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yupyor · 2 years ago

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A Show Of Possession | Robb Stark | Male Reader | Nsfw | Lemon

Ngl- I lowkey kinda robbed yall of a whole overstimulation and cum eating scene. Im sorry, but i'm just tired of seeing this fic in my drafts 😭😭 It been there for like what? 2 whole months now??

Like I've been advertising this on my other acc for a decade now LOL and I just want it GONE. No matter how much i take away, add, or edit this fic, i always re-read it and just, HATE, HATE, HATEEEE the way it sounds!!

I don't know why, but it just triggers me seeing this fic still in my drafts after so long, so if u read this and it sounds rushed, or off, or just bad in general, that's why lol. I was originally going to delete it, but then that would be a waste of my blood, sweat and tears. Besides this is like 4k+ long, i would NEVER be that bold.

And the fucking 4 solo projects, 3 test, 3 group projects my teachers just decided to dump on me in ONE WEEK is not helping. Like- are we going mental now?🤕

Yea- but anyways.. enjoy i guess? Like if it's that bad just take it as crack smut smh

"Tell me, Y/N" He dearly strokes you cheeks—so affectionately that it could fool you into thinking his previous anger and disappointment towards you have simmered. "Do you relish the attention of other men?"

His left thumb abandons your cheek to deftly caress the wet thinness of your lips, pressing and flirtatiously pulling at them. "Am I not of adequate value to you?

TW: Rough | Jealous Robb, Sub domination, Marking territory, Bottom Male reader, Scenting, Face fuck, Blowjob [Reader giving], Reader goes to a meeting looking like a mauled fuck doll and smelling like...well- Robb—MDNI

Robb didn’t like what you were doing. What you were trying to do, even if your intention behind it was good. He despised the obscene way those men shamelessly gaped at you and eye fucked you as if you weren’t publicly known to be his. Their hands would linger and trace flirtatious lines alongside your body whenever you came of distance to serve something or ask a question, and it triggered him how tolerant you were to their touches and whispered, degrading compliments. You were trying to make them more favourable towards the deal. Robb knew that. But that didn't make him feel any less indignant and slighted. If anything, it only fueled his anger, especially with the active way you refused to meet his gaze.

It was maddening how they didn't even remotely try to hide their interest in you out of politeness and respect for him, and he has to grit his teeth to refrain from doing something stupid. Fortunately, It doesn’t take long for the people on his end of the trade to pick up on the hateful way he continued to internally seethe, his mood having done a rather abrupt and complete 360, going from being friendly and polite to having his face slightly scrunched up and a knuckle white grip on his chair’s wooden handle. The way you stood at attention at their side of the table with a hefty tray of jugs filled to the brim with ale in your hands left a vile taste in his mouth, one that threatened to have him throw up a string of extraordinary curses. You were so accommodating. It was as if you were a welcoming doormat.

Robb forces his expression into something modest at the cheerful sound of his guests and their pitchers from the other side of the table, breaking his subtle glare from you to stare at his potential business partners instead.

“Lord Stark!” One of them laughs, boisterous in all their mannerism. It makes him respect his dad and mom even more for being able to put up with such ludicrous behaviour and uphold a straight face. “I don’t say this oft out of courtesy of being a welcomed guest and all, but you,” His beer sloshes over when they eagerly point towards you, “You know how to pick ‘em.”

He concludes his speech with a suggestive wink at you, and Robb toils to stop himself from leaping out of his chair to draw his sword. Each passing minute he endured to keep up his façade of impartialness made his tolerance diminish, something his brothers became acutely aware of from the desperate way his fingers twitched at his side for action. They were blatant with their disrespect towards you. And that meant him in turn, which was inexcusable. They acted as if they didn’t know you were wed, and to him, nonetheless. Did the rings on your finger really stand for nought? Or were they just as dense as he initially thought them to be?

Luckily, for the sake of the trade, Jon and Theon were also there, and they were quick to pick up on their brother's shrinking patience. Jon is the first of the two to take action, speaking up on his brother's behalf in hopes of drawing the collective attention of the room off of both you and Robb, not wanting to risk a fight breaking out and setting the trade up in flames. He saw the tight lines that constricted your and his brother’s face, and as ashamed of it as he might be, at that current point in time, he didn’t trust Robb enough to withhold snapping at them and ruining their first handed-off affair, no matter how rightful of him it would be. Theon is next, forcibly chucking at an attempt to play off the tense atmosphere. It comes out dry and lacklustre. But it doesn’t matter, cause their patrons were too drunk to notice anyway. “So, about the ships….”

Robb lets the conversation fall on deaf ears when he refocuses the brunt of his senses back on you, shifting irritably in his chair and taking note of the dull way you overlooked their conference as you played with your nails. Your eyes meet for a split second when you go to take a round of the room out of both exhaustion and boredom and the savage eyes of a predator gleam back at you. His brows were creased to deepen the fierceness of his look, and his lips were downturned into a judgmental frown. It only takes staring into the blue swirl of them for 2 seconds to deduce how pissed at you Robb truly was, but you don't let it get to you. A tired groan leaves your breath as you roll your eyes dismissively at him.

You knew what you were doing, and likewise why you were doing it. Robb's father had a lot riding on this trade, and no matter how adamantly Robb denied it, what you were doing was for the best. Besides, everything you did was deliberate and planned out all the way down to the way you walked. You were doing it with the sole intention of benefiting him and to help further his success. It was shocking enough that his parents allowed them to attend the gathering in their stead; and trusted them enough to temporarily pass the act of power and responsibility down. They were no doubt scouting their readiness—his readiness, wanting to see how much their son had truly grown and whether he was befitting of his father’s position when he resigned or not. They needed to know if he knew what he was doing. So yes. This needed to go well.

You endure his glare for the time being, but it eventually becomes too unbearable. You offer him a sheepish expression as an apology. You wanted at the very least to let him know that you weren’t enjoying this any more than he was. Unfortunately, it does the complete opposite of what you had in mind, cause Robb stands up so abruptly at your look that his chair scrapes harshly against the floor. It demands the attention of the room.

“If you’ll excuse me,” he starts, his eyes glued onto yours. “I just recalled a matter of urgency I have to consult with my father. But please, continue. I won’t be gone for long.”

There's a plea in his voice that hints at a different story—a plea only you can pick up. His eyes hardened with demand. He was telling you to follow him without question. You give it a few minutes after his departure to put the tray down with a soft sigh and follow in his steps, making sure to leave the room with a smile on your face.

It was somewhat dark out; the sun was flushed out by the clouds.

...

Which direction did Robb go again?

“What was that?” Robb's voice echoes from behind you, stern. It makes you jump in your spot. You hated it when people snuck up on you like that, especially now that you were wedded to the one and only Robb Stark. It wasn't exactly a secret that many weren’t particularly fond of your homoerotic relationship, concerned for tradition. So it could be an attempt on your life for all you know.

Robb sees this and gives you a quick apologetic look before once again reinforcing his face, remembering why he called you out here in the first place, to begin with .“Was that why you were so hellbent on being by my side today?” He glowers, closing the distance between you. “To flaunt your beauty and entice them into accepting our proposition?”

Your determination and rebelliousness waver at the sight of his anger, your defiance quickly outwilled by his fury, struggling to keep its self-upright. You might have had the balls to play Mr, Big Guy when he was forced to play on a leash earlier, but now that the two of you were all all alone, you can't help but think you underestimated his anger. Robb was mad, and very much so. That was clear from the way his eyes narrowed at you. He really didn’t like what you did.

The intensity of his confrontation causes your voice to uncharacteristically clog when you go to speak. You subconsciously take a step back. “I- but Robb-”

He stops you mid-sentence by pinning you against the wall, his breath hot on your ear. You give it a while before you try to deny his accusation, but once again, your words fall flat when you accidentally get a glimpse of how close his lips are to making contact with yours. Robb scowls at your lack of ‘interest’ towards the conversation, scuffing at the immodest glances you steal at his lips. Here he was taking things seriously, and you were off imagining his lips on you and mentally ordering tickets to pound town.

“Do you take this for a joke? …” Robb was bewildered that you weren’t taking him seriously. Offended, even. His lips purse into a fine line at your lack of an answer, his eyes hardening into even thinner slits to glare daggers at you. “Fine, I’ll give you what you want.”

The action of Robb securing your wrist with his hands jerks you out of your thoughts. His quick pace threatens to make you stumble, caught completely off guard by his steady stride, determined as he makes a straight line for your shared bedroom. The door is opened with a harsh push, and the only thing that stops it from slamming loudly against the wall is its heavy thickness. Robb releases his hold on you to prioritise closing the door behind him and unintentionally sends you flattering towards the bed.

“Strip.” He commands, the blatant filthiness to his demand making you stare back at him in shock. This wasn’t the sweet and considerate Robb that you came to know. This one was crude—straightforward and blunt.

You don’t move.

“Strip.” Robb dares to repeat himself as he undoes the buckle of his own. He was taking the lead here. You don’t waste any minute and heed his demand, not wanting to make Robb any angrier than he already is.

The coolness of the room’s air pricks at your tender skin, still warm. Robb shortens the distance between you with two large steps, nothing except his lingering eyes hinting at what his jealous mind was encouraging him to do. He takes in the healing vamps he left you with during your previous night of merriment with immodest eyes, a look of pure lust and fulfilment glinting behind them. The hint of a smirk pulls at the end of his lips. However, it’s not there long enough for you to notice. Robb deftly caresses the right side of your cheek. He seems to be holding off on saying something with the miniature way his mouth slightly hangs ajar, and he only closes it when his hand leaves your face to resume taking off the rest of his clothes.

“Kneel,” Robb demands, his back turned to you whilst he neatly disposes of his attire. He doesn’t reiterate himself this time around.

Stripping completely naked, his distinct muscles and gifted parts hang bare for you to see. Unsurprisingly, the first thing you take note of is his dick. It hangs loosely in between his legs, semi-soft, its size more befitting that of a third leg rather than a sex organ…He wasn’t even fully hard yet. Robb's body ceremoniously towers over you because of your kneeled position on the floor, the distinct height difference between you making his toned physique seem divine.

Robb grips your chin and gives it a loving stroke before lifting it up to force you to look him dead in the eyes, his jaw tense. He gives you a scathing look. “My eyes are up here.”

The irritation in his voice is far from subtle or belittling, and yet it doesn't stop you from training your craved eyes on him. The disdainful look he was giving you was doing nothing but increasing your spiritual need for him, both emotionally and physically. You struggle to suppress a shudder when his eyes unashamedly roam the full naked length of your body, and it makes the tiny hairs on your arms stand up. Robb's left-hand twitches at his sides when he notices this. His body and gaze might have been hinting otherwise, but he really was in no mood for this and was truly dissatisfied with your lack of decency. At least that's what he was telling himself to believe. He was going to give you exactly what you wanted. Just with a twist.

Alas, your heated breath and pleading whimpers were starting to take an effect on him, and Robb failed to stop his dick from eagerly twitching at the thought of having those shaped lips of yours wrapped firmly around him.

Still holding your chin with his right hand, Robb reaches out with his unoccupied one to rest it on your left cheek. "You were so zealous when attending to their needs, moving without question to satisfy their every whim." Just thinking about it was making his blood boil.

"Tell me, Y/N." He dearly strokes your cheeks—so affectionately that it could fool you into thinking his previous anger and disappointment towards you have simmered. "Do you relish the attention of other men?" Robb's left thumb slips to tenderly caress the wet thinness of your lips, pressing and flirtatiously pulling at them. "Am I not of adequate value to you? Not deserving of your utmost fidelity?"

Something obscene within you is stroked by the unmasked annoyance in his voice. This wasn't the Robb you have gotten to know throughout the long years of your engagement to him. This was someone else—an entirely different person with different characteristics and everything.

The way he looked at you was distinct.

The way he spoke to you was distinct.

The way he touched you was distinct.

More controlling. His sweet touches, words, and looks now all felt as if they were underlined with something vile and heavy underneath, the complete opposite of what his actions implicated. This wasn't Robb. No. This was somebody else. Your thought bubble is intruded upon and pops when something slippery finds comfort in your mouth, and your breath faintly hitches when you see what it is.

A dick.

Robb's dick.

It's meaty enough to apply noticeable pressure to your lips and lacks in length what it makes up for in girth. And while this was far from the first time you were seeing Robb's majestic dick, it renders you speechless nonetheless. It jerks sorely in return for the attention you dedicate to it, teasing your frail state of mind into overdrive and making your body grow hot. Fuck, did you want him? Robb takes his dick and gently prods your lips apart with the swollen tip of it for you to take him in, his foreskin gradually peeling back with each inch he dared to go deeper into you. He bites his tongue to not let another one of his vulnerable moans slip when the soothing warmth of your breath engulfs him, but the action is futile since it does nothing to actually stop it.

You take his muffled moan as a sign of encouragement and work your tongue around his sensitive, blush-red head only as if you were spellbound, making sure to especially tease at the back underside of it, where his nerves bundle.

Robb was being a dick by putting on a face as well as refusing you the blessing of hearing his shallow grunts, and you wanted to punish him for that—to see how long he could keep up his show of anger and indifference when truly put to the test. You wanted to make his hardened expression crumble with bliss—to have him longingly moan your name as if it were an enchantment while begging you to go faster and harder. You wanted to show him that you weren't the only one who wanted his dick to be deep within you. And luckily for you, you succeed.

It starts with a minor shift in his look, his glare transitioning from anger into frustration. Robb's brows deepen and his hands snake from hanging uselessly at his side to intently resting at the back of your head, his calloused fingers entangling in your hair to give it a satisfactory tug to urge your head forward, just far enough as to have you slightly choke on his dick. It hits the back of your throat, and for a slight second, you feel like you're going to throw up. You try to warn Robb, but your words come out stifled and indistinguishable as a result of still having him in you and the overwhelming pressure of his dick restricting your tongue from taking the necessary action to voice your concern. The feeling only increases when Robb forces your head deeper onto him once again until your face is flush with his base and your nose is buried deep into his pelvis.

He smells of vintage books, an ancient library, fur, and sweat—no doubt from wearing his cloak earlier during his daily session of training while under the scorching heat of the sun. And if your brain wasn't so fixated on the thought air, you would have found the unique combination intoxicating. Robb eases his grip on your head to allow you a breather when you harshly gag from having to accommodate him so deeply within you for so long, his blue eyes glazed and obsessively fixated on your lips.

His left brow perks inquisitively when he notices the shallow way your chest desperately heaves for air. "Out of breath already?" Robb questions. It comes off as mocking with the tone of voice he uses.

He tugs on your hair to slowly coerce you into looking up at him, a blatant look of disappointment settling on his face. "You were so durable when running around to accommodate their every need." Robb pouts. "But now you can barely breathe when I touch you."

A subtle throb of pain curses the area he gripped you at when he leans in closer to your face. "Do you yearn for their touch, Y/N? to be used and passed around for public use like the conniving slut you made yourself out to be?"

Robb's words are sharp and degrading, detrimental to most. But to you, they were rousing—invigorating, like an alcoholic breaking their oath to quench their forbidden thirst with several shots of liquor.

The tight pressure on your scalp is released when Robb unravels his hand from your hair to grab your chin instead. He impatiently eases your mouth back open with his left thumb and guides your tongue out to repeatedly slap the underside of his cock against it, only stopping when he deems you ready to take him in deep once again. Which would be considerate if that were actually the case.

"Swallow." Robb coos and your lips immediately find comfort around him for the second time that day. You lap, twist, and tie to the best of your knowledge, doing everything in your power to please him. Only this time, you don't dare just tease his head, still somewhat shaken from his previous disciplining.

Going as far down as your gag reflex allows, you feel Robb gently caress the side of your face as you attentively take him in, encouraging you to move your hands from hanging loosely at your side to envelop and pleasure the area your lips failed to reach.

You stroke it once, and it pulses back in return.

You stroke it twice, movement synchronised with your tongue, and it twitches back more uncontrollably in return.

You stroke it three times, and suddenly your hands hang aimlessly in midair with your mouth empty and wide open.

Deep, shallow breaths dominate the room; the sound of them is desperate and ragged. Robb pulled back. His face is contorted with a mixture of ecstasy, disapproval, and exhaustion. Probably from holding his moans back. You watch curiously as he hovers just a couple inches off in front of you, his dick misted and glistening heavenly. The excessive amount of spit on it would have probably thrown you off if your mind wasn't in a needy state for pleasure. And instead, you find the sight mesmerising—accomplishing, even.

Your spit slides lewdly down Robb's cock in slow, long drips off of his tip, mixing with his cum. His cock twitches yearningly for a good minute or two before you see a single, lonely line of cum trailing the underside of his dick. It flows and goes all the way down to Robb's balls before tauntingly dropping to the ground with a sounding plop.

"Fuck~ That was close," Robb notes, his voice hoarse and words meant for himself with how barely audible they are. A sense of accomplishment and smugness washes over you when you hear Robb being more expressive than before. You broke past his facade.

You open your mouth to gloat about your success, wanting nothing more than to shove it in his face. Unfortunately, the instant you do, Robb's cock returns to your lips, and his hands tangle in your hair again, forcing his shaft down and deeper into your throat.

Coughing at the sudden motion, you try to pull back to give yourself the break and needed air that your body sends frantic signals to your mind for, but instead of coming off of his dick when you pull off, your head bucks nearly painfully against something solid behind you. The bed. You forgot about the footboard.

Robb's eyes are closed, so he doesn't notice your struggle to breathe; his mind registers your breathy coughs as your throat is merely trying to adjust to his size. His grip on your hair tightens as his pace picks up, and soon enough, you're surely locked in place between two immovable objects, your face buried deeply into Robb's crouch and with your head flat against the bed's footboard.

"Ro-Robb~" You try to speak up, but your words slob and crack under the impressive girth of his dick.

Your lungs constrict with pain from the lack of air, and it ushers a coarse growl from the deepest part of Robb's soul when your throat tightens because of it.

"Mhmm, fuck, baby! That's tight." He whispers, using your throat carelessly as if you weren't a living, breathing being.

Bubbles of spit slide out in full down the ends of your mouth, and you gag when you feel the slimy, gooey texture of it seep through your clothes. You tap his thigh urgently to try and get him to open his eyes and see the desperation in your eyes, but Robb merely shrugs you off with a growl and untangles his left hand from your hair to grab both of your hands with it and pin them above your head against the footboard. His thrust has become less even and more primal because of it; the salacious sounds of him going in and out of your wet mouth haunt the room. Robb was drowned in ecstasy as a result of your puckered lips, and in return, he drowned out the world.

He eventually opens his eyes to glance down at you, his left hand releasing your pinned arms and his other detangling from your hair. Robb

pulls out of your sloppy hole in one swift movement, leaving you gasping hard for air. He gives you a short moment to gather yourself as he frantically jacks his dick off, wanting to give you a facial. When he feels his high near, he secures your head tightly in place and poses with his hips shoved out to have his dick rest squarely over your nose. He planned on covering the entirety of your face with his cum—scenting you so that whoever questioned your martial status could know that those rings on your fingers actually stood for something.

Robb imagines what their expression would be like to see you all marked up and walking around smelling like someone's personal cum dump. His personal cum dump As soon as Robb thinks about it, thick, short, creamy waves of cum sweep over you. Some of it goes into your eyes and briefly blinds you.

Robb doesn't say anything to signal his excitement. Instead, he displays his feelings through his gaze, fixated on you, his lips tilted into a satisfied sneer as he assesses the dreadful mess he's made out of you. Robb gently rubs your cum and tear-drenched cheek before resting his deflated dick back on your lips, uttering two blunt, ice-cold words after. "Clean it."

You can't open your eyes because of his cum pooling around them, so you can only assume what he means when he instructs you to "clean it." Nonetheless, you immediately obeyed his command, even though you had no 100% idea what he was ordering you to lick off.

When you've finished cleaning everything he asked of you to his satisfaction, you hear Robb draw away from you, only to hear him return a few seconds later. He throws you a towel and walks away from you to the other side of the room. You can hear his buckle clinking as he gets ready, and you rush to wipe the cum off your face with the towel and do your hardest to get rid of the strong, male stench it left behind. It doesn't work for the most part, and Robb smiles, satisfied.

"I promised our guest I wouldn't be long." Robb starts, finishes getting his stuff together, and straightens out his attire. "So if you would." He gestures for the door. And this time around, you don't miss the wicked tinge of pleasure in his voice.

You part your swollen lips to make an argument and bring up your cum and spit-soaked shirt, but Robb immediately shuts you up with a mere glare of his.

"I don't reckon your body has recovered enough for you to be able to endure another round of punishment at this current point in time." He muses, his smirk sharp enough to cut. "But if you insist, we could always put such a theory to the test."

#robb stark x male reader #male reader #x male reader

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yupyor · 2 years ago

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It's my 2 year anniversary on Tumblr 🥳

#2 year tumblrversary #tumblr milestone

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yupyor · 2 years ago

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BONGOS!!!!!

Cardi and Megan Slid!!!

#cardi b #bongos #megan thee stallion #done brought out my inner latina with this one 🤩#BRING OUT THE MF BONGOS!!!#cured my depression #cleared my skin #and gave me self confidence

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yupyor · 2 years ago

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Sambia: Meet the tribe that drinks semen to turn boys into men | Pulse Nigeria

#that's enough internet for today

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yupyor · 2 years ago

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The Healing Thrill of Sex | Dick Grayson | Male Reader | Lemon

Dick smirks as he cradles his head deeply into the delicate crook of your neck, giving it a chaste kiss. His lips linger on your skin when he doesn't dare to part, remaining yet firm even after he goes to snuggle deeper into you. He just wanted to savor the moment—to bask in your scent. "I feel like I can fly."

TW: Bottom Male Reader, Anal Penetration, Minor Mention of Blood, My First Draft [sorry if it's shit] - MDNI'

You're half asleep, your eyes still lidded as the thin rays of the sunlight poking through the small gaps in the blinds soothe your face. You were in your shared apartment, Dick wide awake and big spooning you. The familiar weight of his body cushioned against yours impressively puts your already calm state of mind to even more of a lull, and a dear smile threatens to part your lips.

He starts with a meager hump, dry in its movement, yet it manages to rip a moan from him. The first of many.

Dick wet his lips with one swing of his tongue, his head motioning to close the distance between you to rest just off your exposed right ear. His voice threatens to break when he gathers the will to speak, not going much beyond a whisper. "Can I put it in..."

Your eyes are still lidded, moderately conscious of your surroundings, and half aware of what is happening. The pressure of Dick grinding more against you forces your lids half open, your vision blurry, and your body still dreading waking up. The lack of warmth in the room make you instinctively cower deep into Dick's embrace, craving his body

s heat. He nibbles on your right helix, moaning deeply into your ear at your doing. "Mmmh, please~"

Something pulses defiantly against you at his plead, the tip of an object poking angrily into your spine. You try to get away from it by arching your back, but it does nothing to help. Instead, it makes it worse. Dick whines from behind you, the subtle rock of his hips intensifying into something more desperate.

"You're hurt." You deny him, mumbling.

"That was yesterday."

"Yesterday was 8 hours ago."

"I-"

"No."

"But~"

"You're hurt."

But Dick doesn't take your denial at heart, another one of his moans for pleasure preceding him as he rubs against you, wanting nothing but to feel that electrifying heat of your hole around him. "I'll be gentle," he swallows, a breath of want leaving him.

You want to stand your ground, tell him that the bandages around his stomach weren't just there for no reason and scold him that his injuries were just as significant and demanded as much, or even more attention than his lewd needs. But his hands...it was as if they had a conscience of their own, steadily working the necessary areas to gradually bring your guard down, and Dick's desperate grinds into you weren't helping either. You were slowly being brought down your high horse, and judging from the confident way Dick's hands continued to roam your being, it was all inevitable, deliberate. Dick knew what he was doing. "I'll go slow."

His tongue finds way on your nape, and the sensation of it trailing the length of it sends shiver upon shiver down your spine, your toes flexing as his hands simultaneously find solace between your thighs, using his right legs to part yours. "I promise..."

You don't respond—at least not vocally. Dick grins deviously when you slightly move your head to the side to expose your neck more to him, giving him leeway to do as he pleases. The sheets rustle as the two of you move, creasing with each urgent thrust Dick grinds onto your ass. This probably was a bad idea. Something you, and most definitely Dick, would come to regret later. But at that moment, you couldn't care less. You went from refusing to give in wishes out of concern for his wound to completely disregarding it and encouraging Dick's movement and impulsiveness by grinding back onto him. After all, he already said he would be careful... right?

Your personal bubble of thought is punctured when Dick grabs you by your chin to bring you closer to him, his lips eagerly finding yours to teasingly ease his tongue in. The dance that happens afterward borders that of magical. It is as if you were stoned. His spit mingles with yours while his hands breach your pants, dipping under the elastic band of your underwear to grab at the boner of your own. He gives it a few strokes, the initial first two making you curl into yourself his. His hands were big around you, warm, the callousness of his palm making for a unique texture. His tongue continues to explore the deep end of your mouth, refusing to give you the needed breath your body craved. You couldn't swallow, couldn't breathe. A sole line of spit trails the right side of your mouth.

Dick parts from you with an exotic bite to the lip, the soft tissue red and swollen. You're not allowed much of a recovery before Dick pulls your pants down, his eyes remaining locked on yours as he moves to undo the constriction on his own directly after. And in truth, it hurts him to move, but he does his best to keep that from his expression and you. The pain was mild at best, consistent, but weak. He didn't want to unnecessarily worry you, not after you threatened to deny him the pleasure of feeling you around him because of it. He wanted you—needed you. He wouldn't let something he deemed so trivial deprive that from him.

Your eyes depart from one another in sync when the lewd sound of his dick slapping against the bare skin of your ass rounds the room, his tip wet.

Fuck, that was hot.

You reach behind you with your right hand to grab at it, cautious as to not accidentally elbow Dick. It jerks at your grasp, throbbing sorely at the solid way you hold it within your palm. Dick likes when you use those pretty little hands of yours to cherish him. Especially when it came to that part. It was everything to him seeing you like that. The pleasing way your eyes would dilate with raw lust and anticipation whenever you saw him in all his glory. You didn't have to say anything. Never did. Just that look alone from you told him how high of a pedestal you put him on. His body shudders at the light squeeze you give his cock, the sensitive tip of his penis glaring daringly back at you, red. It was challenging you.

Dick groans as he slowly humps the cup of your hand, surprisingly still holding the ability to restrain himself despite the rage of lust within him tempting him to make an utter mess of you. He wanted to break you—to have you covered in all his fluids, crying to him for more. Dick swallows down his urges instead. If he came on too strong too fast, you would surely pull the plug on him, his promise without a doubt still fresh on your mind.

He uses the opportunity of you ogling his dick to trail faint kisses along your neck, starting from your jaw and gracefully making his way down to your collarbone. He nicks it faintly with his teeth, gently nibbling on the area and licking at it when it bleeds. He wants to be inside of you. And so bad.

His impatience leads to him tracing your arms with his hand, only stopping when his palm lovingly rests on the top of the hand you were using to massage his dick with. "Can I put it in?... Please~"

You manage a subtle nod in return. You were still somewhat sleepy, your mind a haze. The burning lust to feel Dick deep within you didn't make it any better. Dick takes your hand off him with a passionate kiss to the back of it, entangling his fingers with yours and dragging your hand along with him when he throws it over your waist to cuddle you once more. His dick presses up intimidatingly against your ass because of the position you're both in, finding comfort amongst the warm crack of your cheeks. Dick wasn't even in you, yet he was already nearing his peak.

Dick grabs his dick to softly press it against your hole, the tight sequence of folds pulsing approvingly at the touch as if begging for him to do more. Its wishes are granted when Dick increases the applied pressure on his dick to gradually penetrate you, his teeth sinking into your shoulder as another moan escapes him. His toes flex at the sudden surge of pleasure that routes him at penetrating you, the raw heat and tightness of your sphincter making for an overwhelming experience. How long has it been since he has had you wrapped around him like this? He wasn't home a lot, and the few times that he was, it was either during the night when the both of you were drained dead by the day's taxing activities or when he had gotten an injury severe enough to be bedridden for a day or few.

A noticeable tremor shakes you that makes Dick smirk. It seems he wasn't the only one struggling to hide the effect this had on him. A sigh of pure bliss leaves his pursed lips when he finally submerges the entirety of his cock in you, his heated breath staining the bruised skin of your nape.

"Fuck... tight." He barely makes out, his eyes shut close.

That's what he gets for being impatient. He didn't give you the needed chance to stretch out, only having used the slickness of his pre-cum with a few spits on his hand to help smooth his way into you. Luckily enough, he didn't hurt you. He hasn't bottomed before, but based on your previous discomfort, he knows anal fissure to be very painful. Dick doesn't think he'd be able to stomach knowing that he was the one to put you in that position just because he didn't want to wait a minute longer to allow you to safely prepare yourself.

Dick lets go of your hand to grab at your chin and bring you into another kiss of his, partly driven by the bubbling guilt that was starting to rise within. He wanted to make up for it—literally. And as Dick does this, the once persistent cramps and pain in his stomach start to diminish. He doesn't know whether it was the fact that they were just overpowered by the immense state of pleasure his body was currently in or because he truly did just need to be in you, but he mentally gives thanks for it either way.

Dick's first thrust into you comes soon after he parts from the kiss, his hips glued to you. He was trying so hard to stay true to his promise. To actually take things slow and gentle. But he hasn't been in you for ages, hasn't felt you. Keeping his pace at ease when all he wanted to do was make you moan his name as he fucks you into the bed was torturous.

His chest heaves at the admission, his mind conjuring up the numerous positions and places he would fuck you at and in.

The kitchen counter...

Countertop.

The edge of the bed...

Butterfly.

On the couch...

Supported straddle.

The wall...

Prone-bone.

He trails his finger along your arched spine, goosebumps coming to his skin when you tremble at his touch. Fuck. You were driving him crazy. Dick's right-hand moves to find consolation on your throat, his grip on it gentle, applying just enough pressure to have an effect on you sexually but not to endanger your life. His left hand is next, snaking deftly underneath your waist and grabbing your dick as he chokes you, pumping it every time his hips come into contact with yours. An effortless synchronization.

The repeated buck of his hips and pressure on your larynx makes reaching your heavenly high easy, your arch deepening with each passing second as your toes slowly curl. Short, watery streaks of cum shoot out of you, and you bit your lips painfully in a pathetic attempt to subdue your moans. Dick quickly follows up, not too far behind, his body tensing at his coming ejaculation. It's warm, bountiful in its amount, leaving you feeling full even after Dick pulls his cock out. You can feel the enticing way his muscles contract from how flushed he is against you, the heavy expanse of his chest as he tries to catch his breath provoking another boner from you.

Your body is limp against Dick as he peppers you with kisses, gasping to catch your breath. Both of you were shirtless, so you could feel how damp the dressing you had just replaced had gotten. You sum it up to sweat. I mean, you had literally just finished having sex. What else could it be?

You're jarred back to planet Earth with a muffled cough from Dick, the coarseness of it managing to bypass his hand covering his mouth, wincing from how loud it was. Aww, shoot. That most definitely caught your attention.

And as if to prove his point, your head snaps in the direction of him, your eyes going wide when you register the cluster of blood staining not only his bandages but the sheets. You sigh.

His wound reopened.

"Does it hurt?" You ask him, breaking the ongoing silence that had settled the room. Your eyes are closed, fully immersing yourself in Dick's touch. He could be so stubborn sometimes.

Dick tries to play off your concern by acting cool, thinking that if he presented himself as okay, you would see him as such—keyword tries.

"No," he exhales deeply. "I'm fine." You could tell nearly instantly that he was lying.

"You're bleeding. I'm going to have to restitch it."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Dick smirks as he cradles his head deeply into the delicate crook of your neck, giving it a chaste kiss. His lips linger on your skin when he doesn't dare to part, remaining yet firm even after he goes to snuggle deeper into you. He just wanted to savor the moment—to bask in your scent. "I feel like I can fly."

You roll your eyes and give a chuckle of your own. "That's the blood loss talking."

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yupyor · 2 years ago

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Lunch Break | Steve Harrington | Male Reader | Lemon

"Your pullout game is weak." - R

"Then you must like being filled if you're still with me >:)" - S

TW: Bottom Male Reader, Gay Smut, Fingering, Hand job, Sub Domination, Reader Gets Turned Into an absolute Fuck Doll [I think...] 🙈 - MDNI

I had a little too much fun with this one y'all, how did I even get to 4k!? 💀🖐🏾 I wanted to make this a little extra kinky by making Steve into a college professor. I hope none of my classmates find out about this. Like I seriously don't know what possessed me to write this LOL

It was mid-break when it happened. Steve had come out of nowhere and latched onto your wrist with such suddenness and force that it had momentarily petrified you, refusing to answer any questions of concern you threw at him. He was actively ignoring you while dragging you to who knows where, and it didn't help that his expression throughout the course was fixed into something severe. It was as if he was mad…annoyed, even.

You're jolted to a stop when Steve abruptly halts ahead of you, seemingly forgetting that you were trailing directly behind him and stopping squarely in front of a… the Janitor's closet? The thickness of his back collides painfully with the tip of your nose as a result, and you grunt in response. Steve doesn't apologize, though. Instead, he opens the door with one swift motion and hastily ushers you into the room before following closely behind himself.

It was dark and musky, the limited source of light penetrating the room's gloom, barely allowing you the necessary rays to make out the general build of it. It was small, and very much so; you and Steve squashed against each other to secure a spot in the room. And as expected, it's filled with brooms and mops of varying sizes and colors.

You're broken out of your thoughts when Steve harshly pins you up against the wall, the unforgiving weight of his body not allowing you any leeway to squirm. A frown still sits upon the frail lips of his face, the ends of his eyes slightly downcast to give off a disapproving look. The room was small, so Steve was practically on top of you to fit in. It made you acutely aware of his overall presence.

He moves his head to rest his chin gently on your shoulder, still frowning as he cradles his jaw into the vulnerable crook of your neck. He stays there for a good minute or two, breathing in and out on your collarbone, and only dares to stop when he gathers the will to speak.

"Sending me nudes during class is too much of a tease, don't you think?"

He licks at the brittle base of your neck while saying this, fondly kissing at and nibbling on your external jugular vein. "Someone could have seen…"

Steve was very possessive when it came to you. A secret he failed dramatically at keeping subtle, despite his best efforts. Leaving countless hickeys on you was his way of laying claim and always being present. The location of his marks would vary on how jealous he was feeling at the moment, more often than not done in random and manageable areas, something you could make do with by simply wearing clothes leaning more towards the baggy and conventional side. Albeit on days he exceptionally felt jealous, they were done in harder-to-cover-up regions, meant to ward off the lingering men that would shamelessly eye fuck you. You would often have to wear turtlenecks when going out because of how frequently he would leave bruises on you, mainly when it came to school. To plainly say he liked marking you would be an understatement with the undivided way he would indulge in it. It was a necessity for him, vamping you. It gave him a sense of undeniable ownership over you.

And truthfully, in a way, he did. The fact that you were cramped into a tight locker on the school ground making out with him and gave little to no fuck was proof. But it wasn't because you were unbothered by the current location and situation you and Steve were in, but rather because it was a losing battle. Steve's pampering was slowly swaying the best out of you, and your desire for submission was beginning to tip the scales, slowly but surely overpowering your morals and standards. Your body was craving him — needed him, and it was starting to fog your reasoning.

Steve parts from your neck to focus on playing with your right helix instead. The sly sensation of his callous left hand snaking beneath your shirt in a slow, tantalizing descent sends sparks running down your spine. He breaches the back of your pants with one swift movement and catches you off guard by cupping the fullness of your ass with such force that it makes your breath hitch. However, he doesn't just stop there, quickly following up on his advance by longingly dry-humping against you. His pants were still on, but even then, you could feel the eager way his dick pulsed against your erection as he continued to grind into you, the receiving pleasure muted from the thin layers of fabric tightly keeping his cock from being out and exposed. But Steve doesn't bat an eye at that. He just wanted to feel you on him—to feel you squirming against his cock. And luckily for him, that is just what you do.

A minute or two passes by with him just desperately rutting against your pelvis and you lewdly pushing back against him to help him attain that euphoric friction he was no doubt chasing. Your bodies were moving on their own, taken over by lust. Everything you did was done subconsciously, and you wanted to tell him to stop. To disclose that someone could walk past and hear what the both of you were doing at any given minute, that you could get into serious trouble for what you were doing, and who you were doing it with— but the tightness of his pants as he forced his bulge against you had you involuntarily rocking your hips back instead, your mouths sealed shut… A losing battle.

"St-steve." You can't help but moan.

Your hands reach to entangle your fingers into his hair, and you pull it hard enough to spur him into action, groaning. Steve temporarily breaks from you and leaves you high to quickly fight with his zipper, the aching throb of his sleuth encouraging his hands to go faster.

And sure enough, this time around, when he presses into you, something objectively bigger, pointier, and warmer pokes into the right side of your abdomen, crushed sorely between the sweaty heat of your pressed bodies when Steve retakes his position against you to capture your lips. He moans and humps the soft cup of your palm when you deftly maneuver your hand in between you to take hold of his dick, proudly smirking when you feel Steve shiver against you at your touch.

"…Please…" His voice breaks. "…I need you."

The raw adrenalin and rage of hormones coursing through you only make it possible for you to manage a meager nod in response, your mind stunted and overwhelmed. You couldn't think — at least, you didn't want to. You only wanted Steve, and you wanted him deep inside of you.

Your prayers are answered when Steve pins you harder against the wall by fully pressing the rest of his weight onto you, using the fact that his left hand was already in your pants to gently prod at your hole with the slender tip of his finger — circling, tapping, and rubbing at it through the thin fabric of your brief. You close your eyes. He was being a tease.

You can't say that to your surprise. Steve has always been hellbent on breaking you to the right amount of desperation, knowing that it would be far easier to make you give in to his whims if your needs were taunted, just one "please" away from being met. He would also bask in the way your face would crumble with utter bliss every time you were finally given what your body yearned for… Him.

The motion of Steve's hand snaking up to grasp at your chin forces your eyes back open, and nothing but the image of a devious smirk and a dangerous pair of promiscuously starved eyes invades your line of sight. He stands there, frozen, unfazed by the desperate way your body uncomfortably twined against him at the sudden lack of action. If it weren't for the eager way his dick throbbed against your stomach, you would have thought him frozen.

But no.

That wasn't it.

Steve was actively refusing to give you any more pleasure. "Steve-"

"No."

"But-"

"Wait."

His voice is stern and quick, coming off as raunchy, and it doesn't take long for your brain to register the sinister way he looks at you. It was as if you were prey — something small and vulnerable caught readily in the sharpened claws of an apex predator… Him.

You knew that look, that bubbling rise of primalness in his eyes. The instinct to dominate whatever was in front of him lurking closely underneath. A look he gave you specifically when something especially vindictive came to mind.

Your thoughts are confirmed when Steve releases his body pressure off you with one sudden movement and takes a step back to lean on the door, his middle finger stuck out and leveled perfectly with his hip, aligned suggestively beside his dick. It mimics the latter in the defiant way it points directly at you, and Steve is quick to stop any confusion. He smirks.

"You want me in you… right?" He taunts, his eyes gleaming with mischief when you nod back at him. "…Then work for it."

It takes you a moment to fully register his demand, your eyes blown semi-wide and fixated on the crooked smirk drawing the bruised red of his lips. You don't move or say anything, and Steve only arches a brow in response. Your brain was telling you that this was all just a game, that Steve would blow his facade and burst out chuckling any minute now, saying sike and that he was only messing with you. Steve doesn't move, not even in the slightest…He was dead serious.

You take the two steps necessary to close the distance between you, trying your best to divert your gaze from him to avoid staring him dead in the eye, not wanting to see the smug expression that was, no doubt, gracing his face at your show of submission. Steve had an ego—and one that helped him considerably when it came time to take the lead as the dominant role in bed; something he took to quite effortlessly, might you add, and has been confident and comfortable with ordering you around in and out of your sex life ever since.

Steve chuckles softly when you come to a stop and finally gather the will to look up at him, his eyes gleaming expectantly for the entire duration of you trying to awkwardly shift yourself around the room to fix yourself in front of his body. Your back was faced toward him with your butt licentiously perked out for access, and Steve bites his lip at the sight of it. He was struggling to keep himself from pouncing on you.

You slowly lower yourself onto him, and your legs quake with such density that they threaten to give out right beneath you. You could practically feel the arrogance rolling off of Steve in waves, his fiery gaze burning into the tender skin of your neck from behind, ablaze from the vulnerable way your body reacted to him. It intensifies more when you unintentionally let a moan slip.

"You're going to have to go faster than that if you don't want somebody to catch us." He taunts, moving from his resting spot on your shoulder to nibble on your right helix.

You remind yourself that you're in a literal closet to refrain from cursing him out of embarrassment, choosing to use the little rational thinking you have left to grit your teeth instead. "…Shut up, Steve…"

Steve grins almost devilishly at your demand, and goosebumps emerge on your skin.

"Should you really be talking like that to someone who has you at their mercy?" He questions, leaning into the curve of your back to rest his chin on your shoulder to whisper into your ear. "I could turn you into a bitch in heat with just the curl of my finger."

Steve carefully caresses your prostate to exaggerate his point, biting your collarbone at the crumble of your expression. You were depriving him of the heavenly satisfaction of hearing you moan by trying to stay quiet, and he was slowly starting to disapprove of that.

He liked it when you were vocal. It was an indirect say to how good he was when it came down to pleasuring you, something he took immense pride in. Steve wanted to hear you moan his name—to see you on your knees, begging him to take charge of you.

But you were too shy when it came to sex for that. At least when you still had your sanity. Steve knew all he had to do to bring out that lewd side of you was to tease your limited patience until you eventually grew frustrated enough to take matters into your own hands. You just needed a proper push. One strong enough to have your guard break and have you moaning his name with no care in the world. You were too occupied mentally with the fact that you were in school, making you tense and dramatically stunting your performance.

Steve pulls his middle finger out of you to clump it with his index and ring fingers before collectively spitting on all three of them, not wanting to risk chafing you. It goes without saying that when he retires to re-penetrate you, the doubling of size stops him from sliding in effortlessly, that blissful pressure on your sphincter increasing. Fuck. It was taking everything within him to stop himself from ravishing you. He wanted to take things slow by steadily easing you into it, not wanting to scare you. But you were making it hard with the uncontrollable way you continued to quiver all cute against him, and his body was starting to get impatient with the lack of attention on his part, his dick throbbing poorly for action.

He takes his frustration out on your neck instead, trailing the thick of it and going down to its base while leaving hickey after hickey on his heated expedition to your collarbone, gently nicking it with his teeth.

"You'll have to stretch yourself out more than that if you ever want to take me." Steve mocks.

And as much as you hated to admit it, he was right. You had barely gotten much down with just his middle finger, more focused on the pleasure it was providing you rather than using it to open yourself up to accommodate Steve.

You steadily ease your body onto the clump of his fingers while trying your best to suppress your moans and gradually allow all three of his digits to pierce the defensive tautness of your hole. Another groan rips its way out of your throat when you feel Steve's fingers buck against your prostate, making him smirk. It was getting more difficult for you to control your urges and moans, your body slowly releasing the tension that had you tense and stuck up in the first place, getting more reckless by the second. Steve enjoyed every second of it— of you.

It wouldn't be long before you would be on your knees begging for him to break you in. Something he thought well deserved of you. Especially after how shamelessly distracting you had been in class, sending him nude after nude and tauntingly smirking at him while sitting and doing suggestive things when his eyes would temporarily catch yours. He would have gotten in trouble for the bulge you provoked if it wasn't for the thick fabric of his jeans.

Steve takes his unoccupied hand to dearly caress your jaw before gently kissing it, only daring to remove his lips when he uses his grip on your chin to bring your head closer to his. His lips find solace on yours with such assertion that it rivals that of a snake coiled to prance. His tongue laps and tangles with yours, the both of your spit intermingling at the ball of your tongues. And as much as he wanted to, Steve didn't take over. Not yet. You weren't ready yet. He plays the field justly, trying to avoid overpowering you with his tongue's movements and striving to keep the power level even.

Steve parts from you with a heated breath, a single strand of spit connecting you as you melt into his embrace, your back still arched and with Steve's fingers enthusiastically exploring the depths of you. It was as if your body was limp and Steve was your support cane, your expression dazed and eyes thoughtlessly crinkled. Your mind was nothing but a complete maze of haze, and it took one look on Steve's part at them for him to know that you were finally ready.

His fingers depart from you with a sickening squelch to find comfort on either side of your hips, still slick. Now nothing was blocking him from being entirely flushed with you, and that meant his dick resting firmly on the plump top of your ass, his tip poking angrily into the arched curve of your back. Steve shudders when you grind back onto him, groans of approval leaving him to run several laps in your ears. His breath gradually ascends into something aggressive, becoming shallower and more inconsistent with each minute he anticipates being in you.

"Can I put it in...?" Steve growls, swallowing, the exposed veins along his body bulging appealingly as his chest heaves. His throat felt dry.

Steve's face was red, and evidently more so, his dick, the thirstful movement of his hands on your body evidence of him not being able to withstand another minute of not being in you. Steve grabs his dick and aligns it perfectly with your hole in one eager movement.

His tip prods your sphincter, his hand on your waist steadily easing you back into him. Steve wanted so desperately to be in you. So badly for the both of you to get lost and revel in the moment—the pleasure. He wanted to fuck you into oblivion. The feeling of your hand reaching in between your twined bodies and wrapping around him encourages a shock-like almost chill to shoot through his legs, and his hips subconsciously jerk forward. "Y/N... Please..."

The tip breaks the protective tightness of your hole with the first supported thrust of Steve's, and he has to plant his head in your neck to ground himself. You were tight; hot, the combination of both turning his brain to mush. It was almost pathetic how easily his body crumbled into submission the second he was within you.

Steve bites your nape when you finish inserting his dick, his toes curling in the confines of his shoes. "Fuck~"

The pleasure was immense—overwhelming with the degree of ecstasy that washed over him like tidal waves, lapping against his skin until they eventually crashed against the rocky shores of his consciousness. With that one slow thrust, everything was lost, and Steve found himself mentally fighting to refrain from reaching his all-time high. He couldn't come. Not after the big game he put up earlier.

He stays there for a minute or two, allowing you and him some time to adjust to the incinerating pleasure your bodies were simultaneously drunk off of. Steve only dares to move when he doesn't feel like one contraction on your part will make him prematurely ejaculate. It tears a trembling moan from you, and Steve uses it as an opportunity to slide both his middle and ring finger in your mouth, playing with your tongue by repetitively pulling and clasping at it, the spit backing up in your throat threatening to choke you ever now and then. Your brain teeters on the edge of going white, braindead—utterly blank from the restrictive breaths Steve's fingers were allowing you. It was already a mess—you were already a mess, and Steve's roaming hands were only making it worse. Steve doesn't stop though, seemingly unaware of this by the lustful way he continued to fuck into you. He was turning you into a sweaty, heated, quivering bitch-in-heat. It didn't help that his unyielding grip on your tongue was starting to make spit trail out from the right side of your mouth and pool at your collarbone.

You're allowed a break to breathe when Steve pulls out his fingers to grab at your waist, his dick still managing to pulse wildly within you despite the prolonged session it had to endure. He was breathing shallower, his pace shifting into something increasingly breathy with each thrust—heavy and inconsistent. His thrust faster, harder, and more erratic, Steve forces moan after moan out of you, his teeth breaking the feeble skin on your neck when he sinks his teeth into your nape.

The lewd sounds you were making were no doubt rebounding the school halls from the lascivious way it echoed the room you were in. If anything, you were practically a stereo on blast for all within range to hear. And at first, it was scary. You didn't want to get caught, not in such a scandalous position. Yet, all the same, you were stirred...exhilarated, almost. As much as the idea of getting caught terrified the living hell out of you, it was arousing you to limits you didn't even know were possible. It was as if the dread of getting caught was an unfaltering flame, the precariousness of your situation infinitely fuelling your lust. You wanted it—carved it, and that made you feel sick.

You're broken out of your thoughts with a harsh groan in your right ear from Steve and him cursing. Your back was still arched, your face tiredly plastered against the closet's wall. You can feel the tedious way Steve's muscles clench and unclench against you: his arms, his legs, his torso... his dick. He was going to cum.

"mm~ Wait- Steve~" You tried to warn, your voice slurred and your words broken. If he didn't stop ramming into you at the specific angle and stimulating your prostate, you were going to come all over the wall.

But Steve doesn't heed your warning, ignoring your plead altogether by brushing you off with another bite to your neck, just hard enough to leave another one of his marks behind. It seems to be the tipping point because not long after, you can feel something warm and slick shooting up into you, Steve groggily moaning in your right ear. He catches his breath by licking the swollen wound on your neck and nibbling on it, not making it long before you follow in his steps and ride a high of your own, coming yourself.

It makes Steve smirk in his resting position against you, his hands leaving your hips to tenderly rub at your arms, "We have 5 minutes until your next class..." Steve kisses you, "But we could skip it if you want to... I can see your legs trembling from here."

You try to retort, but your body is so tired that you can only grumble back at him in response, your mind focusing on one thing.

Steve came in you...

You lean back into him to catch your breath and playfully elbow him in the stomach when you do. "Your pullout game is weak."

But Steve smiles smugly at your attempt to belittle him and sets his chin on your shoulder to hover just off your ear. "Then you must like being filled if you're still with me."

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yupyor · 2 years ago

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youtube

I made a short film all on my own! About a guy getting a great bargain ✨️

#just amazing #like rly #rly #amazing #and cute too 😩

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yupyor · 2 years ago

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The Healing Thrill of Sex | Dick Grayson | Male Reader | Lemon

TW: Bottom Male Reader, Anal Penetration, Minor Mention of Blood, My First Draft [sorry if it's shit] - MDNI'

He starts with a meager hump, dry in its movement, yet it manages to rip a moan from him. The first of many.

s heat. He nibbles on your right helix, moaning deeply into your ear at your doing. "Mmmh, please~"

"You're hurt." You deny him, mumbling.

"That was yesterday."

"Yesterday was 8 hours ago."

"I-"

"No."

"But~"

"You're hurt."

Your eyes depart from one another in sync when the lewd sound of his dick slapping against the bare skin of your ass rounds the room, his tip wet.

Fuck, that was hot.

His impatience leads to him tracing your arms with his hand, only stopping when his palm lovingly rests on the top of the hand you were using to massage his dick with. "Can I put it in?... Please~"

"Fuck... tight." He barely makes out, his eyes shut close.

His chest heaves at the admission, his mind conjuring up the numerous positions and places he would fuck you at and in.

The kitchen counter...

Countertop.

The edge of the bed...

Butterfly.

On the couch...

Supported straddle.

The wall...

Prone-bone.

And as if to prove his point, your head snaps in the direction of him, your eyes going wide when you register the cluster of blood staining not only his bandages but the sheets. You sigh.

His wound reopened.

"Does it hurt?" You ask him, breaking the ongoing silence that had settled the room. Your eyes are closed, fully immersing yourself in Dick's touch. He could be so stubborn sometimes.

Dick tries to play off your concern by acting cool, thinking that if he presented himself as okay, you would see him as such—keyword tries.

"No," he exhales deeply. "I'm fine." You could tell nearly instantly that he was lying.

"You're bleeding. I'm going to have to restitch it."

You roll your eyes and give a chuckle of your own. "That's the blood loss talking."

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yupyor · 2 years ago

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there is something about the way Jason talks in this that just makes me want to spread my legs😩

❝ You get me so high❞

Jason Todd x male!reader | fluff, no plot | wc: 946

warnings: minor dominance subtext (?), minor size kink, 🍃-use by the reader, minor mention of Jason using trackers on his boyfriend

you've had a long day and need to unwind with your vigilante boyfriend - with the help of some recreational drugs.

He absolutely takes advantage of his size and strength when it comes to you. It’s not even exactly his physical size, regardless of whether you’re taller or smaller than Jason it’s just his presence.

It’s the way he grasps the nape of your neck and squeezes to remind you to settle down. It’s the way he keeps his eyes on you and never lets you out of his sight once you enter the room.

Jason knows you’re a capable person. That doesn’t stop him from spoiling his baby. He just enjoys it, in a way, it fuels a part of him that just wishes to protect and cherish something.

So he tosses his credit card your way, even tucks it into your wallet so you actually use it (along with a few trackers here and there). Jason never wants you to feel as though he isn’t there - he knows it's hard to have date nights when your boyfriend is a vigilante.

It’s a sort of casual dominance that he displays - not to exert it, per se, more of a reminder (and because he knows you enjoy it as much as he does).

All this to say, Jason enjoys taking care of you. He likes it when you’re vulnerable and trust him with that vulnerability. So when you’re mouthing at his neck with your body as warm as your breath that’s making gooseflesh ripple across his skin; murmuring softly that you want him to be closer, eyes hazy and lidded. Both of you were blanketed by the scent of the joint you smoked.

Jason’s mouth feels dry and he hadn’t even taken a hit. He squeezes your hips, slipping the burning joint away from your loose grip to put it out as he feels your body melt against his.

“Needed that, hm?” his fingers are dancing up the expanse of your back. He works a few knots loose. The sighs of relief against his neck have him shaking his head.

“You’ve been working too hard,” That was ridiculous, you thought. Your pinched brows make his raise in question.

“You kick people's asses and come home looking like five quarterbacks slammed into you” he guffaws but you continue. “I’m fine, Jay, this shit is just good”.

The quick breath he puffs out tells you he doesn’t believe you.

“I’m serious, Jay”.

“So am I,” his large hands lower to rest on your ass, lifting you as he stands which makes you cling, head slumping onto his broad shoulder. Jason carries you as if he does it daily (he does) and lays you down gently on your bed.

“Your shitty boss has been shittier than usual,” Jason’s downturned lips make you mimic his sour expression. His hard edges soften the second your fingers glide over the skin of his bruised cheek. It’s healing and as bruises do, it darkens.

An ugly plum colour that fades into blues and greens and yellows.

He turns to press his slightly chapped lips to your palm. He silences your worries even if you said nothing. You know he wants to say something about the lingering smell of weed on your hands from his scrunched nose but he instead leans forward to place a kiss on your lips.

“You don’t have to work, I can take care of you,” He whispers. You pull him down for another kiss. It’s slow, deliberate. Your fingers are lightly tugging the hairs on his nape while your jaw moves up and down. He feels your tongue and a chuckle rumbles in his chest.

The whine you let out as he pulls away makes his eyes twinkle with mirth.

“I’ll always take care of you, you know that right?” he studies your face in the dim light of your room. He’s in awe at all the things he’s noticed a million times over but still manages to steal his breath away. The things you do to him. The iron walls you’ve torn down with a whisper of his name.

“I ever told you I love the way my name sounds coming from your lips?” he presses his thumb on your lower lip and you squint blearily up at him.

“Sounds egotistical,” Jason rolls his eyes. The bed creaks as he moves to lie on your side.

“No, dumbass, it’s just” Jason strokes your chin, smiling warmly as you seem intent on leaning closer to him.

“Every time you say my name it’s like you give it a new meaning”, he’s not usually so forward with his thoughts. Even years into your steady relationship he still has trouble communicating. But with how your eyes are drooping, the baritone of his voice and the scent of his cologne and aftershave all but lull you. His warmth and touch don’t help you either. He finds it easier to speak now as your breath evens out.

“No one has ever laced my name with so much love” he continues as he strokes over your cheeks.

Jason, you’d say and yet he knows you mean; “I miss you”.

Jason, you’d say and yet he knows you mean; “I love you”.

Jason, you’d say and yet he knows you mean; “I’m yours”.

Jason, you’d say and yet he knows you mean; “All yours”.

“Jason...” your mumble makes his eyes crinkle. “Why are ya' talkin’ to yerself” he shushes you and presses a kiss to your temple. “You’re hearing things”. There’s an argument that bubbles to your throat but you let it fizzle out as he holds you firmly to his side.

“You gonna be here when I wake up, baby?” your sleepy mumble makes his heart squeeze.

“Yeah, baby, I’ll be right here”.

#male reader #fics #like i dont understand #why does the way he talk sound so hot!?

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yupyor · 2 years ago

Text

𝗠𝗔𝗞𝗘 𝗠𝗘 𝗙𝗘𝗘𝗟

from the series of thoughts that I only have during the night: I really find it incredibly erotic to fuck a man who, for whatever reason, whether it be a cock ring, a chastity cage or just tiredness/stress, can't get hard. judge me, I don't care. top!male reader and bottom! geto suguru below, no specific warning, but this is a bit dark. minors dni. if you haven't seen part one of season two or haven't read the manga this contains spoilers.

Suguru was tired. Exhausted to the point where he wouldn't even consider dragging himself to the bathroom and letting the icy water that threatened to freeze his bones help with the ever constant tension in his shoulders. The phantom taste of the cursed spirit that lingered in his mouth, consistent even when it had been days since he'd swallowed it. He wanted to vomit. Wanted to pass out under the stream of water. Wanted to sleep for hours at a time, not even considering waking up. It was easy to search for just one word: disappear.

Instead of all that though, he was seduced by your hungry eyes, by your deft fingers always touching him with mastery - and a gentleness that never failed to make him sick. You undressed him as you took his mouth in a deep, sweet kiss that erased the sourness and bitterness rising in his throat, not commenting on the deep, dark circles under his empty eyes, or the decreasing frequency of times he returned to what you called 'home'.

You trailed kisses down his neck and shoulders, your every hurried, warm movement giving away just how much you wanted him. And you didn't even point out out loud that Suguru wasn't even hard for you.

"It's okay," Suguru opened his mouth to say, using all his remaining strength to touch your wrist where for the last five minutes you've tried to bring him to hardness. Suguru really wanted you. He couldn't think of a better way to take away the darkness that roamed the corners of his mind with memories of the past rather than with your cock inside him. But he knew he wouldn't get hard. It didn't matter how much you tried.

Suguru spread his legs wider around your hips and apparently the look he gave you - desire beneath the exhaustion - was enough. You warmed up the lube and started prepare him with your fingers.

The first finger went in easily, there was nothing but temporary discomfort, yet Suguru felt as if his skin were on fire, the stretching sensation tensing his legs. Unfamiliar noises began to fill the room; three fingers pushed their way inside him and Suguru thought he was close to losing his mind. It felt good, very good. Your fingers opening inside him, making a wet noise each time they moved in and out of him, driving deep, rubbing his prostate. Suguru still wasn't hard, but he didn't care and he knew you didn't either.

He opened his mouth to beg for your cock, his throat dry. Only ineligible noises came out, a jumble of letters that didn't make sense along with your name. "Dema me ur psua [name]," he muttered. "[name] [name] [name]."

Somehow you got it, how could you not when Suguru was writhing in the sheets, feet tucked into the mattress working to sink against your fingers?

The tip of your cock pressed against the taut edge and began to thrust inside; thick, perfect. Suguru's eyes fell closed, a sound that was a mixture of wail and sigh left his lips and his back collapsed against the mattress, as if all the remaining strength left him.

There was barely any burn, but he still felt every nerve in his body ignite with the sensation of your length pushing its way inside him. The tight walls made way for you, his hole molding itself around you. Suguru searched for your lips like a starving man in the desert.

The sound of the waves as in a distant dream faded, taking with it the flashing memories of Riko Amanai, deeper, the smiling face of Haibara beckoning to him faded away into the darkness under his closed eyelids, only the wet sound of skins meeting was left, the grunts that came out of your mouth, the feel of your fingers digging into his thigh, the reality.

The shadows are gone, only an inexplicable calm remains.

Suguru's cock was limp against his stomach without any sign of coming out of it, even when you once again took him in your hand and started to stimulate him. It felt good, so Suguru didn't tell you to stop. He surrendered to you, a sheen of sweat breaking out on his pale skin as you began to move, in and out of him, each time faster and stronger until you were fucking him mercilessly into the mattress in an uncomfortable position that pressed his knees close to his head.

One of your hands moved up his taut stomach and began pinching his nipples hard, eliciting groans from him. Suguru knew that the next day his nipples would be sensitive, his hole swollen and red, but he didn't care, in fact he wanted this desperately: to carry the marks of your belonging on his body, so that he could remember the heat, violence and control of your touches.

His hole tightened with rhythmic contractions, the feeling of being full, of having you filling him to the brim was too much. Suguru gasped against your mouth, barely finding the will to pull away from you, even if it was a mere kiss. He pulled your lower lip between his teeth and urged you to do the same, to take all your frustrations and tiredness out on his body. He needed this.

Words weren't necessary. Your teeth sank into his shoulder hard enough to draw blood, your thrusts became faster and deeper, nails digging into his skin. Suguru knew how to make you hurt him and he knew you wouldn't stop if he didn't tell you to. All of him craved the pain and anything else you wanted to give him. The admission was a dark and heavy veil: Suguru was yours to take and he was broken.

Desperately, he mentally begged: please hurt me more. Hit me, scratch me, bite me, pull my hair harder, fuck me until I bleed, fill me up until I taste you in my throat. Make me feel. Remind me that I'm not alone.

#fics #i don't know why #but that was hot and simultaneously sad for me 😟#i need to take notes✍🏾

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