#smut!

[nanamisdickrider]

So weak when you move like that!

Pairing: sub!gojo x dom!reader

You weren't someone who easily gets jealous. And gojo didn't like that, he liked it whenever you got jealous and was rough with him during sex and what's a better way to achieve that roughness from you other than flirting with girls in front of you? You didn't pay much attention because you were aware that he was intentionally provoking you. Until. A girl sat on his lap and slowly rubbed her ass on his lap. It was enough to make you lose your cool. Gojo could clearly see your anger and jealousy as you walked towards him. He knew he was fucked.

“B-baby! Please.. Ah! Slow down!” Gojo moans and lolls out his tongue. His moans were getting so loud, you wouldn't be surprised if your friends teased you and him after you left the restroom. “Yeah? Want me to slow down?” instead of doing what he just said, you fastened your strokes on his hard cock, his tip flushed pink and covered in his cum. His attempt to stop you was to grab your wrist, but you resisted him by slapping his hand away. “Try touching me one more time Satoru.” He gave you a smile and touched your arm and waist. As if he hadn't already made you jealous a bit earlier. He was in for it.

Your left hand was placed on his mouth, covering his moan. His thighs and stomach were covered in his thick and sticky cum and he was screaming at this point. His eyes rolled back and his saliva coated your palm. He jerked his hips upwards as he neared his fourth orgasm. “B-baby.. I'm sorry!! —mmph! Please stop no–” you shoved your fingers in his mouth before he could finish, he was a very bratty boy today. He could at least suck on your fingers and keep quiet. That's the minimum amount he could do!

You pulled away right when he was about to cum, his hips jerked uncontrollably. “Satoru, get down.” He immediately followed instructions and got down on his knees. Hissing after his tip rubbed against the cold tiles. He knew what actions to take, and he didn't hesitate to pull up your skirt and move your panties to the side. Gojo was leaning in between your legs, but you caught him by pulling on his hair, making him look up at you. His eyes were filled with tears as a result of overstimulation. “Please my love...I wanna taste you so bad! Please!” “Good boy” you spread your legs just enough for him to dig in.

Gojo pathetically smiles before shoving his face into your pussy, the tip of his nose rubbing against your clit and his tongue lapping up your juices. He was moaning against your folds when you rubbed softly on his cock with your shoes, he was falling apart when you massaged his balls with the sharp tip of your heel. He pressed his cheek against your soft thighs, but he couldn't keep up because you overstimulated him to his breaking point. “Cmon now baby. Finish what you started immediately, don't delay. You should have thought about this earlier no?”

[theblueflower05]

Crawling Back to You

(Part Two of First Love/Late Spring)

A/N: So like, I’m really excited that you guys seem to be digging this story. I was hesitant about it just because there’s so much of my own Na’vi/Metkayina lore thrown in there. Thank you for all of the kind response.

Word Count: 8k+

Warnings: From here on out, this story will be extremely explicit. Minors DNI. If Aged Up! Neteyam isn’t your thing, please exit to your left. Let’s all respect each other's boundaries, please.

Angst. Self deprecation. Alcohol consumption. Smut. Mutual masturbation. Fingering(fem receiving). Nipple sucking. Breeding kink. Scent marking. Public sex(if you squinttttt)

Summary: Neteyam returns from his Motnaui and isn’t in much of a celebratory mood when he realizes that he’s scrapped any chance of having a mate for Fertility season…or has he? Neteyam x Reader

Series Masterlist(all parts can be found here)

Previous< First Love/Late Spring

Next>: Bottom of the Deep Blue Sea

Secret's that I’ve held in my heart

Are harder to hide then I thought.

Maybe I just wanna be yours- Artic Monkeys

The brilliant Pandoran sun beats down on the crystal blue waters, fragmenting into bursts of light under the surface of the waves.

The Motnaui is intense, Neteyam’s lean frame isn't made for the open ocean but over the months as he trained intensely with the Metkayina hunters, he gained muscle he didn't even realize his body could retain.

His shoulders are broader and thighs thicker. He can keep up with the clan, he can help row the boats without his arms giving out on him.

Neteyam hasn't felt this way since they had fled the safety of the forest. He’s useful again. He’s worked hard to regain his title of Hunter.

Warrior.

Brother of the people.

He sense’s it as they jump between the endless maze of isles. Hunting and sleeping on the beaches under the open night sky. Swapping stories around the small campfires.

They don't see him as an outsider anymore. No, he is Metkayina. All of the hunters treat him as such. Clapping his back. Embracing him tight. Sharing in the whopping joy as he makes a clean, merciful kill.

They listen to the Omaticayan legends he tells the and fill him in on the lore of the sea.

The four days out at open ocean are needed and he feels sure footed now. Knows that he will always have a place in Awa’atlu. He can't wait for Lo’ak to complete his Iknamaya next cycle, to get to feel this feeling of deep belonging. Of acceptance.

The tattoo forever etched into the the skin on his on his shoulder burns. Throbs all the way down his elbow, ends right above his wrist. The permanent swirling ink a symbol of his place among the reef.

His third birth is as beautiful as his second. He is a man, twice recognized.

Neteyam reminds himself of that fact as he sits down next to Tonowari one night. The stars are sparkling and the dimming light of the dying fire makes the hulking chief look larger than life.

Still, the younger man gathers his courage.

“I wish to mate with Y/N” Neteyam states firmly. He had been Olo’eyktan in training for over a decade back in the forest. He uses the voice he’d take on when speaking of important matters “I would like your blessing to do so, sir”

Their brothers and sisters in the hunt surround them. Either asleep at the late hour or lost to their own conversations.

Or maybe they just know not to interrupt this important exchange. They only listen in with peaked ears and envious hearts.

Tonowari’s features go stern, his strong brows pulling together “Before my T’smuke returned to the great mother, I promised her that I would always take care of her daughter as though she was my own. I love Y/N as I do my children. Do you understand that, Neteyam?”

Neteyam is nodding “Yes sir, of course”

“She is a good woman. A very important member of our community, if I allow this courtship I have to be certain that you will honor that. That you will honor her place among us, and be serious about what that means for your own”

Neteyam mules over the words, thinks he knows what they mean. He will be marrying into the royal family of the Metkayina. He will be bound by blood to the clans chief. His future children will have a claim to the title of Olo’eyktan or Tshaik, third in line should anything ever happen.

“I am very serious about her, I will work hard to give her all that she deserves. I will build us a Mauri to raise our family in. I will dedicate my life to her and the tribe” It is not a vow lightly made, Neteyam knows this.

He had never been one to be fickle about responsibility.

It’s only when the intense expression on the Olo’eyktans face shifts, a broad smile stretching across his mouth, that Neteyam feels his posture untense.

Tonowari claps him hard on the back and offers him the leather flask of strong liquor that the hunters pass amongst themselves-

“Then you have my blessing” Tonowari laughs as the younger Na’vi man almost chokes on the burn of the Kava.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

When they return to the main island of Awa’atlu with their abundant catch they are greeted warmly by the clan. The giant horns are blown, drums play rhythmically. Children scream joyously and women dance scantly clad in ceremonial drab.

Its busy and blustering but there's only one thing on Neteyam's mind.

Only one person.

The same woman who had plagued him since his arrival all those months ago. You’re as elusive as the receding tide and he had become accustomed to having to look for you. To having to seek you out in a crowd, to go searching for you.

You hadn't seen him off and he hasn't spoken to you in many days. He misses you. It's an ache that he wants to soon remedy, that he knows he’ll never have to feel again. Not with Tonowari’s blessing fueling him.

Since he was young, Neteyam had wanted to be bonded.

He’d dreamt of sharing that special connection with another individual; the way that his parents did. He craved someone to cherish him, to take care of him and in return he’d do the same for them. He itched for a woman to braid his hair, to bear his children. To bury his cock in every night and wake up to every morning.

He was a simple man with a big heart and a lot of love to give. And he wanted to give it to you.

He just has to find you first.

Neteyam tries not to worry when he can't catch sight of your petite frame. Not one peek of your long hair or seafoam eyes. He couldn't scent the natural perfume of florally herbs that always seemed to surround you-

“Neteyam!” It’s Tuk.

She collides with him hard. Many years of being a climbing post for his siblings is the only reason he doesn't topple over. Is able to catch her mid air and hold her to his chest.

He’s greeted by his family-

And only a moment passes before he can notice that something is wrong.

It’s written all over Kiri’s face. In his mothers expressive eyes and the glances his father throws him as he embraces the Olo’eyktan from across the way. Even Lo’ak gives him something akin to a small glare.

“Whatever is going on, it will have to wait” Neteyam decides out loud, slowly lowering his baby sister to the ground. “I need to find Y/N, have any of you seen her?”

Kiri’s mouth opens and shuts, as though she’s trying to figure out what to say and it frays his nerves. His legs are antsy, burning with the need to run. To seek you out- still on the high of the hunt.

“I don't have time for this-”

“Brother, wait. It is about Y/N” Kiri grabs his elbow, keeping him still.

He doesn't like her tone.

Likes the expression on her face even less. She looks too serious, it doesn't suit her at all. Kiri had always been as airy as a tree sprite- carefree and bubbly.

Call it a gut feeling or the simple ability to read the room. He just knows whatever she’s about to tell him isnt going to be pleasant.

“What happened?”

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

His sister pulls him aside, into the mangrove tree’s and away from prying eyes and ears so that she can relay what she’d heard. Fill Neteyam in on what he’s missed.

He listens to every word…and they settle like stones in his stomach.

“Y/N thinks that you have accepted an offer of courtship from another woman”

“I didn't- I’d never!” Neteyam hisses in protest, shaking his head. It’s all one big misunderstanding. He has to make find you, shake these thoughts out of your head. Make you see-

“But you did,” Kiri replies firmly, her mouth pulled into a grim line.

She explains the meaning of the Lei’s.

The gravity of him accepting one from another female and Neteyam hasn't felt so small in many years. He’d been forced into adulthood early. Taken care of his siblings from a young age and then was thrust into the war with the RDA before he had even fully come out of adolescence. He was wise beyond his years, that’s what everyone had always told him.

He doesn’t feel that way now.

He’d fucked up, made a mistake that could very well cost him the future that he had worked so hard to secure since coming to the reefs-

And he hadn't even meant to! He’d been as naive as a baby, as ignorant to Metkayina traditions as an untrained child-

He wants to scream in frustration. Wants to kick the absolute shit out of himself. Instead he listens to his sister, his hands shaking as he balls them into fists.

You had been devastated. Heart broken. Wouldn't talk to anyone or come out to eat. Couldn’t stop crying-

“Enough” He pleads, he can't hear anymore of it. Guilt rises in his chest like bile.

Imagining what the last days had been like for you as he’d spend them having the time of his life, galivanting with other hunters. Getting drunk and having carefree fun-

“Kiri, what do I do?”

She sighs. It’s so rare to see her older brother like this. He’s always so solid. So strong and stable. It’s unnerving when he loses his composure. When his carefully built walls come down

She had known that the whole thing was a miscommunication and had tried along with Tsireya to convince you of that fact. But you wouldn't hear it, and avoided her at every turn.

You and her brother are both such stubborn dumb asses. Rubbing at her temples Kiri prays to Eywa for strength. Sully’s stick together.

“We fix this”

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

As the evening eclipse starts and the sun disappears in the sherbert sky the beach lights up.

Bonfires roar, their flames tall and burning bright.

The air is filled with the smell of roasting Paokpak(island boar) and fish. Huge pots full of dishes that Neteyam had never seen line the long wooden table set up at the center of the celebration. Barrels of Kava have been brought out. The strongest of Metkayina liquors, brewed and stored for decades in airtight containers. Made from berries that are extremely hard to harvest.

This is a time for celebration, to gorge on the hard earned harvests the hunters have brought back. To celebrate the newly rited adults and prepare for the Fertility Season.

The beat of the drums is hypnotic. It's sexy and primal. It's a tune that all Na’vi know in their chest, one that their hips move to as if of their own accord.

Children play, Women sing, stories older then the briny deep are told. The air is electric; so full of magic and unity.

And yet, Neteyam is on edge.

He had been since his rude awakening earlier in the day. He’d spent his afternoon running around like an Austrapede with its head chopped off. Desperately trying to solve the issues that he hadn't meant to create.

After hunting down the culprit to all of this mess, a pretty lei made up of sunset orange lilies which he’d given to Tuk almost automatically after it’d been given to him, he returns it to its owner.

Seychelle is haughty. Rightly upset and shrilly confused as she takes the token of her affections back. Neteyam’s apology is poor and he knows it, he backs away before she can throw her drink in his face.

Tsireya had told him this was the only way to remedy the issue- to refuse the offer for courtship so that he could be open to be with another. The younger girl had been so relieved when he came to her, begging her to help him win back your affections.

“I knew you are a good man, that you don't have a mean spirit”

Tsireya is as eager as Neteyam to see her cousin happy. She doesn't think she could spend another night listening to your inconsolable weeping.

The last obstacle is the hardest.

You refuse to be anywhere near him. Are forced into the festivities because of your family standing, but pretend that Neteyam simply does not exist.

At every turn you evade him.

Sandwiching yourself between the hulking muscle of Ao’nung and Tonowari at the buffet table. Dancing in an enclosed circle of swaying women. Flitting away in a plume of smoke when he approaches you with your favorite ripe fruit in hand; leaving him standing there stupidly. Palms stained by the juice of the Lionberry as he squeezes it in frustration.

You’re hauntingly beautiful in the firelight.

He hates the fact that he’s not the only who notices it. The way the other males consume you with their carnivorous gazes makes him sick. His fingers clench and his knuckles crack of their own accord.

Long dark hair pours down your back in bouncing waves. The top that you wear clings to you like a second skin; the pearls and seashells glittering in the warm hue of the flames. Your own Lei, pink and pristine, is still resting on your throat. Many intricate bracelets and anklets clink as you walk and he cant take his eyes off of the way that the back of your tweng sits on your pert ass-

“Go talk to her” His dad suggests gruffly as he watches his son watch you. It’s getting hard to stomach at this point, all of that longing palpable and souring the atmosphere.

“She doesn't want to speak to me” Neteyam mutters. Trying not to feel too bad for himself. And failing.

Neteyam hadn't thought his return from Motonui would be like this. He’d envisioned a lot more kissing, and alot less moping.

“Woman aren't as complicated as they seem, son. You don't need some grand gesture-”

“Says the man who tamed Toruk after his first fight with his mate” Neteyam interrupts and Jake snorts at his unusual outburst.

His eldest son is usually so very put together- it's entertaining to see that a woman could bring out this side of him.

“I have nothing to offer her. Back home in the forest I could have given her- everything” Neteyam sighs as he admits what's been on his mind since he’d begun pursuing you “There’s no reason why she’d want to be with me, I’m aware of that”

Jake pulls his son close.

His first born. The apple of his eye. Neteyam was good to his core, and anyone who knew him could see it. Jake was so proud of him and wondered if this lack of self confidence came from the fact that he probably didn’t tell the boy of that fact enough.

“All that girl wants from you is reassurance. That’s all you need to give her, everything else will come with time. If she wanted to mate for status she would’ve done it long before you got here, kid. ”

Jake had been shitty at motivational speeches since his stint in the military. You would think his time as reigning Olo’eyktan would have given him some kind of skills. But still, his words are a bit clunky. But sincere.

After a moment, Neteyam gulps at the Kava in his hand. Drains his cup and then squares his shoulders before he’s off.

Eyes set unyieldingly on the prize.

Jake grins. If a good ol’ pep talk doesn't do it- liquid courage sure will.

You’re half heartedly participating in the conversations going on around you, just distracted enough that Neteyam’s able to stalk over. Unnoticed until he’s standing right infront of you-

“Y/N” His voice is firm, he wonders if you know how hard it is for him to keep it as such. “I see you”

Up close he can see how swollen your eyes are. How exhausted you look. You just nod, muttering out a quiet “I see you” in response.

Everything about your body language screams that you want to be left alone. Your arms are crossed over your chest, your ears tipped low. Your tail curls around your ankle and your nose keeps scrunching up.

He wishes he could let you be,

But you make him selfish. You bring out a side of him that wants to take. Has to be satiated or he’s going to lose his fucking mind.

“I must speak with you” He states his intentions, clear. Ignores the way Ronal glares daggers at the side of his head.

“I don’t think-”

“It will only take a moment. But I ask for the privacy to explain myself to you. If after you hear my words you still do not wish to talk to me I will respect that”

You glance at your family before responding to him. Sharing a look with both Ronal and Tsireya. Your cousin smiles encouragingly, your aunt gives a barley tolerant tilt of her head.

You sigh and nod, but step away from his hand when he offers it to you. It's an obvious rejection, but Neteyam tries not to dwell on it. His tail flicks anxiously behind him.

“We may speak in private. Come” your voice is low, before you begin to lead him away from the festivities. Down the beach until the firelight is in the distance and the beat of the drum is a low hum on the howling wind.

The storms will start soon. The sea is choppy, the clouds rolling in and the breeze cool.

It’s hard to find privacy on the sandy shores, intertwined couples can be found scattered along the waters edge. Lips locked. Speaking lowly and intimately.

Neteyam is pretty sure that one of his fellow hunters has his mate twisted into a mating press- if her breathless whimpers are anything to go by.

He avoids their writhing bodies, ignores the way it makes his own core tingle.

Fertility Season is all but here. The entire clan falling under its low boiling energy.

All he could think about as he had been out on the open ocean; is that this cycle he wouldn't have to spend it alone.

He’s not sure that is the case anymore.

After more walking, completely in silence, the two of you come to a mostly desolate area. Quiet and still, as private as it’s going to get.

You stare out at the cresting waves and Neteyam knows he needs to say something, anything. But all he can to is look at you.

At the way that the moonlight illuminates your silhouette, at the dusting of turquoise bioluminescent freckles that are scattered across your nose.

“I-Um-” You start, and that wont do. He cuts you off quick.

It is only him who needs to explain himself. “Let me start by apologizing to you. I am so sorry, Y/N”

You appear as though you’re going to start crying and if you do, he’ll lose all his carefully cultivated cool.

So he presses on.

“I had no idea that accepting Lei’s was a courting symbol here. I don't know how to make you believe me but if I had know I would’ve never-” Neteyam lets out a long shaky breath “I can only swear to you that in the future I will be more mindful of your clans traditions”

Time ticks by. The moon shines and the waves crash against the shore.

“Our clan” you break the silence, your voice gentle and melodic. “You passed your Iknimaya. It is your clan as much as mine”

He wants so desperately to hold you. He has for months, but the need is almost unbearable at this very moment.

“If I have lost my chance. Please, tell me now” it’s a plea. Because it hurts to look at you. If he can not have you- if you do not want him, he will accept it. Somehow. But being alone with you like this and not knowing is killing him. “I will…I’ll leave you alone, if you want me to”

You scoff, not looking away from him. Refusing to meet his eye, still staring blanky at the waves. “You act as though I am the one who accepted someone else’s offer. I have never wanted you to leave me alone, Neteyam”

“I’m sorry” Does he sound as idiotic as he feels? He surely hopes not.

“You already said that”

“Please, look at me”

“I can’t” you whisper- hissing at him warningly when he outstretches his hands “I- I don't want to ever feel like this again. You need to tell me what you want from me because I do not know. I will get confused again, if you do not tell me what we are doing”

He can tell by your expression that you are serious, and even so. He cant fucking believe it. Had he failed at courtship so immensely that you really don't know? He’s stuck in his head for a moment too long.

It makes you anxious, makes you back even further away.

“Please-” He’s all but begging, yet

you avoid his touch again and it feels like blades.

Your shrill warning hiss rings in his ears.

He returns it with a snarl of his own when you continue to refuse to let him touch you. Can't help it, the need to rebuff all of this uncertainty around the union that is so special to him is strong.

He grips the top of your arms, his long fingers holding your biceps.

You finally look at him. Your round eyes wide and vulnerable. Filled with unshed tears and unspoken questions.

“I want to mate with you” He starts because if you need to hear it all, word for word, then he’d tell you. “I want to build my life here with you by my side. I want us to have a home that will never know war-”

A tear rolls down the swell of your cheek.

“I-I want you to choose to be with me” He swallows, the lump in his throat getting bigger, higher. Threatening to choke his vocal cords “I will be good to you. If you let me”

His family had always required him to be the rock. Had leaned on him to take on the role of caretaker, he had had to keep it together. Keep them together. It wasn't easy for him to break open like this. It went against his very nature, all that self preservation he’d learned early.

But you need this. And he thinks he might too.

“Neteyam-”

“I will ask you again. If I have lost my chance tell me now”

Have mercy on him.

“I understand if you want to be with someone who can offer you more. I won’t fault you for it” he doesn’t know why he feels the need to tack that on. Why the self deprecating thoughts manifest their way into words that hurt for him to speak “I don’t have much here. But I’ll build it, for you”

Your muscles tense under his palms and he prepares himself for the rejection. The physical blow of it-

But then, you melt. Loosen. Your entire body sags fully into his grip. That pinched expression on your face slips away. Your full lips part and your eyes soften, brows furrowing together.

You look at him like he is something precious. Like you can see him- and he thinks you might be the first one who ever has.

He’d known it in his bones. Since the day he’d arrived. Since he’d first spotted your face in the crowd.

“Oel ngati kameie” you whisper, your hand coming up to cup his jaw. “Oel ngati kamei, Neteyam. I see-”

He leans heavily into your hand. His forehead clunking against yours, pressing hard. The contact stings, but its welcome. He needs it.

He needs.

“I don’t care about any of that. I don’t care what you have or don’t have. You know I don’t.” you murmur urgently, he can feel the words against against his skin.

When you press a whisper light, tentative kiss against the sharp of his cheekbone, something snaps. Something that had been strained and barely held together just breaks.

His control, he realizes as he crowds you.

As his fingers dig into your arms and he presses the line of his body against your own firmly.

You’re so soft everywhere. So much smaller than him. He’s all lean muscle, tall and hard. You’re pliable skin, a layer of blubber to keep you warm in the deep. So different from the women he’d grown up with. Your hips are wide, thighs pillowy.

You’d give him healthy children. His hindbrain howls.

When he captures your lips he hopes you realize that there’s no going back. That this is until death. He’d go to his grave before he was robbed of this again.

You gasp, sweet and small, and he eats it. Consumes all of the air in your lungs. You’re good at holding your breath anyway, right?

“Neteyam” you whine, pulling away, your lips wet and your pupils wide. You’re shaky, already a bit disoriented and he wants to keep you. Protect you. He’ll give you anything if you just keep looking at him like that.

“Are you ok-”

You reach up on the tips of your toes, slamming your lips back against his before he can finish his words.

Your hands tangle into his braids as you try to gain traction, pull him down to your level. Get a better hold on him.

Its intense, dizzying. You kiss him like you’re dying and maybe you are. Maybe you’ve been slowly dying since he first got here. Every moment that you hadn’t been able to be held by him had killed you- a slow torturous death.

You drag him down. Do you know he’d follow you anywhere? Under the waves, down onto the soft sand. He cups the back of your head, shelters your neck as he bullies his thin hips between your dense thighs and pressed you against the ground.

The months worth of tension isn't released gently, because it can't be.

The kisses are bruising. Wandering hands and desperate tongues. It’s carnal, Fertility season making both of your minds cloudy as you try to dig into each others flesh.

Nothing is close enough.

With a whine, your fingers slip under Neteyam's multilayered choker. Using it as leverage to tug on as you thrust your hips up violently. The heat at the apex of your legs grinding against his covered erection dangerously.

“Ah-” he gasps wetly “Easy, Narlor. Easy”

“Sorry” you simper, panting. Trying to get a hold on the feelings rushing through you. One hand gripping his necklace, the other slipping into the back of his hair, brushing the nape of his neck “I want- I dream about it all the time”

Fire rushes down Neteyam’s spine, both at your words and your feather light touch to his kuru. He wonders if you touched yourself after those dreams. If you had to take the edge off like he had. He shudders at the thought-

You’re kissing at his neck again, at all of that sensitive skin under his braids, near his ears.

Your quick touches are everywhere. Rushing all over his body. Manicured nails scraping over his skin-

“Ugh,” he warbles out as your curious hand disappears under his tweng.

Its a tight fit as your fingers dance along his hard cock. Delicate and teasingly light. He’s going to come all over himself like some inexperienced teenager that had never gotten a taste of pussy before if you don't. Slow. Down.

“Tell me about those dreams of yours. What’d we do in them?” Neteyam teases, his lips moving against the corner of your mouth. A distraction for both you and himself.

You can't form words, not as you feel how big he is. As you cherish the fact you’ll never be empty again. He's hard and pulsing in your hand and you want him inside of you. Your mouth, your cunt. You don't care. You want to be the only one who gets to feel him, no one else can ever-

There’s only one way to ensure that.

“Tsahelyu” you whimper, “Please Neteyam. Need it”

He slows down a bit, his head spacy but not totally lost. The bond is everything. It’s the most important aspect of Na’vi culture “I can't bond you here”

“Why?” its a petulant whine, your hips pressing against his again.

“I’m not going to bond you on the cold ground, Yawne. Out in the open”

“It’s okay, I don’t mind” you press and he chuckles, shaking his head “you could have me anywhere you want me”

It’s the raw honesty in your voice that drives him crazy.

Devotion in a way that makes him lightheaded.

He can't give you Tsaheylu yet, he wants it done right. He wants you tucked in a mountain of blankets with a warm fire going- at the height of Fertility Season. The ancestors watching over you as he intertwines himself into your soul for the rest of time.

“I will have you” He assures you, dragging his mouth across your clavicle, his long fingers working the strings of your intricate top loose “And you’ll have me. But you have to let me do it right”

You hate waiting. You tell him as he suckles his way across your chest. Moaning as he finally gets his mouth on your soft breasts. Your fist his braids, shivering as he feasts on your skin.

“I’ll make it worth your while” Neteyam promises between mouthfuls of supple flesh “You’ll want for nothing. I’ll give you anything”

He’s humping down into you, unable to stop his hips from shifting. His cock seeking your warmth. You’re right there, he could just-

“Please” you shiver, like you know what he’s thinking. Like you can read his mind and all the dirty thoughts that cross it.

You can't take it. All of his hesitating.

You’d heard that the Omiticayans were more reserved, more traditional when it came to mating but he was going to drive you crazy.

You push on his chest. Gentle yet demanding.

He doesn't want to remove his mouth from your breasts but he allows it all the same. His lips swollen, a thin string of spit connecting him to your tender nipple as he stares at you with questioning eyes.

Neteyam lets you push him off of you before he goes down onto his back, the sand grating against his shoulder blades as he lays flat. You grin the entire time. Your eyes sparkling with excitement. With hunger.

You look as horny as he feels and it kills him.

Your fingers pluck at the at the delicate ties of your tweng, loosening it until it falls from your curvy hips.

“Y/N” he warns as you then reach for his own. Tugging at the leather straps of his loincloth. He raises his hips, helping you shimmy it down his long legs.

“You can't bond me” You whisper as you straddle his waist, your small hands using his broad chest for balance, palms on his pectorals “Not yet anyway”

“Mhmm” Neteyams murmurs as his eyes roll into the back of his head. You're hot and dripping wet, the center of your legs steaming as you rub it against his groin.

“That doesn't mean you cant touch me” you coo at the man under you as you slowly begin to undulate above him. Your hips circling as your head lowers to tongue at the underside of his jaw.

“Shit” He curses in English, gasping at the night sky as you drag damply across his lower stomach .

“Yes?” you question him as you reach for his hand, leading it exactly where you need him most.

“Yeah” Neteyam assures, fingertips dipping where you're skin is plush and dripping- right in between your spread thighs “Yeah, Yeah”

Your hand is still leading his, cupping him firmly against your pussy as he feels how much you need him. You hadn't been the only one dreaming of this. You had danced behind his eyelids for months. His brain had played tricks on him, desperately splicing together mismatched audio in an attempt to conjure up what you would sound like when he finally got to have you.

A shivery keen escapes you when he presses on your swollen bundle of nerves and nah. His imagination couldn't hold a candle to this.

It’s not just how you sound its how you look.

Sat on top of him, resting on your knees with your chest bare save for that brightly hued Lei. Your kiss bruised bottom lip is skewered between your sharp teeth as you worry it in keyed-up concentration. Blue eyes low, your long eyelashes almost fluttering against your cheeks as you stare down at him.

It’s how you smell.

Ripe and earth wet- his mouth floods as he inhales lungfuls of it, your juices are all over him. His waist, coating his hand . Everywhere but right on his tongue where he wants it the most.

Exploring you where you’re the most vulnerable is slippery, your pussy swollen as he traces along the folds. Your clit beats with your pulse under his touch, inflamed and you cry out.

“Awe, baby” he tuts. Your hips chase him in jagged little movements, unsure and needy and it’s enough to get him grinning. You’d been so sure of yourself when you’d pushed him down and climbed on top of him.

Yet here you are a whining mess of his thing in his lap.

There’s no room to tease, he wants to watch you come all over him. Everything still feels too over sensitive. Too new and easily breakable. You’d spent the last near week questioning his feelings.

Neteyam had his words. He could wax to you poetic until your ears bled,

But he had this too. He needed to make you feel a way that no one else could and as he sunk his long digit inside of you he realized that this was better then any conversation. This felt like the most natural way to express all of his emotions, you sucking him in knuckle deep felt so right.

Velvet soft and vice tight, he’s hard between his own legs from just the feel of you. Just knowing that this was his.

You, your heart. Your body. Your tiny little cunt.

Tiny but taking him so well, not just one finger. But two. Then three. Your body moves like the crashing waves behind you, intense and wild. Shoving down onto him so hard that his wrist starts to ache with the demanding press.

“More” you pant wetly into his neck “Faster. Net-please”

He figures out that faster means harder, and harder means he has you all but vibrating on top of him. Bouncing in time with every thrust of his digits. The arm that isn't preoccupied comes around you to hold you steady as he finger fucks you until you're a squealing mess.

This isn't the first time Neteyam has done this.

There’d been girls back home. One girl in particular that didn't take it too personally that he needed tension relief from the war raging around them and not the arranged soon to be wife that everyone had been trying to shove down his throat back them.

This isn't the first time he’s done this but it’s the first time he’s felt this.

He nuzzles your head out from its hiding place in his shoulder. He has to watch your face, needs to see the way he’s making you fall apart.

This is the first time he’s felt the all consuming pull to be with another person. He wants you like this always. So close to him that he could taste the perspiration from your panting breaths.

You tighten up in his arms, going rigid as your pleasure crests. Your pussy fluttering and mouth gaping. It’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. You’re orgasm is ethereal, raw and fervid.

It’s a glance at Eywa. He sees the great mother on your face as you writhe atop of him.

It’s alot, he can tell. Fuck he can only imagine what you’re feeling if it had been this intense for him. Neteyam lets you hide again after a moment. Your hair covers your face as you shake and he thinks you might be crying, but he just brushes a hand down your damp back. Soothing you back down from the high.

The stars are brighter, even as the clouds gather in gluggy gray storm clusters. Everything seems a little bit more beautiful with his fingers still inside of you. It pains him to slide them out, missing the tight clutch of you once his wet fingers are exposed to the cool night air.

Tsaheylu, you’d begged him earlier. His kuru throbs and gooseflesh erupts all over his body just thinking about bonding with you. He wants it more than he’s ever wanted anything.

You nuzzle against him, nosing at his cheek. Your lips ghosting at the corner of his own.

“You okay?” you wonder. Your voice deep and husky. So sexy it makes his eyes close for a second.

“I should be asking you that”

“Mmm, no need to ask. I feel so so good” you assure him, starting to sit up a little “I um-I kind of got really into it. I’m sorry”

“Sorry?” Neteyam questions, keeping his grip on you as you start to squirm. Not in pleasure this time. But in shame, the embarrassed kind. Coming down from the pleasure haze, that anxious edge comes back. Unsure even as you’re on top of him. “Don’t say that. Why would you be sorry right now?”

You huff, nose scrunching. Ears flicking “I made a mess all over you”

It might not be very nice but he can't help but laugh at you. His pearly white canines on display as he hoots, the belly laughs jostling you from your perch.

“What!” you grumble, but smile all the same. “Stop”

“Hmm. I love messes like this. Feel free to make messes like this anytime” his fingers, still glistening come into view as he brings them to his mouth. Your eyes widen, glued to him. At the slight suction of his cheeks as he licks them in earnest “See. Easy clean up, you’ve got nothing to worry about, Pretty”

You taste as good as you smell. His tastebuds tingle as he swirls the new flavor around. Complex; a sweet musk that he wants to bathe in. He’s acutely aware of the way you watch him, your sweet cheeks burning at his lewdness.

When he frees his fingers with a pop, he gasps as your tongue surges in his mouth.

Tasting yourself on his spit.

Fuck.

He lets you kiss him breathless. Lets you run your sloppy kisses all over his face, down his chin. Across his neck. He arches into it all, gives you all the room you need. He’s well aware of what you’re doing. Working your strong scent into every inch of his bare skin.

Scent marking is a vital part of Na’vi courtship. Ancient, ritualistic and respected. Practiced by your ancestors before the first songs.

It’s makes something in him pur, knowing that you want him to smell like you.

“I think that's enough” He grins when your tongue dips into his navel “They can smell me, baby. You did a very thorough job”

The pout on your face is beyond cute as you sit up on your knees. The little ‘hmph’ sound so adorably out of place in the highly sexually charged situation “But I wanna smell like you too. How will anyone know I’m yours if they can’t smell it?”

Neteyam's nostrils flare. His ears swivel on his head and his tail gives a good lash at that. You want to be marked by him too. Are willing to parade his scent around all of those assholes in the clan that have been trying to win your affections, even when it was clear you were uninterested.

“Lay down” It’s an order, spoken softly but directly and you follow it at once. A giddy smile on your face as you lounge on the sand.

You are a vision.

Hair sprawling and messy behind your head. Your legs spread, back arched. Pretty nipples pebbled hard and on display. The only thing covering you is the floral necklace around your svelte throat.

It doesn't take him long at all. He strokes his striped cock firm and efficiently. Too many years of having to get himself off fast enough not to be caught has made his practiced movements almost perfect.

You’re looking at him like that again. Adoration clear as day on your face. Soft for him. You see him-

“Ol Ngati Kamiel” your voice is saccharin as you speak and he grunts violently as he comes.

Ropes of it land on your belly, across your exposed chest. It’s almost too much when you reach down swiping into the translucent, sticky, mess and start rubbing it into your smooth skin. He collapses shakily beside you, needing to collect himself for a minute before he helps your cause.

It’s the most intimate thing the two of you have done all night, laying together. Basking in the afterglow. Your scents mingle, dancing together in the evening breeze and Neteyam wants to imprint this memory somewhere deep.

The festivities are still raging- and you really do need to get back. It’s an important night. Your clan wants you there, the two of you need to make your rounds. Keep appearances. He won’t keep you from your duties, no matter how much he may want to.

After a quick dip in the ocean, removing the filth of love making but still wearing the strong scent of each other's pheromones, you begin to redress.

Neteyam watches. Highly distracted as you shimmy back into your tweng before looping your top around your shoulders. He works clumsily at the leather of his loincloth.

“Wait-”

The two of you are starting the trek back to the bonfire when he reaches out to halt you. His fingers play with wreath of lilies around your neck and his eyes bore into yours pleadingly.

The smile you give him is more radiant then the silvery moons that twinkle in the inky sky.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Even at the late hour the ceremonial bonfire still crackles with life. The festivities have ebbed into something slower, more intimate.

The adults of the clan are all that’s left, children long gone and tucked into their beds or dozing off against their parents' side.

Kiri sits on a carved log, in a circle of familiar faces.

Her mother and father had left not long ago. Tuk had been fighting slumber but succumbed after the Elders crooned a particularly slow song about the Sky and Sea’s forbidden love. Jake had hoisted the young girl up and bid everyone adieu, swaying on his feet as his wife hissed at him about how after all these years, he still couldn’t handle his liquor.

Now, Kiri listens to stories as she sips slowly on her cup of Kava. Enjoying the pleasant burn;

But not willing to end up like her dumb as rocks brother who is sprawled on the ground. Lo’ak is all but unconscious, every time he opens his eyes they are unfocused and hazy.

That’s what he gets for trying to out drink clan members twice his size. He’d been on the losing end of the drinking competition from the start- he was just too stubborn to see it.

Lo’ak is lucky Tsireya doesn’t care much for drinking, and is more than willing to tend to him. She keeps trying to force him to drink water and nibble on bits of food.

Ao’nung isn’t faring much better; he stares at the moon with a dopey smile as he sings, incredibly off tune, to the song that fills the air. A gaggle of girls surround him. Each hoping to catch his eye.

It’d been an all night thing, affections being thrown at him while he ignored it all too easily.

“My bed will be full this season, I’m not worried about a thing” he’d shrugged it off when asked about it.

Roxto’s boisterous laugh had dwindled down when Kiri shot him an extremely unamused glare.

She’s debating on leaving Lo’ak to sleep on the beach for the night when out of the shadows comes her eldest brother; who had been missing for most of the evening.

The hours had bled away and Kiri had tried not to worry too much about the confrontation that was going on just beyond the jovial bubble of the Metkayina celebrations. You had been distraught and Neteyam had never been good at voicing his own emotional needs-

Huh.

It looks like she had nothing to worry about.

The grin on Neteyam’s face is shit eating. It’s the smuggest she’s ever seen him. Even at his first Inknimaya, back with the Omiticaya, he hadn’t reacted like this. All head raised high and walking on a cloud.

You tug him along behind you, you guys’ fingers tightly intertwined. Your hips sway excitedly as you bounce along the sand. Kiri’s brother's chest is puffed out in obvious pride as he follows your footsteps.

Around his neck is Lei made up of vibrant pink flowers. It matches the one in your hair, that sits kind of lopsided now.

As the couple gets you closer, and Kiri catches a whiff of your approaching bodies, she wants to wretch. You’re drowning in each other's scents and it’s quite obvious what you had been up to all night.

“So gross” Kiri gags in accusation once you’re both in earshot.

You two owed her so big. She thinks naming one of your future children after her would suffice.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Okayyyyy. This was so fun to write and I already have Part Three brewing! TAGLIST IS CLOSED.

So like. Lots to address here. Tons to talk about. I’m gonna start the conversation but I hope you guys continue it in the comments.

1. The Motnaui is something I completely made up(…yes after watching Moana and taking inspiration for the name) lol it’s a ritualistic hunt that newly anointed hunters and warriors go on after their Metkayinan Iknimaya’s. I know all the different clans Iknimaya traditions would be different and I thought this would be cool.

2. I read a story in the Avatar fandom where the liquor they drank was called Kava and it just stuck in my brain. I know Kava is a drink in real life too, but for the sake of storytelling, please think about them as completely different things. The drink in this story is more of a wine/moonshine mixture deal. Would really fuck your ass upppp.

3. Fertility Season is obvs totes made up. Why is it rainy during it? Because I myself would want a week of non stop loving making with a nice little fire going, under lots of blankets with it chilly and rainy outside. And at the end of the day I’m writing for me lol

4. NETEYAM IS A SWEETHEART WHO STRUGGLES WITH HIS SELF WORTH JUST LIKE THE REST OF US. Please listen to the Artic Monkeys while you read this chapter(wanna be yours, do I wanna know, 505. THE LONGING)

5. Expect more POV’s to come! It will always be mostly rooted from Y/N’s point of view but I love touching base with all of the other characters. It’s so fun. I’m thinking a snippet of Neytiris in Part Three!

[dearramiel]

steve sitting you on his lap, forcing your thighs open as he teaches an inexperienced! eddie how to eat pussy. he's peering over your shoulder, scattering love bites all over your neck.

from time to time he's instructing him on what to do, "Use your tongue on her clit.", "Make sure to finger her, get her nice and wet.", or even something like "Push your tongue into her, she likes it.".

steve loves to grip eddie's curls, pulling his face further into your pussy, his face now drips with your cum. all eddie can do is moan at the touch, humping desperately against the bed, eventually cumming in his pants.

[verve-wifux]

Playing Nurse - Daryl Dixon smut.

Description:

You tend to Daryl after he's shot by Andrea after looking for Sophia but he isn't one to follow instructions, especially yours.

Ever since Rick's group arrived on your father's farm, and Daryl had immediately caught your eye. Whenever you got the chance to talk with him, you took it.

And this was no exception.

Warnings: Strong language, mature themes

*****

You puffed out a sigh when you entered the room you had forced Daryl to stay in while recovering, the bed messy, but most importantly, empty.

You slipped your hat, matching with your younger sister Maggie's, and began the walk over to Daryl's makeshift camp just outside the farm's fence.

"Y/N! Have you seen Maggie?" You heard Glen's voice call out from somewhere behind you, making you glance over your shoulder, pointing towards the house.

"Cookin' dinner with Lori and Carol," You called back, earning a thumbs up before he picked his pace into a light jog.

You shook your head at your sister's boyfriend with a smile on your mouth. You were happy she'd found someone like him. He was sweet, dorky but in a cute way.

You continued the walk to where the motorcyclist would be, biting your lower lip to fight the smile that tried to form when you saw him, his crossbow in his rough hands as he cleaned it with a rag.

He glanced up, his crystal blue eyes meeting yours, squinting due to the lowering sun. You saw his eyes hover on you before they rolled back into his head, looking back to the weapon in his hands.

Asshole.

"Y/N," He said in a way of greeting, eyes not meeting yours.

"Dixon," You greeted back, stopping in front of him and crossed your arms over your chest.

"Who gave ya' permission to leave?" You questioned, tilting your head.

"M'fine," He merely grumbled back, still cleaning the bow in his lap.

"That wasn't my question, who gave you permission to leave?" You replied back, making his hands hault, his eyes meeting yours as he looked up at you from the log he was sitting on.

Daryl's whole face could be seen as he had taken off his bandage about a week ago, unable to stand it any longer. His eyelashes were dark and long, a stray one on his tanned cheek.

You resisted the urge to wipe it away.

"What am I, your prisoner?" He questioned back, raising his brows at you, still squinting as he avoided the sun.

"Evidently not, seen as you're not where I left ya'," You frowned, making him puff out a low "pft".

"Not like ah ran away, jus'left," He shrugged, looking down at his crossbow.

Unable to stop yourself, you reached out, stopping his chin with a finger and forced his face back up.

He looked physically taken back by your gesture, but didn't pull away, letting you tilt his face upwards to meet yours.

"Look at me when I'm talkin' to ya," You ordered, making him raise a brow, but kept his mouth shut.

You removed your hand from his chin, wiping your finger along his cheek, collecting the stray eyelash.

"Make a wish," You smiled at him, showing him the eyelash on your finger, waiting for him to blow it away.

He searched your face before his eyes dropped to your finger.

"Wish ya'd stop botherin me," He wished before blowing on the eyelash, making you scowl at him.

He glanced back up at your face, a small smile on his lips, unable to help himself.

The sight made you freeze, you'd never really seen the man smile before.

It suited him.

"What does?" He asked, making you blink.

You realised you said that bit outloud as he stared blankly at you.

"Smilin', should do it more often," You shrugged, making him scoff at you.

"You've done nothin' but frown at me, so don't gimme that shit," He argued, making you grin at him.

You licked your lips, trying to hide your girlish reaction, but it didn't help. His own smile widened as he watched you, tilting his head as he observed you.

"Cause ya could hurt yourself out here, Dixon! I'm lookin out for ya," You remarked, making him roll his eyes.

"Pft, please. I'm just fine," He grumbled, shaking his head as he glanced from your face, scanning the forest and hills around us.

"At least come to dinner tonight," You sighed, sitting next to him, nudging his leg with yours while you sat.

"Ya been cookin?" He questioned with a scoff, making you nudge him playfully with your shoulder.

"Ya think I've been cookin? Best I can do is chop up some veggies. Maggie, Lori and Carol did it," You answered, your breath catching as he tilted his body, meeting your gaze.

He scanned your face, first your eyes, down your nose, your sun-kissed cheeks, your rosy lips.

He finally shook his head breifly, glancing away from you.

"C'mon, I'll make sure you don't have to sit on the kid table," You pushed, dying for him to say yes.

You didn't know why you had gravitated towards him as much as you had, but looking after him..checking in on him had been nice. It felt like you two had hit it off.

But.. he was healed and ready to go back to ignoring you most days.

"Why ya care so much?" He questioned, eyebrows furrowed as he glanced at you.

You froze, you'd been afraid of this question.

"Why wouldn't I?" You questioned back, deflecting the best you could.

He rolled his eyes.

"Seriously, Y/N. Why? Why ya been looking after me? Checking in? Ya dont gotta, so why?" He asked quietly.

"Well, everyone deserves help when they need it," You shrugged, holding his gaze.

He merely hummed, glancing to the sunset.

You followed his gaze.

"It's beautiful," You commented, noting the lovely orange, pink, purple, yellow and blue colours as they melted into one.

"Yeah," Daryl's voice replied, rough and deep like usual.

You glanced back over to his face, noticing he was already looking at you.

You watched eachother silently for a few moments.

"Fuck, Y/N, ya make this so hard and complicated," He muttered lowly, his eyes tracing over you.

You blinked.

"What?" You questioned, but your voice was breathless and weak.

He merely shook his head, scoffing softly, almost like he found it amusing that you didn't know what he was talking about.

"Ya can't look at m'like that," He grumbled, making you inhale sharply, your gaze falling to his mouth.

"Like what?" You questioned, meeting his gaze again.

"Like that," He answered roughly, unconsciously setting his crossbow aside.

"And why's that?" You teased with a smile, tilting your head at him. The hair you had left out of your half up-half down hairstyle falling over your shoulder, covered by a thin, blue and white flannel.

His answer was his lips pressing them against yours.

Immediately, you responded to his actions, your lips moving againat his own softly, your hand going to the side of his neck, fingers lacing into his hair as you pulled him closer.

He groaned against your mouth, his hands roaming to your waist and hips, pullling you closer until you straddled over him.

You could get closer due to the new position, angling your mouth closer to his.

You brushed your tongue against his mouth, quickly slipping inside and greeting his own tongue with a suggestive sweep, exploring his delicious mouth.

His hands tightened on you, holding you tighter to him as he kissed you harder, slowly taking control of the situation.

"Daryl!" You gapsed when his lips dipped from your mouth, planting themselves on your neck.

He kissed your skin tenderly, sliding his tongue up the length of your neck, kissing under your ear.

He smiled against your skin when you said his name, making him pull back and glance up at you.

"That's the first time you've ever said my name," He commented, making you grin down at him, pressing a kiss to his mouth.

"Make me say it again," You muttered against his lips, grinning happily.

"I'll make you scream it," He replied before picking you up in his strong, muscled arms.

You squeaked in response, laughing as you wrapped your legs around his hips, arms around his neck as you kissed him again.

He lay you down on the blanket he had on the floor, the grass soft underneath it, making it suprisingly comfortable.

He threaded himself between your legs, making you wrap them around him tighter, bringing him closer as you kissed him.

Your hands roamed over his muscled arms, squeezing roughly as they traced over his hot, tanned skin. Your hands went to his shirt, quickly undoing the buttons there, desperate to set your eyes on his broad chest.

A sight you had only seen once or twice.

Thankfully, his vest was thrown over a seat nearby, not having another layer of clothes to fight through.

He chuckled when you ripped him from his shirt, disgarding it somewhere, not bothering to check where it landed.

"Someone's eager," He teased in a humerous tone, making you scowl before you flipped him.

He puffed out a chuckle at the new position, his hands going to your hips as you straddled over him. Your eyes roamed over his chest, your fingers drawing a path over his skin, making him inhale sharply.

You didn't comment on the scars littering his body, pressing your lips to his collarbone and began to kiss your way down his body.

His hand laced in your hair as you moved south, earning a groan from him when you dragged your tongue over his stomach, nipping with your teeth.

You smiled against his skin before you pulled at his belt, hastily undoing it and pullrd his jeans from him.

He pulled you back to him, sitting up as he pulled your flannel and vest from you, leaving you in your bra and shorts.

His eyes took the time to scan you over before he pressed kisses to your collarbone, hands sliding over the skin of your waist.

"Well aren't ya a pretty sight," He muttered with a smile, making you press your mouth to his again, a soft moan fluttering from you as his thumbs stroked your skin tentatively.

His hands slid up your back, unclipping your bra with ease before throwing it to the side. You continued to kiss him before he pulled back, dropping kisses over your chest and neck.

You whined when his thumb brushed over your erect nipple, arching into him as your breasts ached for more, melting into his warmth and touch.

His mouth wrapped around your other, sucking lightly, making you cry out in shock, your hand going to his hair, pulling him closer.

As he continued to give your breasts some attention, your centre had began to throb uncomfortably, feeling hot and needy.

"God, Daryl. Stop teasing me," You moaned as your head fell back, eyes fluttering shut.

Almost making you cry out in protest, Daryl removed his mouth from you.

"Ya sure?" He questioned lowly, making you shift on him, rubbing against his hardened dick.

He groaned roughly, swiping his tongue over his lips.

"Yes. Fuck me, right now."

Daryl wasted no time before flipping you over, his hands undoing the button of your shorts before pulling them from you, your panties quick to follow as he exposed you to him.

You mewled when the subtle breeze brushed against your molten centre, making your hips rock, desperate for stimulation.

Daryl chuckled at you, his gaze meeting yours, clouded with lust.

"You're desperate, aren't ya? So fuckin' dirty, this why ya were playin' nurse?" He questioned as he rubbed his thumb over your centre, pressing down on the hot, bundle of nerves between your thighs.

You choked on your moan, hips jerking at the contact, body arching up to him.

"Mhm." It was the best answer you could give him, pleasure and desperation taking control of your body.

"Last I checked, nurses aren't meant to fuck their patients," He continued, making you smile up at him, giving him a one shouldered shrug.

"You're welcome to file a complaint," You answered, making him chuckle, pressing his mouth to yours and swallowing your moan when he rubbed over your clit in slow circles.

Your hips rocked against his calloused hand, the roughness of his fingers feeling delightful on your sensetive bud, your core clutching onto nothing.

"God, you're so fuckin' needy and wet, all for me?" He asked, nipping at your jaw as he kissed down your body.

He licked over your nipple again, stopping breifly as he continued to touch you between your thighs.

"All for ya', so wet," You gasped when he nipped your skin with his teeth.

He pulled his thumb from you, making you cry out in protest.

"No, please-"

"Sshh, ima take care of you now, yeah?" He questioned, making you nod eagerly.

You put up no fight when he rested your legs on his shoulders, his hair tickling your thighs as he lowered his mouth to your core, swiping his tongue up your centre.

You moaned loudly, hips jerking at the contact with his tongue. His tongue continued to roll in tight circles around your clit, his rough hands on your thighs, keeping them in place. A coil of heat began to tighten in your lower stomach, spread ingredients dowm your legs and up through your chest, settling in your face. You ground yourself against Daryl's mouth, your moans roling from your mouth without control.

You never knew sex could be like this, so..right. You didn't have a lot of expereince when it came to men, esecially now the world had went to shit, but Daryl and his mouth knew every spot that made your toes curl, your eyes roll back into your head and another moan fall from your mouth.

"Oh..god! Daryl-" A moan cut you off as your hips rocked faster, your hands pulling at the blanket under you, eyes clentched shut as you neared the edge of climax.

Before you could explode, Daryl pulled away with a dark chuckle.

You panted, eyes snapping open to look down at him, your high slowly easing to a subtle ache.

"Ya taste so good, better than any dinner the girls could've made," He grinned as he swiped his tongue over his lips, catching your glistening arousal that lingered there.

And he wasn't lying, you were fucking delicious.

"Daryl- God please," You begged needily, sitting up on yiur elbows as you pressed a kiss to his mouth, tasting yourself there.

You moaned softly, wrapping your arms around his neck and oulled him over your body.

He contimued to kiss you hungrily as you snuck your hand past the waist of his boxers, your hand wrapping around his hardened length, amd began to pump him.

He growled into your mouth, moving his hips in time with your pumps, occasionally speeding up or goimg harder.

You pulled your hand from him, spitting on your palm before going back to him, swiling a thumb over his tip.

"Fuck Y/N," He groaned, restimg his forehead against yours as he lost himself im the pleasure you were giving him.

"Wanna fuck me, Daryl? Bury that hard cock in my warm, tight pussy? I'll make ya feel so good while ya fill me up," You moaned into his ear, nipping his lobe with your teeth.

His dick twitched in your hand at the words, earning a rough laugh, a kiss in your cheek.

"You want that, sweet girl? Want me to fuck you?" He groaned, making you nod eagerly.

"I want you to make me scream," You whispered, your core throbbing with need and want.

"Fuck," He growled into your ear huskily, hips thrusting into your hand.

"Ya gotta stop," He continued, pulling back and pressed another kiss to your mouth.

You worked him a few more pumps, each hard and firm, before retrieving your hand from him.

He groaned, almost like he was in pain at the lack of contact, the sound driving you mad with lust.

You reached down, releasimg Daryl from.his boxers, his dick hitting against his stomach.

Your eyes widened at the sight, he was so big.. so thick. You wondered how he'd even fit inside your body, you'd never taken someone his size. He clearly read your fast and chuckled, pressing a kiss to your mouth.

"You'll take it, you're soaking," He muttered in reassurance.

He slipped a thick didget between yiur legs, swioing over your arosual before olunging inside.

You gasped at the intrusion, moaning loudly as he curled his fingers, hitting all the right places.

"Good?" He questioned, making yiu nod.

"A-another, more, gimme more," You begged wuickly, driving your hips down on his finger in time with his pumping, easily stretching for him.

"Dirty fucking girl, beggin' for more. Beggin' for my cock," He chuckled, making you grin lazily up at him.

"Ya promised you'd make me scream your name, Daryl. I'm not doin' a lot of screaming," You taunted, kissing his neck once.

He kissed your mouth roughly as he lined himself up with your entrance, slamming inside in one, hard thrust.

Your mouth fell open, a breathless scream leacimg your throat as you clung to him for dear life, feeling him so deep made you flutter aroumd him.

"Ya like that, sweetheart?" Daryl muttered into your ear, dragging his hips back before snapping agaisnt yours, pounding into your body you jolted with each thrust.

You could only moan loudly in respomse, driving your hips up against him.

After a few thrusts, he sped up, grunting roughly with each snap of his hips. His tip went against your G-spot with each drive forward.

As promised, you screamed Daryl's name as your release gushed from you, coating Daryl's dick, making his hips stutter inside of you.

He groamed, cutting off your moans and he kissed you roughly, feelimg his release work through your body, miximg with your own as he continued his sloppy thrusts.

He took a minute or so before pullimg out with a wince, just as sensetive as you were, pearly white cum leaking from you.

You panted as you cqught your breath, putting your hand om Daryl's chest as you smiled widely at him.

He pressed a kiss to your mouth, tucking loose hair behind your ear.

"Worked up an appetite?" You smiled, pressing a kiss to his broad shoulder.

He chuckled softly, his hand stroking over your waist and hip, squeezing softly.

"Hungry for dessert," He grinned wickedly, voice low as he pressed his lips to your neck, nipping softly.

You arched into him, kissing him twice more before escpaing his arms, starting to re-dress.

"C'mon Dixon, better get ther before people start looking for us," You grinned, nudging him with your boot.

"Back to Dixon?" He questioned, tilting his head with a soft smile.

"Mm, maybe do that thing with ya tongue again, and we'll see," You winked, making him scoff at you before he started to re-dress. You watched his muscles move, a smile on your face.

[naayewolf]

Male BSD Preferences [Smut]

Summary: This is basically what some of the characters prefer on their S/O (Ass, Tits, Etc.) TW: Explicit Sexual descriptions and implications, READ AT OWN RISK!! Notes: Whenever I see anime characters, men specifically, I'm always just trying to figure this out straight up from the get-go.. and while some of them are quite easy to decipher, others you have to dig deep to come up with something. Therefore some of these I immediately just HC from the get-go, and others I had to genuinely think about.

Jōno Saigiku:

He's blind, so he can't necessarily have preferences for anything visual.. But, he does love to sense you and your body. Whether it be squeezing your body or just smelling your perfume/natural smell, he loves it.. He loves to randomly touch you and does so a lot, though not in public, he can't afford for his reputation to be tarnished by squeezing your ass in front of his comrades..

Instead, he settles for coming into your barracks after a long day of work and hugging you from behind while you continue your daily tasks. He'll talk to you while he stuffs his face into your neck, talking about his daily mission, ranting about Tetchō and his food preferences, or just scenting you as he holds onto you in silence.. He'll never admit it because of his ego.. But he does love you, and is he won't say he loves you out loud, he'll just have to show you in more small, affectionate ways.

Tetchō Suehiro

Ass.. All day, there's no way this man ain't all about the ass.. But man is also stupidly obsessed with training, so he rarely gets his days off to come meet you..

Sometimes he doesn't even have to be hurt and he'll stop by the infirmary to squeeze your ass and rub his face into your neck while he tells you about his day..

He loves to fuck you into the mattress, squeezing your sides as his hips pound into your ass. It makes him happy to see the plap of his hips as he fucked you in either off your holes.. He doesn't care, he just wants to hold your face into the mattress as he makes you arch your back up into his dick while it pounds you stupid

Dazai Osamu

This is Dazai-"I love all women"- Osamu.. So you bet your ass he's all about any part of your body!-

He's constantly slacking off in the agency, so he's all the time in the world to play with you during the work day..

Whether it be light squeezes to your body or hugs that lead to him biting into your neck.. He's constantly coming up to touch you. He'll be all over you in the most simplest ways so that no one can tell you're being naughty but he can still tease you all day until he finally brings you home to shake the foundations of your work dorm..

Mori Ougai (S/O is 18+)

Tits.. He's all about them.. And you have the perfect size to deliver.

He's always calling you to his office just to get a taste of them.. He'll make you sit on his lap and send of all the guards to wait outside canceling all his meetings until later. He'll have you on his lap in his office as he undoes the buttons off your shirt with his teeth, rutting his hips up into you to get friction..

He'll suck your breasts for hours, rubbing all over your body as he leaves hickeys and bites all across your chest.. He just can't get enough!

Sigma

Thighs.. He loves some thighs. He's rather shy about it, but after all of the patrons in the sky casino are taken care of and the day is over, he'll cuddle you up as you watch some Netflix show on the TV and squeeze your thighs.

He sometimes brings you to his office so he can have you sit in his lap while he does paperwork, the feeling of your plush thighs against his lap making him calm while he deals with stressful work..

But he also likes to have his dick between your thighs as he fucks them after a hard day of work. He'll hold his arms around your waist and hold you tight to his chest as he ruts up between your thighs, whimpering into your neck or hair

Nikolai Gogol

He doesn't care. What he likes doing.. Is using his ability to dick you down while you're away.. You'll be in your office working on some case and suddenly a portal opens underneath your bra, Nikolai's tongue flicking or to nurse on your nipples as another portal opens to fuck his large dick into your helpless pussy.. He's not against doing it in front of other people.. And he's embarrassed you a few times in front of Fyodor by randomly pressing his dick into you and fucking you HARD against the nearest surface your body lays on. Needless to say, Fyodor wasn't very amused..

[shinycollarboneapologist]

need matty to help me get off myself but he tells me what to do and guides my hands. fuck.

GOD. yeah.

"you're not doing it right," he tuts from across the room, sat in a chair and watching the little show you're putting on for him.

"if you're so unhappy, why don't you come over here and do it yourself?" you challenge but don't stop the rhythmic push and pull of your fingers in and out of you. he's mesmerized by your movements and if he wasn't so caught up he would definitely be swatting your hands away to fufil your needs himself.

"because i want to see you do it," he's getting off the chair now, stalking over to you. his eyes drift up to your face, watching as your brow furrows in a deep set of pleasure, "want to see you tease yourself. s'more fun that way. so let up a bit. do it like i would."

reluctantly, you remove your fingers. a soft whine permeates the air at the loss of contact, the sound going straight to matty's dick that's been straining against the constraints of his pants since you walked into his flat today.

"sit up a bit for me," and you oblige, shifting up the bed and propping your legs open. he groans at the sight, lip tucked between his teeth, "okay now slowly- ah i said slowly, run a finger over that pretty little clit of yours. think you can do that for me?"

you're already two steps ahead of him, following his directions to a t. a shudder runs down your spine, mouth galling open in a silent gasp.

"do it again," he commands and your eyes shut. the bed dips down next to you, his breath is hot on your neck. you follow his instructions, whining out once more. "okay now add some more pressure. just like that, good girl."

you puff out a disgruntled moan, itching to just find your sweet release as you slowly add more pressure to the sensitive bud. he tells you to go harder, faster and you do, feeling the white hot pleasure begin to settle deep in your gut. his hand comes over your own, phantomly puppeteering your pleasure. eyes opening you tilt to face him, face scrunched up.

"feel good?"

all you can do is nod.

"alright, now want you to put a finger in that pretty little cunt for me. you can do that, right?" there's a sinful noise that reverberates in the air as you do as he asks, slipping a finger inside. he moans, "that's it. how's it feel?"

you find a rhythm you like, moans passing through your parted lips while adding a second finger, "s'good but it's not you. want you. want you." its almost chant like.

he falters a bit, throat tightening as his pants feel even tighter.

"you'll have me," he murmurs, lips hot on your neck, "after you make yourself cum."

[starry-eyed-never-satisfied]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: KISS (US Band) Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Gene Simmons/Paul Stanley Characters: Paul Stanley (KISS), Gene Simmons, Ace Frehley, Peter Criss (KISS) Additional Tags: Embarrassment, Fights, Crying, Makeup Sex, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Masturbation, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex Summary:

“You know what you fucking did!”

Gene sighed.  “I don’t know what I did!  Please talk to me.”

“You . . . you told the whole world on tv that we’re sleeping together!”

The disastrous Tom Snyder interview threatens the future of  KISS, as well as Paul and Gene's relationship

It’s been over a year, but I’m back babies!

@elrohare

@speckster

@namelessbutters-doodles

let me know if you wanna be tagged

[l3viat8an]

Hey Ro 🧡!!

I'm travelling mid September!! But rn I wanna share a thought I've been having for a while.

Going in a travel with the boys. Everyone packed inside a car and having to sit on their lap 😌 and be fucked and passed around from lap to lap like a "blunt". Being stuffed by each of the sins 👌

With love

- 🍋

Hiya 🍋!! A trip omgg sounds like fun XD

Also ‘Like a blunt’ is honestly the best way to describe it too- helpsjskks

and the only reason they’ll all actually take turns is because one; you’re enjoying it and two; somebody has to drive / change seats at least twice so they can all get a turn- (and yk give you a break) shhshsh

[iamjucie]

iamjucie fanfic masterlist!

The Master and His Pet:

Pet (ao3) (complete):

You have been the Vampire Lord Astarion Ancunín's Dark Consort for as long as you can remember. You don't remember much of your life before this undead life you live, but you do know you have a purpose. Obey.

Chapter 1: Thinking

Chapter 2: Boots

Chapter 3: Full

Chapter 4: Pink

A History in Lessons (ao3) (ongoing):

You have been the Dark Consort for centuries and your Master, Vampire Ascendant Astarion Acunín, has worked hard teaching you lessons to become an obedient spawn. The best version of yourself- at least, in his opinion.

Astarion's personality isn't immediately turned evil by the ascension Instead it slowly takes over him and his relationship with Tav by proxy. So slow, it's barely noticeable

(flashback spinoff of Pet)

Chapter 1: Raised in a Barn

Chapter 2: Light Reading

Chapter 3: "Your Most Prized Spawn" pt.1

Chapter 4: "Your Most Prized Spawn" pt.2

Chapter 5: "Your Most Prized Spawn" pt.3

Chapter 6: "Your Most Prized Spawn" pt.4

Chapter 7: "Your Most Prized Spawn" pt.5

Chapter 8: "Your Most Prized Spawn" pt.6

Chapter 9:"Your Most Prized Spawn" pt.7

The Rescue (ongoing):

Something is going on in the Crimson Palace, but you're not sure what. All you know is that there are people, and they are not happy with your master.

An alternative, happy-ish ending to Pet.

Chapter 1: The Ball

[separatist-apologist]

The Great War

I vowed I would always be yours

Summary: Feyre Archeron's kingdom has been warring with King Rhysand for longer than she can recall. When, on an unlucky stroke, he stumbles upon her and her sisters locked in a tower, Feyre will do whatever it takes to keep him from finding them.

Even marrying him.

Happy @unofficialfeysandmonth2022 (but really LB appreciation month!) My only multi-chaptered offering.

Read more on AO3

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

Azriel was gone the next morning. Feyre had stomped out of her room to look for him only to be turned around by an irritated servant. Straight back to the ultra-smug Rhysand needling her all through breakfast. She wished for another knife to drive through his gut, or at least a willingness to get close enough to his face, if only to slap the smile right off him. 

Feyre only wanted to know one thing, and she asked it constantly. “Have you heard from my sisters?”

Feyre asked multiple times a day, bursting into his office and interrupting whatever business he was trying to conduct. It was the only time she saw that flash of temper in his violet eyes before smoothing it over and assuring her he had not.

He had his revenge with his seamstresses. After dinner, Feyre was stripped naked while fabric was draped, pinned, and sewn around her body. Shoes were made for her feet and one evening, after stepping from the bath, several women all but pinned her to the ground to measure her inseam and bust in order to create delicate underthings her new husband might enjoy. 

She didn't want Rhysand to enjoy one single moment of their impending marriage. She had no plans of letting him enjoy her body, at any rate, and caught herself wondering on more than one occasion what would happen if she slipped a knife in her underwear. He’d pull them off, thinking he was about to get what he wanted—her utter submission—and instead find himself missing his favorite appendage. 

The ticking clock of that cursed night was approaching with each passing night. Feyre was practically vibrating by the time she reached the forty-eight-hour mark. Two days left of belonging only to herself. There was no way out—she was too carefully watched. Guards were stationed at every door every hour of every day, while others patrolled the forest.

At least, that was what Rhys had told her. She didn’t think she wanted to test him, if only to avoid knowing what his body felt like on top of hers. Feyre could still feel the phantom squeeze of his thighs around her waist, of the warm, hard slab of his chest when they’d been body to body. Hell, sometimes she woke and swore his calloused fingertips were bruised against her wrists. 

Irritated that any part of her had a reaction to him kept Feyre from being pleasant. When she couldn’t find a way to occupy her time after lunch, Feyre turned to her all-time, favorite activity–annoying the king, simply to remind him this was to be the rest of his life. 

Feyre found him in the throne room. Unlike his usual, straight-back demeanor, today Rhysand was sprawled over the throne casually. He had his powerful legs spread open while he rested his head on his first. A feline smirk graced his handsome face as he stared down some blonde courtier just before him.

“Where are—”

Rhys held up two fingers, not bothering to look at her at all. Feyre halted, her slippered feet sliding over the marble in her haste. He’d never ordered her silence before. The silver gown she wore whispered through the silent room, the only sound as all heads turned to look. Only Rhysand kept his lethal, violet gaze on the man before him. 

“So it’s true,” the blonde whispered, his hushed tone filled with venom. Feyre’s heart spiked—she’d forgotten how hated she was here. Rhysand had made her forget with his teasing, while his servant’s gazes had softened. Now, though, every eye in his expansive, black marble throne room stared at her with nothing but abject disgust. 

She felt small and foolish all of the sudden. Rhysand’s eyes snapped to her face, as if he’d heard her thoughts.

“Come, Feyre darling,” he murmured, those two fingers that had once silenced her now beckoning for her to join him. She hesitated before practically tripping towards him, heart thudding painfully in her throat. He was going to embarrass her in front of these powerful men. She knew this game all too well–how often had her own father let his court make sport out of her and her sisters to appease their small, fragile egos? 

If she turned and fled, they’d mock her cowardice. They’d be twice as cruel the next time she saw them. The crowd parted for her, letting her walk in an unbroken line over the swirled onyx marble. A chandelier overhead threw light across carved pillars, while a wall of unbroken windows offered no relief from the snow-filled gloom outside.

When Feyre reached the first of the four steps that would have led to the dais, of which Rhysand was still perched atop, he stood gracefully. He came to meet her, offering her his hand like the picture of courtly manners.

She had no choice but to take it. The half-smile on his face and the softening around the edges of his eyes certainly seemed real. Rhysand led her up the steps, slid his hand over her waist, and smoother than water, brought them both to the throne before she could catch her breath. Rhysand settled her in his lap so her back was flush against his chest, his thigh wedged between her legs. 

The intimacy of her posture made Feyre’s cheeks burn. 

“Magnificent, isn’t she?” he murmured. His thumb rubbed indolent circles against her waist while the other gently pushed her hair all to one shoulder. She felt his lips brush the side of her neck as he stared down his court, daring these powerful men to challenge him. 

No one spoke. Not even Feyre, who had no problem telling him exactly what she thought, often as she thought it. The whole thing was theater, though it took her a moment to realize it. Rhysand had made a choice outside of his court's opinion, and now he meant to enforce it.

“Your majesty–”

“Bow,” Rhysand interrupted, using one of his long fingers, clad in a silver ring, to draw a lazy picture on the lace covering her shoulder. “Bow before my new wife. Show her your respect before you speak to me” 

Feyre’s heart hammered in her chest for an entirely different reason. At no point in her life had anyone ever bowed before her. The daughter of a king, for all it mattered—and it didn’t. Not until that moment, perched in her enemy's lap while he touched her with lazy, teasing strokes, did Feyre feel a small sliver of power. 

Begrudgingly, every body in that room fell to one knee. Heads bowed, eyes lowered, while Feyre watched with surprised, parted lips. 

“Tell me what it was you wanted when you first came in, my darling,” Rhysand murmured, his breath warm against her ear. The smell of him was just as intoxicating as his show of strength. Feyre knew that he was well aware of why she’d burst in.

He shifted his thigh, rubbing between her legs without meaning to. She gasped ever so slightly at the bolt of pleasure that speared through her, causing her to grip his other thigh in order to keep from rubbing against him.

She cleared her throat softly. “My sisters,” she whispered.

His teeth grazed her throat as he replied, “Safe. As I promised they would be.”

She had no response for him. It was as if he’d stolen every last inch of her ability to fight when he’d put her on his throne. 

Feyre swallowed, “Rhysand—”

“Rhys,” he interrupted, ignoring how his court was still bowed. “Call me Rhys.”

“If you’re busy, I can leave–”

“Stay,” he murmured, that finger crooking under her chin to make her look directly at him. His eyes slid to her mouth, nostrils flaring. “I find these things so terribly dull by myself. Your presence has improved my mood, which I’m sure my court can appreciate.”

Against her will, Feyre’s own gaze found his full, sensual mouth.

What was happening to her? She nodded, putty in his very large hands. She thought he might kiss her at that moment, and what was worse, didn’t think she’d stop him if he tried. 

“Rise,” Rhys ordered, his voice laced with boredom. He settled back against his throne, one arm wrapped around her waist to bring her with him. With a fluid, almost practiced movement, everyone was back on their feet. Resentment burned in the eyes of several of the lords and all of it was pinned directly on her. 

She was the enemy here. Did they imagine she’d somehow enthralled their king? Or did they just loathe the idea of hosting their enemy's daughter when they imagined their own sitting in his lap. Feyre tried to create a mask of boredom so similar to the man behind her, but her anxiety was written all over her face. 

“Kier is my steward,” Rhys explained, his voice loud enough for everyone could hear him. Keir offered Feyre a nod of his blonde head, unable to keep his hatred out of his brown eyes. “He’s been detailing my court expenses.”

“I was unaware we would be accounting for a wedding,” Keir snapped. Rhys straightened, fingers tightening against Ferye’s waist.

“Did you think I would joke about taking a wife?” Rhys asked, his voice lethal—deadly. Keir immediately backed down, stuttering a step backward.

“My apologies, my lord. It’s just…I assumed this was a ploy for her father's attention.”

“Look at her,” Rhys murmured, some of his anger ebbing. Feyre shifted, nervous with all the eyes pinned to her form. She very much did not want them to look at her. “The north has never once produced anything half as beautiful as Feyre darling. Why shouldn't she be mine?”

His court could do nothing but agree. In Feyre’s whole life, no one had ever called her beautiful. Elain, yes—often comparing the two of them with a pitying stare. Nesta, too, in her regal, unyielding sort of way had been called beautiful, though Nesta always bared her teeth at such a compliment.

And then there was her. Strange, awkward Feyre, always in the shadow of her older, prettier sisters. No one had ever thought anything of her. Not until just now, when Rhysand had called her magnificent. 

Beautiful.

She couldn’t tell if he was mocking her or not. She wanted to turn and see if there was any honesty on his face. Feyre couldn’t bear to see this was all some terrible joke, which kept her pinned against him with a dry throat and sweating palms. 

“I trust we’re not suffering?” Rhys drawled, his fingers creeping lower over her dress. Everyone pretended they didn’t notice the way he was touching her. Feyre wished she could, but each long swipe over the fabric left a wake of heat pooling in her core. 

“No, lord.” “Good. You may continue if there is more? Otherwise, stop wasting my time.”

Feyre scooted back against him, trying to escape the onslaught of sensation writhing through her. This time, when she accidentally ground her bottom against him, it was Rhys who hissed a surprised breath of air. His whole body went taut beneath her, his secret accidentally revealed. His cock was now nestled neatly against her ass, utterly rigid in his excitement. He wasn’t unaffected, then. For a moment, a thrill of arousal slithered down her spine and she half twisted. Hazy with lust, she’d forgotten that she hated this man—she merely wanted to touch. Their eyes met and he saw her intention plain as day, his violet eyes wide with a mixture of surprise and what she thought might be a relief. 

Do it, his gaze seemed to dare. Feyre bunched her fingers into fists, holding them in her lap as she turned away. She tried to hold herself still, an impossible task when he continued his onslaught of touch. Feyre couldn’t keep her body from reacting. While another courtier droned on and on about the coast, Rhys pressed his lips experimentally against her neck for a feather-soft kiss. She arched without meaning to, which in turn caused his cock to jump against her back. 

Feyre tried—and failed—not to think about his sheer size. She hadn’t lied when she’d told him she’d been with another man. Only one, a handful of times. The stablehand back home, Isaac, had been convenient for a girl unwilling to be traded like cattle on the back of her virginity. She’d merely wanted to get it over and done with as quickly as possible, both to de-mystify sex, and to be able to tell any future husband he hadn’t had her first. That she’d made that choice for herself, irrespective of his wishes for a virginal bride.  Isaac had been so unexpectedly kind that Feyre had come back a handful of times, exploring her own sexuality with someone obviously doing the same.

It had been sweet—two kids on the cusp of adulthood trying to figure themselves out. Rhysand, behind her, was hardly a boy. The sheer size of his cock, coupled with the way he lightly touched her, the way he let his breath curl over the back of her neck, and how his lips were always grazing the lobe of her ear, made Feyre think that Rhys was well practiced.

Skilled. 

Someone used to getting exactly the reaction he wanted. That made him dangerous, and her stupid for getting so close to him. Feyre had never been more relieved than when Rhys dismissed his court. The sun had begun to set, bathing the already dark room in inky shadows. 

When she tried to rise, his grip on her body tightened. She, too, was desperate to escape him. Trapped, Feyre kept herself still until the last courtier vanished. She didn’t want to be the subject of their gossip any more than she was certain she already was.

Only when the door slammed shut did she squirm against him.

Rhys lifted his hips, exhaling a loud, long breath. “Stars above, Feyre. Turn around and look at me.”

She did turn, only to slap him roughly in the face. “You had no right,” she breathed, hating how badly she wanted to slam her mouth against his own. To do so was to teach him he could make a spectacle of her and still get what he seemingly wanted.

One hand caged around her wrist as his cheek bloomed red from her assault. “You know I like it when you hit me, darling,” he growled, pushing his erection against her. 

“You’re an ass,” she accused, her other hand slipping from his chest. A dagger, hidden from his belt, grazed her overheated fingers. Rhys was too busy staring at her mouth to realize what she’d just found. 

“I’m about to be your husband,” he replied, loosening his hold on her other hand. “Wouldn’t you like to know what it’s like to be with me? To try me out?”

Gods, but some depraved part of her did. She was still twisted against him, his thigh rubbing between her legs with obvious intention. Feyre was going to break, was already so wound up and unable to pretend the attraction between them wasn’t two-sided.

“I’m sure you’ll make it suitably horrible,” she breathed, eyes drifting to his mouth again. Fuck her, she needed to get away from him. “I have no interest in an early preview of what promises to be a boring, uneventful night.

He chuckled, refusing to release her even when the hand not hovering by his dagger shoved at his chest. 

“Boring? Even you don’t believe that,” he said, licking his lips with obvious anticipation. He thought he was going to get his way, that he’d cajole and she’d spread her legs for his pleasure. 

Fuck. Him.

Feyre pulled the dagger from its sheath and pressed the jagged teeth against his tender flesh. Rhys arched his neck, as if to give her better access.

“What a predicament,” he murmured, his eyes glittering with a mixture of heat and amusement. “I wondered if you’d find that.”

“You can’t be serious,” she retorted, pressing the blade tighter until a drop of blood slid from his neck into the open buttons of his tunic. 

“Do it, darling. Cut my throat and walk out of here. No one would blame you.”

Feyre didn’t move, holding his stare. “Tell me the truth about something.”

“Anything,” he swore. Her hand trembled as he sat up just a little straighter, both hands still drawing teasing circles around her waist. As Feyre worked up the nerve to just ask her pathetic, insecure question, his fingers drifted upwards until he found her breast.

“You called me beautiful.” It was the best she could do.

A lazy smile graced his handsome features. “That’s not a question, darling. Ask.”

She couldn’t breathe. He’d found her nipple through the fabric of her gown, teasing and pulling until she ground against him. She hadn’t dropped the knife, didn’t think she was physically capable of it.

He leaned forward, causing another rivulet of blood to slip against the bronzed muscle of his chest. She watched it vanish into the black and silver fabric of his tunic and strangely, could only think of how they accidentally matched.

“Ask me.”

“Do you think I’m beautiful, or were you—”

His mouth was against her own before she could finish her question. His free hand clamped around her wrist, prying the dagger from her fingers and flinging it away from them. She heard the steel clatter against marble, the only sound in an otherwise silent room. 

He’d closed his eyes for the kiss, twisting his fingers into her hair to hold her against him—as if she might try and escape him. Feyre swore she wanted to. 

Just not yet. 

She liked the slight of this man seemingly falling to pieces beneath her. His chest rose and fell as he panted for breath, his mouth moving furiously over her own. When his tongue slid against the seam of her lips, part of her opened just to see what would happen.

A moan ripped from her throat as his tongue tasted her own. The sensation spooled between her legs, unraveling the last ounce of her resistance. She decided this was some new battle, some winnable war. After all, he could have killed her, and instead, he’d dressed her in his clothes, put her in his lap, and—

“Please, Feyre,” he interrupted her thoughts with a guttural plea. His eyes had snapped open too even as he kissed her again and again, robbing her of all her good sense. He was so good at it, his lips soft and still firm.

“Please what, Rhys?” she replied, her own voice dripping with arousal. His eyes rolled upwards in his head, hips lifting off the chair.

“Touch me,” he begged, taking both wrists in his hands to press them to his chest. She didn’t know what came over her—didn’t care. There was no one to witness them as her fingers flew over the buttons of his tunic, deftly undoing one after the other while they kissed the other madly. 

She pushed aside the fabric of his tunic, revealing the most gloriously sculpted chest she’d ever seen in her entire life. He could have been carved from marble—every inch of him was hardened, bronze muscle. The two trails of blood from his throat, of which a red imprint still lingered just beneath his jaw, had pooled against the masculine slope of his collarbone. She gazed at the trail of dark hair just beneath his naval, vanishing into the laces of his pants. 

Rhys panted as she stared, suitably breathless for a man in his predicament. Feyre didn’t bother to try and explain her actions to either of them as she tilted his jaw, teeth tugging at his ear before she began the slow descent of kisses. She avoided the blood in favor of the salty taste of his skin.

Down, down, down, until she’d decided to slip between his legs and see the appendage he’d been grinding against her all night.

“No,” he groaned, catching her by the arms before she could fall to her knees. “No.”

“No?” Rejection pricked just behind her eyes. He’d asked her to touch him, and then when she tried he told her no. Feyre pushed away from him, intending to leave before he could humiliate her further.

Rhys had no intention of letting her leave him. Quicker than she could track, he hefted her up into his arms just long enough for him to stand. He dropped her into the chair, still warm from his body. Her eyes immediately landed on the bulge in his pants, pushed away by his impatient hand.

“You want to know if I think you’re beautiful?” he asked her, his eyes as wild as his hair. “If I meant every fucking word I said to those miserable bastards, staring at you like you were the most hateful thing in the world? Looking at my wife with any of the appreciation she deserves?” Feyre remained utterly still as Rhys, King of Velaris, her enemy, got on his knees before her. 

With torturously slow hands, Rhys slid the skirt of her silver gown up over her legs. “You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen in my entire life. It is I who ought to fall to his knees and worship you, and not the other way around.”

Her whole body felt too tight at his words which had become nearly inaudible over the blood roaring in her ears. She didn’t move, gripping the arms of the throne as he parted her knees. Rhys, too, seemed as if he were unraveling at whatever he was seeing. He was all but rabid, hooking his fingers in the band of her undergarment and oh so carefully pulling them off her body. Feyre lifted her hips to assist him, unable to take her eyes from his face. 

He balled them in one large hand, pocketing them quickly like they were a souvenir for later. Rhys pulled her legs upwards, dragging her to the edge of his throne until she was draped over his bare shoulders. “I have wanted to do this since that day in the dining room.” “When I stabbed you?” she asked incredulously. He was such a liar. Rhys pressed a kiss to her inner thigh, trailing upwards before skipping her cunt entirely to move down the other.

“Yes,” he replied, the word revenant. “I wanted to haul you up on that table and have you for breakfast.”

“Liar.”

Their eyes met. “Let me show you,” he whispered. Feyre didn’t move, well aware she’d already given him all but explicit permission. He had her skirts up against her hips, her body practically flush against his face. If he touched her, he’d find her dripping wet and aching for any contact. She thought, as he brought his thumb to the nub of flesh apexed at her flesh, that she ought to close her eyes and pretend he was someone else. 

She couldn’t look away. Not when he groaned loud enough the sound bounced off the high ceilings, creating an echoing melody around them. He rubbed slow circles around her, dragging her own silken arousal against her aching clit to soften his touch. Feyre would have been satisfied with just that, was positive she could have come even if he’d changed nothing about his technique.

Rhys lowered his mouth, replacing his fingers with his tongue. She flew off the chair, pressing him closer which elicited another breathless moan from his lips. He reached for her, keeping her there. Unlike his careful, slow fingers, his mouth was ravenous. Feyre had to hold herself upwards on her elbows, hair spilling over the throne as she fought to catch her breath.

Had she promised him a wife who knew what she was doing in the bedroom? Feyre felt like a liar—every new glide of his tongue felt brand new to her. There was nothing hesitant or tentative like Isaac had been. She’d been far too timid back then to ask him for what she wanted, and more often than not Feyre hoped he angled himself just right so she found release, too.

Feyre gripped his thick, dark hair, holding him where he was. Already wound up from hours on his lap, it took practically nothing to drag her upwards. Rhys was relentless, licking and sucking like his entire life depended on it. Perhaps to him, it did—some small, scared part of her wanted to believe this was his way of proving he would be a good husband.

A kind husband. 

Rhys pushed two of his fingers into her body without warning, pumping them in and out of her cunt in a mimicry of what his cock might do. Incandescent pressure had begun to pool against the base of her spine, drawing her upwards whether she wanted to be or not.

And Feyre very much did. She couldn’t even pretend, given how she watched him watching her. “Rhys,” she pleaded, hanging on the very precipice of her sanity. “Rhys please.”

His fingers curled, lips sucking around her clit all while his tongue continued its fevered adoration. Feyre screamed without meaning to, bowing off the throne in an effort to chase the shattering orgasm ripping through her. She was lost in a sea of brilliant stars while wave after wave after wave of pleasure washed over her. She was lost, tethered only by the hand still gripping Rhys’s inky black hair. 

He rode her through before pulling away, letting her catch her breath and sit up. His eyes were blown out, the darkest shade of midnight violet. While Feyre tried to steady her trembling legs, Rhys brought his fingers to his lips and licked them clean.

She fully expected to repay the favor. She wanted to offer him even a whisper of what he’d just given her. Feyre smoothed out her skirts, oddly hurt when he jogged down the steps of the marble-cut dais to shrug his jacket back on. He was glancing at the window, fingers quick against his buttons. 

“I won’t be at dinner this evening. Feel free to use the dining room,” he told her, all business again. Feyre blinked.

“What?”

He pressed at the bulge in his pants, the only proof he was affected at all. Turning towards her, apparently unaware his hair was sticking up at unnatural angles, he flashed her a smile. “I have a meeting I’m probably very late for. Use the dining room without me, darling. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“What about—” she felt stupid even saying it. His smile became quickly apologetic.

“My gift to you, pretty Feyre. Go on, then. I know you’re desperate to be rid of me.”

And that was the problem. She very much wanted more of him.  

She adopted her haughtiest flounce to hide her confusion, striding away from him without another word. If he was playing a game with her, she didn’t appreciate it.

And she didn’t like being in his debt, either. She ate alone that night, her thoughts only on him. His half-naked body, his mouth, his hands.

His words. 

How casually he complimented her.

How quickly he’d discarded her.

She was angry by the time she’d bathed and dressed in a flimsy pink nightdress, clearly one of the pieces made for her new husband to enjoy. She tugged at the hem which covered the swell of her ass and nothing more, drawing the top over her breasts. There was no winning, then.

She stared at herself in the mirror for a moment. He thought she was pretty, he wanted her…so why didn’t he just take her? 

He’d said so himself that he was already late. What would a few more minutes have meant, in the scheme of things? Feyre was well aware that men never lasted long when they were taken inside a willing mouth. Three minutes, tops? And he could have gone on his merry way without making her feel so out of sorts. 

She stomped out of her bedroom. If he wanted to play games with her–if this was his way of keeping her confused—Feyre meant to put a stop to it.

She knew where his bedroom was. She’d scoped it out days ago thinking she might try and cut his throat in his sleep. Now that she knew she wasn’t capable of that, it was good to know where she’d be living in a few days.

Feyre didn’t bother knocking. Perhaps she should have. Perhaps if she’d offered him the courtesy of knocking, Rhys could have pretended he was a gentleman for the first time in their complicated history. Might have paid her another compliment before sending her back to bed, none the wiser.

But she hadn’t, and as consequence, Feyre barged through his sitting room and flung open the double doors to his bedroom to find her soon-to-be husband utterly naked in his large bed, hand wrapped around a very swollen, very large cock.

Her mouth opened, blinking as she struggled to regain her anger as it slipped away. 

“There you are,” he whispered, his voice heady with arousal. “I was just thinking about you.”

“Oh,” she replied, rendered speechless. 

He leaned up on his elbows, his body half bathed in the flickering light from the fireplace across the room. “Feyre, darling…have you come to join me? Or have you come with another weapon?”

A quick sweep of her body told him she’d come with nothing but herself. His grin was entirely too smug for a man caught touching himself. He ought to have been embarrassed and for the life of her, she couldn’t see why. He was the most beautiful man she’d ever seen in her life. While Rhys waited for her to say something—anything, her desperate brain screamed—Feyre drank in the sight of his muscled thighs, toned calves…and how his large hand was just the perfect size for the thick, bruising length of him. What, she wondered, would his cock look like in her hand? 

“Close the doors behind you,” he murmured, shifting on the silken black sheets beneath him. Feyre turned, reaching for the silver handles to lock them in together. She swore she heard him sigh with relief when the latches clicked.  

“Are you going to get into bed with me? Or would you like to watch me beg again?”

“Why…” she gulped down air. “Why didn’t you let me…?”

He pumped his hand over his cock, dragging a bead of moisture over the tip. “I would have lost myself,” he murmured, letting her watch him slowly pleasure himself. “Some things are required of me, I’m afraid.”

“Is it about my family?” she asked. Rhys exhaled softly.

“Your father. Not your sisters.”

“Your court is angry you’re planning to marry me.” Again, it wasn’t a question.

“They don’t dare oppose it.”

“But you should.”

He held her gaze. “If this is your attempt to escape, let me assure you that hell itself could not keep me from you. Do you understand that, Feyre? I don’t give a fuck about my court's approval, about your father, or the politics. This marriage is only about us.”

She yielded a step. “He’ll kill you for this.”

Rhys offered her a hoarse laugh. “He’d kill me anyway. Might as well have a little fun before I go.”

“Is that what this is, then? Just fun?”

Shadows danced in his gaze, and for the first time since she’d met this man, Rhys seemed uncertain. He cleared his throat, his hand stilling on his still throbbing cock.

“Is…is that what you want?”

She reached for her fingers, holding them in front of her body. Truthfully, Feyre wanted much, much more than just fun. And she also didn’t know him. Didn’t trust him enough to offer him an inch of vulnerability. What if she told him she wanted a real marriage, the opposite of what her parents had, of what she would have eventually been sold into, only for Rhys to laugh himself hoarse? 

“Yes.”

Liar. 

Some emotion flashed over his features, too quick for her to read. A lazy smile replaced it as he looked up at her with his fuck me eyes.  “It’s awfully hard to have fun when you’re all the way over there, darling.”

Feyre went to him, then, still tight from the lie she’d told. Maybe in ten years, when the dust had settled. When they knew each other better, she’d ask him what it was that he wanted. If he wanted a real marriage or he just wanted to piss off her father and knew that filling her with his sons was the easiest, most expedient way to do that. 

As Feyre climbed into his large, soft bed, she thought that maybe it was better for her sisters to stay where they were. If Elain and Nesta were happy, there was no reason to drag them into this. It could remain her burden, one she was taking up gladly. 

Feyre scooted beside Rhys, reaching for his face for a kiss. He leaned towards her, the stubble of his jaw scraping against her cheek. Was it really so bad? If he offered her respect and some measure of kindness? 

Rhys was quick to cup her face in return.

“What is it that you want from me?” she whispered, wondering if he’d let her get on her knees now that they were alone and had established some shaky boundaries.

Wariness flooded his expression again. “I…” he gulped. “Feyre, I want…”

“Me on my knees?” she supplied, using her finger much as he had done earlier to trail down the flat plane of his chest. “Or would you prefer my hand?”

Relief replaced his fear. “I suppose wanting you on your back is out of the question, then?”

Oh. “Be grateful for anything at all,” she said in the sultriest voice she could muster. “Be glad I don’t offer your cock the same blade I offered your throat.”

“Don’t tease me,” he breathed, parting his legs as she climbed over his body. “You know I love how violent you are.”

“I have teeth, you know,” she informed him, pressing a kiss to his stomach. Rhys huffed out a breathless laugh, his cock dripping against the thin material of her night dress. It might have been pathetic had his arousal not settled her own insecurities. She wanted him—and he wanted her. Enough so that he kept his lips pressed together when she was finally at eye level with the base of cock. While Rhys gathered up her hair, holding it off her face, Feyre took a moment to wrap her hand around him.

Just to see if he’d fit. 

“How do I compare?” he asked, his voice husky with desire. “Smaller than what you’re used to, right?”

Her fingers didn’t close around the base of him. Feyre’s eyes flicked to his face, well aware that Rhys knew the lie about to tumble from his lips. “Is this all, then?”

He smiled. “Tragic, isn’t it?”

Feyre traced the throbbing vein under his cock with the tip of her tongue. She had more experience with this than anything—Isaac had preferred to finish in her mouth and Feyre, concerned about pregnancy, had been perfectly content to let him. 

She supposed it didn’t matter anymore. 

Rhys shuddered when she lapped up the bead of precum, delighted to find the taste of him was perfectly pleasant. Just like the rest of him—well groomed, bathed, and otherwise well taken care of. She’d heard from the other women at court it wasn’t a guarantee. Of men who were so disgusting, their wives plugged their noses before they let them get into bed.

Rhys smelled like citrus and the sea. She had no problem sucking the tip of his cock into her mouth or sliding him into her throat as she braced her hands over his muscled, lightly-haired thighs. 

“Fuck me, Feyre,” he groaned when he hit the back of her throat. She could take another inch before she lost her ability to breathe and had to make up the rest with her hand. Encouraged, she began to work over him the way his teasing hand had been when she’d first come in.

It was clear he’d already been close. The vein under his cock head throbbed from his pulsating heart against her tongue and Rhys didn’t seem able to stop himself from using the hands holding her hair to help her bob up and down.

“Feyre, your mouth,” he panted, voice trailing into an incoherent moan. She’d been right to think he’d finish quickly.

Rhys’s back arched off the bed, his thighs spread wide. “Feyre,” he practically whined, grip tightening in her hair. “Feyre, I’m going to come, Fey—” and he did, pouring himself into her throat before he could finish his warning. She was happy to let him if the alternative was letting him come on her skin, which risked her hair. 

Rhys pulled her off him when he was totally spent, dragging her back up his body for a rough, messy kiss. If the taste of his own come bothered him, he gave no indication of it. His tongue was everywhere in her mouth, just as frantic as the rest of him. 

“Stay,” he told her when she tried to pull away. “This will be your room in two nights anyway.”

“Maybe I prefer to sleep alone.” 

Another lie. She was starting to lose count. She’d spent nearly two years sleeping beside her sisters and hated waking alone in that massive, cold bed.

“Well I don’t,” he told her, dragging blankets over their bodies. He pulled her into his chest, face buried in her hair. 

“Is this how you intend to sleep beside me for the rest of your life?”

He draped one of his legs over her waist, the weight settling her anxiety.

“Yes,” he murmured, pressing a kiss against her ear. “I can’t risk you biting my cock off while I sleep.”

She elbowed him in the ribs while he laughed at his own stupid joke. Still, there was no escaping the hold he had around her. 

And for the first time, Feyre was perfectly content with that. 

[nanamisdickrider]

And I hit it like it's all mine!

Pairing: Zayne x reader

“if your hands keep being mischievous i can show you how surgeons tie knots” "so why don't you show it to me doctor?”

That was the last thing you've heard from him before he put aside all his paperwork and documents to the side and placed you on top of his desk. He pulled your shirt up and threw it on the chair, he only needed three fingers to unhook your bra. His lips immediately latched on your nipples, sucking and biting on them, decorating your chest and neck with love-bites. Your hands made its way to his pants, tugging and trying your hardest to pull it down but you failed when he pinched your tit with his fingers. Your body jerked towards him

“Too desperate to get this cock inside your tiny hole? Is that it?”

You whimpered and looked at him, his smirk made you wetter than ever. He unzipped his pants and pulled down his boxers just enough to pull his cock out, the tip was so pinkish and the precum was spreading on his mushroom head. "Spit" he demanded, you lean down and spit on his cockhead. His fingers rubbed the spit all over his cock. You couldn't really wait to have him deep inside you when he was groaning so deeply while stroking his pretty dick. “is that pretty hole ready to take me in baby?” he pulls down your shorts and move your panties to the side. His fingers rubbing on your folds, he slaps twice on your pussy. Your clit getting all the sharp stimulations from his palm. You whimper as he pushes his cock between your wet folds. Smearing your wetness all over his fat cock. Slowly going down and stopping at your entrance. He shoves it in slowly as your walls clench around his tip, he buries his face into your neck, biting on your soft skin while pushing his dick in deeper until he bottoms out. His fingers dig in your waist and brings you closer to him. He lets you adjust to his size for a while until you let out a broken “p—please move..ngh!” you can feel his lips curl up as you say that. he starts thrusting in and out, rolling his hips in a circular motion to hit every spot. You could feel his tip hitting your cervix. You screamed out in pleasure and zayne quickly shushed you with a kiss. Pulling away after you stop being so loud “Dont let out such sultry noises, you don't want others to hear you crying for my cock now do you?” he grins and thrusts in harder if that was even possible. His speed remained unchanged as he went in and out fast enough to kick out all the thoughts from your dummy head !

He was close and you were too, his hips stuttered as his thrusts weren't as rhythmic as before. “ready to take my cum in? Wan’ me to fill you up and give you my kids? Yeah?” You just nodded as your eyes rolled to the back of your head. You pulled him closer by his tie and kissed him. It was such a messy kiss, he was sucking on your tongue as your and his saliva mixed together. He was very close, his hips rolled deep inside you one last time as he shot hot ropes of his cum deep inside you, filling your womb to the brim.

He's catching his breath while gently thrusting in as you cum after him. He keeps himself inside until he's fully soft. Pulling out and making you feel all empty :(

“That's how you tie the perfect knot my love”

[tinsnip]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: 逆転裁判 | Gyakuten Saiban | Ace Attorney Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Mitsurugi Reiji | Miles Edgeworth/Naruhodou Ryuuichi | Phoenix Wright Characters: Mitsurugi Reiji | Miles Edgeworth, Naruhodou Ryuuichi | Phoenix Wright Additional Tags: in Miles's office, a terrible idea, with time pressure, and in their clothes, Miles POV, and what is he doing???, calibration was not supposed to be like this! Series: Part 6 of Rivals With Benefits Summary:

Miles is attracted to Wright, yes; it's a horrible but undeniable truth. Surely, though, there's a way to manage this? A way to be around him without immediately ending up with no pants on? Well, if there is, he hasn't figured it out yet.

Miles gets trapped at his office door by Wright, which quickly leads into time-pressure sex. Miles POV, complete with edible-looking Phoenix and constant self-recrimination.

Excerpt: Eventually he's considering an escape through the nearest window, because after five minutes, six, seven interminable sixty-second-long minutes of discussion of their current cases, of office gossip, of the weather for God's sake, Wright still won't go away.

Miles could shout at him, perhaps? Or say something incredibly rude and cutting. Which wouldn't be difficult, given Wright's general… Wright-ness. His tie isn't tied properly, for one. And his suit needs a cleaning. His shoes are scuffed. His satchel's half-buckled. His eyebrows… the less said, the better.

And yet, and yet… The needle's in the yellow zone. Constantly. And it's vibrating.

[dearramiel]

A touch starved Eddie Munson who melts against your touch. A submissive man who lets you take control, teaching and showing him how much you love him. A man who's never shown his vulnerability to anyone else but you. The way his gaze is soft on your form, looking into your eyes as you're making passionate love to each other. You're so beautiful on top of him, and that's all he can think about. Especially the way you didn't run away from him, rather, ran to him.

Eddie's mind is solely focused on you, he's fully dedicated to you, he has you with him and he wouldn't have it any other way.

[verve-wifux]

More than friends/Daryl Dixon X Fem reader smut!

Summary: Daryl is on watch, and Y/N decides to join him. When tension is high, the two can't deny each other any longer.

Warnings and kinks: Foul language, detailed blowjob, male receiving.

******

Walking through the field in front of the prison, you avoid stepping on the cucumbers planted there by Hershal and Rick. In the distance, you could see the familiar build of the man you came to know as Daryl Dixon. As usual, Daryl had taken it upon himself to take another watch shift as Hershal grew worse with his foot, or lack of one.

Over the past few weeks, you'd say your friendship with Daryl was definitely growing stronger, so strong you'd had a sex dream about him. Twice.

Daryl was attractive, sure. But he was older, much much older. You felt when he looked at you, he saw a kid, a little sister, or a reliability to protect and watch over.

And you hated it.

You wanted Daryl to look at you like you were a woman, a woman he desired to be with, even if it was just for a bit of fun or distraction. You'd find yourself staring at his messy hair, cutting light blue eyes, and veiny hands when he slashed walkers faces off with his knife more times than you'd prefer, especially after he'd always find a way to catch you. Daryl was always very aware of his surroundings, making it hard for you to admire him without him noticing. However, when he caught your stares lingering, all the reaction you'd get was a speck of soft pink dust covering the tops of his ears, maybe a little smile or wave, or he'd ignore it completely and go back to whatever he was doing.

You were surprised when he didn't hear you stalking closer, especially when the hunter's skills were so tuned and precise, he must've been distracted.

"Hey there, Dixon, you alright?" I questioned, placing my hand on his shoulder and squeezing softly as I sat next to him.

His whole body jumped at my intrusion, muscles tensing under my touch as his head snapped around to face me, his hand already on his knife that was strapped at his side. His eyes were wide, hair falling in them as he glanced you over, clearly shocked to find you here. You can't lie, you find it amusing to see the unafraid killing machine at your side be startled by a few simple words and a hand.

You let a smirk tilt your lips North, curving at the sides as you scanned him over one time, god he looked good tonight.

He scowled at you when he saw your smile, shrugging your hand from his shoulder with a mere grunt.

"I'm'kay."

You frowned, something was definitely bothering him.

"You sure? You seem..off," You stated, glancing at the dark sky above your heads, scanning the area for movement.

"I said I'm fine," He reassured bluntly, feeling his eyes hovering on the side of your face, yet you didn't look back at him, trying to calm the racing of your heart.

"Why you here?" He questioned quietly, taking out his knife and beginning to fiddle with it in his hands, goddam those hands. Despite them being covered in dry blood and mud, Daryl Dixon's hands were gods gift to women, and he had no fucking idea.

You met his gaze, noticing his struggle to maintain eye contact with you, so instead looked back to his knife and gulped, just once.

"Thought I'd come out, check in on ya," You merely shrugged, glancing him over.

"You didn't need to."

You sighed in defeat, nodding once before you made to stand up.

"Well then, you clearly don't wanna be disturbed, I'll leave ya be-"

"Wait-" His hand wrapped around your wrist firmly, his eyes already on your face when you met his gaze, you're mouth opened to ask questions, but no noise came out.

"I uh-" He quickly removed his hand, your skin burning with disappointment at his lack of touch. Pink dust scattered over his cheeks, the tips of his ears glowing red.

"I didn't mean- You can stay," He muttered lowly, voice a quick rasp.

You raised a brow.

"Do you want me to stay, or are you just trying to be polite?" You questioned, making him glance over at you, chewing on his bottom lip as he spun his answer over in his head.

"I- I want you to stay.. here, with me," He admitted, clearing his throat for the last two words. You smiled softly at him, putting your hand over his, making his eyes shoot to where you touched him before going to your face, falling to your lips, and slowly giving you a twitch of his lips, which you had learned was a smile.

You both sat quietly for at least ten minutes before you decided to speak, unable to take the silent tension fizzling between you as your knees touched.

You gulped.

"Daryl?" You muttered, glancing over at him, taking in the scruff of his beard before returning to his eyes.

He dipped his head barely, giving you the green light to continue.

"Can we.. can we talk? About something.. it's been bothering me for a while now and I just- need to talk about it," You got out in one big ramble, forcing your lips shut when he shot you an alarmed look, ready to come to your defense.

"Ya okay? Is someone hasslin' you? Cause if so I-"

"No, no. I'm fine, it's just-" You stopped, licking your lips, looking for the right words that wouldn't make him run away from you.

God, why did you bring this up?

"Go for it," He muttered, putting his knife away and watching your face, eyes tracking your tongue's movement as it slid over your bottom lip.

God, he was so attentive to each little detail, you couldn't stop yourself from imagining how it would feel to have that undivided attention on yourself.

"I uh.. I kinda can't stop thinking about someone, and I shouldn't," You muttered, watching his face close enough to notice the small flash of disappointment light in his eyes, quickly extinguished with a blink.

"Oh."

Oh? Fucking oh? Was that all he had?

"And uh, I-" I stopped, not sure how to continue.

"Why- why shouldn't ya be thinkin' about them?" He asked carefully, voice low.

"He's- He's older.. by.. a lot, and I don't wanna scare him off..." You explained, feeling your cheeks heat with embarrassment.

"I- Y/N listen, you know Rick has a wife, and Hershal- Hershal is-"

You couldn't stop the laugh bubbling from your mouth, taking him by surprise as he fell silent and watched you, clearly embarrassed he was talking about this with you.

"Daryl, no. Just- no. It's not Rick," You giggled, your laughter finally settling.

"...Hershal..?" He continued with a shy smile, making you shake your head with a smile.

"Uh..no, it's kinda.. you?" You blurted before you could stop your traitorous mouth.

You felt your eyes go wide, not as wide as Daryl's did, however. His mouth fell open, staring at me like a fish, like I was insane.

Shit.

"I didn't- shit, I didn't want you to feel-"

He managed to shut his mouth, finally noticing it opened, and looked down at his hands, his cheeks burning bright red.

"Oh."

You fucked up, shit, shit, shit.

"Shit, I'm sorry-"

"Y/N, can I..Can I um.." He began, unable to even form the words.

"Please don't..move.." He finished, making you furrow your eyebrows in confusion but followed his wish, simply nodding hesitantly.

He hesitantly edged closer to your face, his blue eyes captivating yours before they fell to your lips. Was he..? Surely not, surely Daryl Dixon was not going to kiss you.

He was so close to your face you felt his hot breath from his nose, fanning across your lips, making them tingle and your stomach flip with excitement.

His eyes met yours, uncertainty flickering in them as he looked to you for an answer.

Giving him one, you pressed your mouth to his.

You managed to catch the look of pure shock on his face before closing your eyes, the feeling of his soft lips against yours sending your mind reeling. You began to pull back, noticing his hesitation of kissing you back, before you felt his hand go to the side of your face, his calloused hands cupping your cheek and his lips began to move against yours.

You let out a soft sound of pleasure at the feeling of his tenderness, your hands sliding up his neck and into his hair, dragging him closer to you. Nipping his bottom lip, he caught your hint and opened his mouth, allowing your tongue to slide into the gap he made for you before dragging across his.

You felt your cheeks heat at the rough sound he made when your tongues met, his fingers tightening slightly on you, making you swear softly as you swept his tongue in yours again.

His free hand slid to your waist, pulling you over him for a better angle as he continued to roll his tongue against yours, fingers digging into the exposed skin.

You ground your hips on top of him as he pulled you closer, sucking on his tongue teasingly as your hands rubbed over his shoulders.

"Fuck, Y/N," He swore, his voice a low, rough sound.

"Mhm," You hummed against his mouth, tilting your head and going back for more.

The kiss was addictive and all-consuming. Despite his timidness he was still a good kisser, tasting amazing as his tongue swept against yours in leisurely movements.

"We probably shouldn't be doing this," He managed, pulling back from your lips and looked at you. You saw his eyes flick down to your mouth, no doubt full and wet with his saliva.

"No, probably not," You agreed quietly, your eyes flicking down to where your hips met, his hand still securely on your waist, his touch warm and electrifying.

You glanced back to his face when he swallowed, eyes tracking his throats movements, your mouth growing dry by the look of hunger lingering on his face.

Not able to resist, you pressed your lips to the side of his neck, feeling his quick inhale of breath as his pulse pounded. You peppered soft kisses over the sensetive skin under his neck. Swiping your tongue over his skin, you sucked softly, leaving small purple marks over him. He groaned softly, feeling his whole body stiffen under you, hands tightening on your hips when they fell there. Under you, you felt his hardening dick press into you, making you smirk against his throat.

"If this is so bad, why does it feel so good?" You muttered, nipping his earlobe playfully, making him puff out a breathless chuckle.

Deciding you were going to tease him, you began to rock your hips on top of him slowly, grinding down on his cock. You let out a soft moan into his ear, making his head fall to the crook of your neck, feeling his eyes flutter closed.

"Want me to stop?" You offered in a breathless pant, your hips picking up a quicker movement as a low heat began to build up in your lower abdomen.

"No," He answered breathlessly, teeth sinking into your shoulder. You whined softly, hands falling down to his belt and began to fumble carelessly, your mouth finding his. The kiss grew sloppier and more desperate, tongues rolling against one another.

Still rolling your hips against him, your hands slid to his belt buckle, fumbling carelessly as you continued to caress his lips with your own.

You smiled against his mouth when you heard the click of his belt, signalling it had come undone. Daryl pulled back from your mouth, his hands going to yours and stopped them from advancing him further.

"What's wrong?" You questioned, scanning him over.

Hunger still lingered in his face, yet there was something swirling in his eyes. Nervousness or embarrassment, you couldn't decide which.

"I uh- I haven't.." He trailed off with a gulp.

You blinked at him.

"I haven't in a while either, not before all this happened. It's okay," You reassured, hands cupping his face and ran your thumb over his cheek.

"Nah, it's not that. I haven't.. uh," He struggled to speak, His eyes glancing away from yours as his cheeks grew pink.

Surely.. surely the man infront of you wasn't a virgin. You couldn't imagine that Daryl Dixon had never had the opportunity to sleep with someone, you had imagined women desperate to hold his attention before the world went to shit.

"Daryl, are you telling me you're a virgin?" You questioned quietly, angling his head to make him look at you.

Unable to admit he was outloud, he merely nodded.

"I can't- I don't think I can please ya the way ya want, I won't be any good," He choked out, removing his hands from you.

"Daryl, I don't care whether you're a virgin or not, it doesn't mean shit to me, so don't be embarrassed. I can show you how to please a woman, please me, of thats what you want," You explained, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

You felt him tense at your words under you, blinking at you when you took his hands, guiding them under your shirt.

"Y/N-" He protested, eyes wide as his hands brushed against your warm skin, ready to combust into flames by his touch.

"Shh, stop worrying so much, you're putting too much pressure on yourself. Do you want this? Tell me you don't and I'll stop," You muttered into his ear, licking the shell as you waited for his answer.

He hesitated.

"I want this, I want ya. I just- I don't know how," He admitted, eyes roaming over your face.

"Then let me lead, just relax," You whispered with a soft smile before pressing a slow kiss to his mouth. You left his hands under your shirt when you went back to his belt buckle, pulling the heavy leather loose before your fingers worked quickly at the button on his pants, swirling his tongue in yours when you slid the palm of your hand up his clothed length.

He moaned lowly into your mouth, fingers digging into your sides as he nipped your lip, only making you grin.

"Like that?" You taunted, licking across his jaw when his head rolled back at the feeling of you rubbing him slowly.

"Mhm," He merely grunted, making you smirk.

Sliding your hand under his boxers, you wrapped your hand around his silky skin, earning a strangled moan from his throat, eyes snapping back to you, eyes heavy with pleasure.

"Just relax," You reminded, pressing your lips against his once more, receiving a rough kiss as you began to pump him slowly, squeezing at the base before you glided back up to his tip, swiping your thumb over his leaking tip.

He cursed breathlessly, eyes hooded and heavy.

You slid down his body, noting the confused look he gave you as he watched you move downwards.

You watched him through your lashes as you ran the flat of your tongue up his length slowly, so slowly it was painful for yourself.

He gasped as he felt your tongue slide over him, cutting off into a dark groan when he watched you hum in pleasure.

You licked him softly, again and again, rolling over his glistened tip before wrapping your mouth around him and beginning to bob on him slowly, involving no teeth. You continued to stroke him with your tongue, taking him further into your mouth with each bob of your head, speeding up slightly as you hollowed out your cheeks to take more of him inside.

"Fuck, Y/N," He gritted out, his hand coming to your hair and pulled softly. A shoot of pride shot down your spine at his encouraging words, telling you how good you were making him feel, and willed you to take him to the back of your throat. You gagged slightly when he hit your tonsils, feeling tears of pleasure prick at your eyes at his hardened size.

You watched him through your dark eyelashes, bobbing your head on him before pulling off with a pop sound. You swallowed the precum in your mouth quickly, licking your lips before licking his side again, sinking back down on him and moving quickly.

You sucked on him, licking leisurely and softly, edging him until he was about to cum in your mouth. His deep and quiet moans made you feel euphoric, wanting nothing more than to feel his release sliding down your throat, dying to taste him.

"Y/N-" He sputtered breathlessly, indicating he was about to find release.

You merely moaned, driving him to the back of your throat, rubbing his tip against your tonsils twice more before his release exploded from him. Hot liquid spat from his dick, filling your mouth until you swallowed , groaning at the taste.

After milking him of cum, you pulled from him, licking your lips eagerly as you savoured the taste of him.

His dazed look made a smile form on your face, knowing he had never received a blowjob from someone.

"How was that?" You questioned. Unable to even respond, he swept your mouth up into a heated kiss.

"What 'bout you?" He questioned timidly when he pulled his mouth from yours, hinting at the fact you hadn't came.

"We'll work up to sex, hm?" You hummed, making him nod eagerly.

***

[naayewolf]

“There There, Kitty” Kokushibo x Muzan Daughter!Reader [Smut]

Summary:

You are Muzan’s Demon Daughter, and he has ordered the top 3 uppermoons To be your personal servants. You decide to turn them into your personal lap dogs. 

*Might make this a whole book with different context*

*Uppermoon/Muzan Jackson’s impressions of y/n

Akaza: Wants to be stronger than her, they spar all the time even though y/n always wins.

Douma: Finds her VERY entertaining. Basically her girlfriend [In the sister sense]

Kokushibo: Follows her EVERY command~

Muzan: Loves her, gives her secondhand control over the top 3 uppermoons as a gift.

TW: 

Dubcon, Dominant reader, size difference, Loss of virginity, abuse of power,  rough riding,, bondage [tentacles daki style],  blowjobs, milking, lipstick play [It’ll make sense] Sado/masochism, bedpress, master/servant[pet] dynamics, degradation

You sit with a makeup brush in your hands, your eyes colorful shades of yellow and pink, your lips are blood red. Your hands work on Douma’s face, spreading blue powder across his cheeks. “Blue really suits your skin tone Douma!” You smile, putting glue on a jewel to place it under his eye. 

He squeals with joy in a high pitch, glad for the compliment. “You're the makeup artist, y/n!” He uses his blood art to make an ice mirror to see himself. He squeals louder than before and hugs the air out of you. “It’s perfect! I wasn’t sure at first, but you truly work magic y/n!” 

You Give him a closed eye smile, opening them again when you catch the aura of your other pets Akaza and ... Kokushibo. 

They both enter the room, Akaza throwing the door open unknowing of your presence. “DOUMA WHERE IS MY- What the actual f u c k ..” His eyes go wide at Douma,  him uncaring of you being here. Kokushibo on the other hand bows to the ground as if you were your Dad.

“Forgive us Master, we were unaware you were- tending to our fellow moon, forgive us for intruding.” He shuts his middle and bottom pair of eyes, looking at you through the top pair. You let out a giggle pulling his head to a sitting position with a tendril from your back. 

“It’s quite fine. Akaza, please refrain from breaking Douma’s door from now on.” he doesn’t bow, only letting out a very unapologetic grumble. Koku gives him a quick glare and he apologizes a bit more believable. You stand motioning for them to move from the door.

“Kokushibo. If you’ll follow me, I have something I need you for.” He lets out an immediate ‘Yes, Master’ before standing to follow you out. The second you two step out Akaza punches through Douma’s head. 

“Akaza dono .. you ruined my makeup ..” He whines while sitting up. The yukata he wears barely covers his crotch, as it’s usually worn for a married couple’s first night together. [Honeymoon lingerie] He pouts bending forward, the cloth covering his groin falling forward almost exposingly “Don’t you think I’m pretty in this?”

Akaza’s pale face turns red from embarrassment. In truth, he’s jealous Douma had this much time with you instead of him. He would’ve spent it training his strength instead of playing dress up though.  Douma goes to lift the cloth covering him. He kicks Douma in the groin.“You Fucking Would!” 

*With Y/n and Kokushibo*

*Koku POV* 

Kokushibo is positively TERRIFIED. He remains stoic as always on the outside, but on the inside he’s screaming with a million questions. What did I do? Where is she taking me? Is she mad? Is she gonna kill me? Is she gonna get THAT MAN to kill me? 

You walk on, arms crossed in front of you, him behind you as a symbol of your superiority towards him. He realizes that you’re nearing your quarters. That brings even more questions.  

*Y/n Pov* 

You’ve liked this pet for a while, and seeing him so obedient at the moment he realized you were there made you feel special. You realize that he’s the type to follow orders without a second thought. The control you had over him made you feel- a certain way. You decided to see just how far he’d go to meet your demands.  

You lead him towards your room, bouncing at the excitement of the game you're about to play. When you get to your door you move aside ushering him in. Kokushibo turns to you again with all six eyes on you in confusion and concern. 

“Master-” He begins, shutting up when your small figure presses against his tall one. “What are you-” A black tendril shoots out your back going through his wrists pinning him to the wall and dripping blood onto the floor mat. 

You shush him, pushing your finger to his lips. “It’s okay, just .. go with it.” He knows he could easily overpower you, or at least push you off, but he’s afraid it’ll anger That Man. With swift roughness you have him against your futon straddling his body. His hands twitch around from the pain. He doesn’t know what else to do but beg, afterall he doesn’t even know what he did. “P-Please Master, stop.”

 You’re dumbfounded for a second before letting out a laugh. “Ah! The little demon is begging .. how cute.” You let out a breathy moan before rolling your hips into him.  He moans lightly which causes you to grin. You move down to line your face up with his crotch. 

He yelps when you kiss him through the cloth, effectively smearing your lipstick. You let out a chuckle lifting up to look him in his eyes. “It’s ok, there there, kitty. Just stay very still.~” You undo his obi making his kimono come loose. You swiftly pull it off of his shoulders. He whines with his hands being unable to cover himself, not that his hands would do any good to cover it. 

You gasp at the size of it. Koku must be half horse or something- It’s about 12 inches with considerable length. You move down, placing a kiss at the base. He stiffens but stays still, not wanting to anger you. If this was you when you were giving mercy, he’d hate to see you withdraw it. 

You trail up and down his length leaving marks of bright red all over his pale cock. You nip at his base before looking up to admire your work. His cock was dripping with precum and he was a mewling mess. You smirk moving down and putting his legs over your shoulders making him gasp. “Looks like l made a mess~” You move in leaving another trace of lipstick on his shaft. You inhale, enjoying the smell of him in such a sinful position. “Let me clean that for you …” You take your tongue and lick from base to tip taking him in your mouth relishing in the taste of his precum. 

You bob your head, closing your eyes to focus on task. He begins to moan out your name repeatedly like a broken record. His groans of protest long since died out, he moans louder than he really should have. “Ah!~ Master .. Y/n please s- ngh .. slow down.” His requests are met with deaf ears, as you only increase your speed. 

His release hits you both hard, as when he feels the blood in his body move to his cock all at once. He thrusts his hips up into your mouth making you take his full length. You gag and soften your throat, relaxing him deeper into your throat. 

You take him out of your mouth with a pop and move up to sit in his lap. You undo your yukata with a quick tug and pull one of his hands through your tendril, ripping his wrist open. You pull his hand up to your breast knowing the injury was nothing to him. “Here, play with them! See? squishy!”  He complies by pinching your nipples reluctantly before circling your breasts in his palms. 

You let out a light moan while lining yourself up with his tip. He panics, all of his eyes widening and trying to move himself away from your dripping sex. “Wait, Master dont!” He did want this, but his length was the size of your arm by itself and he didn’t want to hurt you. You smile, taking your hand up to grip his cheek. You take his moment of distraction to drop yourself onto his full shaft. You cry out and pain shoots through your whole body in the best way.

You use your tendrils to move yourself up and down on his length. He moans even louder than before, surely his colleagues had heard you two by now. He loses control and shoves you against the futon roughly. He becomes feral and bares his fangs pressing you into your sheets. 

He goes at unmatched speed making sure to pound deep into you with each thrust. You moan loud enough for everyone present to hear you, an orgasm hitting you into a heaven like state. He falls back keeping himself inside you. You move up, crashing your lips together. Kokushibo releases his seed deep inside your womb.

You both pant loudly holding each other for the little sanity you both have left. You let out a breathless laugh snuggling into his chest. “I’ll tell you one thing .. W-We are definitely doing that again Kitten.” You kiss his nape moving into him to fall asleep. 

He hugs you back being released from your tendrils. He closes his eyes and plants a kiss on your forehead. “As you wish, Master.”

[simonsfish]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Young Royals (TV 2021) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Simon Eriksson/Wilhelm Characters: Simon Eriksson, Wilhelm (Young Royals) Additional Tags: Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Cock Warming, Kink Discovery, Under-negotiated Kink, Under-Desk Blow Jobs, Blow Jobs, Service Submission, Subspace, Dirty Talk, Wilhelm's anxiety Summary:

Wilhelm comes home feeling antsy and finds his calm under Simon's desk.

-- -- For Day 12 of Kinktober in July: Cockwarming