting over the tops of his shoulder, gently rubbing his neck. “Mhmm, I’m real good I think.”

If he responds, he has no clue what he says. Good is an understatement. Your hands must be god's gift to man. That can be the only explanation. No other human could be capable of this, he doesn’t think. Allowing one’s mind to turn into mush with just simple touches of fingers along their back. It shouldn’t be allowed, legal.

He doesn’t know how much time passes as he sits there, letting you work through his back until it's tender. Needing love and affection when it was just broken and reformed by your hands alone. Your nails gently scratch the skin. He’s forgotten who you are, what you are. You are euphoria across his skin. A feeling swelling in his abdomen as he sinks into total relaxation.

Well, that is at least until suddenly your hands are on his pecks, your voice cooing in his ear as you fondle him like a porno. The innocent delight in granting someone relief has vanished from you, someone else taking your place. His eyes wide open, heart rate as high as the ceiling in a matter of seconds.

“See and if you just sit like this–” Your left hand moves to his lower back, forcing it to curve just so, “They look even bigger. Have you ever thought about getting them pierced? Then we could be matching~” His brain can’t wrap around your words, nevertheless what they imply. His head has gone a bit fuzzy, finding trouble keeping up in the shift from cloud nine to being in one of the circles of hell.

Your voice sounds so sweet, yet your body behaves as a different animal.

Your fingertips flick over the nipple, “It doesn’t hurt too bad I swear… and you’d look real pretty with them too.” Your other hand leaves his back, slowly sliding around his hip. Your fingers dance along the contours of his body, finally resting just along his v-line. Thumb gently running itself across the ridge. Not daring to go any lower. Not yet, anyway.

If he had anything to say, the words are lost in his throat. How could a delicate touch be so sinful? He has no idea. He can’t find himself moving his head, moving away at all really. Stuck in a state of indecision. Hoping the little balls he feels pressing into his back may or may not be the piercings you speak of so fondly covered by one of your too thin tank tops. He isn’t sure which. His brain is blurry, but his body is responding. His pants are beginning to feel stiff.

“I can show you if you want~” You purr, your voice somehow closer, etching even deeper into his ear. Lodging itself in his brain in a way that he can't ignore. His body grows tense pulling away ever so slightly when your hands suddenly retract entirely. Finding purchase back on his back as if they were never there to begin with.

“Kidding!!” You giggle, patting his back as your too-sweet nature returns like nothing. Once again leaving him a little more confused than he would like to be. “Don’t be silly Choso, I was only playing. Don’t get your panties all up in a twist!”

And that was the end of it, at least until Yuuji got home. Until he could retire to the privacy of a shower to manage a little issue. One that didn’t seem to want to resolve itself. One that meant his panties stayed in a twist.

Dinner was had like nothing happened. And it didn’t. Because it was all a joke right? So he shouldn’t dwell. Not when Yuuji smiles at you like that. Not when you two seem perfect for each other.

His feelings on the issue shouldnt matter. And therefore, they don’t. As long as Itadori is happy, as long as he can keep that smile on his little brother's face, nothing else in the world is of importance to him.

No matter how much he has to endure. However many times he has to apply sunscreen on your bare back, bikini top untied so as to not miss a spot. However many times he feels your ass pressed against him as you slide in front of him in the kitchen. However many times you fall asleep, clinging to his arm on the couch. Breasts pressed against him just so. However many times he has to ignore your subtle, almost streamlined touches. However many times he has to ‘take care of business’ in the privacy of his own room, triggered from nothing more than watching the way you speak. Watching the way your lips move in their pristine little pout. However many times he has to ignore that feeling bubble up in the pits of his gut.

Choso is a man with patience. The ability to hold himself back.. He is able to be a pillar of fortitude where most would crumble under the pressure. Women aren’t an issue when it comes to him. He can be sweet, the type of man to look at the ceiling when walking up stairs, the type to walk closest to the road. The one that stays sober at company parties to make sure he can keep his co-workers drinks safe. But this is too much– you are too much. Last night was too much. The very cause for his mental breakdown today.

He’s a disgusting man. One that has crumbled into a pile of rubble for the woman brought onto his doorstep. One that has dragged him deep down to a place he may never find himself recovering from. He’s a freak, awful, pervert. The worst man alive, if he had to guess.

But your moans are a siren’s call. One he was unable to lure himself away from. One he could no longer battle against.

When he heard the first pitch from his desk, he ignored it. His imagination had to be the culprit. The second, third, however, no. Those had to be real. Right? His doubts were still clear. Yet, as if his body was acting on its own, he found himself befalling in a way that had long been forgotten in his past. A pervy college freshman, planting his knees on his bed, ear pressed deep into the wall.

He knew that the moment he did it. He couldn't pull himself away. Even though a voice was screaming at him to stop. To go back to his desk and place his headphones firmly in his ears. To stop listening to your beautiful sounds, those that were filled with pleasure. To move away from the wall as the bed on the other side rocked against it. To stop imagining the skin slapping against your own was his.

He was too far gone. Too far deluded as his hand found his cock, not bothering to pull down his sweatpants. He still had some class, some grace, he liked to think. He wasn’t completely abhorrent. Even as he ran his thumb over the head, feeling the pre-cum. Sliding it around messily as he tried to find some purchase on sanity.

His hands were too shaky, from nerves or excitement he could not tell. Maybe he didn’t want to. That would be for the best wouldn’t it? His thumb, shakily, almost impatiently teasing him under the guise of starlight. What would you think if you saw him now? Palming his cock while his thumb ran over the almost red head. Trying desperately to conceal any shred of dignity the poor man had left. To try and go back to before his shaky fingers reached below the hem of his sweats.

As the thrusts from the other room quickened, your pants and moans quickly quelled any lucid thoughts he may have had left. His hand reacting to the sounds, palm finding the base easily. The groan he let out was a mistake, but fear no longer exists. Not in this world. Not with the direction of his hand, the speed of it as it moves from base to tip. Quickly. Tightly. Almost painfully. He was too worked up, too frustrated from everything you had given him before. Almost, yet never enough. This was the last straw. The last piece of clarity he had before he completely fell to ruin. Imagining himself in his brother's place. Imagining how you must feel.

He’s a complete sicko. But in the moment, he doesn't care. His arm comes up, resting against the wall. His forehead does the same. His nose scrunches, eyes shut tightly as he tries to picture it. Picture you in his bed, your legs wrapped around his hips. Right above his ass. Ankles trying to cross behind him. Yeah, you would be really pretty there, wouldn’t you?

If your hands were god’s gift, your pussy had to be heaven. He knows it, right? Cause you're his in this little world. His fingers would slide up your lips, spreading you just enough so he could admire you. See how pretty you would look all puffy from his tongue alone. Fuck– his hips jerk in his hand. He won’t last.

How could he when you’re under him? Right, cause you’re under him. Letting him fuck you. Every gorgeous moan of his brother's name is his own. Just like you said in his ear that night.

‘Choso, Choso, Choso~’

Does Yuuji eat you out? Fuck your cunt with his fingers first to make sure you’re ready to take him? No, No! Don’t think about him. Bad Choso, don’t be mean to your brother. Don’t think. This isn’t about him. This is about the new reality, the pretty one where you’re a mess, all sweaty and tangled in his sheets.

Holy fuck. Your voice is suddenly wild, an orchestra he wishes to listen to every night, and his illusions return to him. His hand moving faster, somehow gripping his cock even tighter. This time, however, you’re in control. Pinning him to the bed, his cock buried deep in your pretty, wet hole. You’re not moving, you refuse to. Grinding your hips in slow, deliberate circles to bring him to the precipice, yet not allowing him to fall over the edge. To see the light of day yet never experience it, locked in a battle of wills. Who will fall first, who will beg. Who will be so desperate for release that they can’t do anything else but turn into a messy puddle.

It will be him, you both know it. At least in his head, you do.

Your voice cracks, and so does his. A groan he barely muffles with his hand is all he allows himself to manage as he hears you fall over the edge into climax. He does the same, imagining he’s buried deep inside, filling you with his cum. You didn’t let him wear a condom, you never would.

Thick ropes of white cover his hand as he calms down, rejoining the rest of the world. Panting, teeth marks imprinted into his hand from the force of his jaw.

He’s been spiralling since then. Afraid he’s gone insane, truly. Maybe he should check himself into a psych ward, yes. That would be for the best. Someone like him shouldn’t be allowed on the streets. A pervert like him that gets off on the idea of fucking his little brothers girlfriend shouldn’t be allowed at all. He’s a sick fucking freak.

You have to know it, don't know? That’s why you’ve been looking at him differently today? Like there’s a little spark that just has to mean that you know, right? Or is he really going crazy? Imagining that too? He doesn’t know anymore. He doesn’t know much at all. The only reality he knows is the chair he’s sitting in, planting his seat in it since the morning. He hasn’t moved since then– his chin resting in his hands, his knees against his elbows as he stares at nothing in a random corner. Thinking about everything, nothing.

How could he possibly face you?

The answer to that question has drawn nothing but blanks in his head. Yet it is answered for him that very afternoon. How lucky he is, huh? His brother waving ‘bye’ to hang out with some of his highschool friends. You felt “sick”, claiming an upset tummy so you didn't want to go. Despite his subtle protests that you should tag along with them anyway, he finds himself alone in a house with the object of both his desires and his downfall into depravity.

Luckiest man alive. Yeah. They should say that at his funeral. But he isn’t going to die, not anytime soon at least.

He knows that well, not moving from his eyes from their spot in the corner. He can’t now, even if he wanted to. Not with you right in front of him– two, maybe three feet at most from his legs. Pearly yoga mat neatly laid across the floor; water bottle, phone, and towel placed neatly beside on standby. Leggings, too tight leggings stretched across your perfect skin. Tits held in place with a matching sports bra. Following along to the workout video. Pretty, alone in your head.

In downward dog, ass facing him. Mocking him, scandalising the mere thought of looking away from the corner. If he could see all of that from his peripherals alone, there's no telling what he could see– what he wants to see, from straight on. So there he sits, in his corner. Wishing he could be alone in his own. Wishing you didn’t occupy every crevice of his brain matter. Wishing he was a better man.

His focus has to be made of stone, face scrunched in that annoyed little manner. Lip up in a little tick. If he was staring any harder, a hole would have bored itself into the drywall. If his attention was any less he would’ve noticed you moving closer, sliding backwards on your hands and knees. Pressing your ass against the erection he had been dead set on ignoring.

A groan resonates through his throat at the contact. Sudden, unavoidable. Here, now. The supple flesh of your ass against him, teasing him. Taunting him in some way he can’t ignore. His eyes shifting quickly to his lap, looking at you in all of your glory. His hands gripping the arms of the chairs, nails embedding themselves in the cushioned material. The place they will find refuge, home for the next few hours.

His face finally meets yours, eyes connecting as you look at him from over your shoulder. His brows crease, an ounce of confusion overtaking him. You look annoyed… frustrated. Your eyebrows pinched together, venom in your gaze. Fuck. He must’ve messed up. Did he move closer? Did he accidentally pull you towards him when he wasn’t paying attention? Oh fuck, fucking shit.

Just as the apology starts to leave his lips you huff. Spinning on your knees, moving right between his legs. Looking up at him from his lap.

“I don’t fucking get you, Choso.” You say, the hiss of a snake practically wrapped around your vocal cords. What are you talking about? What could you possibly mean? He’s the pervert. He’s the one that needs to be jailed for his crimes– not you. You’re the angel. The one who’s brought so much joy to his little brother.

Before he can respond, before the words even think about leaving the tip of his tongue your hands are on his thighs. Moving upwards, finding purchase on the hem of his sweatpants. Directing him upwards. Pulling his sweats– the same pair as last night, down over his knees.

“Like, seriously!” Your voice trills in a whine, annoyed. Once again, he can’t move. Can’t find himself wanting to. He wants to experience this, to experience you firsthand. A better man would move, a better man wouldn’t let their most base desires control him. But he is no better than an ant now, following in your lead.

“Uhg, I do so much work–” Your hand has found its way inside of his boxers now. He wishes he changed them after last night, but it’s too late for wishing now, isn’t it? “And you don’t even make a move?! Like you’re kidding me, right?”

He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know a word that’s leaving your lips. If he thought he did, its vanished by the feeling of your smooth, gentle hands wrapped around his cock. Flicking over it almost painfully, like you want to hurt him. Just a little. Just to get back at him for all the turmoil he’s apparently put you through.

He’s panting now, breath coming out in short bursts through his nose as he watches your hand. Feels it actually touch his skin. Anything he could have imagined was negligible compared to this. Something that couldn’t be reached by anyone else. No one other than you.

“I play with you so nice too! I treat you like a good toy!” You whine, seeming to get more and more irritated by the second. More and more irritated that he isn’t responding to your words. His cock jumps, more and more precum collecting at the tip. That seems to make you happy, a cute little hum leaving your lips.

“You want me. Don’t you Choso?” Your eyes are round, looking up at him almost like a puppy dog. No one could turn you away. No one would ever want to when you look at them like that. A curt nod is all he can manage. All he can force out of his body to do with your hand rubbing his cock in a way that should be illegal. Anything more and he would look like a babbling idiot, he’s sure of it.

You must have some sympathy, some compassion for the man as you let him go. Pull your hands from his boxers. So down on his luck, the most beautiful girl in the world between his legs. A small smile aids itself to your lips as you speak.

“Let's get these off of you, yeah?” You hum, fingers gently playing with the ridge of his boxers. He doesn’t fight you, doesn’t retreat as you pull them down. “Aww poor thing, you liked the show a little too much last night, huh? Just a mess, huh? You giggle, mocking the state of his undergarments. The places he just couldn’t get clean enough with a towel. God, he really is gross.

He’s once again wrapped up in himself. In his own thoughts, thinking of trying to get out of your mocking tone. How to save face in front of what he deems perfection. So much so that he entirely misses the way your eyes widen at his size. Whatever you dreamed of, it could not have been this. It’s too big, too big for most anyone to handle. Longer than your hand, thicker than your fingers could wrap around. Pretty veins running along the left side.

It could destroy you. But it won’t.

“It’s not like that–” His voice is cut off once again with your tongue. A thick strip painting from base to tip. Tasting his salty skin.

Fuck, he falls back into the chair. Trying to find some facet to cling to so he doesn’t black out into utter hysteria. His fantasies never even touched your mouth. Thought of how it might move across his skin. No, he wouldn’t dare. Yet now that he is living it, experiencing it he knows that it wasn’t meant for him to. The mere knowledge that your lips might wrap around the head of his cock sends him teetering over an edge that shouldn’t exist.

His hips buck upwards, trying to get a small piece of anything you’re willing to spare. “Ah ah, we can’t get ahead of ourselves, yeah? I deserve this, you know? All for me~” He doesn’t know how a voice as pure as yours can touch him like this. Gripping his cock at its base, squeezing it just enough that it hurts, yet not too much so that it’s uncomfortable. One stroke, two is all you give him. Your wrist flicking over the pretty head, spreading his precum all along his length as lubricant.

He does all he can to stifle his groans; pretend he isn’t completely falling apart. But your lips lick the head, smiling at the taste. Moving to just take the head inside of your mouth. Slowly moving your head up and down. Watching him, perceiving him. Observing the twitches of his mouth, the brace of his hands, the plant of his feet on the floor. The way his hips beg to move, to piston upwards to fuck your throat dry. Awww~ but it doesn’t look like he can even do that.

His eyes are glossy. Face red up to his ears.You gag, taking in just a little bit more than you were meant too. A smile twitching to your mouth as you finally hear it, the thing you thought you heard last night. Ah, his voice! Who would have thought, truly, that a man could turn into this?

You did, of course. And ever since first laying eyes on his pale face, his tired eyes, you knew you wanted to do it to him over, and over, and over again. Good thing Yuuji said you could, huh? Even if it took a little begging.

A choked cry leaves his throat as you pull away. His hips arching, bucking up to try and find relief once again inside of your mouth. He’s desperate, brought back down to his base instincts as a man. A short whisper of a word leaves his throat as you stand, thinking you’re leaving him. Leaving him with nothing but a sore cock once again.

“You’re gonna fill me up good, right puppy?” But you’re not leaving him. You’re pulling off your leggings, panties following suit. You’re crawling onto his lap. Knees balanced against the arm rests as you position your tight, practically dripping hole above his cock. God, you look so needy. Probably are so needy, just wanting him. Only wanting the satisfaction he can provide.

God, your fingers. They’re spreading your lips so he can see. See just what he’s done from sitting there and taking it like a good boy. He was right. Your body was constructed by the heavens above. Perfect in all its glory. A finger running between your folds, collecting yourself on your fingers.

“Will it fit?” He asks, though it almost comes out as a plea. Desperate to feel you, to have you wrapped around him. “Let me~” You shush him, fingers sliding into his mouth. Letting him taste you. Taste what he is missing out on.

“Mmm mmm.” You mutter simply, though he’s too distracted. Too distracted until you lower yourself onto him; just enough so the head inside. Just enough so that you can at least try to adjust to the intrusion that he brings. His head is a messy fog. Hips gently rocking, trying to gain some relief while not pushing your poor, under prepared hole.

Your hands on his abdomen as you slowly begin to slide up and down, taking in a little more and more with each motion. Filling you up completely, painfully. Heavenly. His hands find your hips. Soothing the burn, rubbing gentle circles into whatever flesh he can find. Thanking you for not pushing him away.

“Shit–” The cuss strings past your lips as your hips meet his, a loud groan leaving his own. The light of the living room proving evidence of your sin.

His eyes look down, finding where your bodies meet, “Fuck me…” He groans, his always tired eyes looking more alert, more at attention than they ever have before. Watching as you rock your hips slowly, deliberately. You only watch him. A sheen of sweat already covering both of your bodies.

His thumb slides down, finding purchase on your clit. He groans at the sight, rubbing circles into the soft bundle of nerves. He’s not going to last. He knows it. He’s going to completely blow his load before your first bounce on his cock. Fuck, he can’t take it. He knows he won’t be able to with the way you squeeze around him. The way your walls flutter so tight over his length.

God he should have taken his time, urged you to let him eat you out or something so he could have had the chance to calm down. To relax for a moment before his cock was nestled deep inside. Fuck.

And now you’re moving. The pain subsided, turning into nothing but pleasure. And god he must be leaving holes in the fucking chair, his hands returning to their places on the arm rest. He makes the mistake of looking, watching his cock glide inside your pussy effortlessly. Watching as you make a mess all over his lap. Watching as he makes a mess all over you.

God and it’s over for him, his head thrown back against the chair. His hips jerking wildly into your wet heat as he fucks his cum deep into your walls. Watch as the room goes white, euphoria filling his senses.

Shame is all he feels as he drops back against the chair. He’s disappointed you, he knows he has. There is no other explanation. You didn’t get off at all and he's received, well, everything. Apologies tumble from his mouth, over and over again they are spoken. Yet, when he finds your eyes already staring back down at him, there's something off. A fire inside of them, one that refuses to be quelled.

Your hips don’t stop moving, don't stop the ease of grinding against him. Sliding almost all the way out, just until he can see the start of the head before landing all the way back down. You’re not stopping, and his cock isn’t getting soft.

“Awwww!” You giggle, hands pressing against his pecks, leaning close to his face so he can hear you nice and clear. Hear the smile, the mockery in your tone. “You just couldn’t hold it in huh? What a cute, pathetic little thing!”

His cock is growing sore, it’s hurting. It’s too sensitive. He can’t take it. He doesn’t want to.

“Don’t worry, yeah? I’m still gonna cum so don’t feel bad, hmm? Just be a good little cock toy.”

Or does it hurt? Does it feel good? His head arches back, conflicting feelings of both pain and pleasure overtaking his senses. He tries to focus on one or the other, anything really, but he can’t. He can’t do anything but sit there and be good just for you. He knows he wants to do that. It’s the least he can do, right? For being just a wretched, pathetic man.

Too bad it's so hard to pull away. But you’re addicting, and he can’t help but try to find his fix. No matter how much it hurts, he can’t help but find sparks in the way you move. Your hips moving rapidly, fucking yourself onto his cock without a care for how he might be feeling. How good he must be feeling dancing along the fine line between pain and pleasure, not daring to stick a toe into either side of the tides for fear of not returning.

Not a care for how you grab his hand, press his thumb against your clit and rub circles until he gets the hint, gaining enough clarity to do it on his own. Your voice is all he can hear through his rough pants, air catching in his throat forming a groan every time you move. Every time you test him, urge him to stop if he can’t take it.

But he will take it. He’ll feed himself to you on a silver platter, apple tied in his mouth if you wanted him to. He takes all of it. Basks in the glow of your pussy finding pleasure in his cock. And once again he can feel the bubble in the pit of his stomach growing, telling him once again that he’s close. So terribly close he doesn’t know how much more he can take.

So he focuses on your voice– tries to at least. As much as he can while his head is spinning. Filled with clouds and spinning like a cyclone. The beautiful melodic voice he heard when you first arrived. The pristine laugh you let out on the first night. The whines you’d release when he’d rub sunblock into his back, and now the same voice he heard the night before. Chanting his name, whispering it close in his ear. Only this time it’s real. Your arms wrapped around his neck, your moans filling his ear drums.

His name falling from your lips as you moan about how close you are. About how good he feels.

Your hips moving faster, harsher against his own than ever before. His thumb pressing against your clit, urging you to your release as he hangs on the precipice of his own. Cock twitching with every menstruation, walls fluttering against him until finally, your hips fall against his own. Your voice letting out a moan, his own doing the same as he releases thick streams of white into your walls for the second time that night.

You tighten around him, almost unbearably so with how sensitive, how much of a mess the poor man’s cock is. Your hips grinding gently, coaxing the both of you through your orgasms until bodies fall against one another. The waves of pleasure soothing into a gentle tide, neither of you moving to remove yourselves from the other.

Your head rests against his shoulder, his hand coming up to hold the back of your neck gently. To keep you there, to bask in the moment before the timer comes to an end and he realises what he has done. What the both of you have done. He should panic. He should. But all of the energy is sucked dry from his body. He can’t move, he doesn’t want to. Not when his cock is still tucked deep inside of you. When he can still feel you.

After the glow has faded and only sweaty bodies are left in the room you get up, though he isn’t entirely sure when. His eyelids heavy, falling down no matter how hard he tries to keep them awake.

When he wakes up, nothing is amiss. His pants are up, his hair is combed. You and Yuuji are sitting happily on the couch watching a movie. Was it all a dream? No, no it couldn’t have been. That doesn’t make sense. He knows it was real. He knows it.

“Morning.” Itadori smiles, noticing his big brother awake. Looking around the room in utter shock and confusion. His eyes slowly drift to the both of you, Yuuji’s arm tucked around your shoulders like nothing.

The knowing smile you give him is all the evidence he needs that it was real.

“We didn’t wake you up, right?” You ask innocently, head tilting to the side. He shakes his head, still in a bit of shock. “Good, good…” you sing song, turning your attention back to the tv with ease.

“Did you wanna tell him the good news or should I?” Yuuji asks, looking over to you with that confident smile he always has on his face. The smile Choso loves. The one he wants to protect and keep safe as his big brother.

“Me! Me!” You say excitedly, almost bouncing in your seat. “Yuuji invited me to stay over the summer too! Isn’t that amazing?!”

Choso is going to die. For real this time.

456 notes · View notes

ruh--roh-raggy · 10 months

Text

Home Sweet Home (William Afton x Wife! Reader) - Pt. 1

Hello hello! So, I'm fully insane about this man rn. I can't help it. The brain rot has taken over my life and here we are lol. I wanted to write something that really focuses on the domestic fluff side of Reader's life with William, of course there will be some smut thrown in there too because I simply can't help myself 😂😂 Reader and William have just bought their first house together. This story follows their week long escapade of unpacking, making their home perfect, and going down memory lane. Lots of super cute stuff, chapters containing smut will be updated with proper warnings. If you enjoy this story and would like to be added to the tag list, please let me know!

WARNINGS: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, MDNI, 18+ CONTENT AHEAD, smut marked with divider, age gap (reader in 30's William in 40's/50's), some swearing, face sitting, cockwarming, size kink, a singular (1) spank to readers ass, slightly dom! William, praise, Will just wants to give his wife some tender TLC after a long day of lugging boxes around (if I missed any please let me know!

You can find my Masterlist here!

Word Count: 3,538

Part 2

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“I want to paint the living room green, I think it would look nice with our couch.” William drove down the road, a soft smile on his face as he listened to you ramble on about all of your plans for their new house. Business at the pizzeria had skyrocketed, which meant that he could finally give his pretty little wife the front porch, white picket fence house of her dreams. You should be pulling in about a half hour before the moving truck is scheduled to arrive, allowing the two of you time to empty out his trunk. You stood at his side with a giddy smile on your face, William thumbing through his key ring to find the new shiny gold addition to his collection. He slides the key into the lock, chuckling at your excited squeals as he pushes the door open. He grabs you by the wrist, stopping you from running inside ahead of him.

“Isn’t there some old wives tale about carrying your wife over the threshold of a house?” He mumbles out the vague details he could remember. You nod, wrapping your arms around his neck with a giggle.

“It’s for good luck. Why? Do you want to carry me inside?” You smile coyly up at him.

“Well I’m not going to be the one bringing bad luck into our house.” He proclaims proudly, jabbing a finger into his chest. You let out a shriek as he scoops you up in his strong arms. You press a kiss to his scruffy cheek as you pass through the door. “Well, Mrs. Afton, welcome home.” He smiles down at you.

You spun around the empty living room floor, broom in hand as you did a quick sweep before the furniture got brought in. “Oh, Will, I'm so happy. Our own house.” You beam up at him. Your husband breathes out a chuckle, sweeping you up in his arms as he places a kiss to your forehead. Both of your attention was drawn to the windows as the moving truck rumbled into the driveway.

“Don't lift anything too heavy.” He orders with a firm point of his finger. “I hired movers so you don't have to struggle, if I see you doing too much you're going to be in big trouble later bunny.” You roll your eyes, wrapping your arms around him as you place a kiss to his chest.

“I promise I won't work too hard.” You fidget with the hem of his shirt. “I just want everything to be perfect.” You sigh with a slight shrug of your shoulders.

“I promise it will be, we have the whole week to get everything exactly how you want it.” He smiles, his thumb rubbing languidly across your waist. You excitedly threw open the front door, directing the movers inside before clamoring out to the truck yourself. William trailed after you, keeping a close eye on your excited figure. Your husband loved how passionate you were about everything you did, but you also had a tendency to overwork yourself. He sighs as he sees you struggling with a box, gently taking it from your hands and propping it against his hip. He glances around the trailer. “Here.” He nudges a box with his foot, one he had made a subtle marking on to signify it was one he packed light enough for you to easily carry. “Take that one, we’ll go put these in the bedroom.” He hops down from the back of the truck, taking your box from you and wrapping his hands around your waist to lower you safely to the ground. You practically skipped up the porch steps, scooting past the movers as you raced up to the master bedroom. Your mattress sat in the middle of the room. The white, sheetless bed was a stark contrast to the nearly black hardwood.

“We’ll need to go get a bed frame.” You sigh, setting down the box before collapsing on the mattress. William groans as he lays down by your side.

“I’m sure we’re going to have to get a lot of things.” He chuckles, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you to him. “We’ll take care of everything, doll, don’t worry.” You spent the rest of the afternoon sliding furniture around downstairs while the movers brought in the rest of the boxes. The sun had already set by the time everything was brought in. You collapsed onto the couch with a tired groan, finally kicking your shoes off as you sank into the worn leather of the cushions. William sits beside you, lifting your feet only to drop them back in his lap. You let out a pleased hum as you feel his strong hands knead into your aching muscles. “Day one is officially over.” The two of you exchange a sleepy high five. A soft smile spreads across your lips as you take a moment to look at your husband. His gold, wire framed aviators sitting low on his nose, his large calloused hands massaging your feet with the utmost care and delicacy. You were William’s entire world.

“Honey,” he perks up at your soft voice, calling out to him, “how about I throw something together for dinner so we can get to bed.”

“I don’t think we have any groceries bunny.” He rebuttals with a chuckle. “Are you up for a drive? We could go pick up some pizza.”

“But it’s so cold.” You pout.

“I’ll go grab you one of my coats, sweet girl.” He cups your cheek, pressing a kiss to the top of your head as he passes by you. You let out a soft hum as you buried your face into the soft fabric of your husband's coat, the comforting smell of his spicy, musky cologne, machine oil, and cigarettes filling your nose. He had an arm wrapped around your shoulder, allowing you to cuddle into his side as he drove up twisting back roads. The radio crackled softly, whatever song was playing was barely audible over the car's loud blower. You rested your hand on his thigh, William glancing down quickly, the sight of your wedding ring glinting in the soft light bringing a smile to his lips. He loved the fact that you were all his, his pretty wife, his little bunny. He loved how sweet and delicate you were. He had been hardened by years of working in his workshop and other strenuous jobs he had throughout his life, he barely registered this evening was brisk let alone cold. But he definitely wouldn't complain about you cuddling into his side for warmth, how your cheeks and the tip of your nose dusted pink from the chilly night air, how your fingers trembled as you tucked them under his thigh. He shuddered softly as you pressed your lips to his neck, the buzzing, yellow light from the pizza shop's sign illuminating the cab as you and your husband exchanged a look filled with need.

“Hurry back.” You shoot him a coy smile as he stumbles from the car.

The smell of warm crust and greasy pepperoni filled the car, the pizza nicely heating your lap. William’s arm draped over your shoulder, you allowed the rumbling car ride to rock you into his side. Your eyelids grow heavy as you try to keep yourself awake, a sleepy smile crawling across your features as you pull into the driveway. You sighed as you looked around at the mess of moving boxes, your dining table tucked away into a corner that would be too much work to get to. “Why don’t you go sit on the couch doll, I’ll be right back.” William’s hand quickly slips into yours, giving it a gentle squeeze as he passes by. You flop back into the cushions, letting the pizza box rest next to you. Even with the short amount of time you’ve spent in the house you could tell how different it was from your old apartment. You and William had moved to the middle of the woods in Hurricane, your nearest neighbor at least ten minutes down the road. There were no sounds of your neighbors talking quietly through the walls, no footsteps of the dog that lived upstairs. The house was completely silent, outside completely pitch black. You jumped as William’s feet started to thud down the stairs. He pushes into the living room with a groan, dragging your mattress behind him. He drops the bed in the middle of the floor with a dull thump, twisting side to side in order to stretch out his back. “I’ll go grab some pillows and blankets.” He smiles at you.

“It’s just like our honeymoon.” You laugh as he pulls you up from the couch. He tilts your chin up with his finger, capturing your lips with his.

“Oh, trust me,” he starts in a sultry tone, “I wish I could spend this entire week in bed with you.” You dropped down onto the mattress, a soft sigh falling from your lips as he massages your shoulders. You smile at him as you watch him disappear upstairs, returning a few minutes later with a box full of your bedding and some pillows. Deciding you weren’t up for the challenge you left the sheets in the box. You piled your comforter and a few throw blankets onto the bed, you crawled in before your husband joined you with the pizza. You two sit side by side, your head falling to rest against his shoulder.

“It’s no Freddy’s.” You grumble at your lackluster pizza. William chuckles in response to your pouting.

“How about we swing by and see Henry tomorrow, I’m sure I can sneak you a piece.” He winks with a lopsided grin.

“That sounds perfect.” The two of you chat quietly as you eat your dinner. Your new house feels too big for just the two of you. You laid on your back, staring at the exposed wood ceiling, you blinked a few times to adjust to the all consuming darkness after William had turned off the light. You felt the blankets shift as he crawled into bed next to you. His silhouette outlined by the soft, pale light of the moon that streamed through the window.

“We should get a dog.” He suddenly whispers, making you giggle. “I don’t want you to get scared all by yourself.” He teases.

“Maybe that’ll get you out of that workshop earlier.” He playfully rolls his eyes as he wraps an arm around your waist.

“You know, there’s nothing stopping you from coming to visit me.” He argues with a slight shrug.

“Except that everytime I do I end up sprawled naked on your workbench.” You smirk at him, your fingers absentmindedly playing with the soft material of his tshirt.

“Occupational hazard.” He responds quickly. You both laugh as you cuddle into his chest. He cards his fingers through your hair, his lingering gaze studying your features. “You’re so beautiful, bunny.” Your eyes flutter shut as his lips brush over yours.

His hand paws at your thigh, dragging your leg over his waist as he crushes you against him. You cup his face, deepening the kiss, his beard tickling your palm as you melt into him. Your legs lock around his waist as he rolls on top of you. His large, calloused hands wrap around your sides, pushing your hoodie up and over your head in one swift motion before his lips connect with yours again. You shivered slightly as the cold night air hit your naked body. He practically purrs at the sight of you, his lips hovering over your neck. Your fingers slid into his hair, a small squeal escaping your lips as he bit down hard on your sensitive skin. You bite your lip, letting out a soft hum as he pushes his hips into you, his already growing bulge noticeable through your thin shorts. “You couldn’t keep your eyes off me today, could you rabbit?” He smirks against your skin. You practically drooled over the sight earlier. William had a box resting on each shoulder, his skin glowing with a thin sheen of sweat. He paused as he caught sight of you leaning in the doorway, arms crossed over your chest as your eyes raked over him. He smirked, knowing that playful glint in your eye. He smiled as he noticed your cheeks reddening from your position laying below him. He hooks his fingers into the band of your shorts, placing featherlike kisses down your stomach as he eases them down your legs. You moan softly as you feel him nip at the skin of the inside of your thighs. Your back arches off the bed as he brushes his thumb over your sensitive clit, a broken moan leaving your lips. With how busy you had both been due to the move it had been a while since the two of you had been intimate. Your skin was already on fire from the small touch alone, William smirked as he watched your reaction closely. Your hands fisted in the blankets as he tossed your legs over his shoulders, his hot breath bouncing off your already soaked core. His arms slip around your hips, holding you firmly in place as he dove into hungrily lap at your folds. You moan out his name, already attempting to squirm away from his assault. He growls, dragging you closer to him. His fingers dig into your thighs with a bruising force, sure to leave marks behind. Your fingers tangle in his hair as his tongue swirls around your clit through your lace panties. He ate you out like a man starved, your soft gasps and quiet moans echoing in the empty room. You whined, tugging on his hair. “What’s the matter bunny?” He pushes your panties out of the way with his fingers, his skin growing slick with your arousal.

“I need you.” You whined, looking down at him with pleading, teary eyes. William gives in immediately with a soft chuckle, never one to deny you what you wanted. He tugs down your panties, placing soft kisses to your legs as he removes your final article of clothing at an agonizingly slow pace. He slides an arm under your back, pulling you on top of him as he collapses into the mattress. Your hands landed on either side of his head as you lost your balance, you blushed as you realized you were sitting on his broad, strong chest. He brushes your hair behind your ear before both of his hands wrap around your thighs.

“Come sit, bunny.” He coos, your face burning at his casual command. William absolutely loved whenever you sat on his face. However, he was well aware he would have to warm you up to the idea whenever he suggested it. You were always worried you were too heavy, you hadn't shaved, or you hadn't showered, and your husband always reassured you that none of those things were going to pose any problems for him. His beard tickled the inside of your thighs as you hovered over his eager mouth. His hands squeezed at your hips, groaning as your soft skin squished between his fingers. You cry out as he pushes you down onto him, his tongue lapping at your clit before he shoves his way in between your folds.

“Oh, fuck! Will!” You moan, your hips moving on their own. You let out a soft sob everytime his nose bumps against your clit. He growls, pressing hard into your hips as you try to wiggle away, his assault on your already sensitive cunt threatening to push you over the edge mere minutes after he starts. “Baby, it's too much.” Your voice shook as you tried to plead with him, years slipping from your damp eyes onto your cheeks as the coil of pleasure in your core wound tighter. William’s eyes were hazy as they met yours, his face smothered in your thighs as he greedily sucked your clit into his mouth. You tug his hair, making you groan against him. “I'm gonna cum.” It was all too much for you to handle, your body losing its rhythm as your climax threatened to rip through you. William let out an affirmative hum below you, knowing you were close by the slowing of your movements. He decides it's time for him to take over, determined to make you cum on his tongue. His fingers dig into the curve of your ass as he gradually increases the pace of your hips. You yelped as one of his hands suddenly connects with your skin, the mixture of pleasure and slight pain causing your soaked cunt to throb. Broken moans and whines rumbled effortlessly from your mouth, the fine tuned roaming of his hands paired with his expert tongue knowing just how you wanted to be touched to fall apart in his hands. William never got tired of making you finish. The way you would fall absolutely silent and still for a moment, mouth hanging open as no sound dared escape, your body taking time to catch up to the immense pleasure you were feeling. Now was no different. William felt his cock twitch at the sight of your eyes rolling back in your head, that brief moment of absolute silence making his ears ring before you screamed his name. He forced your hips to keep moving, never allowing your pace to slow as he felt your thighs shaking against his cheeks. You practically collapsed as he finally pulled his mouth off of you, a firm hand on your lower back keeping you upright as you shakily moved yourself back onto his chest. William reaches up to caress your cheek, wiping away tears that streaked down your skin. Your eyes felt heavy, you struggled to keep them open and on your husband as you came down from your high.

“Do you want to lay down?” He asks in a soft tone. You nod, collapsing into the mattress with a happy sigh. You hear the soft shuffling of William getting undressed before he gets under the blankets with a groan. You could feel the heat radiating off of him as he moved closer, his fingers ghosting over your waist before your pulled back against him. You can't help but giggle slightly as you feel his erection pressed firmly against your back.

“You want some help with that?” You press yourself into him, his breath catching in his throat at the contact as he tries to stifle a growl.

“You can't even keep your eyes open bunny.” He chuckles, you smile as you feel it rumble in his chest. You let out a dismissive sound, giving him a slight shrug. “How about we compromise?” You glance over your shoulder at him, curiously raising an eyebrow. Your eyes slide shut, letting out a soft hum as you feel his rough hands roaming over your skin. His fingers dip in between your thighs, gently coaxing them apart. You gasp as you feel his member prod at your entrance. “I could always fill you up before we go to bed.” He offers with a smirk, your face instantly flushing at the thought of cuddling up with your husband, trying not to squirm too much as he impaled you on his thick cock. You give him a nervous yet excited nod, the sight of you looking at him so sweetly as you chewed on your lip making it hard for him to not flip you over and pound you into the mattress. William assisted you holding your legs open, one massive paw wrapped around your thigh to allow him room to attempt to fit inside of you. You gripped tightly onto the sheets as he slowly began to push inside, the stretch from making it barely past his tip intense due to the lack of prep. “That's it sweetheart, just relax.” He purrs in your ear, pressing his lips to your shoulder. Another roll of his hips makes you whimper, feeling him slip slightly deeper into your fluttering cunt.

“Fuck, ‘s too big, ‘s not going to fit.” Your words slut as you tried to focus enough to speak. His pace was agonizing, you could feel every inch of him and every thick vein sliding over your velvety walls. You let out a shuddering breath as he finally bottoms out in you, the tip of his cock pressed snugly against your cervix. You felt like you would break in half at the smallest wrong move, even your slight shifting as you cuddled up with William had the edges of your vision going fuzzy.

“Such a good bunny, taking all of me so well.” His lips trail over your neck, you feel him smirk as you clench around him, repeatedly kissing and teasing what he knew was a rather sensitive spot of skin.

Your fingers intertwined with his, his strong arms wrapped protectively around as you're held flush to his chest.

“I love you.” You say quietly, feeling sleep trying it's hardest to pull you under. He gives your hand a soft squeeze.

“And I love you, sweet girl.”

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Tag List: @yellowbunnydreams @zoey5252 @redflowery @loudchaosking (I think that's everyone, if I missed you or you would like to be added please let me know!)

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