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#never not drawing him without the thigh straps
mesherew · 10 months
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got lazy with this one but im posting it anyway (Its june now, when will the cod phase end)
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yandere-daydreams · 4 months
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tw - non/con, gn!reader, somnophilia, oral sex, victim blaming, implied stalking, and obsessive behavior.
Gojo can usually be trusted to do the right thing.
He knows he's not the best guy out there, but if he's given a choice between saving a cat from a tree and pushing a stroller into oncoming traffic, there's a good chance he'll choose the cat. His students might give him a hard time, but he knows better than to take it to heart when Megumi says the only useful thing about his dutiful guardian in his platinum card or Maki claims he could be replaced with a low-level curse and they'd struggle to tell the difference. He's not a saint, sure, but he doesn't entirely miss the mark.
That's why you felt so comfortable tag-along with him on a mission that took you to the other side of the country, why you didn't panic when you found out the higher-ups expected you to share a single (admittedly, still bigger than he'd like for it to be) bed, why you didn't think twice before stripping down to a tank-top and sleeping shorts and passing out - too exhausted to care about sorcerer decorum. Because Gojo can usually be trusted to do the right thing. Gojo can normally, generally, almost always be trusted to do the right thing.
It's just that he can't be trusted to do the right thing right now.
It's not his fault, Gojo reasons as he stares unblinkingly at the mold-stained ceiling, doing his best not to let his eyes drift. He's a hot-blooded man in the prime of his life, and you're... well, you're you - beautiful, smart, oblivious you. It's not his fault that you looked so pretty in the dim light filtering in through cheap curtains, that the stuffy motel room was too hot to justify using the paper-thin bedsheets, that all your tossing and turning meant your shorts were starting to ride up your legs in a way that wanted to make him dig his teeth into your thighs and--
And look at you. With a shaky breath, he sits up and rakes his fingers through his hair. Looking never hurt anyone. That's what he tells himself, at least, as he shifts onto his knees and lets his eyes rake over the length of your body. You'd rolled onto your side since the last time he could bring himself to check - your knees pulled up and your head tucked downward. He watches the gentle rise and fall of your chest for a moment, than another, before letting his attention fall lower - to where the waistband of your shorts had drifted below your hip, leaving a strip of supple flesh just a touch lower than what even the lowest-set of your jeans revealed. Both straps of your tank-top had managed to fall off of your shoulders sometime during the night, and careful not to touch you and cross a line he'd only half-heartedly set for himself, Gojo catches the flimsy fabric of your top between two fingers and tugs it downward, just enough to expose the swell of your chest and draw the material taut. Your nipples are already hard, he notes with just a little too much satisfaction. You wouldn't have been happy if you knew what he was doing, but your body might've been.
He feels his cock twitch, and he's palming it before he can stop himself. Touching himself wouldn't hurt you, either, and he wouldn't leave a mess, not if he could help it, not if he could summon that much self-restraint. Cursing under his breath, he shrugs his sweatpants down to his thighs and spits into his palm before wrapping his fist around his shaft. He's already stiff - had been from the second you started to undress, as hard as he'd tried not to acknowledge it. Biting down on his bottom lip, he pumps his hand over his cock to the tempo over your breathing, letting his mind wander to the space between your thighs. He couldn't, not without waking you up. He couldn't, but..
His attention drifts back to your lips, wet and ever so slightly parted. It wouldn't compare, but it'd have to do.
He positions himself carefully, his knees sinking into the mattress next to your head. Arousal beads at his tip, dripping down his shaft and filling the cramped room with a soft 'click, click, click' as he brings the head of his cock to your mouth, resting it gingerly on the crook of your lips. He does what little he can to swallow down his voice and smother the movement in his hips as your warm breath fans over his cock, as his fist tightens in a weak attempt to imitate how tight your throat would be, if he ever got the chance to fuck it properly.
He's thinking about how hot it would be inside of you, how adoringly your body would welcome him when his self-control snaps, when his hips buck forward and the head of his cock collides with the back of your throat. You gag sharply, your eyes snapping open and find his in an instant, expression a mix of shock and confusion and horror, pure and unadulterated. He wants to draw back. He wants to apologize. He wants to do the right thing.
Instead, he cums. His free hand falls to your head, and he holds you in place while he fucks shallowly into your mouth and rides through his orgasm. Your reaction is a pitiful thing - all choking and betrayal, but he can't seem to stop himself from grinning.
When he really thought about it, this was all your fault. You have no one to blame but yourself.
After all, Gojo can usually be trusted to do the right thing.
This time, you just didn't give him another choice.
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bwabys-scenarios · 2 months
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Dating the Phantom Troupe SFW/NSFW HCs
!!REBLOGS APPRECIATED!!
warnings: group sex, breeding kink, scissoring, toy use, fem reader, creampie
taglist: @desiray562 @lovelyxkazuha @ashdownunderscorebeloved @stygianoir @lightshowerrr @highbats69
‼️If you want to be added to the taglist, please check out the taglist information then comment what you want to be added to! Make sure you have your age in your bio and that your blog can be tagged/mentioned!‼️
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SFW
-You’re the sweetheart of the Phantom Troupe, healing others with physical touch/affection. You were picked out by chrollo to be a medic of sorts due to your charitable work in meteor city
-you’re pretty pampered, once you get to know everyone they all fall for you pretty quick. the first was Shalnark. it was a puppy crush at first, but soon he was head over heels.
-it goes like this: first Shalnark falls for you, then it’s Chrollo, Machi, Nobunaga, Uvogin, Phinks, Pakunoda, Shizuku, then finally Feitan.
-Pakunoda and Chrollo are guilty of spoiling you way too much with gifts, while Shalnark and Uvogin pamper you with lots of attention and affection. Machi and Feitan struggle with opening up to you and confessing, while Shizuku and Phinks were pretty open with their feelings once asked. Nobunaga is overly affectionate and clingy 😭
-the relationship between you and the others is far from normal, bordering on yandere. they won’t keep you prisoner or force you into anything you dislike though, they’re just a bit possessive and protective. since they’re all good friends, they’re able to MOSTLY share you without any hiccups…
-though the two most possessive members(Machi and Nobunaga) get into fights with the others at times
NSFW
-so, the troupe usually allow Chrollo to have you first.
He doesn't demand this, in fact he tries to insist on drawing straws, but the others respect him enough to let him have you first.
-Chrollo is very gentle with you, making love rather than fucking you. He usually prefers to have you away from the others in a separate room, but will fuck you in front of the others if he's feeling naughty
-everyone gets 30 mins a piece to make it a bit easier on your body(there's 8 of them after all) and all of them always end up cumming <3 some a bit quicker than others(cough Phinks and Shizuku cough)
-The rest draw straws/arm wrestle/or decide by little games who gets to go next.
-Uvogin almost always volunteers to go last because of how big he is. You need time to be stretched out and lubed up before you can take him
-Nobunaga is so quick to cum it’s almost pathetic. He feels bad and will keep going, but soon your thighs and tummy are just covered in his seed!
-Shalnark actually loves an audience!! He shows off how good he can make you feel with pride. Though the others get a bit jealous at his talent at making you cum over and over again
-usually, Shizuku, Pakunoda, and Machi prefer to share you amongst themselves. Lots of scissoring and toy use >< Machi is shy and usually won't join unless it's in private with just the four of you. Pakunoda definitely has a custom made strap she uses to fuck into you
-Phinks is super vocal and ends up cumming inside of you over and over. He can't help it, it's hard to pull out when you're giving him those eyes and whining like that…
-Feitan is surprisingly clingy during sex, wanting to be close. He's another one that prefers privacy due to being a bit shy preforming in front of others
-when uvogin finally gets his turn, you're so spent and wet that he nearly slides in without issue... but he can never truly fuck you without a bit of prep of his own. He'll fuck you with his big, thick fingers before thrusting in :3
-orgies with all the members don’t happen, most of them just aren’t attracted to each other/see each other as family
-though… a few of them fucking you at once is common place. you’re just too cute that some of them can’t take the wait and end up slipping into one of your other holes. if your uncomfy with anal, they’ll use your mouth or hands!
-some of the men are in a competition to see who can get you pregnant first(Shalnark, Uvogin, and Phinks) while the others are just happy with whatever happens(Chrollo) and Feitan… he doesn’t want a kid but can’t resist cumming inside very time so… if it happens it happens.
-they’ve all already agreed to let the father and you decide how the baby is raised(whether the two get into a serious relationship or they all raise the baby together)
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tinfairies · 6 months
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NSFW Alphabet: Koby Edition
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AFAB!Reader, I write Koby as trans.
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A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)
It truly depends on where you had sex. If it's alone in your room, or some hotel. He'll be clingy, cuddly, and lovey dovey.
Holds your hand and peppers kisses on your face and thanks you for spending the night with him.
"Thank you for letting me love you."
Will get up and get you water, or draw you a bath if you want.
He's always ready to take care of you, even if he was the one that just got wrecked in bed.
Koby always gets flustered when you're the one taking care of him after sex. You'll have insist on pampering him, he'll eventually let you.
B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)
Koby loves every inch of you. He'll never settle on just one part, but you'll notice he pays extra attention to your tits and thighs.
He'd happily smother in both if you'd let him.
Koby has a lot of body image issues, and he didn't have a favorite part of his body. You came along and changed that though, and now he has an appreciation for his eyes and his hands.
Melts when you stare into his eyes and hold his hands as you ride him, and loves when you beg for his slender fingers to be up inside your pussy.
He also learns to really love his chest, his surgery is obvious due his jagged and poorly healed scars. But with how much love you've showed him, he doesn't feel sick when he looks in the mirror anymore.
Koby learns to tolerate his cunt too, realizing that it doesn't emasculate him and he's allowed to feel pleasure from it.
C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)
Koby loves when you cum in his mouth, he'll happily drink it down and go back for more.
"Mm- so good. Baby, I want more, please give me one more."
Likes to make you squirt, just something about him being able to make you lose control like that gets his heart rate up.
His own cum and wetness was foreign to him before meeting you. But now he loves to taste his own cum on your lips.
D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)
Has fingered himself wearing your panties. He is so embarrassed by it, and he'd never admit it.
Koby came so hard from it though, his whole body trembled when he gushed all over his fingers and soaked your panties.
He licked them clean before putting them back in the laundry hamper
E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)
Koby was a complete virgin before he met you. Like extra virgin olive oil.
He never masturbated, or touched himself sexually at all.
It's not that he didn't want to, he just didn't know how, and his dysphoria really inhibited him from trying.
He's so eager to learn and please you though.
He does his own "studying" to surprise you in bed, it's not like he needs it however. He's super attentive and is a natural when it comes to finding your sweet spots.
"Is this okay? Does it feel good? Can I touch you here?"
F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)
He loves when you're on top, riding his strap, humping his thigh, rubbing your pussy on his. Koby looks up at you like hung the stars.
He does love putting you in a mating press and pounding your cervix, he gets lost in this fantasy that he'd actually be able to breed you.
"Oh fuck! Fuck, I wanna breed you so bad. Fill you with my jizz and watch you swell with my babies." he'd babble as he rails you with his strap.
G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)
He's definitely more serious in the moment, but will giggle with you if you're more goofy.
Koby is definitely ticklish and has laughed when you ghosted your fingers over his ribs. It turned into a game of who could make the other laugh more, and sex was completely forgotten about.
H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)
The carpet does match the drapes for sure.
He doesn't shave anything, doesn't see the point in it and also has this idea that "men don't groom"
As Koby continues with his testosterone shots, his hair gets thicker. He gets a faint happy trail on his navel, and stubble on his cheeks.
His body hair is so light that you can feel it more than see it, and even with the testosterone he doesn't produce that much more hair.
He likes being clean shaven on his face, and asked you to teach him how to shave.
It was an oddly romantic and intimate moment, covering his face with shaving cream and gently running the razor along his jaw. As always, he looked at you like you were the only thing that existed.
I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)
Koby's very romantic, and he loves the workup before sex.
A nice date, intimate foreplay, and loads of aftercare. When he's with you, his full attention is on you.
J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)
Never masturbated before you came along.
He'd much prefer to have you in his bed when he's feeling horny, but sometimes he can't get what he wants.
The first time he masturbated, he tried doing what you did to him. Moving his fingers like yours, rubbing his cocklet, fingering his pussy, even shoving a finger in his ass.
He was so frustrated that he couldn't cum by doing all of that. He had to learn how to make himself cum his own way.
Koby would ask you to teach him how to touch himself. You lay him out on his back, and instruct him on how to play with his pretty pussy.
K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)
In no particular order.
Giving: soft dom, rope play, overstimulation, edging, nipple sucking, hickeys, scissoring, breeding
Receiving: femdom, spanking, face sitting, squirting, hickeys, bondage, overstimulation, edging, spit play, anal
He wants to be used by you, he is the ultimate people pleaser and will do whatever you want him to if it makes you happy.
Even when he's domming, he'll prioritize your pleasure.
L = Location (favorite places to do the do)
He prefers to have sex in your room, a hotel, or anywhere that's absolutely private.
Koby is so scared of being caught. But he can't deny the rush he feels when you fuck him somewhere that anyone can just walk into.
M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)
Just getting attention from you.
But seriously, he loves when you talk dirty to him it makes him fluster and blush.
Especially if you're wearing a shirt that shows off your cleavage. Koby can't take his eyes away and wants his hands on you immediately.
N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)
He won't hurt you. Don't ask him to hit or slap you. Spanking you is on thin ice already. So blood play is definitely off the table.
He isn't a fan of period sex, giving or receiving. Especially receiving. He hates the fact that he bleeds and has a uterus so the idea of bringing that into a place where he feels the most masculine makes him sick to his stomach.
He'll finger you or dick you down on your period, but he won't go down on you. Please don't ask.
O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)
That boys favorite flavor on the planet is pussy, especially yours.
Koby is inexperienced at first, and nervous. Learns quickly and gets very enthusiastic when he gets to shove his face in your cunt.
He's a little pervert and loves the smell of your pussy, jumps the gun a lot and starts licking at you over your panties before you can even get them off.
It took him a while before he was comfortable with you touching his pussy, let alone allow you to come eye level with it.
Once you make him cum on your tongue, he's addicted though. Will hold your head down and shove your face into him.
P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)
It really depends. He loves soft and slow sex, rolling his hips into yours and just feeling your bodies rub together.
But sometimes he's a desperate little whore and humps you like a bitch in heat. Begging to cum as he drags his pussy over yours.
When he doms, he'll go at a hard but slow pace. Teasing you as he rams your cervix, then pulls out painfully slow, only to slam back in.
Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)
Once again, it depends on his mood.
He prefers to take his time with you, so he doesn't initiate them often and really only ever asks for them if he's pent up but short on time.
Koby doesn't mind them though, just so long as you cum, then he's happy.
R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)
Koby doesn't mind taking risks and experimenting. He's entirely new to sex so he really wants to find out what he likes and what he doesn't.
He is afraid of anything that could get you both caught, or seriously hurt either of you.
S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)
At first, he's exhausted after one round. But as he trains with the marines his stamina increases and soon it's you that's begging to stop and nearly passing out in his arms.
T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)
Again, he was such a virgin before you. He knew about toys, but never owned any.
You introduce him to strap ons and of course he's addicted.
Koby also loves your vibrator. He'll often steal it out of your drawer just to get off, and might even get himself caught just so you can torture him with it.
U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)
He's such an unintentional tease.
The way he licks his lips, or looks up at you. When he stretches and some of his tummy peaks out from his shirt.
When he's intentionally teasing it's even worse. Lingering touches, suggestive words, and when you call him out on it he just looks so innocent and tells you that you're imagining things.
V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)
He tries to muffle his moans, and hide at first. As you get him used to sex, then he starts getting so whiney and loud
When Koby's fucking into your cunt with his strap, he makes the hottest groaning sounds
W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)
Would have a threesome with you and Helmeppo if the two of you are willing.
Just a wild fantasy of his.
X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)
His body is slender, but he starts to gain lean muscle as he trains. He's got strong arms and powerful thighs.
His pussy is so perfect. The outer part is always so puffy, and the inner labia has a lot to play with. He's pale and perfectly flushed pink.
His clit starts out as a little nub, then he starts testosterone, and it grows quickly. Within a year his clit become a little cocklet, nearly 3 inches and he loves it.
It visibly twitches and throbs when he's horny, and his pussy gets so wet so easy. It practically drools without even being touched.
Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)
He got used to repressing his sexual desires before meeting you.
After starting testosterone, he gets so horny over nothing. He'll gladly fuck you every night if you let him.
Koby can easily suppress his desires most of the time though, and just trains harder or jerks off quickly if he can't have you.
Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)
In the beginning he'd be out like a light after a few minutes
Now that his stamina is better he can get up and go about his day, even after you give him an earth shattering orgasm.
Of course he'll stay up if you ask.
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biggameplayertrentaa · 2 months
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Trippin' Fallin:' But Just the Smut
Warning: No plot, just smut; this is literally just a grab from pt.ii of this series. I just feel bad that I didn't give y'all anything nasty in the final part lol.
“Thank you for this.” You say when the two of you are finally seated directly beside each other on the makeshift picnic blanket, knees and shoulders grazing and bumping due to the lack of distance between the two of you. “Thank me  fa’ what?” Jude murmurs, index finger reaching out to draw lazy patterns on the skin just above your knee. Your eyes follow his finger’s movement. “For all this,” you gesture to the romantic setup of his living room, “and for taking care of me.” You add quietly, looking down timidly as you pick at some of the lint on the fabric of the blanket. Though your actions indicated otherwise, you did appreciate Jude’s efforts, especially this past week when you had practically no time for anything besides work. Jude cups your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. The fake flickering flames of the plastic candles cast a soft orange glow that accented his brown skin, only further contributing to the radiance of beauty that was already there. He looked so cozy, staring at you with a soft gaze and a smile that, though lazy, was still prominent enough to meet and illuminate his eyes. 
You weren’t sure if you wanted to kiss him or run out of his house and never speak to him again. 
“You don’t have to thank me.” He says, eyes flickering from yours to your slightly pouted lips. “I was serious when I said I wanted to be with you, now I have to be serious about making you feel secure with me.” 
The words are only half registered when Jude finally bends down and smashes his lips to yours. Your body immediately goes rigid, but before you allow your mind to whip you back into your disciplined ways, you throw your arms around Jude’s neck and sigh into the kiss. You did agree to humor him. You also would be lying if you said the night was not weakening you at the knees. Smiling against you, Jude takes a nip at your bottom lip, thrusting his tongue in your mouth once you grant him the slightest opening. His tongue finds yours, lapping at it as he moves to sit you on his lap. 
“Was this your plan all along, Mr. Bellingham?” You tease breathlessly as his fingers begin to work at the buttons of your blouse. 
“Getting you naked is always a part of my plan.”
Jude nudges the article of clothing past your shoulders once it’s unbuttoned, lips immediately making their way to your neck. He places wet, open-mouthed kisses along its length, occasionally nipping at the exposed skin before soothing it with the tip of his tongue. He places a kiss on your shoulder, right where your bra strap is,  as his fingers work to unfasten its clips. With his attack on your neck never seizing, Jude manages to expertly rid you of your bra, leaving your top half completely nude. 
When he finally detaches his lip from yours, his eyes fall to your exposed breasts. Taking your nipple between his index and thumb,  Jude rolls the hardened bud softly. You’re holding your breath, arms still thrown lazily over his shoulder as the steady heartbeat between your thighs begins to intensify and make itself known. Jude’s eyes flicker to you.  He bends down slightly
until his parted lips are hovering only inches away from the nipple he was toying with.  Without breaking his piercing glare, he takes it into his warm mouth, “Jude.” You whimper, throwing your head back. 
“Hmmm?” He hums, eyes still trained on you, tongue still working its magic. 
You tug at the bottom of his tank top, hinting at your desire for its removal. Jude reluctantly pulls away, quickly ridding himself of the top. Once it is discarded, the two of you stare at each other wordlessly, heaving chest pressed to heaving chest. You feel as though your entire body is on fire, but your mind is devoid of any thoughts that didn’t concern him or his dick.
“Strip fa’ me.” Jude’s accent is thick, heavy, and dripping in lust. Its tone and cadence rip you from your thoughts, dazed. 
“Huh-” 
“Strip.” He emphasizes his point by forcefully tugging at the sides of your pencil skirt. Without another word, you rise to your feet. Under the belittling intensity of his fiery gaze, you slowly shimmy out of the material, the only thing you’re left in now is your pantyhose. Jude kneels in front of you before you have the chance to even attempt to take them off. He bunches up the flimsy material around your thighs, shoving it down with so much force that you hear a loud tear.  Before you can chastise him, his mouth is over your clothed core. “You’re already so wet.” Jude sounds more pleased than anything. He speaks his praises into the growing wet patch that already decorated your panties. The vibration of his voice makes you buck your hip and throw your head back.
“I know, just for you.” You say honestly. 
“Just fa’ me?” His smile is cheeky, his eyes now displaying a prideful glint.
 You just nod, creating enough distance so you can drop to your knees and be leveled with him. Jude pulls you into him, positioning the two of you so that you are seated on his lap again, his already-hardened cock pressing tenderly between your slippery folds. You instinctively rock your hips forwards, causing both you and Jude to suck in a harsh breath. Your pussy is slick, you slide your clit up and down his length with ease.Wanting more, you take his glistening cock in your hand and lift yourself slightly until his oozing tip is aligned with your dripping hole. 
“Oh fuck.” You whimper, still tight from the lack of proper foreplay.  Jude’s bottom lip is tucked between his front teeth, thick brows knitted together in pleasure, as he begins to softly massage the flesh of your stilled hips. “You can take it.” He encourages, peppering feather-light kisses
along your collarbones as you attempt to adjust to his size. You’re grimacing in a mix of pleasure and pain, but you still nod at Jude’s words, slowly sinking down onto him until you feel that familiar burn in your stomach.
“That’s it,” Jude coos, fingers now massaging pressured circles up the length of your back, “That’s my good girl.” His words ignite something in you.
You raise up until just the very tip of his cock is against your opening, practically on your tiptoes now. Ignoring the burning in your knees, you begin to bounce on him. The claps of your ass cheeks, Jude’s groans, and your screams are echoing loudly through the living room. His hands are still on your back to keep you steady, but Jude allows you to fuck him, yielding complete power to you as you selfishly and desperately sought your orgasm.
“Are you gonna cum fa’ me baby?” He questions though he has already taken note of your quivering thighs and short intakes of breaths. “I know you are, baby, just let go fa’ me.” His fingers find your clit, wasting no time in rubbing tight circles against it. “Just let go fa’ me, you deserve it.”
This is exactly what you need to hear to push you over the edge. You cum around him, shaking and sputtering a mess of incoherent phrases you nor Jude can make sense of. As you attempt to come back down to earth, completely delirious from your orgasm, Jude positions you to lay on your stomach in front of him. He caresses your ass, placing a stinging slap on its surface before following it up with a tender kiss. Spreading your cheeks apart, he spits on your exposed, already-wet pussy. He backs you into his face and then licks a teasing swipe along your slit. You are completely thrown, naturally arching your back and moaning into the blanket as he begins to devour you in a similar way you devoured your fried rice.
He moans into you, driving your hips back until his face is so close to your core, that you are sure he can’t breathe. Jude is relentless and determined though, refusing to loosen his grip, even slapping the side of your thigh warningly when you try a create some space between his face and your pussy. Your vision is blurred with tears, fingers gripping desperately at the disheveled blanket underneath you. You feel Jude insert two fingers inside of you, scissoring them as he pushed them in and out of you, tongue still lapping at you faithfully.
“I’m about to-” You begin, your entire body now shaking from the pleasure you were experiencing, but before you can finish the warning, he completely withdraws himself from you. “Jude.” You pathetically whine, lifting your head so that you can turn to look at him. He had his cock in his hands, pumping it slowly as he took you in with hooded eyes.
“Hmm?” He sings, his movement never once seizing. “Do something.” Is all you can get out and he chuckles. You watch him lean over you, lips slightly parted as he teasingly brushes them against the skin of your back. You shudder when you feel his tongue flat against your skin, licking up its length in a way that makes you see stars. As he continues to lick and kiss, you can feel the tip of his cock graze against your opening. You push against and Jude immediately catches the hint, burying a couple of his delicious inches past your moist, silky walls. He keeps his movement controlled, and measured, seemingly reveling in the feeling of having you molded so perfectly around him. When he finally bottoms out, hips flush against your ass, the two of you sigh in relief. Jude rocks his hip forward, body leaning against you completely as he builds a slow, deep rhythm. You can feel his labored breaths against the shell of your ear and the thudding of his heart against your back but all you can focus on is how you can feel him in your tummy.
“You feel so good.”
“You feel so good.”
The two of you groan out simultaneously, causing both of you to burst into a fit of laughter. The wholesome pause was short-lived, as Jude cut it short with a harsh slap on your ass and assertive thrust. You turn to look at him, a devilish smirk playing on your lips as you push your hips back against his to meet his movements. His actions stutter only slightly, his brows quirk in a slight mixture of curiosity and anticipation as he looks down at you. You hold his gaze as you expertly throw your ass back against him, hips whining in a half circle as you confidently took him. He only lets you have your fun for a moment, taking back control with a particularly hard thrust that lurches you forward. You are almost flat on your tummy now, Jude lying almost entirely on top of you as he pounds into you. You were hearing colors and seeing sound with this new angle, his cock was now hitting your deepest crevices.
“I’m convinced your pussy meant to be wrapped around my cock.” Jude groans through gritted teeth.
You’re close again and you know he is too, as his thrusts are now faltering and his breath is even more hoarse and rigid than it already was. The words are spoken against your ear lowly and though you only half-hear them, you nod profusely. Jude lets out a breathless laugh, hips now grinding into you as he wraps one of his arms around your neck, while the other supports his weight,
“Tell me it’s mine,” He says, the arm around your neck tightening as the pleasure infused tears spilled past the barriers of your eyelids and onto the picnic blanket.
“It’s yours!” You scream with no hesitancy, the words feeling familiar and natural on your tongue.
“What’s mine?” Jude’s pace had increased subtly, but his movements were still disciplined “This pussy.” You say, not missing a single beat. He groans against your ear and nods in enthused agreeance, “That’s right. And me,” he delves into you even deeper, his tip now grazing an area inside of you that you weren’t aware existed, “I belong to you.” The sound you let out is animalistic and embarrassing but you are having a hard time caring about anything else except the man on top of you.
“Tell me it’s yours.” Jude urges, bringing your head up and tilting it to the side so you are looking at him. “Tell me this cock is yours.” He demands firmly, his gaze intense and piercing but not intimidating enough for you to comply with his request. The words tumble past your lips as naturally as the moans that followed did, sending you into your second earth-shattering orgasm of the night and Jude into his first. As he fills you, he’s holding you firmly to his chest, spewing a mix of sweet nothings and pure admiration for you.
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Text
my girl
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frank castle x fem!reader
word count: 3.4k
warnings: SMUT 18+ MDNI!!! mentions of alcohol consumption, roleplay-ish, exhibitionism/voyeurism, mutual masturbation, oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v, soft dom!frank, degradation/praise kink, “daddy” and “sir”, overstimulation, squirting, breeding kink, cockwarming if you squint, little aftercare
summary: the game: no touching allowed
A/N: omg hey 🙈 it’s been a while! but I’m back! this is pure filth and I’m not ashamed! we all know Frank Castle would talk you through it!
COMMENTS/REBLOGS/LIKES ARE ALWAYS APPRECIATED AND WELCOMED <;3
DONT COPY OR TRANSLATE MY SHIT.
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It was one of those nights.
The kind where you and Frank attempted to pull your heads out of your asses after a shitty week and have fun for once.
He would argue that his version of fun was only found with a gun in his hand or kevlar strapped to his chest, and he truly meant it at one point, but that was before you, his girl, and he would do anything for his girl— even if it meant indulging you in your own fanatical definition of entertainment.
Your idea of fun, however, was a shitty dive bar that smelled like stale beer, wearing skimpy dresses that you found in adult stores, and pretending like you had never seen Frank a day in your life, imagining he was some hot shot trying to show you a good time.
It started off as a game. Frank didn’t get it at first, struggling with the idea that “pretending” wasn’t lying, it’s not lying, Frank. I still love you. It’s just a game, you have to convince me to come back home with you, but eventually it became a different challenge entirely— it was now healthy competition between the two of you, seeing who could last the longest without touching one another.
And it was one of those nights where you played dirty.
Wearing nothing but a silk slip that left nothing to the imagination and crotchless panties, you expertly navigated around the bar while the music bewitched you, leading you in different directions and drawing men towards your magnetic pull.
It didn’t take much for men to pay attention to you. You knew that, but more importantly, Frank knew that, and he was painfully aware of how alluring you were.
It was all fair game, and he let you have your fun, only finding comfort in knowing that he was the only one who could shove his face into your chest and cunt. That he was the only one that would take you home and pull moans out of you like it was his job. That he was the only one who could bury and empty himself into you and you would take all of it, because you were his girl.
Frank was more possessive than he led on, but it was the only consolation he had while playing your game. He ignored the few stray women that eventually found their way to him with ease. He didn’t enjoy their attention, it almost disgusted him, but he did appreciate the way your jealousy manifested itself.
You knew it was a game, that the blonde woman meant nothing to him, but the jealousy turned you into something else completely.
The envy mixed into the final swig of your drink and went down easily as it burned the back of your throat. The liquid courage warmed you enough to move, and you shuffled down from your perched stool with a fire stirring in your belly.
It wasn’t your fault that your purse conveniently fell from your shoulder, or the way your dress rose above your ass when you bent over to retrieve it, revealing your crotchless panties to the patrons of the bar. It also wasn’t your fault for the dog whistles that pierced through the music, the droopy eyed stares, or the coughing fit that Frank fell victim to as he choked on his beer.
You could practically taste victory, unable to hide the smirk that plastered against your cheeks as you collected your belongings, turning to face him. The win, however, was short lived, and your face fell when you caught his eye, unable to read his darkened expression.
Whether it was the churning alcohol or growing need between your thighs, you found the confidence to hold his gaze, paying attention to the way he slammed his beer back.
Fuck.
The game was over, that much was clear, and your heart hammered against your chest. Maybe you had gone too far this time. Maybe the panties were too much. Maybe he would understand if you apologized and forfeited this time. Maybe—
Fuck.
For a moment, you swore you faced the Punisher. He grew in size and stature, towering over you as he straightened, the random woman falling off of him in return. He was unreadable, almost threatening, but his façade flickered as he subtly nodded towards the door.
Fuck.
The tension was palpable. It practically trailed your wobbly stride as you found your way out of the bar, hiccuping down your anxiety. Frank followed your lead, silently stalking behind you. His presence was looming, and the silence was baiting your wanton anticipation.
“Frank,” you broke character, turning to face him.
His stride never faltered, and he beat you to the truck. “Frank, wait.”
“Ladies first.” The truck door swung open with a creak as Frank all but pulled it from its hinges, eager to usher you into your place.
You must’ve looked uneasy, tottering on the balls of your feet, and he took note of your lip tucked between your teeth.
“It’s okay,” he reassured you with a wink, holding out his hand to help you into your seat.
Yellow street lights hid the warmth in your cheeks as you softened beneath Frank’s gentleness, and you couldn’t help but hide a smirk as you made a final attempt to claim the last word at your own game.
The hem of your dress tickled the back of your thighs as you attempted to climb into the truck, only pausing to pull the rest of your dress over your hips. It was a lousy move given the circumstances— you pretending to busy yourself while exposing your dripping cunt for anyone in the parking lot to see, but you knew it would rile him up in a way that would benefit the both of you. Eventually.
“C’mon now, sweetheart,” Frank groaned at the sight before him, his own pants growing tighter while he studied the way your core glistened.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you quipped innocently. “I’m just looking for my phone.” You spread your legs ever so slightly, silently inviting him to have his way with you.
“That right?” He drew closer with slow, deliberate steps, knowing how much you enjoy the anticipation. It was exciting, and he was so close, and you were offering yourself to him, and the act was slipping…
“Cause I thought maybe it could be in here?” You jump as your purse lands in front of your face with a thud, bouncing in the driver's seat.
“Huh,” you let out an amused chuckle before Frank fit himself against your spread legs, a small gasp escaping your lips as he pressed himself into you, his bulge hitting your clit directly. “Probably is,” you whimpered, dropping your head as a silent thanks to the truck for providing a welcomed new height and angle.
“Probably is?” He questioned, his voice startling as his lips pressed against the shell of your ear. He’s careful not to kiss you fully, not wanting to break the rules of your game, and he forces his arms to land on either side of you, caging you beneath him.
You felt his chest heave against your back and you smile to yourself, relishing in your ability to unravel the Punisher, but the victory is short lived; he unfurls himself from your bent form before delicately pulling your dress back down to cover your ass.
“C’mon.” His palm landed against your supple flesh and you yelped at the unexpected contact. “Let me take you home.”
“I win!” You exclaimed, nearly hitting your head on the inside of the truck.
“What?” He cocked his head to the side with a loose smile.
“I win!” You twisted in your seat to face him, your smile radiating in the dark. “You touched me first. I win.”
“Yeah, whatever.” He playfully shut the door in your face and you laugh, watching his lip curl into a smile as he fakes his own disappointment.
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The door to your bedroom thudded against your weight, the doorknob rattling as you blindly maneuvered your way into your room.
“Frank,” you moaned into his mouth, pulling him impossibly close while stumbling towards your bed. The mattress dipped below your combined weight, Frank hovering over your sprawled frame.
Your hands traveled the length of his body, studying every contour of muscle like you would lose him if he pulled away. “Touch me,” you whispered, catching him by surprise.
“Aht aht,” he laughs into your neck at your demand, his lips attaching to your steady pulse. “You know the rules, babydoll. You gotta finish first before I can touch you.”
“But,” you attempt to refute your own rules.
“You wanna act like a big girl? You can make yourself cum.” He places deliberate kisses down your neck, taking extra care to suck on your delicate skin. “You can do that for me, can’t you?”
It was so patronizing, the condescension sweet and sticky and so contrasting from the way he cradled your head, stroking your hairline before planting a kiss to your temple.
“Yes sir,” you submit willingly, whining when he peels himself away from you.
“Atta girl, you can do it,” he encourages you before settling on his side, adjusting comfortably into your mattress.
His eyes widened as you lifted yourself from the bed, pulling the billowy silk off of your frame before throwing it in his direction. You played into your short-lived victory, tracing your fingertips alongside the curves of your body and cupping your breasts together, letting a moan escape as your fingers brushed your hardened nipples.
It was obvious your ministrations affected Frank, and you watched as he pulled at his jeans, clearing his throat to conceal his grunt.
As much as you loved his response to your body, you can’t help but notice the way your breath catches in your throat while you watch him palm himself through the rough denim. It was a silent invitation for you to do the same, finally realizing how agonizing the ache in between your thighs had grown.
The elastic band of your barely there panties hadn’t made it around your fingers before Frank interrupted.
“Leave 'em on,” he huffed a laugh. “Ain’t hiding shit anyway.”
Your cheeks flushed at his enthusiasm, and you sheepishly found your place on the bed, your bare back resting against the headboard. It was only then when you realized how exposed you truly were, and you pressed your thighs together for some semblance of modesty.
“What’s the matter?” he teased. “You nervous or somethin’?”
“Mhm,” you nod your head, stifling a moan when your thighs instinctively clench together, adding just enough pressure against your already sensitive clit.
“Funny,” he chuckled, “cause you sure as hell weren’t shy before.” He was right, and you knew it, your skin consequently growing warm as he spotlighted your cheap plays at winning. “So go on,” he continues, “show me how a pretty whore like you wants to be touched.”
The expletive took you by surprise, but you obeyed shamelessly. Eagerly. Spreading your legs open as an offering to the man who watched just a few feet away as your fingers dipped between your thighs, pressing gently against your clit.
“Fuck,” you moaned, your lip finding its place between your teeth.
“That feel good, sweetheart?” Frank cooed towards you, his tongue darting across his bottom lip while his eyes flash between your scrunched face and drenched fingertips.
“Yes,” you whisper.
“What was that?” He goaded.
“Yes, daddy,” you correct yourself. “Feels… so good.”
He moaned alongside you, grunting as he pulled himself out of the confines of his pants. You watched unabashedly as he spit into his palm before pumping his already weeping cock, the sight only pushing you closer towards your orgasm.
You made no attempts at hiding your pleasure.
“Fuck,” you whined, grinding your hips as your fingers circled your clit.
“There you go, that’s it,” Frank matched your pace, stroking his length as he spurred you on. “That’s my good girl, makin’ that pussy feel so good for daddy.”
“It feels so good,” your head fell against the headboard with a thud, but you hardly noticed. His gaze felt like fire creeping up your body as he studied you with anticipation. “I’m close,” you squeaked.
“Yeah? You’re doin’ so good, pretty girl,” he praised.
Your fingers worked tirelessly as you chased the familiar feeling, and you held your breath as the pressure grew.
“Attagirl, look at you. Just like that,” he bit his own lip while fisting his cock. “Be a good girl and cum for me.
“I’m gonna cum,” you croak out, too busy concentrating on the budding climax to notice the way Frank savored your rising chest and your fingers working your dripping cunt.
“That’s it, cum for daddy.”
It was overwhelming and you were unprepared for his attention, all but crying out as he expertly ran a thick finger between your folds before plunging into you. He hooked himself to your core while manually pulling your orgasm from your body, never breaking a steady rhythm.
“Fuck, don’t stop!” Your body stiffened and you held onto Frank’s forearm as your pleasure uncoiled and gushed from your core.
There was no time to process what happened or to even catch your breath; he clasped onto your ankles, pulling you closer to him before he delved into your wetness, collecting all of you on his tongue, suctioning his lips around your swollen clit.
“Frank!” you jumped at the sensitivity.
“Taste so good sweetheart,” he adjusted accordingly, continuing his languid strokes and moaning into the taste of your pussy.
You can’t help but ride out your high and grind against his tongue as he laps up the remnants of your orgasm, shuddering at each flick of his tongue against your clit.
It was too much and not enough all at the same time. He was close, but you needed him closer.
“I want you,” you reached down, pulling him to your lips. He moaned as your teeth nipped and sucked at his lower lip, savoring the taste of your arousal.
“What’s that?” He baited you, all but ripping his clothes from his body.
“I, fuck-“ you moaned as he lightly tapped his heavy cock against your swollen nub before trailing himself through your folds. “I want you, Frankie.”
“You do?”
“Yes, daddy.”
“I don’t really believe you, sweet girl,” he softened ever so slightly at the name, and you almost believed he would be merciful and indulge you, but his jaw tightened and his expression hardened in front of you. “Beg for it.”
Although deserved, it was a cruel, cruel punishment.
“I want you to fuck me,” you began, jutting your hips towards his cock sliding against you. “I want you to use me.”
He moaned at that— the way you submitted yourself to him, spreading your legs further apart to tease him into submission, waiting for him to break.
“I want you to fill me up and make me yours,” you snaked your hand between your bodies and guided his cock into your drenched cunt.
A hiss filled the room as he buried himself into you in one motion, and you groaned at the sudden sensation. He met your every need and ache, leaving you breathless and with double vision. Completely entranced by the delicious fullness.
“This what you wanted?” He growled into your ear, his body hovering over yours as he thrusted with precision. “Wanted me to use you like a good little slut?”
Your response was guttural, and you grabbed onto any part of him, pulling him in for more, more, more.
“Feels so fuckin’ good,” his lips brushed the soft curve of your neck. “Like that pussy was just made for me, ain’t that right?”
Of course it was right, every fiber of your being screamed out for him. He was insatiable, and it would never be enough.
“S-so good,” you stuttered through chattering teeth, attempting to focus your gaze on his face. “Feels so good, you feel so good.”
“God, look at you,” he cooed. “Already fucked out, huh? Have you had enough, sweetheart?”
You almost said yes; each thrust of his hips was a coordinated attack against your g spot, and you were debilitated, barely able to conjure words, let alone sentences.
“No,” you mustered. “Need you to use me, please.”
His brows creased together, your request causing him to teeter towards his own pleasure.
“You’re doin’ so good for me. Takin me like such a good girl,” he spit on his fingers before rubbing circles over your clit. “Want you to cum with me. Can you do that?”
“Mhm,” you didn’t think it was possible, but dammit you would try. You squeezed your eyes shut, attempting to draw the scattered pieces of your brain together to revel in his movements, becoming pliable in his hands.
“That’s it,” he grunted, enjoying the sight of his length disappearing into your dripping pussy. “Takin’ me so well, that’s my girl.”
You moaned at his praise, relishing in the way he claimed you both physically and verbally. He knew you were close, and you knew he was closing in on his precipice. He could feel the way you pulsed around him, beckoning his own release, and he gave into you completely.
“Cum for me, daddy.”
It came out so sweet he thought he imagined it.
“Keep talkin’ like that and I will,” he squeezed his eyes shut as if it would prolong the pleasure.
“Cum in my pussy, please. I need you.” You whimpered as you replaced his fingers with your own, chasing your own release while cupping his neck to bring his lips to yours. “So close,” you whined.
“‘Want daddy to fill that pretty pussy up, hm?” He mumbled into your open mouth.
“Yes sir.”
You were so close. It was right there.
“Be a good girl and cum with me.”
The room erupted in a cacophony of moans and you were sure flames had licked your skin. Your thighs shook against their will as your orgasm rolled over you, radiating between your bodies.
“Attagirl, there it is.” Frank admired the way your body responded to him, the way you clung to him while your eyes rolled back and your mouth hung agape. You were so beautiful sprawled out, and he gripped onto your fleshy hips, pulling you impossibly closer to him.
“Fuck!” He groaned into the side of your neck as you pulsed around him, his thrusts growing sloppy before he spilled into you.
There was a moment of clarity between your blissful haze where you became aware of his presence, and the incessant need to have him closer overshadowed everything.
“So good,” you cupped his face, ignoring the way his stubble tickled your palms before pressing your trembling lips to his.
“So good,” he repeated, his nose pressing into yours while your lips met. “Did so good for me.”
He carefully pulled himself from you, never breaking the kiss even as you hissed. He simply ran a large hand along your head before looking over you.
“You okay sweetheart?”
You gave a drowsy, heavy-lidded smile with a shaky thumbs up from beneath him and he chuckled before placing a chaste kiss along your sternum and settling on top of you.
The added weight was welcomed and comforted you, acting as some grounding agent to bring you back together. It was the same for Frank; he clung to you, his arms wrapping around your fleshy frame while his fingertips pressed into you, memorizing each curve and contour of your body.
You followed suit, running your fingertips along the lines of muscles and splatters of raised scars before lazily squeezing him. He hummed when you grazed your nails along his scalp and nestled into your chest accordingly.
“I’m sorry for earlier,” you sleepily confess.
“Don’t worry bout it.”
“You’re not upset?”
“Nah.” His eyes remained closed, much to your confusion.
You were quiet for a moment, not fully understanding his answer. He knew you were quizzical. He didn’t need to look at you to know your face was scrunched and your eyebrows creased while you attempted to do the mental math behind his answer.
“Ain’t mad cause you’re my girl,” he beat you to it. “Unless you got somethin’ to tell me.” You could feel his smile against your chest.
“No I don’t,” you relaxed. “I’m your girl.”
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scarletttries · 8 months
Text
Take Control of the Night (Steven Grant Request)
Pairing: Steven Grant (Moon Knight) x F! Reader
Rating: Explicit (Dom! Steven)
Word Count: 2.4k
Request: "Thoughts on dom!steven? How would he react to reader wanting him to be a bit rougher? + some dirty talk if you can :) Thanks so much!!! "
Author's Note: I never get tired of writing of writing for Steven Grant 💕 Thank you to everyone sending me these headcanons, please send more Steven requests/thots anytime :)
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Take Control of the Night
"Are you sure love? Like really sure?" Steven had lived what felt like his whole life resenting the restraints he'd attached to his bed after one too many 'sleepwalking incidents.' So when you; sweet, beautiful, perfect you had asked if he ever used them for fun, it felt like everything he'd ever been through had been worth it for that moment. It was one thing when his wonderful new colleague let him buy her a coffee and listen to his stories, but it was something else entirely to have you offering your body up to him, the first taste of intimacy Steven had ever known. You'd guided him through moves and positions, making sure you both knew exactly what the other liked before asking him to try taking on a more dominant role this time.
"Yes, I'm really really sure Steven, I want you to be in control of every part of me." You cooed as he nodded resolutely and tightened the final strap, leaving you pinned against his bed, with nothing between you but the restraints.
"Thank you love." He replied softly, settling onto the bed beside you and leaning over for the kind of sweet, gentle kiss that always made your head spin. As he slowly pulled away, your lips chased his on instinct, hands tugging at the restraints as he moved out of reach with a chinking of the metal that felt like music to Steven's ears.
"Sounds like you already want letting out and I haven't done anything yet!" Steven teased mischievously, starting to slowly understand the appeal of his new role. Usually Steven was just desperate to please, to give you whatever you wanted and feel happy just being the one who gets to give it to you. But today the dark voices inside him stared down at you, helpless and naked, and he wanted to take what he wanted for once.
"I just like feeling you." You replied honestly, watching his gaze trace up and down your body, his fingers hovering just above your skin as if charting his course before ever actually touching you.
"Is that right beautiful? And where do you like to feel me?" His usual innocent grin shifted to a greedy smirk as he licked his lips, watching you swallow down desire as you tried to answer him.
"Anywhere?" Your skin prickled with anticipation of being touched, his strong broad hands rising up out of reach as he considered your answer, only to slap against the flesh at the top of your thighs, spanking the parts of you he could reach in this position.
"That's not a very helpful answer, you can do better than that love." He rubbed the warm skin where he'd touched you, and asked again, "Where do you like to feel me?"
"My chest!" The words fell from your lips before you could think, your brain swimming with this transformation; Steven finally taking assertive control and giving you exactly what you wanted, and oozing seductive power as he did.
"Good girl." He purred as he straddled your hips, leaning forward until his lips found the soft swell of your breasts. Covering every inch of exposed skin with gentle kisses while his fingers cupped and squeezed your curves, drawing sighs and mewls from your parted lips as he worked. His teeth scraped over your hard nipples as his tongue danced over them, teasing the little buds until he could feel your hips buck up against the fabric of his boxers, searching for friction as the sensations built up inside you. Without warning his teeth nipped at your flesh and he sat up on your thighs, drawing a moan from you as you fought against the cuffs on your wrists to follow him.
"Steven.." You pleaded, the cold night air almost too much against your now glistening nipples, your back arching off the bed in the hopes of winning his touch as he tutted down at you,
"You were getting greedy there my sweet Cleopatra, you can't just take what you want today." As if to emphasise your obvious need, he skated his fingertips up your inner thighs, watching your legs tremble in response and your ankles wriggle against their restraints.
"You just feel so good everywhere!" You pleaded, stomach in knots as he traced faint shapes higher and higher up your legs, sure he must be able to see the drips of excitement that he'd stirred up inside of you.
"You know I'm a sucker for your flattery sweetheart. Lucky for you." Perched painfully out of reach on your thighs, his fingers finally reached the apex of your legs, running over your slit, gathering up your slick until they rested lightly over your clit. He watched as your wide pleading eyes locked onto his hand, your breasts rising and falling with the desperation until finally he started to move. His fingers strummed steadily over the bundle of nerves, a soft stream of moans spilling from your lips at the relief, the sweet feeling of his wet fingers gliding over you. Steven paid close attention to the way your stomach started to tense slightly, your legs fighting underneath his powerful thighs as his steady rhythm felt like heaven against you, watching and waiting for a moment he knew would be coming. His fingers were pure bliss as he brushed over your clit again and again, the pressure inside you building up with every moment, until you could feel entrance start to ache for relief, pleasure building endlessly but never quite reaching its peak.
"Steven." You panted out between moans, twisting your body to try and get that final bit of sensation, and over the line of your orgasm.
"What's wrong love?" His tone was sincere, but as he pulled his fingers away and grinned that needy noise you made in response, you doubted he didn't know exactly what he was doing.
"I just need a little more Steven." Your pathetic tone only spurred on Steven, who sighed and shook his head.
"Well this isn't about what you need. It's about what I want. And maybe I want you, just short of cumming. Maybe I want you squirming and desperate and aching for me. And maybe if you're not going to be good, then I'll just leave you like this." His tone was darker than you'd ever heard him be before, a devilish glint in his eye that made you sure he was enjoying this power far more than you would have expected, feeling a little nervous about this side of him, ratting your chains again as you instinctively tried to rub your thighs together, the ache inside you only growing worse. "Maybe I should go even slower."
He was almost thinking aloud as he slipped one stout finger into your dripping entrance, overwhelming enough to have your hips bucking up against him, but providing none of the relief you really needed. He moved so deliberately, sinking his finger up to the knuckle beside pulling it all the way out, only to push it in again, bending it slightly to get the maximum impact as it dragged along your walls. You could feel yourself building to the apex of your pleasure again, the electricity in your veins overwhelming, heat flushing through every part of your body despite his slow, delicate movements. Shifting further down the bed Steven kisses began to trail across your thighs, rising to land gentle pecks on your hip bones. His tongue mapped a line of kisses across your lower belly, feeling you tense as his lips met the place the pressure was building inside you, your volume growing louder as your body started to fight for release, hips chasing Steven's finger, trying to fuck yourself against it to get there. Biting down on your inner thigh Steven pulled his finger away at the final second, feeling your whole body shake and contort as its release was snatched away again, every inch of your skin squirming against the soft bed sheets in overstimulation.
"Please Steven. I'll be good!" You pleaded, cursing your hips for betraying his control and the throbbing ache between your legs for making you shake against your restraints. Not satisfied that his work was done, knowing that it would take a lifetime of teasing to make you anywhere near as desperate for him, as he felt every waking hour for you, he lifted himself off the bed, standing to your side and slipping his boxers down his muscular thighs.
"Is that right? You're going to be my good girl and do what I ask?" You could feel your mouth water as he took his length in is hand, pumping the length of it over a few times before resuming his position straddling your spread thighs, greedily looking down at your dripping pussy as you nodded your head.
"Then stay still." Was all he said before he dived forward, tongue delving between your folds like a man starved, nose rubbing over your swollen clit and drawing all the air out of your lungs. You could feel tears pricking at the corners of your eyes as you fought to keep still, tensing every muscle in your screaming body in the hopes of finally tasting relief. Plunging two fingers inside you, his tongue moved its attention to your clit, lapping and sucking at the neglected bud until you could feel your long-awaited orgasm set to burst any moment. As you moaned out Steven's name, he slapped the meat of your ass again, sending a shockwave through your body that had you squirming and shaking, eyes immediately shooting open as he pulled away at the crucial moment.
"I'm sorry Steven! I couldn't help it, please let me cum!" Your voice was wavering as he looked down at you almost apologetically, his own length red and leaking as he placed it on your throbbing clit, the sensation alone almost enough to send you over the edge.
"You're going to be the death of me love. Why can't you just do as you're told." He punctuated the final few words with a pinch of your nipples, leaning down to kiss the sensitive circles and feeling you twitch at even the smallest of touches.
"You just feel too good Steven, I need you." You sobbed out, fighting the desperate desire to grind against his manhood and chase the overdue relief you craved.
"You're lucky I need you too love, so I'm going to give you another chance - I'll go really easy on you, just don't cum until I say so okay?" His voice sounded soft and kind after his relentless teasing, and in your desperation you nodded hopefully, wishing you could use your hands to stroke him, or wipe your eyes, or even just touch yourself, your core aching with the build up of pressure. Your whole pussy was tingling and sensitive, even the air against your wet folds making you whimper as Steven readjusted himself, lining himself up with your slit before moving his hands to grab your bum, eyes hungry as he finally sunk himself inside of you. You could feel your head fall backwards at the feeling of fullness that only Steven could give, his fingers no match for the satisfying way he stretched you out.
His grip on your spread cheeks tightened as he lifted your hips with ease, slamming into you again, this time harder and faster, using your body with his complete control. Your pinned hands gripped the straps of your restraints for some kind of control as Steven fucked into you, movements rough and frantic, hips slamming against yours with enough force to make your boobs bounce in time to his movements, his eyes fixated on their rythmic movement as he watched your straining face.
"Don't cum yet, or i'll stop and leave you tied up here all night." He commanded, somehow picking up his pace, knowing he was setting you up to fail and very excited to watch you fall apart despite your best efforts. Your eyes clenched shut as he moved one hand to take the full weight of your hips, the other dipping between his lips before landing on your clit, thumb rubbing tight circles that he knew you were powerless against.
"Steven!" You cried out as you struggled against him, your whole body squirming from the sensation, legs trembling against his hips, lungs struggling to fill enough with each breath. You could feel his own imminent release, his hips stuttering as he throbbed inside you, the image in front of him too much to contain himself.
"Cum for me now gorgeous, let me feel you cum." His words were strangled as he felt you let go, the waves of pleasure he had stopped earlier now all crashing down on top of you as the feeling of ecstasy spread through your veins. He could feel you tighten around him as you cried out his name, thighs clenching as best they could as you panted through the overwhelming pleasure, you relief feeling all the more incredible for the time spent waiting. You felt wave after wave of bliss flow through you as Steven spilled inside you, thumb still toying with your clit until you begged him to stop, overstimulated and somehow desperate for me of his touch still.
Taking a deep breath, Steven quickly pulled out of you, letting his seed drip out of you and onto your stomach as he reached to free your bound wrists, gently taking each one in his hand and kissing it softly as he rested them on your chest, watching you squirm in sensitivity from the slightest contact with your nipples. Lying by your side and carefully wiping the tears across your cheeks he cooed softly,
"Was that alright my love? Not too much?"
"That was perfect Steven. You were perfect." You breathed out, taking his face in your hands and pulling his lips onto his, ignoring the fireworks still going off inside you that threatened to make you unable to walk the next day.
"Does that mean we can do that again sometime?" Steven asked eagerly, staring down at your incredible form and feeling undeniably blessed.
"Of course. But you do need to free my ankles for today gorgeous." You teased, watching Steven's eyes then fingertips stroke down your thigh.
"Are you sure? You do look quite incredible like this."
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fuckmyskywalker · 3 months
Text
❄️ 𝐃𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟔𝐭𝐡 : 𝐏𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐨 𝐓𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐬 - 𝐀𝐉
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— CW: 18+. Smut. Fingering. Slight Exhibitionism (yes, again). Slight age gap (reader is 21, A.J. is 31). | Word Count: 1.3k (not proofread!)
— a/n: Happy second day of the Anyafest! Sorry for the delay. Had some little complications hehe.
— Anyafest 2023 + Taglist!
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“Where did you learn to play piano, Mr. A.J.?” You ask with a curious tilt, crossing your legs as you sit on the lid of the large black piano. His lips curl to a smile as he breathes a little chuckle. “What? I just want to know.”
“You are an inquisitive young lady,” A.J. replies, his pale fingers dancing over the piano tiles and maintaining a conversation with you without even looking, pure muscle memory. It fascinates you. Everything about him is mysterious and fascinating— he might be one of your favorite father’s colleagues. You know very little about him, you’ve known him for half a year and been captivated by him for half of that time. “How come your father hasn’t come looking for you?”
“He’s too busy chatting with Mr. Carter” You shrug. “Plus, the party was getting a little crowded, it is nice to find a quiet spot.” And to be alone with him, of course.
The empty music room was always a sanctuary, but when he is there showing off a talent you can’t still figure out completely, as if he was born with it— you seem to forget about the outer world. A part of you wishes he could feel the same but he has never shown signs of it. A.J. has never declined your presence either so you are at least sure that he enjoys having you around, whether it’s for courtesy for being his friend’s daughter or because he genuinely likes you. You have no clue.
“Must be tiring for a young socialite like yourself.”
The teasing edge of his voice makes you smile. You remain quiet for a little while, only enjoying the melodic tune coming from the strings underneath you. If you focus enough you can feel the gentle vibrations of the piano, a sensation somehow comforting. “So,” A.J. is the one who broke the silence. “What happened with that boy I saw you with last month?”
The question throws you off. He has never asked something so personal; you pout with another shrug, not really knowing what to say. “It wasn’t anything serious. I guess we were looking for different things. He wanted a compromise right away… and now that I think about it, he wasn’t even my type.”
“Oh, is that so?” He stops playing for a moment to crack his fingers, noticing how your eyes drift to the flex of his wrists and knuckles. “And what’s exactly your type?”
With a hum, you swing your legs. “I don’t know— I think he was trying to rush things, so definitely a rusher isn’t my type.”
“In what way?”
“He was talking about marriage after the second week.”
This time he laughs and you join him. Your laughter mixes with the music and you can swear you have never heard something more beautiful. “That is rushing things,” You were glad A.J. agreed with you. “And what else?”
“Well, a smart man never hurts anybody. Maybe older than me for a change.” It was a risky answer but you don’t have much to lose. 
“An older man?” A.J. quirks an eyebrow waiting for you to elaborate.
“Yeah, not much though. I don’t want him to be ancient. I think ten years older would be my limit.” You look away as you say these words— kind of embarrassed for highlighting the exact age difference between A.J. and you. 
A.J. seems to ponder your answer but his face doesn’t change much. After another round of silence, he stops playing again. Standing up from the small velvet stool he towers in front of the piano to close the lid. “Ten years isn’t much, I suppose.” You decide to try something bolder; turning your body, to face him fully. Your bare legs dangle over the piano lid, almost brushing his thighs. 
“You think so?” 
“I know so,” Another smirk draws on his lips, but this time is quite different from any other you’ve seen. His left hand brushes over your ankle, his index finger tracing the strap of your heel. “I guess I’d be fine with dating someone ten years younger.” Your heart jolts at his words, blinking as if you couldn’t believe what he just said. A.J. chuckles at your reaction, raising his hand to caress your calf all the way to your knee. His hands are surprisingly warm, and you find yourself drawn to the feeling. 
“Mr. A.J.?” You whisper, leaning back slightly when he inches forward slowly. 
“Just call me A.J, dollface. I’m not that old.” His palm ventures to your thigh, his fingertips touching the hem of your red dress. “You know, red looks good on you.”
“Thank you” You mumble sheepishly. 
Hovering over you, his lips kiss your jaw chastely as if he were testing the waters. “You are a very beautiful lady, I’m glad you got rid of that boy.” Sliding his hand between your thighs, he touched the fabric of your underwear. “Tell me to stop and I will, okay?” A.J. whispers, returning his lips to your cheek and kissing it repeatedly. You nod weakly, spreading your thighs as much as the dress allows you to. His thumb traces your clothed folds, teasing you. 
He continues caressing you, taking his time despite knowing that someone could walk in at any moment. But something tells you that he isn’t going to stop anyway. Finally, he touches your clit, circling it deliberately. A soft moan from your part makes him smile again, you are not even surprised in the slightest that his hands are even more skilled in more ways than one. It feels like ages have passed until he finally moves your panties to the side, collecting some of your slick to continue his assault on your clit.
“So wet already… is this all for me?” 
“Yes,” You breathe, your thighs tensing with delight. He fucking knows what he is doing with that husky voice of his. “All for you.”
“Good girl.”
A.J. slides one finger, releasing a small grunt of amusement when your walls hug his digit tightly. He would be lying if he said he hadn’t fantasized about this. Of course he has seen the way you look at him, always biting your lower lip, addressing him so politely and nicely, always batting your mascara-coated eyelashes… everything you do is alluring to him. Adding a second finger to the mix, he makes sure to lift his hand so the heel of his palm rubs against your clit. Reaching to remove his hat, he places it over your head. “You look gorgeous.” A.J. compliments you. His hat fits you a tad big, but you can still see him despite the dark brim. You want to thank him, to show him your damn gratitude for making you feel so good but you can’t. He crooks his fingers inside you, rubbing them against your G-spot and causing your whole body to jolt forward. 
“That’s it, good girl—” He coos at you, leaning down and moving his neck to the side to meet your lips in a sweet kiss. “Are you going to come?”
“Uh-uh,” It’s a dumb, mindless mumble but it’s enough. He speeds up, charmed by the wet sounds that your pussy makes for him— for A.J. that’s even more lovely than any tune his fingers can play… this is a different type of music; primal and raw, passionate and erotic. His favorite one. 
“Not yet.” He withdraws his fingers, kissing you again when you moan in discontentment. “Patience, dollface. Not here. Let’s go to a place where I can listen to you properly.”
You look at him with puppy eyes, pouted red lips, and a heaving chest. “My room is upstairs…” It’s an offering, and one he wouldn’t decline. A.J. smirks again, bringing his coated fingers to his lips and licking them clean. The action is short and silent but it speaks volumes.
“That’s better. And keep the hat, precious. I want to see you with it while you ride me.”
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— ❄️ Taglist! : @offthethirlwall | @pockcock | @shellxrls | @anisdoll | @wifeofasith | @anakinsgirlfriendreal | @urmomsfav0 | @anisgurll | @mortalheartache | @arzua10 | @haydensgirlaela | @bimbo-baggins86
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indigoflorals · 1 year
Note
rafe being a tease and needy reader riding rafe for first time!
formalities (18+)
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Rafe Cameron x Reader
Sum: Rafe teases you all night at a work event and you jump him as soon as you get back to his truck
Warnings: Unprotected sex, riding, teasing in public, public fingering, semi public sex, crying during sex, cummins inside
♥̩̥̩
A hand slid up your thigh, bunching the fabric of your dress and resting at the front of your clothed pussy. To any onlookers, this display would be grossly obvious, but fortunately for you, Rafe had the courtesy of only touching you under the table.
“So tell me again how you two met?”
Your eyes snapped back to your boss, drawing your attention away from the hand that was now tracing circles against your clit.
“Oh,” You smiled, clenching your thighs nervously, “Friend of a friend.”
Your boss hummed, taking a spoonful of the dessert in front of him. You were very grateful that it was dessert and that the meal was over. Grateful that Rafe had saved the bulk of the teasing for the end of the night.
A finger broached the edge of your panties, pulling them aside to prod at the sensitive skin underneath them. You gasped at the feeling, and your boss turning to you, raising and eyebrow.
“This cake!” You practically yelled, taking another large bite to cover up your moans, “So good!”
He smiled awkwardly, and you exhaled heavily. Rafe trailed a finger up and over your clit before pushing down hard on the sensitive bud. You bit your lip, clenching your thighs on his hand.
“I’m so happy to hear,” Rafe smirked, turning to your boss as he slipped one finger inside of you, “That my darling fiancé is such a fantastic asset to your company.”
“Oh you have no idea,” Your boss spoke, still clearly unaware of what was happening underneath the table. “I don’t know what I’d do without her.”
“Hear that, love?” Rafe leaned in close to your ear, speeding up the circles on your clit as he sunk another finger inside of you. “You’re invaluable.”
You attempted to covered a high pitched moan with a cough, but it slipped out still. Your boss looked to you concerned, and so did Rafe.
“Are you feeling sick, baby?” He cooed, fucking you faster on his fingers, knowing your orgasm was approaching. “Too much food?”
“It was a lot!” Your boss laughed, “Maybe get her home, Rafe.”
“Maybe I should?” Rafe asked you, lowering his voice to just above a whisper, “Get you home and take care of you.”
At his words, your pussy clenched around his fingers. You gripped his forearm, sinking your nails into the skin. Biting back a moan, your face turned pink.
“She looks like she’s going to vomit. Get her home so she can get into work tomorrow!” Your boss laughed, reaching out to shake Rafe’s hand.
“Will do, sir,” He smiled innocently, shaking your bosses hand before slipping his fingers out of you and standing up.
Before you could even get all the way to the parking garage, Rafe’s hands were on your body. You attempted to shoo him away in fear someone would see, but to no avail.
“Rafe,” you moaned, “Wait until we get to the truck.”
He huffed, wiping his hair off of his forehead. “You’re slow.”
“Hey-“
He scooped you up bridal style and carried you quickly the rest of the way to the truck, tossing you into the back seat before climbing in on top of you.
“Wait,” You put a hand on his chest as he began undressing, “I wanna ride you.”
Rafe paused, leaning back to sit. “But we’ve never…”
“I know,” You started taking down the straps of your dress to expose your breasts, “But I want to.”
You knelt to straddle him, breasts coming to be level with his face. He took one nipple into his mouth, sucking and licking the bud before switching to do the same to the other. A hand came to slap your ass, gripping and fisting at the fat there.
“Baby you have no idea what you do to me,” He moaned, hiking your dress up to expose your panties, “So gorgeous for me.”
You watched as he reached down to pull his cock free from his pants, and it slapped back against his stomach. He pulled your panties to the side, and you could feel the warmth of his tip against your folds.
“Fuck,” You moaned, leaning back to give him a better view of your tits, “Needed you so bad all night.”
“Baby,” He bucked just hips slightly up into you, rubbing the tip against your clit, “I was ready to walk out and fuck you in the bathroom.”
Rafe’s thumb came to put pressure against your clit as you sunk down onto him. You moaned in unison at the feeling of him inside of you. You loved being in control of his pleasure and yours finally after a night of him teasing you.
With your knees, you bounced up and down on his shaft, stopping when you reached the tip. This drove him crazy.
“Holy fuck,” He groaned, throwing his head back, “Look at you, love.”
You were lost in a world of pleasure, sinking down to grind against him. You felt your orgasm coming on as you continued to grind against him and his thumb circled your clit.
“More,” You choked out, “Need more, Rafe.”
Your eyes met his, dark with lust and a hunger for you. His hands gripped your waist, lifting you effortlessly to fuck you on his cock.
“More?” He teased, “You need more, baby? Need to cum?”
“Yes please,” You begged, nails sinking into his bicep, “Need to cum, Rafe. Need to cum for you so bad.”
“Then do it,” He moaned, hips stuttering as he was holding off his own orgasm for yours, “Cum for me baby.”
Your muscles tensed and then relaxed, and your pussy began to clench uncontrollably. You felt yourself gush on top of him, and you cried out in pleasure as you felt him fuck into you mercilessly to reach his own orgasm.
“Fuck, oh,” He whined, dick squelching as he fucked your cum back into you, “Gonna cum in you baby. Fill up your pretty pussy.”
“Please,” You sobbed, tears on your face, “Please do.”
Warmth flooded your pussy, and Rafe buried his face into your tits as he came, whimpering quietly. “Oh, baby. Holy fuck. Oh my god.”
You felt the cum drop out of you and onto him, and giggled quietly.
“Hey,” He huffed, “These are new pants.”
“That’s what you get for teasing me all night.”
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luveline · 1 year
Note
After reading the newest zombie!au Steve blurb where they are kind of established i really want to read about the first time she accidentally calls Steve her boyfriend and he’s like 🥹
I think this is a request so tysm!! brilliant idea ♡ fem!reader zombie!au
Steve is adamantly refusing to hold your hand today.
"False sense of security," he argues.
You preen at the idea that you might give him a sense of security and settle for holding onto his backpack strap. Your legs are aching from a full day of walking. Though complaining won't make it better, or even more manageable, you know Steve won't mind.
"I think I'm getting a cramp," you say without any inflection. It's hardly urgent or besides the norm.
"Yeah? Drink what's left of the flask."
"I'm okay, just... how much longer do you think we have to go?"
Steve pulls the flask from the side netting of his backpack and offers it to you. He doesn't stop walking. Once you stop, you won't want to start again.
"Not sure. I thought we'd find a town or a rest stop or something by now. Stupid maps."
"Wanna stop and ask for directions?"
He laughs and finally turns to look at you. He's a little roughed up and there's dirt under his ear but he’s as handsome as usual, a boyish charm about him that never seems to fade.
"Yeah, let's stop and ask for directions," he says, sarcastic but smiling so much it doesn't quite work.
You shiver at the brisk wind and his smile flickers.
"Want the blanket?"
"I'm okay," you reassure. You're fine. The sun is low and blocked almost wholly by trees and you always miss its heat these days, but you're not cold enough to need the blanket yet. "I can wait."
"If you're cold, wear the blanket," he says, more gently than he might've a month ago. When you first met he would've told you to be quiet, lest you attract any unwanted companions, and he would've done it harshly.
It's strange to remember how you hadn't really gotten along at first. Now, you can't imagine a day without him. Without his sweet smiles, his hand to hold at night. You're the same every night, bundled up by his side to hide from the fall chill. You wait what can't be ten minutes before your hand creeps up his thigh, shy though you don't have to be. Steve always takes it. His big hand will take your own careful and kind and warm, calluses catching against yours. Then, when he thinks you're asleep, he'll bring it up to his mouth and kiss the back.
"It's fine, I mean- we're gonna stop soon, right?"
He hums his agreement and starts to move forward again. You sip at the water and follow, nose filled with the sickly sweet smell of the surrounding forest and mulching leaves stirred by the wind.
"Do you think we could sleep in a car tonight?" you ask. It's much warmer.
Steve steps over a suitcase in the middle of the road and reaches backward for you to help you do the same. An unnecessary, heart melting gesture.
"You want to play car roulette?"
A terrible, awful game of terrible, awful decisions. The first time you asked Steve to sleep in a car he'd laughed at you and refused to answer. The second time, he'd explained the risk. If the car still has some battery in it and you set of the alarm, you'll draw every geek in a two mile radius.
But eventually, he'd come to realise you ran nowhere near as hot as he did. That you get cold easy, and that being cold constantly makes you downright depressed. Sacrifices have to be made sometimes just to keep your sanity.
"Can you run if we get a dud?" he asks.
You test your sore feet. "Maybe."
Steve grimaces. You can see the debate on his face; the nights have been getting colder and if you don't sleep in a car tonight he might spend his twilight hours trying to keep you warm, but if he tries to open a car and the alarm goes off you'll definitely need to run.
"There's gotta be a method to this," he grumbles. "Some way to tell if a car has juice."
You wiggle your fingers between his and smile because he hasn't noticed he's still holding your hand.
You look out over the expanse of barren highway, interrupted only by the occasional car or possessions too heavy to carry and squint. "Cars have, like, batteries, don't they? Why don't we just," — you make a snipping motion with your freehand — "cut one out?"
Again Steve stops and you bump into his side.
He looks down at you with both wonder and humour, lips quirked up into a great smile. "You genius." He shakes his head voraciously. "Why haven't we thought of that before? Holy shit."
"Wait, if you take the battery out will the locks stop working?"
"I don't think so. I don't know. Let's try it anyways, it's not like we need the lock. We'd still have to take shifts. Don't wanna get cornered." He gifts you another pleased smile. "You're a genius."
You stamp down the flustered flush his praise brings and walk another hundred feet. You and Steve pass cars hand in hand and scout them like Goldilocks, looking for one with the biggest, comfiest, and cleanest seats. Steve spots a huge jeep in the distance and you speed walk to it.
"Can you even reach the hood?" you ask.
"Very funny."
Steve cracks the hood. You both stare into the mess of the machine and take some time to locate the battery. After an abundance of tugging and pulling, his hands blacked quickly by grease, Steve dislodges what looks like a battery and pulls it out, groaning.
"Fucking heavy," he complains, wiping his brow with the back of his hand. Dark grease spreads over his pale skin.
You lick the tiniest tip of your thumb and wipe it away.
His eyes close.
You smile and don’t bother hiding how much you like him. He even lets you wipe his hands with a small hand towel from your bag. "Ready?" you ask as you finish.
There are three possible scenarios. You open the door and the alarm goes off. You try to open the doors and the doors are locked. Or...
Steve braces himself, pulls the door, and the two of you sieze up in the awaiting silence.
"Yes!" you cheer, then slap a hand over your mouth. "Yes."
He sends you a nice smile and beckons for you to climb in. He follows behind you and closes the door, and then it's just the two of you in the dim light, a freaky silence pervading and the blissful absence of wind.
Steve locks all the doors, climbing over you and then the front seats. You rub your freezing fingers, wiggling them as they start to tingle.
"My hands are burning," you say.
"Yeah?" Steve sits back down beside you. He quickly tries to open the door to make sure the lock has worked, and when it does he unzips his coat. "C'mere."
He works your hands into his jacket and pulls you into a hug. You feel yourself melt not from his heat — though he's amazingly warm — but his closeness, his touch, his hands as they spread over your back. Your face fits well into the crook of his neck, and soon the two of you are warm and slouched together. Like a normal couple. Well, maybe not entirely normal.
"Did you ever-" You laugh at yourself and can't finish.
"What?"
"D'you ever... Mess around? In a car, I mean."
"I think I did most of my 'messing around' in cars."
You nuzzle your face into his skin. "Figures. Handsome guy like you."
He turns his head so his words warm your forehead. "I was an idiot," he says. His hand coasts upward. You follow his lead and feel along his back, fingers running down the dip of his spine. "What about you?"
"What about me?" you ask, though you know what he means.
"Have you ever messed around in the back of car? Pretty girl like you?"
His proximity, his gently adoring tone, this tiny bubble of secrets you've made. It slips out too easily.
"Nah, you're my first boyfriend."
"You don't have to have a boyfriend to..." He goes very still.
You hum and pull your head back to look at him. You're feeling confident enough to untuck your hand from his jacket and tuck a loose lock of hair behind his ear. "What?"
His eyes have gone impossibly soft. The starts of his eyebrows pinched up and together slightly, he looks at you like you're the sweetest thing on this whole planet.
"I just never met someone," you say swiftly, embarrassed at his endeared expression. "Never met anyone like you."
"I'm your boyfriend?" he asks.
You blink and then avert your gaze to his chest, a sudden flash of embarrassed heat spreading from the middle of your chest all the way to your ears. "I thought so, but-"
"'Cos I've been calling you my girlfriend in my head, for like, three weeks. I know we haven't talked about it, but," — he catches your hand where it's fallen to his shoulder and massages your aching fingers — "I thought maybe we didn't have to."
You lift your head. He still looks so soft, so at odds with the Steve you'd first met and still, undeniably, inarguably, Steve.
Your boyfriend.
"I know I'm dirty," he begins hopefully.
You lean forward and kiss him before he can finish. A chaste, loving thing. A couple seconds at most, hand drifting up the slope of his neck. It feels heart-racing and risky, to be the one who makes the first move. You're not sure how he'd worked up the nerve to do it before.
"Your hands are still cold," he worries aloud, rubbing at your fingertips as he breaks the kiss. He doesn't go far, lips skipping over your cheek with each word.
"Let me put 'em inside your t-shirt."
Surprisingly, he does. You fall asleep like that, hands clasped greedily at his back. Steve watches you sleep for a little while, and then he turns his eyes to the windshield and monitors the highway. He's gonna keep you safe no matter what.
-
more steve zombie!au
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ohbo-ohno · 5 months
Note
Oh okay yes please talk about stalker Johnny and Ghost and reader with the make your own dick model 🙏🏻
yeeeesss. i should be writing 1k drabbles but you're getting this instead so i can get it out of my head. sorry not sorry!
stalker johnny who corrupts his girlfriend. you're very happy together and he very slowly introduces the idea of ghost... tells you all about how perfect his is, how strong, how big, how protective of his people, all sorts of things. paints this picture of an almost guardian angel type for her, sorta talks about ghost like he's a god
shows you pictures and his drawings too. and just, slowly, you starts to see ghost in the same way. it's definitely intentional on johnny's part - he tells you very specific stories about ghost to make him sound as perfect as possible
there's a bit of time when johnny starts to bring ghost into the bedroom. he'll fuck his pretty girlfriend with a strap and stuff a few fingers into her ass, whisper in her ear that he's stretching her out for simon. they'll make out and between kisses he'll whisper about what it would feel like to share ghost's cock between the two of you - both of you fighting over who gets to suck his shaft and who his balls, kissing around the head of his cock, fingering you while you suck his cock. it really works for you, and slowly but surely you share johnny's obsession
(he brings home a recording of ghost shouting at recruits one day. you've never come harder than when he fucks you with it playing in the background)
and ghost knows about johnny's little crush. how could he not? his sergeant follows him around like a puppy on base, constantly looking for approval, it would be impossible not to notice quite frankly. once johnny gets a girlfriend he thinks maybe the obsession will abate a bit, but... nope. if anything it gets worse
and, listen, ghost is a bit of an asshole. he's not above feeding johnny's obsession a bit. you think he doesn't see johnny filming him screaming at recruits? babe, he'll yell at johnny without pointing out the camera in his pocket. flexes a little bit when he catches johnny sneaking into the shower behind him. manhandles the boy by the back of his neck
he figures it's mostly harmless, though. honestly he's not sure johnny is freaky enough to really do anything about his crush
he meets you when the whole task force goes out for drinks one night. and ohhhh he gets it. he sees what's going on here.
you and johnny are like two little puppies, begging for his attention. he shows up to the table and sees you sitting in johnny's lap, and you're both staring up at him with stars in your eyes. it's a bit jarring, but ghost settles quickly. price and gaz fuck off early on in the night, and ghost is more than happy to spend some time with the two of you
the both of you pant after his attention all night. he tries to make small talk about your life but quickly realizes that you're only interested in hearing about him. sort of awkward, to be honest, but the attention is nice.
johnny scoots as close as he can with you in his lap, and ghost spreads his legs a bit press their thighs together. without saying anything he scoops your ankles up, setting them on the other side of his legs so you're laid out across him. ghost settles back into the cracked leather of the seat, throws an arm over johnny's shoulder, and takes a sip of his bourbon.
and oh you two blush so prettily
ghost honestly isn't sure if either you or johnny will be brave enough to do anything about your little crushes. he's not going to take that first step - he'll take all the steps after that, but he wants one of you to take the first - and he's a little disappointed when neither of you makes a move at the end of the night.
he notices something's wrong when he and johnny catch a ride home.
the heaviness in his limbs is terrifying at first, and he almost sounds the alarm before he sees the little gleam in johnny's eye.
and it clicks. he understands why his drink tasted just a little different when he came back to the table. and he lets himself relax into johnny's side, and starts planning how he'll get his boy back.
johnny helps him into his room, but leaves him be. simon applauds his restraint, and settles in to wait.
sure enough, less than an hour later, johnny sneaks into the room. ghost leaves his eyes shut, fighting the drugs to keep his mind present.
johnny nudges him a bit, then settles between his legs when he seems content that ghost isn't waking up any time soon. it's hard not to smirk.
"is he asleep?"
"yeah, bonnie, he's out."
oh now that's interesting, johnny's pretty little girlfriend is on the phone with him. your tinny voice sounds nervous but excited from the speaks, and johnny's is just excited.
it takes a while for ghost to figure out what the hell johnny is trying to do - he's never had a dick mold made of himself, alright? it's not an easy process to recognize. he wills himself to stay relaxed, and amuses himself with your conversation.
"oh, wow."
"what? is it big?"
a scoff. "big is an understatement. not sure even you'll be able to take this, lass."
an offended noise. "oh im sorry, this coming from the man who's stretched me out on his entire fist before?"
a laugh. "you're not face to face with his cock, bonnie. fuck, my fingers can't even wrap around it."
"...really?"
a moan. "yes, he's... thick, long. fuck, he's pretty."
ghost would laugh if he wasn't so complimented. who knew johnny would love his cock so much? alright, ghost knew. the boy hasn't been shy with his worship outside of the bedroom, it's not exactly a shock that he is inside of it.
"be careful you don't wake him."
"i'm not an amateur, lass. we watched him drink the whole thing, he's out for the night."
ghost almost laughs.
he's not sure how long johnny takes, but eventually he takes his phone and leaves. ghost's still drugged enough that he can't really look around and see what's happened, but he's pretty confident he knows at that point.
it's gratifying, to know that johnny is so obsessed that he wants to fuck his girlfriend with simon's cock.
now he's just got to figure out a way to watch him do it.
204 notes · View notes
snowflakewhispers · 22 days
Text
Acts of Service
Pairing: Mafia boss Hyunjae x mob wife reader
Synopsis: Behind every powerful man is a much more powerful woman, and tonight, Hyunjae wants to make sure that you’re treated as such. 
Warnings:  profanities, Hyunjae is referred to as Jaehyun, mentions of violence, mention of guns, mentions of a knife, mentions of death, mentions of alcohol, blood (don’t worry, it’s someone else’s), oral sex (f! receiving), one spank, fingering, breeding, mentions of pregnancy, multiple orgasms, wall sex, marking, hair-pulling (m! receiving), they end up doing it on the floor too because they’re sick and fucking twisted. 
Word Count: 4.4k
Network(s): @deoboyznet
A/N: This is not an accurate depiction of the individual(s) mentioned and is entirely fictional. Also, if I failed to mention any other content warnings, please let me know!!
“Welcome home, sir.”
Jaehyun nods curtly at the butler as the doors shut behind him, taking quick strides through the mansion and paying no mind to the way the rest of the staff disperse with their heads lowered. He shrugs his coat off, handing it to a maid in the foyer before making his way up the stairs, and he wonders if he’ll be sleeping alone again tonight. 
While he meticulously oversaw the day-to-day operations of his men, it was just about impossible to keep tabs on you- his own wife. Because, unlike other mob wives who anxiously paced about in their homes and waited on their husbands’ return, you craved risk and you’d do anything to have your fun and get the things you want. 
Sometimes, you’d just disappear, setting off on some mission without so much as leaving a note about where you’re headed, what you plan to do, or how long you’ll be gone. Such events would normally have other domineering mafia heads enraged at their wives’ refusal to be controlled.
But before Jaehyun could panic and send his men out to find you, he’d suddenly receive news that the man he’d been after for weeks had been dragged out of hiding, and that he was paid what he was owed. Then, you’d be back in his arms without a scratch, with a look of love and adoration replacing the bloodlust in your eyes while the both of you took your time to express how much you missed each other in a way that made you feel filthier than the business you tended to. 
Jaehyun has never been too bothered by your little adventures- no matter how long you were gone for, you’d always come back to him- but that didn’t mean that he didn’t long to have you by his side. 
He reaches the top of the stairs, thinking of heading towards your shared bedroom but he halts just as he passes the doors to his study, his gut telling him that the room wasn’t empty. His staff knew better than to go about snooping in his sacred space, too fearful to even find out what the consequences might be if they dared. Jaehyun turns on his heel, briefly pressing his ear against the door before drawing his pistol from its holster. 
The man cocks his gun, resting a finger on the trigger, and not sparing a moment, he bursts through the doors. He raises the pistol, ready to fire at his intruder, but the bullet doesn’t leave the barrel and his grip loosens as soon as he takes in the sight before him. 
Across the room, you’re slouched in his chair, legs stretched out with your heel-clad feet rested on his desk while you swirl a glass of scotch in your hand. He notices that you’re bedazzled in some of your finer jewellery and draped in the burgundy satin gown he had tailored for you about a month ago, the high slit revealing the weapon strapped to your upper thigh, and Jaehyun thinks that you look far too divine to be doing the things you do.
“Drop the gun, babe,” you purr, “it’s only me.”
His heart skips a beat as he lowers his weapon, likening you to a queen awaiting the arrival of her king, and he locks the door behind him. Alone, at last.  
You rise from your seat, rounding the desk and sauntering towards him, the scotch still swirling within the glass in your hand. 
“Welcome home.” 
“Took the words right out of my mouth,” he sighs with a look of adoration etched on his face.  
He strides towards you, cupping the side of your face and smirking as he thumbs over the dried blood on your cheekbone. Truly loving men would usually fret over seeing bloodstains on the faces of their wives, but Jaehyun isn’t worried. He knows that the blood on your face isn’t yours. 
“Well, if it isn’t my pretty wife in the flesh,” he mutters, snaking an arm around your waist and tugging you towards him, “what kind of trouble did you stir up while you were away, my lady?”
You raise your glass to his lips and watch as he takes a swig of the amber liquid while you set his pistol on the mantle beside you, proceeding to fiddle with his unbuttoned collar. Setting the glass aside as well, you hook your finger into his collar to pull him in a little, planting a kiss to the underside of his jaw. “Crashed a gala and had a little chat with what’s his name- Yoojung? Anyway, he’ll have your shipment in by the end of the week. I was a little more forgiving with this one.” 
He takes your hand into his, wiping the blood off the emerald on your finger before lifting your hand to his lips and planting a kiss on your knuckles in appreciation. “You didn’t have to do that- I would’ve dealt with him myself.” 
“Oh please,” you scoff with a roll of your eyes, “you know for a fact that I’m far better at your job than you are.” 
You giggle when he nips at the shell of your ear in warning, and you gasp when he lands a playful smack on the swell of your ass before grasping the flesh through the satin. “Little minx.”
You press your chest up against his, delighting in the way he tries to suppress a groan. “I know you’ll admit it one day,” you quip, slinking your arms around Jaehyun’s neck. “Besides, whether you ask or not, I’d do anything for you, my love.”
He presses you against the mahogany desk, searing his lips into the juncture of your neck and shoulder before he kneels at your feet. “Anything?” he asks.
You reply with a hum as Jaehyun slides his hand up your calf, resting his hand on the back of your knee while the fingers of his other hand toy with the straps of your heels, undoing the clasps and guiding you to step out of them. “If I asked you to kill one of my men with your bare hands, would you do it?”
It’s a request that might be far too grotesque for others to comprehend, but you peer down at your husband and reply, your voice confident and unwavering. “You know that I would.”
He trails his fingertips over the exposed skin of your thigh, unstrapping your holster and removing your revolver. “If I asked you to confront our most dangerous enemies unarmed, would you do it?” He slides his hand to your inner thigh and squeezes gently, and you gasp softly, giggling before you respond. “Without question.”
He stands, grabbing the back of your thighs, hoisting you onto his desk and moves to stand between your parted legs, crashing his lips against yours, making sure to take your bottom lip between his teeth just the way you like. “And,” he adds in a hushed, more serious tone, resting his hand on your belly and looking into your eyes with brewing desperation and desire, “if I asked you to carry the future of this family, would you?
Anxiety begins to creep in as he waits for your reply. He knows how much you would hate having to conform to societal expectations. As powerful as he was, Jaehyun would never force you to retire your devious ways, but deep down, he hopes that you share the same desire.   
You sigh dreamily, tilting your husband’s chin towards you with a manicured finger and leaning forward to whisper into his ear, “Oh, honey… You know that I absolutely will.” 
A low growl rumbles in Jaehyun’s chest as he grabs your chin and twists your head towards him, locking his lips with yours in a ferocious kiss. He slips the straps of your dress over your shoulders and the cowl neck sinks to reveal more of your chest, inviting Jaehyun to mark the skin with blemishes which rivalled the crimson liquid splattered on your skin, and his grip on you tightens when he realises that you had decided to go braless while toying with your latest victim.  
“My pretty wife just loves playing dirty, huh?” he rasps, littering your chest with his mark and holding you tighter against him. 
“You love it, though,” you gasp, and Jaehyun can hardly object.  
He kneels again, spreading your legs further apart and pushing the skirt of your dress out of the way. He leans back on his heels, inhaling sharply and his mouth waters at the sight of the drenched lace between your thighs. Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out a switchblade, and you watch with bated breath as he glides the knife along your skin and twists it under the waistband of your underwear, cutting through the thin material. Once he tears the flimsy fabric off and tosses his blade aside, Jaehyun lets out a groan at the sight of your exposed folds, spreading your lower lips with his thumbs and cursing under his breath. 
He shoots you a final look, his eyes darkened with hunger and lust. “Just as you’d do anything for me,” he breathes, inching closer to your dripping core and keeping his eyes on yours, “I’d do everything for you.”
With that, Jaehyun dives into your heat, dragging his tongue over the entirety of your core and your back arches instantly, the mind-numbing pleasure already in effect. 
No matter how gentle or rough he sets out to be, Jaehyun always finds a way to make it messy- he’s alternating between kitten licks on your clit and fucking you open with his tongue as if he’d been starved for days- and you wouldn’t have it any other way. Soon enough, his study is filled with sounds of panting, soft moans, and the obscene sounds of him getting drunk on your taste. 
“So sweet,” he moans, and you can only mewl in response. 
His fingers knead at the flesh of your thighs, leaving handprints in his wake and he pushes himself harder against you, lapping at your cunt with more fervour and nudging your swollen clit with the tip of his nose, humming into your cunt when he feels you going insane above him.  
You rest your weight back on your elbows, your hooded eyes focused on the sight of your husband losing himself between your thighs and you reach an arm out to tangle your fingers in the strands of his hair. He groans into your cunt when you lightly tug at his roots, opting to suck your clit between his lips and bring two of his fingers to your entrance. He teases your folds with his fingertips, coating them in your fluids before sliding them into you, moaning into you without restraint when your walls welcome his fingers with a squeeze. The vibrations against your clit have your eyes rolling to the back of your head and your thighs quivering around your husband’s head. 
“Don’t stop, honey…” you keen, and letting you down is the last thing that Jaehyun would ever want to do. 
The way he’s sucking your bundle of nerves and  working his fingers into you has you speeding towards your high- he’s pushing them in til they’re knuckle-deep, dragging wonderfully along your walls, and your breathing gets more rapid when he adds a third and starts to curl them upwards, and it’s more than enough to have his name leaving your lips in a shrill cry as you spill onto his tongue and fingers. 
Nearly breathless, you try to recover from the pleasure but it keeps coming, and with the way Jaehyun grips your hip with his spare hand to anchor you to his torment, you know that it’s not ending anytime soon. Not that it’s a problem, though, because you’re always ready for anything that your husband has in store for you. 
“Again, my pretty wife.”
Quiet moans of satisfaction turn into desperate and uncontrollable cries, and you’re struggling to keep yourself spread open as Jaehyun devours you. Keeping a hand tangled in Jaehyun’s hair, you reach an arm over your head, clinging to the edge of the desk for dear life as the knot in your stomach tightens further, your vision blurred by the tears collecting on your lashes  
He takes your left hand from his hair, intertwining his fingers with yours and thumbing over your ring, and your heart swells at the act of intimacy amidst his attempts to make you weak for him. 
Jaehyun’s aching, his cock is straining against the confines of his slacks, but he can’t bring himself to stop, not when you’re like this- so sweet, so alluring, and so diabolically sexy. Enveloping your clit in his lips again, he continues to suckle at the swollen bud, the pace of his fingers pumping in and out of you intensifies, and he relishes in the constant stream of high-pitched whines tumbling from your parted lips. 
With a final thrust of his fingers against the spot that had your toes curling, a shout rips from your throat, your thighs spasm and tears begin to fall freely from the corners of your eyes. Jaehyun doesn’t pull away yet- he helps you ride out your high and it’s so difficult to pull away from you when he’s addicted to your taste and it feels like your tight little cunt won’t let his fingers leave. 
He laves at the traces of your second orgasm, planting a final kiss to the fleshy pearl between your folds before he gets on his feet, rushing to get air back into his lungs while his tongue pokes out to lick at the essence on the corners of his mouth. 
You sit up, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt once more and you pull him in to have his lips collide with yours, not caring that you can taste yourself on his tongue. 
“You’re shaking,” he remarks. He shudders when you peck the corner of his mouth and whisper, “ ‘cause you’re the only one I’ll ever be weak for.”
Jaehyun doesn’t want to pull away, but he has to. Taking a step back, Jaehyun tears his shirt off, maintaining eye contact with you as he bites his lip and undoes the buckle of his belt. The warm lighting makes his body even more tempting, and you can’t help but lean forward and reach out to slide your left hand over his defined abs. He shivers at the sensation of the cool metal of your wedding ring against his skin and lets out a breathless moan. “Don’t tease me, my darling.”
He pulls his cock from the constraints of his briefs and slacks, letting it slap against his stomach and your mouth waters at the sight of it.    
His eyes feast upon your form, feeling his arousal grow tenfold at how debauched you look in your ruined satin, the diamonds he gifted you, and the blemishes on your throat and chest.  
Laying a hand on the small of your back and cradling the back of your head with the other, he lays you fully onto his desk, sweeping some objects out of the way and he pays no mind to the way they clatter and make a mess on the floor. He’s fully leaning over you now, swallowing your whimpers as he teases your dripping folds with the throbbing  head of his cock. 
His hand leaves your waist and he grabs the back of your knee, pushing your leg up and letting it rest on his shoulder. Lining himself with your folds, his eyes burn into yours, taking in the way they widen briefly before scrunching completely shut in pleasure when he sheathes the reddened tip within you, pushing in until there’s no room for him to move. 
With shaky breaths, he pulls back until it’s only the tip that’s buried within you. “Ready, my darling?” he rasps. 
You reach your hands out, sliding them over his pectorals before resting them on his broad shoulders, nails digging into his skin slightly. “Always.”
With that, his hips surge forward, sheathing the remainder of his impressive length within you, the sound of skin slapping drowned out by the guttural moans that tear from the both of you. 
“Fuck… S-Shit…” 
At first, Jaehyun thinks about taking it slow- taking his time with you as he fills you up with his seed and tethering you to him forever- but the moment he locks eyes with your desperate, lust-filled ones, he abandons all composure. He starts off strong, hungry eyes trained on the way your blemished breasts bounce with each frenzied thrust, panting as he willingly lets his cock suffocate within the tight walls of your cunt. 
“Missed you so much… this cunt… this body… this beautiful face… that sinful mind of yours- oh god…” 
Your husband buries his face into the crook of your neck, mouthing at the skin and nipping at your collarbones. 
“Need you with me… always…” 
He drives his cock into you with heightened ferocity, dead set on filling you up as if he’d never get another chance. He relishes in the way you claw into the skin of his shoulders and rake them down his back, and he can’t help but let out a loud groan. “Not holding back tonight, I see,” you tease, barely managing to utter your words between your moans, “trying to let the entire world know that they’re about to have more problems to deal with?” 
“Love- fuck… love how wicked you are for me…” he grunts, “need to fill you with our kids…” He gets more desperate by the second, gripping the satin of your dress and tearing it at the seams, and Jaehyun watches as the fabric slides off your skin and reveals your naked, debauched form. 
“I long for nothing else, Jaehyun,” you whine, hooking your other leg around his waist and pulling him closer. 
“Oh, is that right, little minx?” he coos, his thumb wiping at the sweat gathering on your temple and swiping it over the dried blood on your cheek, “wanna be a mommy?” A particularly sharp thrust makes you gasp and tighten your grip on his shoulders, then you let out a dazed hum in response. “Mhm…”
“But how would you go running around and having your fun, babe? Paying our enemies surprise visits, leaving them battered and bruised… they won’t let that slide so easily- can’t have anyone going after what’s ours, no? Won’t you miss it?”
A laugh rips from your throat, and you crane your neck to tug at the shell of his ear with your teeth and whisper, “we’ll just have to leave it to the boys to get their act together while we teach the little ones to be just as wicked as their mommy- we need more diabolical minds like mine in the world, don’t you think?”
You hear him snarl as his thrusts come to an abrupt halt. He grabs your ankles, yanking you to him, and you instinctively wrap your legs around his waist. Jaehyun reaches down to grip your ass with both hands and lift you off his desk, proceeding to carry you away and pin you against the wall, allowing no time to waste as he resumes his lethal thrusts. When you lock your ankles behind his back and clench around him sporadically, your husband curses loudly, resisting the urge to let his hips falter while his head falls forward to litter more of his searing kisses all over your chest.The new position is so incredibly vulgar, and with the way he’s trying to split you into two, you could collapse in his arms right there and then.  
“Fuck… gonna give you everything…”
You don’t mind the burning stretch in your thighs or the uncomfortable friction between your bare back and the panelling of the wall, too focused on the way your husband fills you completely with each buck of his hips. He fills you up so well and there’s absolutely no way the crown of his shaft isn’t kissing your cervix. 
Groans and cries resound throughout the room with every slam of his hips against yours, and his gaze on you intensifies along with his urgent need to care for you and give you everything he’s got and secure the future that he wants for the both of you. 
“Take me… take all of me… fuck!” 
Your third orgasm of the evening rocks through you, and the sporadic clenching of your walls on his cock sends Jaehyun reeling from his own high. Jaehyun’s hips stutter forward, pressing flush against yours while you mewl and cling to him as the both of you fall over the edge together. Your head falls forward against his shoulder while he keeps you pinned to the wall and spills his cum into you. 
You’re clenching around him so tightly that he feels it’s almost impossible to move, and it’s taking everything in him to not sink to his knees right there and then, but he knows that he’s far from finished. Despite what he’s subjecting you to tonight, Jaehyun has no intention of stopping until he’s sure that he’s put his heir inside of you. 
“Can’t let you go just yet, little minx.”
Still pulsing within you, he begins to build his momentum again, thrusting shallowly before burying himself to the hilt at a pace that consumes your mind far too quickly. You feel a little lightheaded, but you’ll never get enough of your husband’s cock. But luckily for you, Jaehyun is just as insatiable. Besides, if you were going to do anything for the head of the mafia, you had to be thorough. 
He fucks you with renewed determination, grunts and growls escaping through gritted teeth as he pushes himself to fuck you full. Your husband holds you tighter, moving away from the wall and keeping you in his arms with surprising strength as he drills into you. 
Your moans are on the verge of bleeding into screams as it gets even tougher to cope with the overwhelming pleasure, but you continue to cling to him and uncontrollably grind against him. 
“Mm- shit… ‘m not gonna last like this,” he grunts, ceasing the movement of his hips and holding you tight. 
He wraps his arms around you securely, kneeling to the floor and laying you down onto the persian rug with his throbbing length still buried inside of you, then he throws your legs over his shoulders and leans down to capture your swollen lips in yet another passionate kiss. When Jaehyun pulls away, he rests his forehead against yours. Despite how dazed and fucked out you are, you blink your tears away, and you don’t fail to focus your eyes on his.  
When he catches his breath, he plants his hands into the carpet on either side of your head, drawing his hips back and pushing forward to resume driving you past the point of insanity and reaching impossibly deep within you. He’s locked, loaded, and ready to shoot his seed into you once again. 
The idea of carrying something so fragile should scare you, nonetheless, it excites you. Your heart beats much harder knowing how much Jaehyun trusts you, along with his ever-growing desire to have you tied to him till the end of your days. You think to yourself that of all the missions you have set out on for your husband, this might be the most important one yet, and you swear that you’ll accomplish it, no matter how many tries it takes. 
Reaching for him, you trap him within your embrace, raising a hand to tilt his chin up to face you and stare straight into his eyes, knowing he’ll tell you everything you need to hear.   
“Wanna put your heirs inside of me?” you gasp. 
“Desperately.” He hisses. 
With a hum, your hands snake from his shoulders and your fingers thread themselves in his hair again. “You’ll protect them?” 
“With everything I am,” he strains, emphasising his words with sharp drops of his hips against yours, and the sound of your skin slapping is almost dizzying. 
“Would you kill for them?” you add, pulling at the roots of his hair and delighting in the way he groans. 
“If it’s the last thing I do,” he rasps, and you lean in to ghost your lips over the skin of his neck. 
“Would you sacrifice everything for them if you had to?”
“For them… for you… I will… You know I fucking will- oh!” 
Skilled hips slam into yours one last time, hard, deep, and the both of you hang on to each other so tightly as the final onslaught of pleasure crashes into you like a tidal wave. Your entire body spasms, every single nerve set ablaze, and flashes of white dance beneath your eyelids. The intensity of his climax makes Jaehyun’s seed come in currents, and he stays pressed inside of you, unwilling to let any of his seed spill out and go to waste. 
Still sheathed within your ruined walls, Jaehyun recovers from his high, burying his face into the crook of your neck and leaving gentle pecks as he guides you from your climax. He relaxes against you, laying his head on your chest and listening to your heartbeat as it slows and sighing at the fact that he’s the only person that your heart will beat for, with the exception of others who have yet to arrive. 
“Take me to bed, love,” you murmur, your lashes fluttering as you give into exhaustion. 
“Anything for you, my queen,” he whispers. He lifts himself off of you, gathering you in his arms, rising to his feet and heading out of his study and into the deserted hallway. 
As he carries you to your shared bedroom, Jaehyun peers at you with sheer admiration and affection. Tonight, you’ve shown him just how far you’re willing to go for him, and soon enough, proof of your devotion to each other will grow right before his eyes. 
He won’t lie, he’s fearful of what the future might bring, but it’s not a problem when you’re here with him to figure it out together. 
And for as long as you place your trust in him so fearlessly, he’s more than ready to go above and beyond to give you the world and more.
Taglist: @daisyvisions @momhwa-agenda @winterchimez @honeyrecommends click here if you would like to join my taglist <3
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yanderenightmare · 1 year
Note
Since I just realized you also write for JJK, may I please ask how is Megumi in bed?👉🏼👈🏼 Thank you beforehand!
Fushiguro Megumi
TW: yandere, NSFW, noncon/dubcon, mental instability, mentions of injury, abuse, possessiveness, he's a bad one
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POSSESSIVE DOM
He looks at you with the most deceptively pretty expression.
Long black lashes rest heavily, casting jagged shadows over the dark look in his deep blue eyes. That look of… you’re not entirely sure what, but you’d say you’ve seen it before on people who’ve found something they’ve been long in search of. A certain mix of relief and a building resolution to keep it close so as never to lose it. 
Coveting.
He would make you shy if he didn’t make you so scared. If behind that look of softness and adoration, there wasn’t something so very sick.
But Megumi makes you feel like a plant more than a person. 
He makes you feel so fragile. Not in how he can break you upon contact if he wanted to, but in how he handles you as though you’re but a dainty little flower, nothing but sheet-thin petals upon a brittle stem in the pot he’s placed you for your own good and protection. 
But you know better than to think he won’t hurt you if he feels the need to. The scars from when the hellhounds sank sharp unforgiving canines into your legs after hunting you down the first time you managed to run away from him never seem to heal - as well as the other million claw marks and nicks you have decorating your skin from the several additional failed attempts at keeping yourself from him.
It’s best you not give him the need to and stay put while he disillusions himself into believing that you’re truly his.
He barely speaks to you, barely regards you as something to talk to, eyeing you almost medicinally while stroking his hands up and down your smooth skin. Undressing you slowly - like it would be a shame to rush - like he’s worried he’d miss something if he went any faster. 
His soft fingertips glide ever-so-gently over your collarbones, feathering as though in mockery of what brutality he’s committed before, drawing the thin spaghetti straps of your dress down your arms until it slips off your hips into a little pool circling your feet.
He’s so silent you fear making a sound, scared it would annoy him while he concentrates on mapping every last bit of you under keen eyes, dragging his long digits upon your curves and over flecks of random beauty marks and scars he’s made that make up your fine body.
And it feels exactly like how one would handle a plant, holding it gently and eyeing it for disease or distress.
He’ll push his lips to your temple and give you a kiss, nose in your hairline while he breathes in and sighs heavily, his hands rubbing your shoulders while you struggle to keep your shaking to yourself and the tremble on your lip between your teeth.
He’ll stay close while undressing, eyes on yours while revealing his lean toned perfectly cut limbs, as though chiseled by a flawless hand and painted a fair unblemished alabaster like a statue carved in the image of a deity.
You feel spoiled next him, not ugly but... ruined.
You expect him to say something - he always looks like he might - but instead, he’ll just stare while laying you out flat with your back to the mattress. Kissing you tenderly and touching you just so. 
He might give himself away and squeeze your thigh a bit rough once sheathing himself, but it’ll quickly fall away to a gentle caress again while promptly coming to kiss the place as though to say sorry. Again, as though in mockery of all those times he’d done so much worse without even batting an eye.
He’ll be nothing but silent and slow, lipping at your skin without teeth. Touching you in the same fashion a shadow touches the ground - without a lasting print - just cold.
That’s how he is, most times. 
But there are days he’s different… 
Days you question if he’s at all the same person. As though someone or something else had been patiently lurking within the shadows inside of him, something that, on some days, grows tired of the dark and wants out to play.
On those days, you really do feel like nothing but a flower beneath a boot. Plucked - no, ripped from the ground - roots snapping beneath you while your stem’s strangled tight in a chokehold, soft juicy flesh so easily marred and marked when his teeth come out of hiding, making their presence known as he bites out distorted laughs that make you go so dizzy -reeling in shock- trying to wrap your mind about how in hell it can be the same man.
When he’s like that, he doesn’t treat you like you’re something to be neatly watered and nurtured but as though you’re something finally ready to be eaten.
He’s usually so calculated with everything, but it becomes as though his usual need for perfection loses all meaning, resulting in split-second impulses based purely on eager desires of wanton lust. And you can see it in his eyes -the pang of manic hunger- as though you’re something to be devoured.
It gives you such shivers, but it’s not really that he’s so rough that gets you…
What gets you is how loud he suddenly becomes. His arms snaked about your waist, holding you up with his hand on your throat, clutching it in a bruising deadlock as he rams into you from behind, his teeth on your shoulder and neck and cheek and ear -anything he can bite into and mark- growling all types of possessive words stating his claim on you. 
That if anyone ever dares try and take you from him, he won’t think twice before setting his hell hounds loose and making you watch as they tear the waste limb from limb, splitting flesh and breaking bones until only a lumpy puddle of pulp and blood is left.
And you, in his shadow, where you belong.
614 notes · View notes
dreaming-medium · 4 months
Text
Animals Without Direction
Chapter Twenty Two - Of Course
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“Am I supposed to fit in that?” Your voice held a hint of humor in it as you stared at the elegant gown draped over a mannequin in the center of the room. 
Jisung laughs from behind you and comes around your right to look at you. “It is going to fit. It has the same measurements as your armor.”
You bite your bottom lip and take a few more steps towards the gown. 
Deep purples and blacks make up the colors of the dress. It sits off the shoulders with bell sleeves. Lace embellishments cover every inch of the fabric. The plunge neckline of the corset dips down a bit to reveal some more skin.
The waist is tight and then poofs out slightly in an expensive show of velvet and tulle. Tiny black and purple gemstones litter the fabric to draw the eye and reflect light. 
But the part of the dress that grabs your attention is the slit that runs up the leg to the upper thigh. It’s classy enough that when you stand still, one would not be able to see the split in the fabric, but once you moved around, it would be apparent. 
“Seungmin will wear a matching suit made from the same fabrics.” Chan speaks up from your left. “Do you not like it?”
“It is gorgeous…” you trail off and step closer to the dress. Both men watch you closely. 
You circle the mannequin, the back of the dress is just as elegant as the front. Your fingers come up and gently run over the fabric. The velvet is soft under your touch.
“I have never worn anything as beautiful as this before,” you whisper softly, not taking your eyes off the dress.
A black masquerade mask sits on top of the mannequin. What look like black vines make up the structure. It has purple embellishments all over it. 
Everything ties together perfectly. 
When you finally look up, you see both Chan and Jisung staring at you with soft smiles on their faces. The Jarl has his hands clasped behind his back as he watches you with sparkling eyes. 
They’re both in comfy tunics and pants, hair fluffy and curly. 
After breakfast, the two of them had asked you to follow them to another room before going back to pickpocket training with Seungmin and Minho.
As soon as you walked into the room, your breath was taken away by the gown before you.
“The seamstress still has some final adjustments to make before you take it with you tomorrow,” Chan informs you. 
“I do not believe I have ever been this jealous of Seungmin,” Jising teases and looks over at Chan.
The Jarl laughs along with him and walks closer to get a better look at the dress himself.
“I do agree, Jisung.” His tone is more wistful than the diplomat’s was. His expression conveys more sadness than jealousy.
Jisung steps right up to the mannequin and gives it a once over. “The split in the skirt sure is something. All of the other ladies are going to be envious of you.”
Chan laughs and cocks his head to the side. “Minho suggested it, actually. He mentioned something about being able to strap a dagger there.”
You raise an eyebrow and stare over at him with a baffled look on your face.
“Really?” you ask with a laugh under your breath.
“Aye, he quite insisted, actually.” Chan reaches forward and pulls the skirt a bit to the side. The slit is on the side of your good leg. “Protection is usually his top priority.”
“I do not believe anyone is complaining,” Jisung teases and bends his head to stare at the slit himself. “You are supposed to get the ambassador’s attention after all.”
The two of them look at the dress without any shame. Their eyes rake over the mannequin like lions looking at a steak.
Your face grows hotter by the second with a blush. “I did not think that I would get a man’s attention just by showing a small amount of skin.”
Comically, at the same time, both of their eyes flick up to your face and stare at you like you said the dumbest thing ever. 
“That is, in fact, the quickest way to get a man’s attention, Y/N.” Jisung states simply.
You huff and cross your arms over your chest, looking to the side. Suddenly, the wall was the most interesting thing in the room. 
“How old is this ambassador anyway? Am I showing off my legs to an eighty year old man?”
“I have only met with Inuin’s ambassador once,” Jisung tells you, his eyes doing one more once over on the dress before walking back to a desk in the room. “He is younger, but still older than any of us. Perhaps around thirty to forty years of age.”
“Married?” asks Chan.
“Nay, never. He has had several women in his life, though. Prefers younger ones on his arm at all times.”
“Easy target, then.”
“The easiest, I can see why Seungmin was pushing for this. We really will never get a better chance for a distraction; especially with how most of the guards will be down in the ballroom instead of by his office.”
Chan nods and moves his hands behind his back once more.
“Plus, if any are near the office, I am sure that Seungmin will have no issues taking care of them.”
“He never does.”
Everyone in the room falls silent. The gown is stationary in the center of the three of you.
In just a few short days, you were to squeeze inside that corset and seduce a man older than you just to steal something from his pocket.
“Jisung,” a voice says from the doorway. All three of you turn and look over at the guard standing there.
“Yes?” he responds and turns to face him.
“A letter from Daefall has arrived.”
“I will be there in a moment.” Jisung says.
The guard nods and leaves after bowing at the hip to Chan.
“I will see you all at lunch, then.” Jisung smiles and follows after Chan, closing the door behind him. 
Chan and yourself stay silent for a few more moments, his eyes watch you fiddle with the dress a bit more. 
You trace small patterns in the velvet top, the fabric getting darker when you swipe it one way, lighter when you go the other way.
Thank The Six this is happening during the colder months, the fabric is so heavy. 
“How goes the dance and pickpocket lessons?” Chan asks, breaking the silence between the two of you.
You don’t look up at him, you keep your eyes on the dress. “In the beginning, it was easy; the dance was simple, Minho taught it well. Seungmin then began to teach tricks about pickpocketing by introducing small lessons, that is when it began to become a bit more difficult.”
“I heard last night did not go well.”
You scoff and roll your eyes. “How am I supposed to pickpocket someone when they are expecting it?” A pause. “Plus, the two of them can be rather ruthless.”
Gentle laughter comes from Chan. He’s still standing on the other side of the mannequin, but he’s not looking at the dress at all.
“I do know what you mean, having just one of them as a teacher would be a lot, but both of them…” he trails off.
“Growing up, I also never was great at admitting when I was not good at something. It is tirelessly frustrating to be bad at pickpocketing. And to have the added stress of all of this?”
You motion to the dress, Chan’s gaze finally drops from your solemn face to look down at the gown again. 
“There is so much riding on this ability.” You shake your head and let your hand drop from the fabric. “I do not know what will happen if I cannot do this.”
A long few moments pass between the two of you. Thoughts run through your mind like wild animals. What happens if you can’t learn to pickpocket? You leave tomorrow morning with Seungmin, you need to be able to pull this off. The future of the war depends on this.
“You sound like Changbin.”
You look up and meet the Jarl’s eyes. His sad smile pulls on your heartstrings. 
“I know you heard his ramblings for yourself, I cannot imagine how much worse they became before the first attack on Fort Mire.”
At the thought of the commander, your heart aches for a moment. You miss him so much; the same goes for Jeongin, and even Hyunjin. For as much trouble as the mage gave you, the two of you developed a special bond. 
The nights spent in front of the fire were special to you. You both never talked, just sat in each other’s presence. Sometimes you just need to know there’s another person there with you to feel less lonely. 
With Changbin, he brought you this sense of comfort and safety that you’ve never found in another person. Maybe it was the fact that he was a tower of bulging muscle, but really you knew it was beyond that.
It was who he was.
“Yes, but I knew he had the ability to lead us the way we needed, he did not need to learn a new skill in just a few days.” You swallow a lump in your throat.
“He had never led an army to war before.” Chan replies.
Your mouth opens and then quickly shuts. Any retort you had fell out of your mouth and through the floor.
“It is different,” you mutter. Your tone has lost its strength– you know Chan is right.
He just laughs. “I do not believe it is. But regardless, I have faith in you, the entire court does.”
Again, you scoff and smirk. “That does not help, what if I let you all down?”
He doesn’t answer you for a long moment, so you look up and make direct eye contact with the Jarl. 
A genuine smile is on his face, his brown eyes shine with the fire light from the sconces on the wall. His dimple is on full display with his grin.
It makes your heart flutter.
He looks so soft right now. How is he the Jarl? If you saw him in a tavern, you would easily mistake him for a farmer or an adventurer if he had a sword on his hip.
“You could never let us down, Y/N.”
His voice is even softer than his appearance. His words wrap around your soul and squeeze, they make your cheeks feel hot and your throat constrict with so many different emotions. 
Just a few months ago, you would’ve never gotten near Miroh, but here you were, talking with the Jarl as if he was a close friend, confiding your fears to him.
Again, you gulp down the knot in your throat. “So, if I was to come back to Miroh without having successfully pickpocketed the key off of Inuin’s ambassador–”
“We would be happy that you came back to us in one piece.” He finishes your sentence and then continues. “Y/N, your health and safety– both you and Seungmin’s– is my number one priority. I care not if the mission is a success or not as long as you both return to this keep unharmed.”
His eyes look back and forth at your own, never once breaking eye contact.
“My court is my family, you included. My only desire in life is for my family to be safe.”
Unable to hold his searing gaze, you look down at the floor.
Family. You were a part of his family .
“Family,” you repeat in a tiny whisper, but you know he heard it.
“Aye, you are my family, Y/N.”
Family.
You had a family? How long has it been since you had a family…? How many years since you were tied to another person?
After your parents, there was Allerick, but he was more of a mentor than anything. He skidded along the lines of a caretaker sometimes, but never anything more than that.
You bite the inside of your cheek to hold back the tears. 
By The Six, you’ve been crying entirely too much lately. Can you just have one day where your feelings are stable?
Emotions swirl within you, you feel every single one floating around in your chest fighting its way to the surface. It sends your mind into orbit.
Unable to communicate any of them, you nod your head and force yourself to look up at the Jarl.
Words get caught in your throat. All of the muscles in your face twitch with each passing thought that cycles in your mind.
A family. You have a family. And a big one at that. Full of big personalities that rival one another. 
Chan stands in front of you, watching every one of the emotions that cross your face closely. You can see him analyzing every move carefully. 
The Jarl of Miroh, your Jarl, your employer, your boss. Your lord.
But he’s more than that, isn’t he? He’s more than just a title? Yes, he becomes the Jarl when he needs to, but beyond that, he’s just Chan.
Chan whose heart is bigger than his chest.
Chan who is a fellow half elf.
Chan saved you from a past life full of sorrow and grief.
Chan who would give you, or any one of your court members, the sun if you asked him to. 
“Thank you…” you hesitate, the next word gets stuck in your throat.
Why can’t you just say it? 
His eyebrows lift, he knows what you’re trying to say. He can see your lips forming the word, forming his name. 
Chan’s lips part and his breathing seems to stop for a moment. 
Your mouth opens again. 
Someone knocks at the door. 
“My lord.” It’s the same guard as before. Chan’s entire face falls, he has to physically tear his eyes away from your face with a heavy heart.
“What is it?” he asks rather harshly.
“Your presence is being requested in the throne room. A villager requesting aid.”
His shoulders sag forward. “I will be down in a moment.”
The guard nods and leaves.
Chan turns and looks back at you. Your mouth is shut firmly, lips pressed in a thin line. Heat rises to your cheeks and your ears turn red in embarrassment. 
“Will you be at lunch later?”
“I know not, we will see how thief lessons go.”
He nods, his hands clench into fists and then unclench a moment after. “I will see you for dinner then.”
“Aye, my lord.”
His expression falls, you can practically hear his heart shatter. But you just do not possess the strength to call him something other than his title anymore. The confidence that came over you previously went out the door when the guard opened it and never returned.
The Jarl hesitates. “Chan,” he murmurs.
“Of course,” your voice strains out.
Chan stands there for another long moment before nodding once and making to leave. He pauses at the door. 
“The key to pickpocket one of them is to do it when neither of them are paying attention, there are no rules. Who said you need to carry it out during the dance?”
He shuts the door behind him with a resounding click.
You stand there for a minute, weighing his words carefully. 
Oh. Clever.
----------------------------------------------
You steel your nerves as you walk into the ballroom. After talking with Chan, you came up with some semblance of a plan. He certainly started the gears in your mind.
Before the dance even starts, you’re going to take the key from Minho’s pocket. He always winds the music contraption up before you begin. 
That’s when you’ll do it. 
Pushing open the doors, you notice that neither of the men are here yet. 
Perfect. 
Crossing the room, you walk right up to the music box, eyeing it closely. 
Plan aside, you were rather curious as to how it works. Minho would wind the side lever for a bit and after releasing it, the top disk would spin and music would come out. 
Carefully, you lift your hand up and run it over the black disk on top. Grooves ran through the entire thing. 
An arm with a pin at the end sat beside the disk. Minho would place it on top of the disk after it spun and music would come from the large horn at the top. 
Its design is mind boggling to you. 
Your head cocks to the side and you stare at it. 
Was it some sort of magic item?
“It is called a record player,” Minho’s voice comes from right behind you. 
Your hand flies over your chest as you gasp in surprise. How did he sneak up on you so easily?
He has the same fancy outfit on as yesterday complete with a pocket watch and chain. 
The advisor sure knows how to present himself, that’s for sure. He always has an air of confidence around him.
You look back down at the record player. “How does it work?”
Minho chuckles. “I know not exactly how it works, really. To my understanding, it is a lot like a music box.” He comes up and stands directly next to you. “The record on top has dips and grooves that when the pin goes over, sound is produced and amplified through the top here.”
“And it turns after the side is cranked?”
“Aye.”
You hum, weighing his words. After a moment, you step closer to him and reach for the lever, spinning it around. Small clicks sound from inside the box the more you spin it. 
Minho makes no move to step away from you. 
“How fares your leg?” He asks quietly, his voice close to your ear. 
“Alright now,” you answer without looking at him. “Felix came to my room last night to stitch it back up.”
“Back up? It reopened?” His voice shakes for a syllable. You almost didn’t catch it.
“Aye, do not worry too much. I know not to push myself anymore.”
The lever clicks into place, you take that as your sign to release it. From behind you, Minho reaches over you and moves the arm to place the needle on the record. 
Instead of retracting his arm, he grabs the edge of the record player, caging you against it from one side. 
The hairs on the back of your neck stick up and a shiver tears down your spine. 
You stand straight, looking down at the record spinning. The waltz music loudly comes through the horn. 
Since it’s pointed a different way, it’s not as loud as it would be if you were directly in front of it. 
Minho’s chest brushes against your back when he takes a particularly deep breath. Something hard pokes against your shoulder blade. Jackpot.
“Felix told me you came to him.” You don’t turn around to say that to Minho. 
He sighs through his nose, the exhale hits your neck. 
“Aye, I did.”
Slowly, you turn around to face him. 
He looks down to meet your eyes, his face only a few centimeters away from you. His hand tightens on the record player and his jaw clenches. 
“I was worried about your leg,” he murmurs. His dark eyes swirling with something unknown. 
You hesitate for a second, keeping your eyes on his. He tenses up.
“Thank you, Minho.”
He looks shocked for a moment, as if he was expecting you to scold him for reaching out on your behalf. He looked like he was prepared to defend himself even more. 
One of your hands lifts up and you run it lovingly down the lapel of his jacket. Once more, his jaw clenches. 
“I had a talk with Felix,” you tell him lowly. “I have not been relying on you all as much as he wished I did.”
While your gaze goes down to where your hands trace, Minho’s stays strictly on your face. 
“I know now you are just looking out for me. You would do the same for any of the court members, hm?”
He hesitates. “Aye.”
Again, you hum. Your other hand comes up to mirror the other, both palms planting on his chest as you look up into Minho’s eyes. 
He’s watching you so closely. The look in his eye keeps flickering between something sharp and dark, and then to something soft and light. His eyebrows jump and twitch. 
You can see his internal argument with his own emotions and how to feel about your proximity, about your words and touches. Even with the inner turmoil, he keeps his body in front of yours, caging you in his warmth.
Lips set in a firm line, Minho’s other arm comes up to properly pin you against the edge of the record player. 
“I saw the dress,” you tell him suddenly. 
He studies your face more for a telling reaction. 
“I loved it.” A genuine smile crosses your face. He glances down at your lips and then back to your eyes. The corners of his mouth twitch. “I especially loved the slit in the skirt; it is smart.”
His ears immediately turn a deep scarlet color. 
Slowly, while he’s distracted, you slip your hand closer to the inside of his pocket. It’s the closest you’ve ever been to victory. 
“The Jarl said it was for a dagger,” you look away from his eyes for a moment. “But I am not so sure with you, Minho.”
You come back to look at his face. His eyes are still as sharp as ever, analyzing every muscle in your face. One of his eyebrows lifts. 
“What do you mean by that?”
Inch by inch, you move inside his jacket pocket. The key is so close you can taste it.
“I believe you are just trying to get me to show some more skin.” Your body moves impossibly closer to him. 
He smells so good.
Every hair on his head is perfectly kept. This man is the image of perfection. 
Minho’s eyes narrow. “If I wanted you to show more skin, why would I include it in a dress that I will not even see you in.”
You huff, your hand inside his jacket, fingers brush against the brass key and curl around the warm metal. 
“Because,” Your face inches closer and closer to his. “I think you thrive off the chase of it all. And I think that knowing that another man will be touching me and looking at me boils your blood in the most intoxicating of ways.”
Minho swallows thickly. He absentmindedly parts his lips the closer yours come to his. 
His knuckles are turning white his grip on the record player is so tight. It’s taking every ounce of strength he has to contain himself, you can tell. 
“Correct me if I am wrong, Lee Minho, but I believe you have been infatuated with me from the moment we met.”
The key is in your grasp, your movements so painstakingly slow to not alert him. 
Minho stops breathing. All of his muscles tighten and grow taught. 
Where did this sexual confidence come from? You’ve never had to seduce a man to get what you want before. You’re completely flying blind, the words seem to come naturally. 
Your heart is racing out of your chest from his proximity.  
Are you really putting on an act at this point, though?
The music swells in the air. 
Minho lets out a strained, shaky exhale. But he doesn’t respond. 
“Is that why you are so concerned with my affairs with other men? Because you want it to be you?”
The key is out of his pocket and in your hand. Carefully, you turn it and slide it into your shirt sleeve. 
Your other hand slides up his body and cups his tightly clenched jaw softly. His teeth might shatter if he keeps this up. 
“You said it yourself that jealousy can make a man crazy.”
You feel like prey under his piercing brown eyes. They’re swirling with danger. 
Standing up on your top toes, you make for his lips, you hear his breath hitch in his throat. 
“All you need to do is ask, Lee Minho.” 
At the last moment, you turn your head and kiss the corner of his parted lips. 
“But I will not do anything until you tell me how much you want it.”
From deep within his throat, it sounds like Minho growls .
But before he can do anything else, the door opens, revealing Seungmin in his fancy gala clothing.. 
“Are we quite prepared for lessons then?” he asks with a playful smirk.
Minho finally releases you and takes a few steps away. 
“Aye,” you say sweetly, walking away from the record player and towards Seungmin. “Quite ready.”
Seungmin looks at you for a moment and then over at Minho. When his eyes leave you, you slip the key into your pocket. 
It’s hard to contain your excitement at your victory, but you keep it together. 
Both men take their places on the dance floor. Seungmin asks for your hand first with a bow. 
“You will tell us if you are in pain.” He demands mid-bow.
“Aye, I will.” You answer, dropping into a curtsey. 
The dance begins with the rogue. 
You’re just as handsy as you have been with him. He has the key in his lower left pocket. When you’re dipped down, you feel it press into your hip. 
Smirking, you let yourself be spun into Minho who holds you tighter than he ever has. His grip is possessive and controlling. 
He leads you through the dance like a commander would lead an army. 
You can’t deny that his bruising grasp does something to you. A fluttering feeling curly in your lower stomach. 
His dip is sharp, a hot exhale fanning over your neck before you’re brought up and spun to Seungmin. 
You let both of them dance you around for a bit. You don’t want it to be too obvious when you took the key. 
Seungmin leads you through the waltz. 
“When I get the key, what am I to do with it?”
“Ideally, you would slide it into my own pocket the next time I have you as a partner.”
You nod and continue with the dance. It feels nice to be able to dance around with them without feeling immense frustration from failure after failure.
At this point, you’re just getting in some dance practice.
Three more rotations until you successfully slide the key into Seungmin’s right pocket. 
“How is your leg?” Seungmin asks after another rotation. 
“It is alright, but we can stop now. “
Abruptly, he stops the dance and looks down at your leg, expecting something to be wrong. 
“It does not hurt,” you chuckle. 
Seungmin looks back up at you questioningly. 
“Hmm,” you hum. “Check your left pocket, my lord.”
His eyebrows shoot up and he pats both of his pockets down. 
Minho’s hand immediately flies up to the pocket that originally held the key. 
At the same time, they shoot you shocked expressions. Seungmin’s expression brightens considerably with a proud smile. His eyes shine brightly in the dim light of the ballroom.
You smile and curtsy again. “All before lunch too. Must be our lucky day.”
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gojogoblin · 1 year
Text
his deity | 18+
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featuring: ryomen sukuna x reader
wc: 0.7k
cw: female reader, somnophilia (reader is asleep), worship, unprotected sex, creampie, implied murder of side character
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Sukuna visits you in your dreams. Every night, without fail, you dream of piercing eyes, of teeth so sharp they could kill. Striking facial tattoos, wild tongue, sharp jaw. Every night, it's the same dream.
Every night, he takes what is his.
He doesn't come through the door, but the window beside your bed. He's large, broad shouldered, and yet the bed never dips as he crouches over you, runs a finger down the side of your face to introduce your body to his touch for the evening. He knows you get warm when you sleep, knows there won't be much he has to work around. His favorite nights are the ones where you're clad in the short, silky little nightgown with the thin straps and touch of lace at the neckline. A man you'd been seeing months ago had gifted it to you for the holidays, but it wasn't long after that night that he'd simply disappeared. No matter, you don't think of him anymore. These nights are his favorite because he can simply run his hands up your legs and push the material up to your hips slowly. You never stir.
First, he lowers himself down to lie between plush thighs, arms hooked around them almost tenderly. He doesn't really need to do that, since you don't move around enough to warrant it, but he does it anyway. You always shower before bed, so your skin is clean and sweet, untainted by the horrors of the outside world. No, no. Here, he can protect you, swath you in a blanket of his attention, his affection, his devotion to his deity without wings. He worships at your altar, tastes you, indulges in you until your thighs are trembling and you can't help the whimpers that escape parted lips nor the way your chest stutters with breathless desire for a high you couldn't ever hope to reach awake.
It isn't until you're mere inches from this high that he pulls away. Cruel, perhaps, but only in your best interest. You sleep better after he's been inside you. He knows this, he's studied this.
And so it's with nothing but your well being in mind that he reaches down and folds you into his arms, holds you to his chest as he slowly, oh so slowly, sinks into you. The stretch makes him want to weep with gratitude, darkened faith shaken by something he'd never believed he'd find in this realm in any century. He holds you to him as you cry out softly, muffled against the heated skin of his shoulder. His hand strokes through your hair to calm you, drag you back down into a restful sleep. Your body twitches with each inch until his hips are pressed flush to yours and it's hard to breathe. He fixes this with two fingers pressed to the middle of your back. He's too large for you, too dangerous. It is the one thing he regrets in his lifetime, so he heals as soon as the damage is done, before you can even register the pain. He makes it so, because you, dear you, deserve no tears but those of pleasure.
He destroys you and builds you again, kills you and brings you back with each and every thrust of his hips until your legs begin to shake again and sweat beads at your forehead. You mumble incoherently, but he doesn't need to hear you to understand what you need. It's only fair, so the pad of his thumb finds itself swiping along where you need it the most, gentle enough to keep you asleep but maddening enough to draw broken moans from your lips. You unravel just as he does, clenched around him, just as it is meant to be.
He cleans you up carefully, ritualistically, even though he doesn't have to. A snap of his fingers would've done, but to do it himself is to have more time with you, allow your body to memorize even more of his touches. And though he shouldn't, he leaves the slightest bit of soreness in your hips. Though he shouldn't, he leaves a tiny scratch at your wrist.
Perhaps some day you will understand that the king of curses means you no harm, but for now he remains nothing more than a dream that fades in the light of the morning sun of each morning, only to return with the breath of the moon.
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gosmigenergy · 6 months
Text
KINKTOBER 2023 / Day Thirteen
 Santiago ‘Pope’ Garcia x F!Reader )
WRIST/ARM RESTRAINTS / TRIPLE PENETRATION / PET PLAY
Summary: After noting how you like to use your hands, Santiago takes that away from you.
Day thirteen of @absurdthirst's Kinktober
Rating: Mature 18+
Warnings: Language, restraints, semi-restricted movement, Dom!Santiago, teasing, whipping, biting, bruising, marking, no use of Y/N
Word Count: 2.2k
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“This doesn’t seem fair.”
Santiago had laid you down on the bed, kissed you and wound you up tightly. Just as you were about to tip over the edge, he hopped off the mattress with a smirk plastered on his face. Now he was giving you the look that means you’re in trouble, hands on hips, head slightly dropped as he arches one eyebrow.
“Arms above your head.”
“Nooo,” you retort.
“Don’t moan, honey, you know exactly what you’ve done.”
You blink at him.
“I honestly don’t.”
“You found my weak spot.”
You’re thrown back to almost a month ago. You woke up in the middle of the night horny and Santiago was dead to the world. Shaking him didn’t work, calling his name didn’t work either so you decided to start roaming a hand around his body.
You ran your palm down his chest and over his stomach, drawing a line along the v of his hip. His cock reacted but Santiago, nothing.
You rubbed his thighs, his arms and then his neck, thumb light over his jaw. He exhaled loudly yet didn’t wake. Just as you were about to give up, your hand went behind his neck to the bottom of his hairline. Your fingertips grazed the raised skin of his scar and a shiver passed underneath your digits.
“What are you doing?” He asked groggily, not opening his eyes.
“Teasing.”
He scoffed, “Roll over.”
Wrapping an arm around your waist, he pulled you closer, grinding his cock against the crack of ass before slipping in from behind. He fucked you until you were exhausted and fell asleep, his softening cock inside you.
“But that was an accident.”
Your voice was timid, your eyes breaking away from his as they drilled into you.
“Hardly.”
He smiles, striding over to the wardrobe and dragging a box from the top shelf. They always look so ordinary, the boxes where he keeps his toys. Slipping the lid off, he finds what he’s searching for almost immediately.
You hear the buckle before you throw your head up to see.
“Please Santi, don’t. I’ll be good, I promise.”
He tuts, “I don’t believe you.”
You whimper.
He knew your love language was touch. You didn’t necessarily know what you were doing yet sometimes, it was clear as day. Frankie could turn to jelly if you stroked his arm the right way, Will blushes every time you brush his thigh and Benny practically moans when you run your hands down his chest.
Ever since his operation, Santiago hated having his neck touched, he never told anyone especially you. On that night it felt different and rather than flinching, he melted, he just didn’t let you in on that.
He crawls up to your hands, his black brief taut as his swelling bulge strains against the fabric.
The good thing about you is even as you moan and beg and protest, you let him do exactly what he wants to do. The leather was soft on your wrists as he tightened the strap with the teeniest amount of wiggle room. Dropping your hand, he took the other and put on the restraint. He attaches one side of the strap before looping it around the bed frame, hooking your wrists together.
Your reaction is like everyone else’s when they have their wrist tied to something, you jerk and the headboard shakes. He looks at you with low lids and a straight lip, you know he’s judging you, you pout.
He jumps off the bed and explores his bedroom. He knows he’s put it somewhere, it’s been a very long time since he’s used it. Pulling back the baseball bat next to a set of draws, the item he wanted falls out without making a sound. He plucks it from the floor and comes to the side of the bed, looming over you.
“I’m going to teach you a lesson.”
The pole he holds is stick thin with a leather coil on the bottom, you swallow.
“Is that a riding crop?”
He hums, expression nonplus.
“You don’t need to use that,” you words are caught in a nervous giggle.
The leather runs along the line of your jaw until you tilt your chin up for him, breath hitching.
“Oh, honey, I really do.”
Your heart is already pounding, mouth parting as you look at him with doe eyes, your playing innocent.
Removing the end of the crop from your chin, he brings it down to the side and pokes at your hip until you roll over. The restraints pull a little, not in a painful way, they just have more bite and you kind of like that.
“Remember the safety word?”
“Yes, Santi,” you’re quick to reply.
How could you forget?
The safety word was birthed from the pair of you watching a spy film. You giggled to yourself when a stereotypical rooting, tooting cowboy spy brought out a lasso. When he asked what you found so funny, you said how you thought the actor playing him had an uncanny resemblance to Frankie.
He smiled to himself, that connection would probably make a word easier to remember.
Whiskey, you hadn’t said it yet.
“Good girl.”
You closed your eyes and patiently waited for him to start.
There were two factors in this game you were going to find annoying, one, you didn’t know what he was searching for and two, you weren’t looking at him. It’s why Santiago deemed it the right form of punishment.
The moment the crop touched your arm, you flinched.
This is going to be fun, he thought.
You thought the exact opposite as he ran the tip over your shoulders and back up the other arms. Your breathing was already shaky, hands balling into fists as you braced for impact but it never came. He followed the outline of your body, dropping from your arm, the crop travelled down your waist, your leg before teasing your wet pussy.
You shudder, you always do.
Continuing back down your other leg and up the side of your body, he returns his attention back to your left arm. The crop brushes up and down and across, ensuring he makes contact with every piece of skin. You give him nothing so he tries the other arm unsuccessfully.
The sensation of it along your back makes you tingle, the goosebumps prickling to the surface. Whatever he’s doing, it’s doing things that you can’t complain about. Your muscles relax, hands unfurling and a pleasured sigh falls out of your lips. He watches your body drop as you rest into the mattress.
The sting follows after the whipping crack.
“Ow,” your head snaps round like an owl’s. “What was that for?”
He’s smirking, “Just making sure you’re still with me.”
“Dick,” you turn away from him.
Your quiet tone doesn’t stop him from hearing it.
He hits the other ass cheek.
You squeak, body rigid before the riding crop comes back softly and you slump. The stings are replaced with heat, the type that comes when your skin becomes red and swollen, it’s strangely soothing in it’s own way.
Like most people, you squirm when the tip traces the soles of your feet when he moves onto your right leg, nothing happens.
Something is different with the left.
As he swipes over the outside nothing really happens but as he moves towards the inside, he catches it out of the corner of his eye. Three quarters of the way up your thigh, there’s a spasm, a tiny ripple of the muscle as the leather goes over. It’s not enough for you to notice, he notices, his eyebrows quirking. He brushes it again and is given the same reaction.
He carries on as if nothing has happened, he stows that nugget of information for later.
You realise when he’s stopped.
“Turn over.”
You follow his order.
“Did you find what you were looking for?”
“No,” he said. “That’s why I need to do the front.”
Your eyes narrowed, he was too chill for something that wasn’t going his way.
Santiago started as he had previously, outlining your body before drawing up and down your arms, your fingers twitching as he forces your palms open. He swoops over your shoulders and up your neck which you stretch as he inspects.
It was so much hotter facing this way.
You watch him under hooded lids, eyelashes fluttering when his intense stare becomes too much, a curl on his lips an indication of his power. Your chest rises and falls with great exaggeration as the crop moves over your collar bones. He circles your breasts, your nipples growing as the leather licks them. Your teeth sink into your bottom lip as you muffle a cry.
Raising the crop, he brings it down on you little than before. You hum, back arching as the satisfaction rolls through you.
“Harder?”
“Please.”
He snaps the object in his hand and watches you wriggle.
He’s kind enough to give you a few more before giving the other a lashing. Glancing down, you saw your breast flaming a florescent pink and you could imagine the markings on your ass.
Continuing, he trails the crop over your stomach and you hold onto your breath as it slips closer to your pussy. He fans the flames that are underneath the skin, the desire that pools between your thighs, he won’t act upon it, not yet anyway.
He goes for the right leg first, travelling from the tips of your toes to the crease where you meet your pelvis. On the inside, he purposefully flicks towards your folds, smirking as your pussy clenches.
You notice how he slows his movements on your left leg.
His eyes grow hungry, dark as he gets closer to the spot from earlier, he meets your face and your cheeks flush. Your body sinks back, your hands pulling against the restraints as if your desperate to cover yourself.
And there it was, that little spasm.
He pretends not to notice until it happens again.
The leather hovers above the twitch, “There.”
Your brows knot, “What?”
Pushing the tip into the plump of your thigh, you attempt to draw back, legs snapping shut. He grabs your knee and shoves them apart, pining your right one down with his own. You hear the riding crop slip through the air, the light snap as it hits the spot, the sting. The tears pricked in the corner of your eyes.
Then you feel his fingertips.
They’re so gentle in comparison, alleviating the pain.
“Your weak spot.”
He throws the riding crop to the floor.
Climbing onto the mattress, he takes hold of your ankles and pulls you down the bed, spreading your legs wide enough to allow him to fit in between. The restraints sink into your wrists, the pins and needles going through your digits.
“No, please, don’t.”
Your eyes are wide, glossy but you still won’t say the word.
“Honey,” he says in a hushed tone. “You don’t even know what I’m going to do yet.”
You swallow thickly.
He leans to your left knee and presses three kisses up your leg before pressing a fourth on your so called weak spot. His palm stroking the other side relieves your tension, your body softening, sinking into the sheets. He licks your wound and kisses it over and over again until you release your bated breath.
When the timings right, he grazes you with his teeth. You shiver, eyelids falling shut as a sigh leaves your lips.
He soothes the spot one more time before taking a proper bite.
It’s weighted, not sharp enough to pierce the skin but enough to leave a bruise, he makes sure of that. He’s happy to not hear yelling at him to stop instead he feels the rock as your hips curve your back, the extended groan.
“Fuck, Santi.”
He growls, sending vibrations through to your pussy.
You choke, your hands instinctively wanting to reach for his hair. The headboard quakes with the force of your motion. He removes his mouth sloppily and he smiles as you grumble at your loss and the restraints.
“Do you want your reward?”
You stop, looking at him with a wide smile on your face.
He settles between your thighs, glimpsing at you from your mound, his hot breath teasing your pussy.
You whine.
“I never said I’d let you go.”
Santiago drew circles over your blemished skin, admiring his work.
“Is it going to hurt?”
“No,” he shook his head, searching for your eyes in the darkness.
He loved how enthusiastic, how obedient you were but to inflict real damage? A part of him couldn’t do that to you. It’s a reason why he doesn’t degrade you, call you his fuck toy because you were more than that.
“I’m just making sure you know.”
You’re his, you’re theirs.
You hum, “So you’re not going to say it?”
The corner of his lips curled as he stared up at the ceiling, moving his hand away as he lay on his back. You shuffle closer to him and he lifts an arm to let you in, your palm warm against his chest as your fingers dance along his collarbone.
“Love you, Santi.”
He turns his head and presses his lips to the crown of your head. Your fingers coil around his neck yet he doesn’t stop you.
You touch just the right spot and he melts.
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