#ITS MY FIRST TIME WRITING SMUT

[shiro41]

Fluffy ears- Alastor

Summary: You always want to touch his ears but unfortunately for you, he rejects the very idea of it until he lets you.

Warnings: sub!Alastor, blowjob, brief mentions of a tentacle, drools, him in a rut?, dom turned sub reader, humping.

Note: this is my first time publishing a smut piece-- im anxious.

You always wondered how the fluff of the man's ears sit atop of his head, moving in sync with his moods and reactions. It wiggles, sometimes pinned on his head like a saddened pup, most times relaxed and stood proudly on his head. You wonder how they feel like.

"Please, Alastor?"

You put your hands in front of you, batting your lashes the best you could as you begged the overlord to let you touch his ears. His fluffy, fluffy ears. Knowing Alastor, he despises any form of physical contact unless he initiated first and touching his ears is a positive no. Which you got.

"Pretty please! I'll do anything!"

The smile on his face never wavered, staying the same size yet, his red spheres glowered with the slightest bit of irritation.

"My dear, touching my ears is a no. I'd appreciate it if you forget the ever thought of it."

He tapped your nose with his microphone, leaning down to your height and close his eyes-- smile still remaining. This resulted with a huff from you, growing equally as irritated and curious as he is. You watch him walk off, probably towards his radio station to broadcast yet another episode of pained screams of the unfortunate souls.

"I swear I'll get to touch it!"

You murmured to yourself, forming a fist as a rush of determination flowed through your ever being. You run to your room with the thought of his fluffs, ignoring the shaking heads of the staff.

"You think she'll ever touch 'em?"

Angel asked, turning to his cat friend who shook his head in disagreement.

Weeks passed and you still ask for the same thing to the radio demon, consistently begging for your hands to land on top of his head and within those weeks, he's been rejecting the idea nonstop.

"Come on, Alastor! Just five minutes!"

"No."

"Fine, four!"

"Still a no, darling."

Another interaction failed, it left you puffing smoke out of your nose from the forming irritation boiling in your blood. At this Point, the both of you find one another annoying. How persistent despite the many times of statements with the same content.

Of course, even the most patient man has his limits and it didn't happen until dozens of months passed where you took the advantage of the radio demon's vulnerable state of mating. He's a deer, it's perfectly normal to have these cycles once a year--maybe twice. You're not an expert with animals.

"Alastor, please let me touch your ears!"

You come to him again, noticing the relaxed posture yet the shaking of his grip on the microphone gave way to the battles inside him at the moment. He simply gave out a sigh, grabbing ahold of your hand and teleporting you to his room that's resembled the forest.

"Can I touch you now?"

A growing excitement evident in your voice, gasping as Alastor agreed and sat down on the cold ground covered with lush greens. His claws simply guided you to lay on his lap, like a father would comforting his child. They nestled and made home on your hips, occassionally brushing the skin beneath the clothes you wore as he lowered his head to give you full access to the red ears that heated due to the rushing blood and hormones he's experiencing at the moment.

"Be careful, darling. I can't promise a night of only receiving the pleasures of touching my ears."

He warned, reminding you he may not restraint himself from the animal instincts and growing need to reproduce. You, aware of the situation, nodded in understanding. So long as you can come to contact with the deer's ears, nothing is worth regretting.

You notice the first touch, it twitching in a manner so gentle you let a coo of compliments to him. The static noise of what you believe were small grunts and moans coming from Alastor deafened your ears, the pair only tucked more to his head when you massaged the base of it until the tips.

Soon enough, you find yourself touching his sensitive ears as he occassionally quivered underneath your touch, head burrowed in the crook of your neck and saliva running down his chin. His claws threaten to dig deeper into your hips, constantly restraining himself from hurting you physically. The statics have worsened, now sounding similar to purring yet, still with the whines and murmurs of encouragement from him.

He's melting in your touch.

"A-ah..please keep it u-up..! Kngh--"

He whimpered, feeling your hands travel from his soft ears to his small, hard antlers. It was rough to the touch, feeling like branches but the softness of the fur of his ears brushing up on your wrists was enough to get you going.

"Ooh it seems l-like I can't handle it a-ah..any further, chèr..!"

He breathed, moving your hips to grind on his crotch in a slow pace. You didn't mind the movement, opting to focus on your goal at hand and that is to savour every moment with the two pairs sitting atop his red head. Your skirt is pushed up until your thighs, barely showing the pink panties you wore today. It's patched with slight wetness in the middle, indicating your aroused figure in the situation you're in. Alastor underneath you was not far from your state, bucking his hips every time you brush your fingers against his head and occassionally travel to his cheeks and jaw before circling again on top.

The grinding didn't maintain its pace, now only moving faster the longer you went and the harder Alastor's hips thrust to meet your clothed cunt that's soaked with wetness resulting in his pants to stain too.

"Oh, Mon cher! I'm about to cum...!"

He breathed, continuing to produce whines after whines as you nip at the sensitive ear of his while the other's been massaged by your hand. You can feel Alastor drooling, the evidence being your discoloured shirt that's wet from his saliva, sliding down the cleavage of your chest. He whimpers with every meeting of his crotch coming to contact with your clothed pussy, almost rolling his eyes back as he feels himself getting closer by the minute.

"Oh darling, please let me cum."

He begged, eliciting a moan from you. Your stomach flipped with butterflies with every word of him begging you to let him have a satisfying release, you feel his tongue slither from your collarbone to your jaw, moaning while doing so. He's drooling a ton, almost bathing you in the process.

"Fuck fuck fuck fuck--"

He chanted, voice echoing throughout the forest of his room like a broken record- statics incoherent and almost deafening until warmth spread from his crotch and feeling it on your pussy. He's creamed in his pants, the tent evident that he's been uncomfortably hard yet, you continue your abuse to his already sensitive ears, not letting him ride his release which caused a shriveled whine mixed with scream at the sudden sensation.

"Oh fuck! Oh, I can't take it! I can't take it, I can't- I can't-"

Again like a broken record, his voice transmitted a series of incoherent noise. The hands on his ears suddenly disappeared, cutting off the source of his scarce pleasure before he felt the belt of his pants being unbuckled and removed, not at the very least ashamed of the cum covered boxers once you pulled down the thick material of his pants.

You no longer towered him, instead kneeling in front of his sitting figure. The sight of the thin fabric that covered his obviously hard, wet cock made you moan. It was leaking with precum, pouring out of hid boxers before your tongue decided to take a taste of heaven in hell.

"Aahh..!"

A long drag of Ahs and a claw at the back of your neck has Alastor throwing his head back until his head collided with the tree behind. Your head pressed against the heat of his dick, rubbing your cheek affectionately against it as you look at those reds of his through the clumps of your eyelashes, eyes covered with thick lust.

His hand wiped the saliva off the corners of his mouth, now removing the stray of locks from your face and slowly taking out his angry red dick that's been begging to be released and aching to be touched. With its size, it slapped you in the process resulting with sticky cum kissing your cheek, the overlord repeating the process time and time again, swaying the hard organ across you and enjoy the sight of your tongue poking out ever so slightly, enticing him to fill it up with his thick cock.

"A-ah..ah no..let me savor this first, dear girl."

He tried to create dominance, continuing to tease you with his dick encircling your mouth but never in it. This resulted with an impatient whine coming out of your mouth, a hand coming to travel to your gaping pussy still clad in pink, wet panties but unfortunately, a tentacle wrapped itself onto your wrist- effectively preventing you from giving yourself pleasure.

A small sigh escape his lips, looking at your hazed lustrous expression before finally inserting his dick inside your awaiting mouth. The tentacle still was on your wrist and come to binding both of your hands behind your back, preventing you any self pleasure with the exception of his dick inside your mouth.

"Take it in, Darling..!"

He murmured, his hand massaging your aching scalp whilst his ruby spheres looked down at you with a hint of sadism that matched his mischievous smirk.

He could only hear your muffled whines as you tried to claw the tentacle that wrapped your wrist together, he could see the evident teardrops forming and sliding down your cheeks as your throat caved in and took the shape of his cock perfectly.

"Mhn, such a good girl...!!""

He praised, hand travelling from your scalp to your chin that's covered with a thin coat of saliva and cum. He's been so lost in pleasure that he lost track of time how long your mouth has been stuffed by his cock.

You feel the sudden pull of your head, forcing you to release Alastor's dick from your mouth that stood tall, thick and angry red from you sucking him like an infant to a mother for the past minutes. Alastor glanced at the streaming saliva that travelled down from your chin to the valleys of your perky breasts, mixed with his thick, white semen that you seem to not get enough of.

"I'm sorry about this, love."

[lovieku]

saur. a 12k words os smut is on the way… 👩🏻‍💻 i dont even know what and how it happened ! but i’ll see you soon

[changbunnies]

Revelation (18+)

♡ Pairing: Vampire Priest!Jeongin x Fem!Reader

♡ Genre: very loosely inspired by midnight mass (tv), horror themes, vampire / human relationship, smut, possibly dead dove? read the warnings carefully and come to ur own conclusion on what you're willing to read before engaging pls :')

♡ Word Count: 4k

♡ Summary: The suspiciously young and extremely handsome priest of your small-town church has a very big secret– and it's not until he's sinking his fangs into your neck that you discover what exactly that secret is.

♡ General Warnings: usage of typical vampire abilities (increased senses, strength, etc), descriptions of blood, religious themes (specifically catholicism focused), references to religious guilt + shame, reader does not trust jeongin at all (for good reason lol), very blatant manipulation, cult vibes? jeongin basically has the whole town under his thumb so. do with that what you will lol

♡ Smut Warnings: dubcon, vampire venom that acts as an aphrodisiac, sexual acts inside a church (specifically in a confessional booth), some gendered language (dirty + good girl), dom/sub dynamics, dom!jeongin, biting + blood drinking, thigh riding, fingering (f rec), a lil bit of praise kink, corruption kink?

♡ Notes: this is possibly niche but well. the vampire priest concept lives rent free in my head thanks to midnight mass, and innie said he wanted to be a priest + he'd definitely be a sexy vampire so here we are lmao. and sorry i'm suddenly posting out of age order for my late kinktober fics but i ended up finishing this before the other members i still have left :')

♡ Disclaimer: please read responsibly, and remember that this work is fiction and meant strictly for imaginative fun. the idols used in fics are more accurately faceclaims and personality outlines for imaginary characters, and should not be interpreted as factual representations of existing people.

There's something that isn't right about your local church's head priest. Firstly, his age doesn't make sense; who on God's green earth becomes a priest in their 20s?

At least, you assume that's around how old Father Yang, who notably prefers to be called Jeongin, is– you've never been told, and you've never asked, but he certainly doesn't look any older than that.

Secondly, why are his sermons always at night? In all the towns you've ever lived in, in all the churches you've ever frequented, this is the first time you've ever experienced your standard, weekly Sunday service routinely happening at 9 p.m.

And thirdly, why is it that everyone who meets with him for confession comes back looking delirious and.. euphoric, almost? You don't get it– sure, confessing your sins is freeing; asking for and receiving God's forgiveness is among the best feelings that can be experienced if you're a devout believer, but still.

Something about all of it just doesn't sit right with you– and to make matters worse, you seem to be the only person in town suspicious of him. You're new to town, have only been here a handful of months, so you get it– you're the outsider, you don't know him like they do, et cetera, et cetera.

But how can not a single other person in town be bothered by how strange it all is? There has to be an explanation– you don't know what it is, and you don't know why you're the only one who seems to care, but there must be a reason.

It's Sunday again, and you spend the entire sermon watching Jeongin like a hawk, trying to catch any sign as to what it is about him that has all these people so enraptured. And while it's not necessarily wrong for him to be, another thing that strikes you is that he's easily the most casually dressed yet stylish priest you've ever met.

He wears the standard clergy vest and rabat, as he should, but over it is a leather jacket, and he wears denim blue jeans instead of dress pants. His shoes are sleek and polished, he has pretty, ornate rings decorating his fingers, has expertly styled slicked hair and silver earrings dangling from his pierced ears.

Again, it's not necessarily wrong, but it's definitely something you wouldn't think a priest's Sunday best would entail. And maybe that's only because the priests in your life have only ever been old, and didn't put much thought into style, but maybe that's what people like about him?

Maybe it makes him seem more down to earth and approachable; maybe it's easier to confess your sins when, outstanding devotion to God aside, he seems like as ordinary a person as any other. Of course, that's logically always the case, but some priests have an intimidating "holier-than-thou" attitude about them, and it certainly helps Jeongin's case that he seemingly makes an effort to not give off that vibe.

And admittedly, he's charming– there's something so uniquely handsome about the way he smiles while preaching God's word, how his eyes twinkle while he recites a scripture and relates it back to a point he made several minutes prior; you can't deny that it's enthralling.

But when he looks over the attendees lined in the pews, it always feels like he's looking straight through you, seeing to the depths of your soul and laying it bare. It gives you chills, honestly; makes you feel exposed in a way that's indescribable; like with a glance alone, he knows all your secrets, your every sin, down to their most minute details.

It's near midnight when his sermon ends; you stay seated in the backmost pew to the left, brows furrowed as everyone shakes his hand or hugs him, thanking him for another "terrific service." It's so bizarre– and it's not until the last of the congregation exits the small, wooden church that you begin to rise from your seat.

Though you're sure the church carries electricity and that the lights can be flicked on, the priest never does so– he always uses candles, casting a warm yellow glow on the dingy, white wood of the walls. It casts more shadows, gives the place an almost unsettling air– and when he turns to you, just as he's closing the Bible in his hand and setting it down, it sends a shiver through you.

"You're still here," Jeongin smiles at you from where he stands before the altar, centralized at the head of the church. It's a kind enough one, but you don't trust it; you can't shake the feeling that something lies beneath it– something abberant and dark that you can't place, but are certain is there.

"Do you wish to confess?" he asks, motions to the confessional booth with his hand as he tilts his head. "No," you answer, perhaps too quickly– and his smile grows ever so slightly, as if he's amused. At least, that's how you perceive his expression; and it makes you narrow your eyes at him, the distrust that radiates off you certainly palpable.

Your opinion of him is no secret, really; and he can tell you're scrutinizing him, trying to catch him in whatever act you think he's playing– it won't work, but it does humor him that you're trying. He doesn't know what sort of wild conclusions you've come to about him, but if you see anything, it'll be because he himself wanted you to see it– until then, you won't learn a single thing about who he truly is.

"Is there a reason you're still here then?" Jeongin questions next, and you swallow, hesitant to answer. Admittedly, you only stuck around in case someone did decide to go confess to him– you intended to eavesdrop, to try to listen in and find out what's really going on behind closed curtains.

It would've been massively immoral, but you would've confessed and asked for forgiveness later– privately, that is. You have no intention of seeking the Father's help in such matters, given how little trust you have towards him.

But still, despite the fact that you were willing to sneak around and listen to private conversations, you aren't entirely willing to lie in the house of God– so after some internal grappling with yourself on what you should and shouldn't do in this position, on what is right and wrong, you end up admitting the truth.

"I don't trust you," you tell Jeongin plainly, and you can swear you see him trying to suppress a smirk.

"I'm aware," he says, so matter of fact that it almost sends you reeling. And it's not that you were so disillusioned into thinking you weren't being obvious; you know very well that you weren't being the most covert in your suspicion of him– it's how unbothered and amused by it he seems to be that really gets you.

Shouldn't he be offended? Question your reasoning? Try immediately to dispel your doubts and clear up any misconceptions you may have? Instead, he seems more than ready to just accept it for what it is– even seems entertained by it.

"Does it not bother you that I don't trust you?" you ask, and he almost laughs as he shakes his head. "No. There's no reason for it to," he answers simply; and before you can ask why, or what he means, he's already answering– you suspect he could already tell you were going to press him on the matter.

"God teaches us to love one another. So even if you do not love me, or trust me, I love you, just as God instructs me to," Jeongin smiles as he speaks, and again, your brows furrow. It's a perfect answer, really– but it feels.. inorganic, almost rehearsed.

And the glimmer in his eye throws you off; it doesn't feel like the pure, honest delight you'd see on a priest putting God's word into practice. It feels mischievous, deceitful– like he doesn't believe an ounce of what he's saying, but he wants you to believe that he does.

"I know what you're thinking," he says, and you swallow, stiffening where you stand as he continues, "And if you really want to know what goes on during confession, want to see for yourself what it is I do to help the people who look to me, I can show you."

If you're being entirely honest, the offer is tempting; and strangely, it also makes you feel.. bad, almost– makes you second guess yourself. Because if he's freely offering like this, surely it can't be whatever you've been making it out to be in your head.

There's no way he'd out himself, and whatever it is he does, just to gain the trust of one person out of hundreds who doesn't believe his pure intentions. And maybe the other townsfolk really do trust him for good reason; maybe you've just been examining the situation and looking at Jeongin and the church in the wrong light.

Maybe you've been blowing everything out of proportion with obscene assumptions, and maybe he really is just a good priest. Maybe he makes you feel so seen, heard, and whole, that all your worldly problems melt away, feel trivial and light in comparison to God's plan for you.

Because after all, you are the outlier here. You're the only one in the whole town that doesn't trust him; and surely that means you're the one in the wrong. Jeongin does things differently than you're used to, but that doesn't mean he's inherently bad. And maybe you should confess– ask God to forgive you for not being receptive to the word of one of His servants.

Jeongin smiles when you concede and start to slowly step your way to the confessional. You pull back the curtain, step inside and prepare to sit in the small, wooden booth seat, but you quickly realize he's followed you inside. You gasp as you turn around, back pressing against the intricately carved hardwood window of the booth as he closes you in.

"Sh-Shouldn't you be on the other side?" you ask, much too meek for your liking. It's a cramped fit given that the booth is only meant to fit a single person on either side at a time; it makes you unconsciously hold your breath as you're effectively caged inside the booth with him– nowhere to go, and nothing you can do but stare at him, bewildered.

"No," he answers as quick and simple as before, his smile once again growing ever so slightly. And maybe you could push him, try to dart past him if you manage to successfully make him topple back, but you feel frozen– because even in the dark, barely lit confessional you're in, you're certain that you see his dull canines become long, pearly white fangs.

"Don't worry, it will only hurt for a second," he assures you as he brings his hands to your arms, gripping them just below your shoulder as he leans towards you. You shudder, his breath fanning your ear as he inches towards your neck, "but after that– it's bliss."

You feel the sharp points of his teeth poke at your skin, and it makes you gasp as your head tilts to the side, making room for him to sink his fangs into your flesh. Instinctively, your hands search for something to grab; you end up reaching for his shoulders, twisting your hands in his leather jacket to ground yourself as his sharp teeth pierce into your neck.

Your legs wobble, and he forces one of his own between your thighs, uses it to keep you upright as he drinks from you. And there is pain, but it really is only for a second, just like he said it’d be– within seconds it melts away, and oh, you instantly understand.

It’s much, much more than bliss– it’s ecstasy, it’s rhapsody, it’s the greatest pleasure you’ve ever felt. Spreading from your neck to every last nerve ending in your body, every atom of your body becomes alight with euphoria as his bite sends tingles throughout you, raising goosebumps along your skin.

You cry out, an embarrassingly loud sound that you barely recognize as your own voice as one of your hands finds its way to his head. Your fingers thread into his hair, hold him to your neck as if you don't want him to ever separate from you– and to be fair, maybe you don't.

It feels so good, so exhilarating, intoxicating, that you almost don't want the sensation to ever end. Jeongin meanwhile lets out delighted hums, eventually slowly retracting his fangs to latch his lips around the sensitive, bruising skin, his tongue lapping away at the blood that pours from the two little marks left behind.

The beating of your heart quickens, breaths quickly growing labored as the inexplicable want continues to seep into your veins. Your thighs tremble as tension builds deep in your gut, and they try to press together to seek relief, but Jeongin's leg stays firmly nestled between yours, preventing it.

And were you not so utterly blissed out, maybe the incessant, desperate throbbing of your pussy would make you feel ashamed– but all you can think about is the deep seated desire overtaking every receptor, every tiny cell, every molecule within you, as if the very chemistry that makes up your being has been altered for Jeongin alone.

Unable to resist, you rut against his thigh, entirely shameless and feverish– because it's all you have access to, all you can do to relieve the growing ache between your legs. It’s sinful, your growing lust is– and the last place you should ever be doing this is inside of a church; but you’re too far gone to care, too gripped by the need for stimulation.

Jeongin lets go of your arms, reaches between your bodies to hike up your church gown, giving you easier access to his lean, muscular thigh. He’s gracious, tugs your soaked panties to the side so your clit can catch on the denim of his jeans– and the delicious friction makes you moan for him, loud and sweet. 

He pulls away from your neck to watch your desperate humping, eyes gleaming with mischievous satisfaction as he watches you pleasure yourself on his thigh. His eyes are perfectly adapted to seeing in the low light, and so he can easily see every little detail of you– from the mess your pussy leaves behind on his jeans, to the sweat beginning to drip down your temple, to the trembling of your bottom lip before you tuck it between your teeth. 

And when he smiles at you now, it’s like the fox that got the rabbit; even in the extremely dim candle light you can see the way your blood coats his lips, messily dripping from the corners of his mouth and down his chin. His dark eyes are gleaming– because he has you ensnared, and you both know there’s no going back. 

You untangle your fingers from his hair, and you watch as he reaches for your falling hand, grabbing your wrist and bringing it to his mouth. He holds your gaze as he kisses over the pulsing vein, and it makes your breath hitch, the blood on his mouth smearing over the surface of your skin, staining it crimson. 

“Should I bite you here too?” he asks, placing another kiss over your vein before he shoots you a grin full of fang, “you’re so delicious– I want to taste you even more.” You gasp and squirm as Jeongin presses the tips of his bared fangs against your skin– not quite biting just yet, but it’s enough to spread another wave of tingles over your body. 

“Yes, bite me, please!” you cry, voice almost frantic in its urgency– and you can see the corners of Jeongin’s lips twisting into a devious smile before he’s obliging, burying his fangs deep into your wrist within an instant. You wince, your fingers clenching as he squeezes your wrist in his hand, keeping it tightly pressed to his mouth. 

And just as before, within seconds the sharp sting dulls and ebbs into incomparable pleasure, goosebumps spreading over every inch of your heated skin. Faintly, you can see your blood dribble past his lips, slowly flowing down the length of your forearm before it drips to the floor of the booth. 

You can just barely see his tongue licking over his bite, doing his best to collect all the blood that spills from you, and it's mesmerizing– especially when he brings his fingers to your arm to swipe up what his tongue misses. Your stomach flutters as you watch him separate from your wrist and bring his bloodied fingers to his mouth; they're so long, so pretty and enticing– you want them.

Jeongin can see it in your eyes– how brazenly you stare at his fingers, how your eyes follow every move he makes with them. You're still panting, sweating, chest heaving from the exertion, but the rutting of your hips has faltered; and he grins as he gazes at you. You're once again left with the feeling that he sees through you– that all it takes is a glance for him to know everything you're thinking.

"You want them? Want me to stuff your cunt full with my fingers? Make you cum all over them?" he asks, entirely rhetorical; he already knows the answer. And he likes the way you writhe over the question, how you gasp over the sinful words he so freely spills in such a sacred place, your ears positively burning.

Even if your face didn't obviously show your desires, you don't think you'd be able to deny them; you've never wanted anything as badly as you want this, want him. It should make your gut twist with shame, because deep down you know this is wrong, know that you shouldn't want him to touch you as badly as you do– but the craving for Jeongin to bring you pleasure is almost primal, so deep and innate that your rational mind can't even hope to fight against it.

Slowly, almost playfully, he trails his fingertips over your thigh, and the anticipation is enough to make you unconsciously hold your breath. "You're so fucking messy," Jeongin says as he brushes his fingers over your soaking, sensitive clit, "so wet– you're a dirty girl, huh?"

You want to whine, want to shake your head and vehemently deny that you're dirty, attest to being a good, honest, and God fearing– but you're so overcome with your desire for him to touch you, that you don't. Instead you agree, concede that you are dirty, and messy, and that you want him more explicitly than you feel your own words could ever attest.

How easily you agree to being dirty seems to please him– and with a light chuckle, he slips his hand further down while carefully removing his leg from between your thighs. You wobble a bit when the support of his leg is gone, but he's quick to wrap an arm around you to hold you, effortlessly keeping you upright with the strength innate to who, or rather what, he is.

The cool, silver band that he wears on his pinky makes you jolt when it touches your feverishly hot thigh, and he chuckles again as he spreads your folds with his fingers. You're dripping for him, so slick with arousal that it hardly takes any effort at all for Jeongin's fingers to become coated with your juices.

You rock your hips against his hand, wordlessly begging him to give you what it is you crave most. "Oh look at you, so impatient, so desperate," he laughs as he presses the pads of his fingers to your hole, delighting in the way you look at him with glassy eyes and pinched brows.

It's obscene how badly you want him; you've never felt this needy, never been rendered so desperate for stimulation– and you're in a confessional of all places. This is the very last place on earth you should feel this way, or be doing something like this, and yet the shame you should feel is far from your mind– because all you can think about is your need for his beautiful fingers to fill you up and dull the throbbing ache between your legs.

Jeongin coos when you start to beg for his fingers, a rambling string of "please," and "want it, want you," and "need it so bad." You can tell how much satisfaction it gives him, and if your mind weren't so hazy from desire you'd certainly feel embarrassment build and twist from deep in your gut– but any such feelings are silenced by your body's need for his touch, by your craving for the sensations that only he can grant you.

It takes your breath away when he easily sinks two fingers inside you, thrusting them in and out slowly until he curls and bends them to find the spot that makes you see stars. "That's it, there you go," he grins when he finds it. He watches your eyes roll back, your hands clutching at his jacket as he continues to press the tips of his fingers into your most sensitive spot.

He returns to your neck, sucking at the sensitive skin and nipping it with sharp teeth before he kisses and licks over the bruises he leaves behind. He applies pressure to your swollen clit with his thumb while relentlessly targeting your spot, an easy task for him thanks to the length of his fingers, and his hold on you tightens when the shaking in your legs grows more intense.

You're so, so close, and Jeongin can tell too– not just from how your pussy pulses and squeezes around his fingers, but because he can hear the loud, erratic thumping of your heart, as well as the rush of blood pulsing in your veins. "C'mon, let go– cum, you can do it, cum for me," he urges, speaking softly against the shell of your ear while swirling his thumb over your clit.

"There you go, good girl, just like that," he praises as you string out a loud succession of whimpers, your thighs closing tight around his hand as your high finally takes you. Your world feels like it’s spinning, your heartbeat ringing in your ears as you ride out your high, your release gushing messily around his fingers.

His hand stays in place until your thighs untense, and he’s careful as he slips his fingers out of you, though you can’t help but shiver and whine from the sensitivity regardless. You're unsteady on your feet following your orgasm, but Jeongin makes sure you don't fall over; he keeps his grip on your firm, carefully helps you turn away from where you were pressed against the carved window to sit in the booth's only seat.

He wipes the sweat from your forehead after you sit, leans down to fix and smooth over the skirt of your church gown as you try your best to collect your breath and calm your racing heart. He's reverted back to his kindly priest persona it seems– you can tell by the warm smile he offers when you look at him, his sharp fangs fully retracted.

Still, bits of your blood remain smeared over his lips– clear evidence that he isn't the saintly man he portrays himself to be. You watch breathlessly as Jeongin licks the last of it from his lips before he pulls back the curtain of the confessional booth.

He offers you his hand after it seems like you've recovered enough to stand again; your own hand trembles as you accept it, and with his assistance, you rise carefully from your seat.

You're a bit dizzy when you stand, equal parts consequence of blood loss and the euphoria still lingering and tingling in your veins, but you're otherwise steady; and he smiles as he squeezes your hand in his, the other coming to rest on the small of your back as you take your first step out of the booth.

"Come back to confession again sometime," Jeongin says with his characteristically deceitful, charming smile, knowing full well that you will. Humans always find the sensation of his venom irresistible, always become addicted to it once they've felt it– and you'll be no different. "I'll be waiting for you."

[violetpixiedust]

thinking about angry stepdad!rafey who needs someone to keep him in line wether he likes it or not. ;_;

18+. afab reader. no description of appearance. smut. stepcest. stepdad!rafe. sub!rafe. kind of mean!reader. rafe cameron has a foot kink. foot!job. hints of pet play?? like very low key. kook!reader, but kind of early 2000’s core. rafe is early 40s. reader is 18.

the small pink radio on your bedside table played your favourite station, sat beneath one of your two hot pink lampshades. it was nearing 7:00pm, and you were getting ready to meet your friends at the boneyard for a party. the approaching summer heat filtered in through the open windows, your tulle curtains occasionally swaying with a fresh spring breeze that reminded you of approaching summer vacations of the past. now, you were trying your best to think of anything but graduation.

puckering your pouty lips, you swiped on your favourite lipgloss, admiring your done up reflection in your little hand mirror- before catching sight of your stepfather in the doorway behind you. a sharp gasp left your lips, snapping your compact closed before whipping your head in the smirking man’s direction. “aren’t you a little too young to already be showing signs of dementia?”

a wicked smirk glinted across your sticky mouth at the way rafe’s cobalt eyes rolled bitterly. his pink, slightly chapped lips formed themselves into a firm line before enveloping the rim of his glass, downing the bronze liquid without breaking eye-contact. you raised a careful brow. “just because the door is open, doesn’t mean you need to come in. free will works both ways you know.” reopening your compact, you began double checking for any imperfections. as usual, you found none.

a scoff echoed alongside you, not swaying you in the slightest. even when rafe’s tone held more than it’s usual distain. “you know why i’m drinking this shitty whisky?”

“don’t care.”

“hey.” your stepfather slammed his crystal glass atop your bookshelf with a sharp thud, storming up to your four post bed in record speed before trapping your wrists within his large hands. your compact fell atop your pink sheets, bouncing away from you two as rafe wrestled you to lay back along your bed. you didn’t even fight it, only challenging him with a nasty glare that rivalled his own. god, it was like you weren’t even your mother’s daughter, rafe thought. his wife was far too meek to ever be able to discipline you, let alone deal with the monster she had created in neglecting to do so. “cut the attitude. i’m-i’m drinkin’ this dog shit whisky because someone replaced my expensive stuff with it, thinkin’ i wouldn’t notice.”

a humourless chuckle left your lips, your sultry smile only widening when rafe’s grip tightened. his gold signet ring threatening to leave a brand. “think you’ve had too many bumps of blow, daddy.” the bulging vein in the blonde’s neck jumped in surprise. his angry expression faltering for just a second before hardening once more. you still caught the twitch in his brow, the purse of his lips, the widening of his pupils. you weren’t supposed to know about the coke. you also weren’t supposed to be going through his office when he and your mother were at the country club- and you sure as hell weren’t supposed to be drinking the last of his expensive whisky. one that was now in a silver flask, hidden within the fluff of your teddy bear that was sat on top of the chair in the corner of your room. “y’know how coke dick can make men act. forgetful and neglectful.” you shrugged your bare shoulders, the soft mounds of your breasts pushing themselves up in your thin tank top with how rafe dug your manicured hands further into your own chest.

the man opposite to you threw you back against your bed carelessly before he let you go, cobalt blue beaming down on you from where he stood. he panted as if he had just run a marathon, eyes wild and unsure of where to look next. meanwhile, you laid back along your elbows, cool and collected as the hem of your matching pyjama shorts fluttered upwards in his eye-line teasingly. rafe breathed in through his nose angrily, stating lowly. “you tell your mother anything, and i’ll-“

“but we don’t have to do that. do we, daddy?” rafe could feel every last bit of dignity in his brain melting away at that fucking name that left your lips. spoken in that saccharine tone of voice you reserved for him and him only. daddy, i need a ride. daddy, tell mom to stop being so mean to me. can i have a hug goodnight, daddy? daddy, there’s this new purse i want- no matter how much you made him want to pull his own teeth out, he could never say no to you, and you knew that. “noo. i don’t think so.” a soft giggle left your glossy lips at the way your stepfather’s mouth fell agape, his anger quickly fizzling into arousal.

you knew how pent up he was, he practically wore it on his sleeve. it was a wonder your mother had even bagged a man like rafe. successful, gorgeous, rich, tasteful. you figured it was because of how spineless she was. obeying to his every whim. following him around the outer banks like a lapdog. gushing to anyone who would listen that ‘the rafe cameron’ was hers. she allowed him to act like the man of the house- all while he stomped around with his jaw clenched like a child. the elder woman followed every one of his orders. making him a plate every night even if most nights it went cold. pouring him a glass of whisky, even before she left to converse with the real housewives of outer banks at the country club. a glass of whisky she wasn’t aware was worth less than $50.00 and had been stolen from a bar on the cut. the only thing she wouldn’t give him is what he really wanted. a challenge. not to mention the right touch. wrapped in a pretty little bow that would be both the cause and relief of all his stress and troubles. a sense of relief more medicinal than any line of the purest coke. “it doesn’t look like you dipped into that supply tonight, ray.”

your manicured toes that were decorated with a sultry shade of red trailed up the inner hem of rafe’s designer trousers. the blonde man’s eyes fluttered shut, hips twitching forwards unconsciously when the tips of your toes grazed his inner thigh. a choked gasp left the elder man when the ball of your foot pressed against his erection, his hands just catching your ankle before you promptly pulled it away. rafe’s eyes shot open, about to speak before you pointed your foot down towards your hardwood floor. “knees.”

rafe struggled with himself for a moment, physically at odds. he could cuss you out and leave. maybe go to the country club for some proper whisky, and blow off some steam with topper..

his knees bent at their own will, cracking before allowing the man to settle on his calves in front of you. a smile drew itself onto your lips, a sweet one that outweighed the corruption within your expression. the cameron man felt his blood turn gelatinous, rushing like syrup to the head of his cock that pressed painfully against the italian zipper of his pants. “that’s it.” you cooed at his submission. a shaky breath left rafe’s bitten lips, leaving his mouth agape when the ball of your left foot stroked his manhood up and down at a gentle pace. a deep groan left the blonde, throwing his head back as his hips moved in tandem with your strokes. “d’you like that, baby?”

rafe choked out another moan, realizing he liked being called ‘baby’ almost as much as he liked being called ‘daddy’. “y-yes. holy shit.” you could feel yourself dripping within your panties at the sight of the most powerful man in the outer banks humping your foot like a bitch in heat.

“unbutton your shirt for me, puppy. you’re all rosy.” rafe swallowed heavily at your patronizing tone, heart pounding in his ears while he practically ripped off the buttons on his dress shirt, leaving him in an ivory wife beater. the deft tips of his fingers raced down to the closure of his pants next, but you stopped him instantly. “uh-uh. what did i say?”

rafe groaned in frustration, unable to ignore the feeling of the beads of sweat at his temples, the crook of his neck, beneath the thick material of his pants. he was so overstimulated, so hot. he just wanted to come. that’s all he’s wanted to do for the past two weeks. every time he was either interrupted by your mother, an associate, or so on. this was the first time you were helping him out, instead of making him jerk off in front of you like you had two weeks ago during his morning shower. his obsession with you had worsened tenfold since that day. he needed you like he needed air to breathe. “please.” rafe buried his head into your bare thighs, placing open mouthed kisses along the smooth and vanilla scented skin, leaving streaks of drool behind. he didn’t care how pathetic he looked. he couldn’t. the only thing on his mind being sweet release. “please. i-i- i need to feel you s’bad, please.”

you watched in fascination at the scene unfolding in front of you. the tight knots of your stepfather unravelling with every hit of pleasure you gave him. he was so pathetic it made your heart race. not to mention your pussy throb.

god, he was so beautiful like this.

“shhh, you’re okay.” full body shudders prompted rafe’s back to twitch, each prominent muscle leaping beneath the taught wife beater he wore. you let your matching manicured nails rake over his shaved head, the once dominant man resting his forehead back on your lap obediently. he felt fuzzy with pleasure, so unbelievably turned on that he couldn’t think straight. he hadn’t felt like this in years. rafe wound his strong arms around your calf at the feeling of your toes pulling down his pants zipper, his own heavy breathing being the only thing he could focus on. the eldest cameron choked, lifting his cloudy gaze up towards you as your pointed toes dipped into his pants, only the layer of his thin underwear separating your skin. you could feel the warm pre-cum that seeped through the material onto your foot, sticky and wet. you let your soft hand cup his clammy stubble, thumb grazing his cheekbone as he leant into your touch. “thrust.”

you didn’t have to tell rafe twice. the man snapped into action, abusing the ball of your foot with the sheer greed of his thrusts. his eyes were nearly black, pupils taking over the now dusky blue of his irises. you hummed in contentment from your place on top of your sheets, catching his attention immediately with the way your soft hand left his head to dip into the waistband of your dainty shorts.

rafe’s entire body felt like it was on fire, desperately chasing his orgasm as best he could despite the sharp ache in his knees. only that didn’t matter, the once strict business man was too focused on his stepdaughter’s fingers that were suddenly shiny with her tangy slick. “open up, handsome.” your sweetness bursting along his tastebuds was the final push rafe needed, groaning around your fingers as thick ropes of hot sticky cum filled the front of his boxers. his brain whited out, eyes rolling to the back of his head while his muscular body convulsed, shakily riding out the last of his orgasm.

you gently pulled your foot out of his trousers once you were sure he was finished, relishing in the soft whine that emitted from him after you scratched behind his ears soothingly. “that’s a good boy, hm?”

rafe’s hips tiredly nudged against your foot once more at that, making you laugh.

[luvz-me]

being at the last year of your sports medicine university course abroad in america was like a dream come true. but in all honesty you just wanted it to be over and quick. the prospect of having to intern at a random clinic for three months wasn't appealing at all. you made sure to send your cv to different physiotherapy clinics, gyms, sports clubs but still no answer.

watching all your colleagues start earlier than you was discouraging until one afternoon, after watching 2 boring movies a guy at a club told you to watch last night you got a call.

someone with a very poised voice starts talking almost immediately, "good afternoon, i'm speaking on behalf of the sports clinic and i was wondering if you'd be available for an interview tomorrow morning regarding your internship application?"

you almost envied the way there wasn't any hint of nervousness in their voice. it was almost immediate the way you accepted the offer, in all honesty you just wanted to get it over with.

you started your internship there after almost a week until one day, by the evening you witnessed something you never thought you would. tashi fucking duncan walking in the clinic right as you were about to leave. you felt your stomach turn, not in the bad way, but in the - what the fuck, did i hit my head somewhere and wake up in an alternate universe? - way. your anxiety making you want to throw up seeing one of the people you wrote countless essays about stand before you.

"i'm looking to book a sports physician. medium term for art donaldson, need them to be able to come in-house monday through friday." you heard her say to the receptionist, blunt yet always polite. one of your idols standing just a few meters away from you made you weak at the knees. you were aware the clinic was well frequented but you never thought she'd be in your sight ever.

you looked at your nails, pondering if you should start biting them, regaining a bad habit just because you found yourself in a situation you couldn't control sounds very much like you but tashi probably would think that's gross so you stop.

a client you had been assigned to arrives and you curse yourself out for not being able to keep listening to the conversation anymore. the day never ended. each glance you took at the clock just seemed like you were stopped in time. sighing while helping the elder woman stretch her upper body and muttering some words of praise, explaining to her that she'd have to keep coming for at least one more week so the pain could dissipate. you flashed her a smile as she got up and said goodbye, thanking you endlessly for helping her ease the pain.

your supervisor had been watching you. giving some criticism on this session with the client. as you were about to leave she pulled you aside and informed you that starting tomorrow you'd be going to tashi duncans house.

everything inside was pristine, you were even scared to even lean against the furniture in fear you'd somehow break it. tashi had given you a quick house tour, her heels clacking on the hardwood floors as she warmed you up to her, occasionally telling jokes about herself and saying you reminded her of herself. when she was in college. you didn't really know what that meant but you decided to take it as a compliment, nervously fidgeting your fingers. art was nowhere to be seen up until you reached the gym area.

standing there, broad shoulders scrolling through his phone, distracted and flashing a smile towards his wife once she clears her throat and wraps an arm around his shoulder. introducing you to each other and leaving promptly, saying she had a meeting with her pr team and that she'd be back at 8 pm.

you swallow dry. standing there awkwardly with your backpack on your shoulders.

"so.. umm were gonna start with wall angels maybe. tashi told me thats your problem area right now" you blurted out, trying to sound as professional as possible "just. place your arms against the wall in a 90 degree angle and slowly straighten them"

art follows suit, standing against the wall awkwardly moving his arms up and down before asking "how old are you?" breaking the silence

"i'm 21" you mutter in surprise analysing his form and his toned shoulders, and arms.. and muscles. eyes narrowing trying to remind yourself that this is not one of your hookups, this is art fucking donaldson and you're here for an internship. at his house. in his fancy home gym. hes not yours to admire. "why?"

"ah.. just wanted to know" art shrugs, looking at you intently. he gets up suddenly, yet his movements are deliberate. you feel the knot tighten in your stomach, your pulse quicken as i looked at the man before me. "can you show me how to do it properly?" his voice drops to a lower tone and all you can do for a few seconds is flutter your lashes at him

"but this is pretty easy already, i don't know how to ex-"

"i said, i want you to show me" art cuts you off, his gaze literally burning through your skull

art mirrors your movements, his eyes never leaving yours. you hope he doesn't notice the slight tremble in your hands.

"like this?" he asks, his voice even softer now, almost a whisper.

you nod, your breath hitching. "yes, just like that. make sure to keep your back flat against the wall."

he follows your instructions, his body inching closer. you can feel the heat emanating from him, a stark contrast to the cool, clinical setting of the gym. there's a tension in the air, a charged silence that makes your heart race.

"you're good at this," he murmurs, his eyes darkening with an emotion you can't quite place

your cheeks flush, the compliment catching you off guard. "i appreciate that, mr. donaldson."

he moves closer, his body now just inches from yours. you can feel the magnetism between you, a pull that's impossible to ignore. his hand reaches out, gently brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. the gesture is tender, almost too intimate for your professional setting. "it's art, yeah? call me art, i don't want to feel like an old fart" he grins

"i should… i should check your shoulder alignment," you stammer, trying to regain some semblance of professionalism. "you're a bit tight here," you say, your voice trembling slightly. "let me help you."

you guide him through a series of stretches, your hands lingering a bit longer than necessary on his shoulders, his back. the room feels smaller, the air thicker with each passing moment.

the session was over. finally. you gathered your things and slid your backpack over your shoulders. art's gaze is still on you and it's impossible not to feel it "are you in a hurry to leave?"

"umm, no i just. no im not in a hurry" you smile "just don't want to bother you anymore" your breath catches in your throat

"i was hoping we could talk a bit more. get to know each other better." he smirks. what the fuck "tashi told me some things about you but i think one on one conversation is far better" grabbing your hand and guiding you to a small resting area at the gym engaging in some superficial conversation about you while tracing circles in the back of your hand. you can't help but sigh. his hands becoming more and more pervasive, touching your thighs, reaching up up up until he's close to your crotch. a slight whine escapes your mouth. you're not focusing on the conversation at all.

"art, this is not-"

"tashi doesn't have to know" he replies knowing tashi knows damn well. hell, she even planned this for him. it wasn't her intention to scout a pretty little physiotherapist like you at first. but you were at the right place, at the right time. the moment she took a glance at you she knew she had to have you. it was a plus art needed help with his shoulders. his hands roaming on the waistband of your tight leggings, your mouth parting with a sigh. sigh that he takes as opportunity to crash his lips against yours. your eyes narrow at first and for a second you try to pull back but you don't really want to.

his fingers edging closer to your panties, the tightness of the leggings increasing the skin on skin contact. "aw you look so pretty with your lips parted. you wanna take my fingers in you don't you huh?" now hovering over you, caressing you over your top "fucking corrupt that little head of yours"

you can't help but let out a moan that sends him over the edge. sliding your leggings down caressing you over your panties. before pushing two fingers inside your mouth for you to suck. "you want this don't you baby?"

"mhm" you nod trying your hardest not to bite him when he uses his opposite hand to caress your sensitive nub. furrowing your eyebrows trying your hardest not to grab his arm. his calloused fingers leaving your plump mouth suddenly and making a 'pop' sound "but tashi might" cut off by the pads of his fingers circling your clit

"tashi doesn't mind" his voice hungry "im just helping you out yeah? we're just getting acquainted" one of his fingers teases your entrance slowly entering earning a sharp wince from you. the unfamiliar feeling slowly turning into pleasure as he slid it in and out "open your eyes f'me, let me see those pretty eyes"

you bite your lip staring at his face as he does such a lewd thing to you, and you let him. knowing he has a wife. somehow this made it even more arousing. whats wrong with you? "gonna add one more finger, fuck you're so tight around me, so good. i bet that clit would feel so good around my tongue" small tears cornering around your eyes. the soft noises leaving your lips only encouraging him to keep going.

"feels good huh baby?" he coos, his face edging closer and closer to your clit as your hips rise, only to stop once you're about to cum. abruptly sliding your panties back up along with your leggings.

this earns him a well deserved mewl. edging you like this. stopping when you were just so so close was just so mean of him. looking up at him just to see him lick your juices off his fingers, feeding them to you. "suck" he commands "don't be mad, i just need to make sure you come back for more sessions" fixing your hair and picking up your backpack from where you left it on the gym floor

[chrollogy]

18+ MDNI; explicit smut, use of sex toy (fleshlight), tendou is a bit of a tease & a freak (he fucks the fleshlight while it’s sheathed inside you), pure smut and nothing else, pet name (my sweet). divider: cafekitsune.

── “hold it still like this, both hands, and no taking it off ‘til i say so, m’kay?” tendou cocked his head to the side and let out a sickly sweet hum, lips curling into a soft smile. his ruby gaze bore into you, searing a hole into your very core with that mischievous sparkle. you would’ve found his mannerisms cute—wholesome, even, if it wasn’t for the situation at hand. to put it simply, the vermillion-haired male wanted to try something new with you; your boyfriend was practically brimming with excitement as he explained exactly what it was he wanted to try.

while tendou’s expression became more and more enthusiastic, your’s morphed into something of the complete opposite. it sounds hot, he told you earlier, eyes budding with enthusiasm but even just thinking about it, you could already imagine how torturous it’d be on your end. but that’s exactly what tendou was going for.

nonetheless, you obliged and held onto the base—with both hands—of the fleshlight right at your entrance, it’s shaft inserted within the velvety walls of your cunt. you squirmed beneath your naked boyfriend, the feeling of hard plastic inside you wasn’t too comfortable, it felt foreign but that didn’t entirely mean it wasn’t pleasurable. the sex toy was able to stimulate your g-spot but it wasn’t enough, considering the straight angle of the fleshlight and how stiff it was.

“mhm. that’s it~” tendou cooed, giving you an approving nod before placing himself between your legs. his eyes were solely trained to your exposed cunt, you squeezed around the sex toy, anticipating his next move. tendou leaned down, placing a trail of chaste kisses between the valley of your breasts before bringing himself back up. you watched as he pursed his pink lips, gathering saliva atop his tongue to spit at his erect cock—a thin, translucent string of saliva falling from his lips to the head of his dick.

tendou lolled his head back; face angled to the ceiling as a lazy smile formed on his face. he pumped his cock once, twice, thrice; generously spreading the slimy liquid around his shaft. your boyfriend shifted a bit, the wooden frame of the bed creaking with his movements as he made himself comfortable. the crimson-haired man slapped his cock on the faux lips of the toy, as if it were your own—his mouth stretching into a sly grin, one that sent icy shivers up your spine.

without wasting any time, tendou slowly slipped his cock into the sex toy, a long whine in the shape of your name falling from his mouth—face scrunched in pure ecstasy. you bit your lip at his pornographic reaction, wishing it was your cunt instead. the movement of tendou’s hips shifted the fleshlight a bit, teasingly rubbing at your g-spot but not enough to elicit a completely pleasurable feeling. at best, you dug your nails around the toy, frustration slowly building up inside as he found a rhythm of push and pull.

one thing about tendou? he doesn’t shy away from expressing pleasure through his voice and face—you liked that a lot about him; strings of incoherent sentences, and the roll of his eyes spurring you further into carnal insanity but right this very moment, it frustrated you because the feeling of ecstasy was one sided. tendou doubled over your naked form, brows furrowed, and bottom lip caught between his teeth as he fucked the toy with fervour—walls eagerly sucking him back in. you would’ve been a whimpering mess right now, body jolting with each harsh thrust but the pleasure fell flat.

“t-tendou, please . .” you mewl. frustration engulfed your naked body, toes curling at the lack of sexual stimulation between your legs. despite his fucked out state, tendou smirked; beads of sweat lined his forehead, cheeks dusted pink. fuck. the sight only made you hornier. “hm? are you not enjoying this?” he cocked his head to the side, acting clueless. how cruel. tendou let out a soulless laugh before pushing his cock all the way into the fleshlight, balls touching the base of it. a shameless moan fell from his lips, followed by a string of curses. you clenched around the toy, disappointment growing with each passing second.

despite your desperate pleas, it fell deaf on tendou’s ears, continuing to fuck the sex toy like a rabid animal in heat. “you’ll get your turn, my sweet.” he breathed out, lips curling into a loose smile which only earned a loud whine from you. holy hell, the thought of having your pretty face beneath him while he pounded the toy was beyond fucking hot. not to mention the way your lips quivered ever so slightly, oh, it turned tendou on even more.

he let out a dainty whine, a clear indication of his nearing orgasm. “look at me.” tendou grabbed your jaw with one hand, locking your head in place to stare up at him and his fucked out state. long moans turned into shallow, rapid pants, the muscles in his body tightening as pleasure engulfed him whole. the look of displease on your face dizzied him, fuck, you were that desperate for his cock, huh? couldn’t even go a second without his dick buried inside you. the thought made his hips stutter, the knot deep in his stomach snapping.

tendou buried his face in the crook of your neck, a loud, shameless moan filling your ears as his climax hit him. he shuddered, shocks of pleasure electrifying every fibre of his sweat body; your boyfriend whispered saccharine praises against the column of your neck, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin. you lay there, limbs tingling with desire, cunt aching to be pounded by the man before you but before you could say anything, tendou lifted his head to look at you, crimson strands falling over his sweaty forehead,

“on all fours. keep it inside you, ‘m not done yet.”

this was going to be a hell of a long night—a torturous one at that but you obliged. you always did. and amidst the changing of positions, a bright idea popped in to his mind, one that brought a wide smile upon his face,

tendou knew exactly what he was going to do as punishment in the future.

oh, he’s such a genius.

[shellxrls]

matching halloween costumes with jayj where he dresses as a priest and you go in the holy trinity bikini so he has easy access to finger fuck you after he inevitably gets hard seeing you prance around in 3 small scraps of flimsy material all night.

"fuck — oh my god."

"'m not god baby, just his humble servant," while his face is literally squished up against your pussy and he's tonguing at your folds with one finger circling your ass.

[sir-walton-goggins]

A Quiet Time

(1479 words) by yourlocallygrowngay

Fandom: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)

Rating: Explicit (+18)

Relationships: Arthur Morgan/Reader, Arthur Morgan/Female Reader

Summary: Arthur has been waiting all day to get his hands on you. You retreat to his tent with only one instruction: be as quiet as possible.

---

You gasped softly as Arthur felt around for the slit in your bloomers and hovered his fingers on your warm center, taking his sweet time. He was about to drive you crazy.  And you were supposed to be quiet, too?!

The owls hooted and the crickets chirped as the last embers of the campfire extinguished in the cold chill of the night. It was dead silent at camp, the only muffled sounds coming from Arthur’s closed tent, where he had brought you to get some well-deserved privacy. He had been craving you all day, frequently sneaking glances at you, hungrily scanning the way your blue jeans folded at the center of your crotch, like arrows pointing straight at it. It was like a dinner bell to him: he wanted to feel it, to taste it, to be buried deep within it, to get rid of that annoying thick fabric that kept your folds locked away from him. You stopped your gaze on your partner and smirked at his blissful expression.

“You daydreamin’ there, Arthur?” you kneeled in front of him. He hummed softly, taking a swig of his beer. You gave him a chaste kiss on his reddened cheek, appropriate for the public setting you were in. Next thing you knew, you were in his tent, laying next to him on his cot, one arm cradling your head while the other got busy under your bloomers.

“Oh God,” you exhaled once Arthur’s middle finger found your folds and dipped inside slowly. It was far from being a new sensation: you were more than capable of taking care of that yourself, but it was never quite as satisfying as when his fingers, twice as big as yours, stretched you so well and led you to the finish line.

Arthur shushed you softly, inserting and retracting his finger a few times, and it was already soaked from your arousal.

“Look at’chu, already dripping for me…” he purred inside your ear, voice heavy and low sending a million icy shivers all across your skin.

He pushed further inside this time, just half a motion away from your clit, and you couldn’t hide the moan that escaped your lips before you were even aware of it. Arthur flew to your lips and muffled it by kissing you slowly and deeply, regretfully muting that delectable sound you were making. It was a crime, telling you to be quiet like this, especially since he loved all your little shrieks and mewls and gasps when he did all the things he knew you loved. But you were at camp, and he couldn’t wait another second to touch you, and he didn’t want anyone to find out about your pure moment of bliss. That belonged to you two only, and it was precious. And NOT to be interrupted.

You moaned against Arthur’s mouth, trying to control your breathing as he fingered you faster now, and you were already soaking your underwear and his knuckles. You felt his boner against your hip as he kissed your swollen lips, desperately trying to keep you quiet.

“You’re so beautiful, honey…” he mumbled, keeping his hand steadily thrusting between your thighs and unable to resist the urge to grind his aching stiffness against your hip to give it some relief, all while leaving a trail of wet, open-mouthed kisses from your earlobe all the way down to the soft curve of your breasts, stopping at you neck for a more thorough visit. It was almost torture, having to restrain yourself from expressing how he made you feel, because he made you feel heavenly. And you wanted him to hear it.

“Such a good girl… already coming undone from one finger… that’s not all you gon’ get from me, sweetheart.” Arthur was fighting the urge to be quiet with the one, much stronger, to praise the shit out of you, because he couldn’t give it up. He wanted you to know just how good you were for him.

Arthur thought he could come just by looking at you: such a pretty thing, lying there with your lips red and puffed from all the kissing, chest heaving and pearlescent with little droplets of sweat running down its mounds, one leg propped up on the cot to allow him easier access to your cunt, hips thrusting upwards in a desperate attempt to meet his finger, wanting more. And, luckily for you, more was coming.

“Arth-“ that’s all you could manage to say before he suddenly inserted another finger, and you had to summon all of your strength not to scream. You tilted your torso towards him, gripping at his chest so hard you pulled a few of his chest hairs out, but Arthur didn’t flinch. He was completely captivated by you, how you moved according to what he did, how he had you in the literal palm of his hand. How glorious you looked at the verge of an orgasm. He knew you were close, and he was too, but this wasn’t about him. You were his top priority right now, without your pleasure there wouldn’t be his.

“I’m stretching you so good, aren’t I? You want me to go faster, do you?” he said disjointedly, his breathing heavier and heavier as he moved frantically to pleasure both you and him, his mind slightly fogged by that amazing feeling pulsating just underneath, within reach, but fighting hard to keep it under control. You nodded enthusiastically at his request to fuck you harder, and he happily obliged, adding one last finger. The sounds of his fingers slapping against your wet cunt were spreading inside the tent and were obscenely satisfying to you both.

Arthur pre-emptively wrapped you into a kiss so you couldn’t wake everybody up with your delightful screams.  His tongue eagerly explored your mouth as his hand took care of your other set of lips, both swollen and soaking wet as he kept hitting your sweet spot repeatedly and deliberately, making you roll your eyes back into your skull and your mouth fly open, your back arching against his wall of a body. God, you felt so warm and so welcoming�� Arthur knew he wasn’t going to resist much longer, his release was near. But yours had to come first.

“That’s it, you’re almost there. Come for me, darlin’…” he coaxed you, precum already dripping down his thigh as he kept moving inside you.

You hit your climax, forgetting all about keeping quiet as you flew to another dimension, unable to control anything your body did. You slowly came down from your high as Arthur did from his, union suit stained with his own orgasm, his fingers still thrusting and not stopping until you had fully recovered to ease the sensation.

“Yep. That’s my girl” he chuckled proudly, taking the fingers still covered in your sweet juice to his lips and licking them like they were dipped in honey. You always tasted amazing to him, and he couldn’t resist doing that every time: you were just so good, plus, he loved the hungry look in your eyes when he did that in front of you.

Arthur brushed aside the sweaty hair that had stuck to your forehead and left a tender kiss just above your eyebrows. You looked up at him with a drunken smile on your face, still a bit high. He returned the same smile to you, leaning in again to leave a peck on your lips and nose.

“Was that… good for you?” he asked, like he didn’t just rock your entire world a moment ago.  You nodded, thanking him and caressing his cheek. He closed his eyes and emitted a low hum of contentedness, enjoying your gentle touch.

You sat up, re-adjusting your underwear around your sweaty body. Arthur asked if you needed anything. Water to drink? A cloth to clean yourself up with? Just a word from you and he was already buttoning up his pants and ducking out of the tent to fetch you what you asked. He was always so caring and dutiful after doing the deed with you, asking if you’re okay, if you’re hurt or sore and what he could do for you. It was a bit of a ritual for him, like going though a mental checklist to make sure you were 100% comfortable and happy. He knew he could be quite rough, even if he tried to restrain himself, so he wanted to be certain you were being taken care of after such an intimate act. Arthur was back in a blink, with a cup of water in one hand and a fresh cloth he dutifully dabbed all over your exposed skin to wipe away your sweat.

Once your thirst was quenched and both of you were clean, you cuddled on his cot and you fell fast asleep in each other’s arms.

[someprettyname]

OH MY GOD I JUST HAD SUCH AN AMAZING PLOT IDEA FOR A HUGE ASS ISAGI FIC RAHHHHHHHH (well it can be anyone but since I'm so whipped for isagi-)

LET ME COOK I SAY 🗣️🗣️🗣️

[lolishdes]

❝He Loves me not❞ || Diluc x Reader

✧A/N: NOW THIS IS A HEAVY ONE BABES, I wanted to try something different since I mostly write lovey dovey or smutty stuff. This time I wanted to try making something more on the angsty side. Read the warnings first before proceeding !

Oh! Also, this is part of a Diluc Series I'm cooking up 👀, they are all one shots tho, none of them connect to one another. So expect more Diluc stuff from me !

✧Warning/s: Toxic Marriage, Cheating, Argument gone physical, Smut

✧Synopsis: In a modern AU wherein Diluc and you have an arranged marriage  and though at first you don't have high hopes of this union, you still gave it a chance… oh how regretful you are for such a choice.

✧Word Count: 2.9k words

Minors kindly don't interact!

He was never yours to begin with. From the moment you saw the way he looked at her…you knew you had already lost. 

It was your engagement party and you have invited all of your loved ones to celebrate. Both Diluc and you are currently busy attending and chatting with the guests. Everyone kept complimenting you on how much you're practically glowing that night, that it must be good karma considering how good your life has been going so far. And you couldn't agree more, everything seems so right…so perfect. 

Despite how transactional your engagement with Diluc was, this man has somehow crept into your heart. He was quite intimidating at first yet somehow you knew there was a hint of softness in him. His face would hold indifference yet his touch was warm and gentle. And for that you do not regret saying yes to meeting him. 

You excuse yourself from the group of guests and want to see your soon to be husband. You couldn't seem to find him from the sea of people..strange considering that his red hair always makes him stand out. By the corner you see Rosaria and Kaeya enjoying some drinks and snacks while they converse with one another. You approach them to ask Kaeya where his brother could be.

“Hey Kae, have you seen Diluc anywhere? I can't seem to find him?” Kaeya quirks his eyebrow and puts the wine glass down his lips. “I believe he went that way, by the garden. I saw him going there with Jean.” Jean? Who in Celestia was Jean? Probably one of his relatives you thought. You thanked Kaeya and exited the banquet hall. 

The garden was a little wide but it was easy enough to find your way. You ended up a little deeper into the garden and started hearing faint voices, one of which you could recognize. You don't know why, but your gut feeling told you to keep your mouth shut and approach them quietly. As you approached nearer you peaked at the two people that were hiding behind some grass walls. 

Your heart sank at the sight.

Diluc had one of his arms wrapped around the woman's waist and his other hand found itself on her cheek, tenderly caressing her. His eyes…it's as if he was worshiping the very ground she walked in. And the woman…Jean, looked back at him with the same affections as she smiled at him warmly.

You retreat back to hiding behind the grass walls, yet not leaving just yet. “You're here.” Diluc spoke gently, a hint of joy in his tone. Jean gave a gentle laugh. “Yes I am, in the flesh. and I intend to stay here a little longer.” Although you cannot see what they are doing, you are most definitely sure they just share a kiss after that. Your whole body starts to shake and your eyes are getting blurry from the tears that are threatening to fall down. In that moment you can't seem to speak nor move, you felt powerless, alone and…vulnerable. 

You felt betrayed and yet did nothing about it…months later you were then wed. 

…He didn't even call your name during the wedding night. You know damn well that as he was thrusting himself inside you and kissing you passionately on the lips it wasn't you on his mind…it was her. Those sweet pet names he was giving you? That's all for her. And still you pretended as if you knew nothing of his crimes. As you both reached your climax tears were falling down your eyes. But these weren't because of pure bliss, but it was due to your husband calling out another woman's name silently under his breath while still burried inside you. 

“Oh Jean..”

–––––––––

Fixing yourself in front of your vanity, you applied some gloss on your lips before giving it a pop to really apply the product evenly. You were almost completely dressed up for the party and were satisfied with how you looked in front of the mirror. You gave a satisfied nod to yourself before grabbing the clutch on your bed and heading to the door.

You grabbed your pair of black heels that were inside the shoe cabinet and  bent a bit to wear them ,behind you you could hear footsteps. “And where do you think you're going at this time and hour?” You didn't have to turn around to know who spoke.

“Just going to a birthday celebration, remember my friend Yelan? It's her 29th birthday.” “And where is this party located exactly?” You finished buckling the straps on your heels and stood up properly. “Just at her home, we wanted some space for ourselves and she's going to bring out her best alcohol.” You answered every question he had, but your tone sounded as if you didn't have any time for him. That irritated the red head a bit.

You turn around to face your husband, he was still in his work clothes, The sleeves of his button up were folded up and a few buttons were undone, and his red hair was down. His arms were crossed and he had his default resting bitch face. “Will be home by 10pm, don't worry I won't be drinking too much.” really though, It was unnecessary to tell him all this. In the end he doesn't care where you go, who you go with, or even what time you'll arrive home. It's always been that way. 

He stopped loving you the day she entered back into his life.

“I’ll be heading off now, don't overwork.” 

–––––––––

Driving slowly before coming to a full stop as you arrived at Yelans house. Her house was gorgeous, very modern and yet simplistic, just the way she likes it. You parked your car just outside her house and went for the entrance to ring her doorbell. Yelan shouted “Coming!” from a distance before rushing to open the door for you. “Ah here you are, just in time.” She gave you a quick hug before welcoming her to her home.

Thing is, no one was inside the house other than you and Yelan. She just wanted a simple birthday with her best friend, throwing some grand birthday wasn't really her thing to begin with. And you're more than happy to entertain her. “Gods glad you came! And here I thought I would celebrate this precious day all alone.” She jokingly said as we walked to her mini bar. 

You hopped on to a seat as Yelan went behind the counter to make some drinks. “We both know I would definitely be coming today. It's your birthday after all! Besides, there's not much to do in that house anyways. As much as possible I’d like to get out when given the opportunity.” You rested your cheek on your palm.

Yelan gives a worried look before sighing. “Is he still hooked on…her?” She pushes a drink towards me. I scoffed and took a sip. “Yeah, he is.” Yelan rolled her eyes at that before leaving the counter and sitting beside you. “He left a few weeks ago, saying it was for business purposes…But after his trip I cleaned his bag for his laundry and found some dirty panties in one of the pockets. And obviously this isn't some souvenir he got in some stall.” You took a swing of your drink and finished the whole glass. Yelan sees this and a concerned look is on her face. You wiped any excess alcohol on the corner of your lips and continued.

“The bastard is getting sloppy.” A grim look was on your face as you're telling Yelan all this. Yelan looks at you, dead serious in the eyes. “Y/N, we both know you deserve better than this.” You look at your best friend with somber eyes. "I know, but I just—" "Ah ah stop talking for a moment." Yelan interrupts.

"I know you love him...but don't you think perhaps it's time to face the fact that Diluc doesn't love you? Because if he did, the moment he saw that woman at your engagement party he would be running straight at you, showing to everyone and to her especially that he was already spoken for."

You grip on the glass tighter. Perhaps it's not love that's keeping you in this marriage. Sure you used to love him...but all that love went down the drain the night of your honeymoon. Maybe it's guilt, guilt at the very fact that you allowed for things to get this bad. That when you had the opportunity to stop this torture sooner��� you just didn't.

And now that you're married to him, you thought that you might as well finish what you've started...even though it hurts.

“...Thanks Yelan, you're really helping me through this." You gave her a quick hug. "Well anyways enough about my fucked up life, lets talk about you, yeah?” Yelan wiggled her index finger in front of you. “Oh no no no don't you dare change the subject. I'm all ears right now.” 

“What? No! It's your birthday for celestia's sake, I'm not spending your precious day complaining about my marriage!” Yelan places her hand on top of yours. “My dear, I love nothing more than shit talking, so…” She grabs her drink and raises it in front of me. 

“Drink up.”

–––––––––

Time seems to be flying fast as you hadn't realized it was already late at night. Not only that but you drank way past your limit, it would be dangerous to be out and about on the road, so Yelan insisted you'd stay for the night. Not having much of a choice you flopped on the bed and immediately dozed off to sleep.  By the time you woke up it was already 8 in the morning, you groaned as you stretched and sat up from the bed, rays of sunlight finding their way past the curtains. 

You feel the hangover settle in, fortunately it's not that unbearable. You walked down the stairs and to the kitchen there you found breakfast was already made for you and a sticky note just near it. 

‘Gonna go out for a run! Here's some breakfast and a pain reliever, if it's really unbearable don't hesitate to stay a little longer ;D’

- Yelan 

You chuckled reading this before eating the breakfast infront of you. After doing so you freshened up a bit in the bathroom and cleaned up the room you just stayed in. You don't want to be inconsiderate and leave any traces of mess, especially since you're just a guest. After doing everything necessary you locked the door behind you and went to your car. You just remembered you promised Diluc that you'd be home by 10…Ah whatever, he doesn't give a damn anyways. You're even sure that by now he's still rested nicely in his bed. 

While on the road you reflect back to what Yelan said...she's right. That night could have been different, instead of heading back home earlier to cry myself to sleep, I could've celebrated my engagement party to the fullest. Nothing but smiles and joy, with Diluc beside me...proud to be called husband and wife soon...

But that's all a fairy tail. Such delusions are far from the truth and as you reach closer to home you know exactly what you have to do.

Driving back home there wasn't any traffic on sight. Though, considering that it's a Sunday morning, most people are still in their beds resting. 

After parking your car inside the garage you made your way inside your home. You threw your clutch on the couch and made your way to the kitchen to grab a glass of water. But waiting there was your husband as he was eyeing you dangerously. “What happened to being at home at 10?” He takes a sip of his coffee and looks straight at you.

You're in disbelief at his attitude, why should he even give a damn about where you've been. You divert your eyes to one of the cabinets to get a glass. “Yeah about that, I got a little too carried away with the drinks. I couldn't drive properly so I stayed there at Yelans for the night.” You poured yourself a glass of water while still avoiding eye contact. Diluc doesn't seem to like this. “Can you please look at me while talking?” 

You let out a frustrated inhale and just finished your glass of water to just leave, this morning you seem to have little to no patience for Diluc. You start to walk off but Diluc gets up from his chair and follows behind you. “Hey what's going on? Talk to me!” You continue to walk up the stairs ignoring your husband. He grabs your arm and stops you before you could enter the bedroom. “What the hell is your problem? Why aren't you answering me–!” “YOU ARE THE DAMN PROBLEM ‘LUC!”

You finally blew up. After months, even years of holding it in, you finally blew up on his face. You rip your arm off from his grip. “Don't you dare pretend you don't know. Because I know we both fucking know what’s wrong.” Only the sound of heavy breathing can be heard, both of you stood there silently as you spoke in almost a whisper. 

“I can't do this anymore, Luc. It fucking hurts and I can’t stand seeing your selfish lying face–!” “Then why?” Diluc interjects, he looks at you coldly. “Then why did you stay? Why didn't you say anything? If it hurts so fucking much then why did you let all of this happen–!” “Dont you fucking DARE make me the villain here, Ragnvindr!” 

You point a finger towards Diluc, there was no more holding back at this point. “I have foolishly led myself to believe that I might even have a sliver of chance in your heart, but it's clear now that you're only thinking about that whore of a woman!”

“DON’T YOU DARE CALL HER THAT” “WELL AM I FUCKING WRONG? THAT'S WHAT SHE IS IN OUR MARRIAGE, RIGHT? JUST SOME DIRTY SECRET YOU HIDE.” Diluc’s hand suddenly wraps around your throat, pinning you to the wall. His grip is merciless while his eyes only bore rage. He wants to be fucking angry well two can play that game.

“Ohh what's wrong? I thought we were talking this out. Did I hit a nerve?~” You were mocking him, an almost maniac smile was on your face as you're laughing at him. His attempts to shield his woman were ridiculous, he's going so low to the point of physically hurting you. Both of your eyes never left one another, as if challenging the other to look away, but neither of you faltered.

Your grin at him, enjoying the very fact that this time the roles were reversed, this time he was the one who was agitated. 

"I'm done playing pretend, so why don't you do the same." Despite how hard it was to speak, you still had some bite in you.

A vein could practically pop from Dilucs head from how angry he is, he looks at you with pure hatred– as if you are the most vile thing he has ever seen. He inches closer at you, doing his best to intimidate you more. Both of you could practically feel each other's breath– it’s hot and heavy. There were no words being exchanged yet Diluc’s eyes somehow found themselves down to your lips, they were red and plump.

You were about to agitate him a little more when suddenly his lips crashed onto yours harshly. Without thinking you accepted the kiss, his hand was still on your throat but you wouldn't have his hand in any other place. His free hand wandered down to your ass and gave it a firm squeeze, pulling you closer to him. 

–––––––––

Clothes were scattered all over the floor, hands were wandering and groping everywhere. There were no signs of stopping or slowing down. At one point you found yourself on top of Diluc, straddling him and taking control instead. “Nice view, is this what she saw 2 weeks ago, hm?” You mock him, his hands are then on your hips as he forces you to push yourself deeper into him. “Shut your mouth and just keep moving.” You only go faster and deeper, Diluc groans beneath you.

While riding him you're playing with yourself to help you reach your climax faster. Diluc watches the view before him, and as much as he wants to deny it but you look fucking hot right now. All angry yet horny at the same time. 

You comb some hair out of your face and look down at Diluc, you can see that he's close, but so were you. As you quicken your pace  you grab a hold of his face and force him to look at you “When you fucking cum I want you to scream my name, for once in your damn life call out the name of the woman that made you feel good.”

Diluc scoffs at this, “In your fucking dreams.” You hum in disappointment and slow down your pace. “If you don't, then I'm leaving you here with your cock still hard.” The red head groaned at this and grips on his hips a little tighter. “Fuck– fine fine!” You smile down at him. “That's better~” Quickening your pace, both of you continue to moan and pant out in pleasure, removing every single edge and hatred from 2 hours ago. 

“Oh god I’m close!” Your thrusts are getting sloppier by the second, desperate for that release. On the other hand Diluc is panting beneath you as he looks at how you're taking him in so well. “Y/N I’m close too– Shit!” You grip onto his bare shoulders as you're about to cum. “Oh god I’m coming !” Shutting your eyes as you release, Diluc gives a strong thrust upwards as he releases his load inside of you. 

–––––––––

It was already 3 in the morning as you got up from the bed. Diluc was still fast asleep, but this was the perfect moment to start packing up your necessary things and head out to the door. You’ll file for a divorce later, but for now… 

You look down at the red head as he is sleeping peacefully. You remove the ring off your finger, the ring that felt so heavy and ingrained into your skin. You can finally lift that weight. 

You head to the bathroom and get ready to leave. 

Alternative Ending

©All content belongs to lolishdes 2022. Please refrain from reposting (reblogs are appreciated !).

[elsfairy]

✧ ˚. I HATE YOU ⎯ 𝐀𝐁𝐁𝐘 𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍

what the fuck did you do to be in this position? oh that’s right, you couldn't help yourself. you just had to be a brat, didn’t you? purposely pushing her buttons, batting those not-so-innocent eyelashes up at her, snarkily mumbling how she's never got enough time for you. that of course is a fuckin’ lie. if she wasn’t doing patrol, or working out at the gym, her attention was always on you. you had all her attention when she wasn't busy. Abby was used to your bratty ways, and your bratty attitude, so she didn't react much when you started acting out. acting out just to gain some of her attention. every snarky comment and flirtatious tease went unphased. simply because she just didn't have time, she wanted to give it to you but she couldn't. but you, oh that wasn't enough for you. she should’ve seen it coming. should have seen the way you looked up at her, rolling your eyes, pouting & huffing. she should have noticed the way your lip jutted out, eyebrows furrowed. you were doing it. you were about to be a brat all over again. all because she had to go on a supply run. but she reassured you, over and over with a soft “I’ll be back before you know it, baby” why couldn't you just let it be? let her do her damn job, and just wait for her to come back? she expected you to be okay with it, to tell her to come back safely, but all she had got in response to you was an angry “I hate you”

that’s what you did to be in this current situation. your trembling, sheet of sheer sweaty body caged between your girlfriend's, her arms placed on either side of your head, and her forehead resting against yours. her strap buried deep inside you, feeling her everywhere, hitting all the right angles that had you gasping. her large, rough calloused hand gripped your chin tightly, eyes not even trained on your own, they were hooded, blown but she was looking down between your bodies, focused on the way her strap disappeared in your cunt, coming out wetter each time “Still hate me, baby?” those subconscious pleas, sobs, and hiccups of no's! and could never hate you! falling from your puffy red lips, trying to hold onto her. she was making it unbelievably hard to though, her pace was fast, a little rough on the surface, but overall she knew exactly what she was doing. she was going to show you. "Don’t like when you lie to me” She draws out heavily, slowing her pace just enough to pull whine after whine from you, begging for her to keep going. her braid loosening, wispy strands of hair sticking to her forehead. the muscles of her arms bulging, gleaming with sweat when she grips your throat, squeezing lightly to tear another whimper from your spit-covered lips. “Do you want me to fuck you like I hate you, Doll?”

[omegadazai]

6k words in this mellomattnear smut oneshot and I'm not even fucking done 😭

[hellofanidea]

45. leather belt with a silver buckle for babelieb

NSFW below the cut because I did in fact think about my rarepair fucking on the floor for too long

---

The first time they screw, more than just hurried hands and mouths, is in a motel just outside of Philadelphia. They don't plan it, both exhausted from the last three days - from driving and not sleeping and the fight Babe had with his folks and his sisters and Bill as he bundled his shit into Joe's car.

They've gotten a twin room, ostensibly to save money but mostly to stay in each other's sight at all times, and lingering touches turn to kisses, turn to Joe pushing Babe against a wall and grinding a thigh between his legs as he sucks hickeys into his collarbone.

"Jesus, Joe, Jesus Christ," is all Babe can say, his hands refusing to cooperate as he grabs at him. Joe's still dressed where Babe is just in his shorts, fresh from the shower and ready to sleep, and his fingertips keep sliding off the fabric of Joe's shirt. "Joe, fuck-"

"Thought you missed me?" Joe pants slyly. Babe makes a particularly inarticulate noise and gropes down Joe's front to get at his slacks, at the belt keeping them up around his bony hips. The buckle is almost bitingly cold, but he persists, grabs at Joe's erection below it as he slides the leather free. "Fu-uck, Babe-"

They don't move apart more than a handful of inches as they strip Joe of his layers and rid Babe of his boxers. They barely make it to one of the beds.

"So pretty," Joe mumbles, between smearing kisses anywhere he can reach and fumbling with the lube he's magicked up from a pocket or bag or could have summoned out of thin air for all that Babe cares. "My pretty baby..."

He's being so much sweeter than the normal filth he would pour into Babe's ear in haylofts and foxholes, and it does something funny to his insides, makes him writhe all the more desperately against him.

The people next door can probably hear them, know exactly what they're doing, but fuck them, Babe thinks viciously, fuck them, he's owed this, they're both owed this. Let them know, let them see them emerge tomorrow and think whatever they want, because they aren't worth the energy it would take for Babe to drag himself away from Joe again.

Restraint is for other people. It's for people who haven't jumped out of planes and fired machine guns and seen their friends bleed in the snow like animals. It's for people who know how to move on without feeling like they've left most of themselves behind.

And then Joe is pushing his fingers in, one at a time. There's more pain than pleasure at first, but Babe just breathes through it, hooking one leg up and over Joe's back. He bites more than kisses at Joe's mouth until the intrusion hits just right and he's keening, scratching down his shoulders, rocking into the sensation.

It makes Joe groan like he's the one being fucked open. He's smearing precum onto Babe's hip, and Babe twists his body to give him some friction.

"If I go off now," warns Joe. "It's gonna take a minute for me to get in you."

That makes Babe laugh, and he cants his hips again so he can watch Joe grunt and curse. In revenge, Joe crooks his fingers hard and mean in a way that sends pleasure shooting through Babe so violently he shudders, spine arching off of the mattress in a curve he didn't know he could make. Joe laughs, then, and licks into Babe's gasping mouth.

"Think I could get you off like this, huh, sweetheart?" And there's the sharper teasing Babe remembers. "Just like this, then screw you when you're all fucked-out and easy for me?"

"Jesus, Joe, don't," Babe whines, even though the thought has his dick twitching eagerly.

"Yeah, okay, maybe next time," Joe acquiesces.

Next time. Babe arches again, squeezing his eyes shut at the wave of something that travels through him at the thought. They had never had a guaranteed next time before. Not even after V-J Day. Next time, and the time after, and the time after-

He shoots off before he can even warn Joe, his whole body locking up tight and then completely unraveling. There's a shout ringing in his ears that he thinks is Joe's name bouncing off of the walls of the motel room.

"Fuck, there you go, that's it, show me how you like it-"

The fingers in him curl into that perfect spot again and again until Babe's leg is twitching with the aftershocks. His tongue feels too heavy to form words, but the pitch of his noises must turn sour, because Joe pulls out gently, keeps his legs spread around him but bending over Babe to press soft, open mouthed, kisses to his neck and shoulders.

He's still talking, too quietly for Babe to make out the words, but the vibrations against his skin are nice, soothing, help his mind refocus from how hard his orgasm crashed into him. With the tips of his fingers still tingling with static, Babe moves clumsy hands from where they'd fallen against the mattress to Joe's back, petting at him weakly, feeling the jut of his vertebrae and the thin sheen of sweat building on his skin.

"Alright, Babe, I gotcha, I gotcha, that's it, honey," Joe is cooing, the words once again making sense to Babe's ears. He laughs, a blissed out, disbelieving noise, and Joe lifts his head to give him a wicked grin. "Okay, so maybe we don't leave it to next time, huh?"

[thewolvesof1998]

Fuck it Friday

Here's a little more of my Christmas Fic they don’t know (your name is already mine):

They all pile into the elevator, Bobby and Athena last, as the doors close he whips out his phone to send another text to Buck. Bobby: Doc says Eddie’s going to be fine but he’s staying the night, please call me when you get this.  He watches and waits for the three dots to appear but they don’t and it only causes the feeling in the pit of his stomach to widen. He tucks away his phone and grabs Athena’s hand, she immediately squeezes reassuringly and it helps ground him. “How’d you even know we were here?” Bobby hears Chim ask from somewhere behind him. “I-Me and Ravi were having…drinks,” Albert says, Bobby shares a look with his wife, apparently her hunch about that had been right, her smile is a small ‘told you so’ one.  “Without the rest of us?” Chim asks outraged and oblivious to the blatant lie. Bobby fights back a smile.  “Chim,” Hen says and Bobby can practically see her head shake without turning around, “Maybe there was a reason why they didn’t want us there.” “It is because we’re old? Because I’ll let you know I can still-” -The elevator dings as they arrive on the third floor, interrupting Chimney's rant and reminding them all why they were there.

Previous snippet first snippet

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[ray935sworld]

The right kind of comfort

This story is based on a very funny post by @yeastinfectionvale that I took a little to serious. I may have misunderstood the assignement and my brain came up with this story so... I hope you enjoy it anyway!

And shout-out to @hotmessmaxpress for explaining to me how to do the under the cut post. Thanks again.

Summary: Bez crashed in Assen and gets his d sucked by Valentino Rossi. But is that really what he needs or who he needs? (Hint Bez x Marc at the end) 3.4k words

Don't like it, don't read it. Continues under the cut and on AO3.

Story includes a negative self-view while dealing with insecurites. Please don't read if this may trigger you

A DNF. Another fucking DNF after Le mans. He had one podium back in Jerez and beside that had to be grateful to even have made it to P6. He had to get used to P14, P11 and P13. And he was regular outscored by his teammate. The year before Bez already had 2 wins before Assen and had lead the championship for 2 races. Now he was lucky to get points. He was fighting against Raul Fernandez in the championship standings for P11, with just 6 points separating them. If he had known that when he was 3rd last year, he probably would have laughed in disbelief.

What had happened? What had happened to him? Why had his performance suddenly drop drastically when he was still working hard? He was still trying his best. Now it was his cursed reality. He was doing everything. He put in the work to figure out what his problem was but it ended up being worthless. Whenever he thought he had made progress, he got in the race and messed up. Every time.

With more self-doubt than ever, he headed back to the garage. Technically his bike was still running and he wasn’t hurt – beside his pride. But he knew if he continue, he would just damage the bike further and he didn’t had to put his mechanics through the troubles. So he went back, keeping his head low. He tried not to face them.

His mind was screaming at him. They were disappointed in him. They had to. He kept messing up their hard work. He didn’t deserve being part of the team or even being in MotoGP. He should just go back home and beg his father to give him a job in his shop. He could hide in shame in the back and work on some cars, never to be seen again. Maybe that wasn’t the worst idea after all. No more cameras, nasty comments and he wouldn’t disappoint everyone the way he does now.

He felt random hands on his shoulders, trying to encourage him. Fake. Someone told him it was okay. It wasn’t. They said that he was just struggling. He’d soon make his comeback and show them what he is really able to do. Lies. They didn’t actually believe he could do it. They didn’t thought he was a good rider. They didn’t believe in him. They just had to say it. After all, his action determined how their work was depicted. So if they fucked him up further, they would hurt their own career. Right? So they needed him to perform. And every basic psychology said that talking shit about someone who trust you was the worst thing to do.

He sat down for a moment. He pretended to listen to his mechanic, just nodding along but in reality, he was trying to down the voices in his head. Valentino Rossi – a god a motorcycle racing – had thought he was good enough to be trained by him. Maybe he was wrong. He had gave him a place in his team. Twice. For 5 years he was in one of his teams. And now he was messing up his last year with them. How he managed to secure that god damn Aprilia contract was still a mystery to him. He didn’t actually deserve it. He would disappoint them too. They wouldn’t renew his contract, maybe even replace him during the season and he wouldn’t find another bike cause no one was as stupid to give him a chance. Not when so many talents were currently competing and already knowing on the door from Moto2 and Moto3. HE wanted to cry at the thought of having to give his dream up that early. After only a few seasons in MotoGP, he’d be forced out. He wanted to cry. He felt tears in his eyes and just as he was about to wipe them away he heard his head mechanic say “I think you should get changed and take a break. We will have a debrief later and talk about how to improve. Alright, Marco?”

He nodded. He wasn’t of any use anyway. He couldn’t even handle a debrief right now. How was he supposed to handle a bike?

He somehow ended up in his motorhome. He didn’t really remember the way there, just that he had hurried and did everything not to be seen. Luckily most people where watching the race so he could easily slip away.

He opened the door and the first thing he felt was the way his heart broke. He felt it deep in his chest. His tears started flowing and he pressed his back to the door. A sob left his lungs. He was crying and he wished he wouldn’t know whose hand it was when someone lifted his chin. But he knew.

He didn’t had to know to recognize how the skin felt on his. He looked up. He didn’t want to. “That was a stupid one” his mentor whispered. He almost cried harder but instead forced a laugh. “At least I’m young enough to actually compete” he shot back.

He couldn’t pinpoint the moment when he had started to cover up being hurt by attacking back. Maybe he had just started to copy his behaviour on track to off track. He really just wanted to break down and cry but right now, with Vale’s hand on his cheek, there was no way out. He could push him back and ran of course. Vale certainly wouldn’t stop him. But why would he? Wasn’t that man in front of him his gay awakening, the one he had jerked off when he was a teenager. Wasn’t he everything he wanted in moments like this?

It’s not like he had lost his looks since Bez was 17. He was still hot. Probably even hotter. And an orgasm was a good way to get ride of his thoughts.

“At least I was actually able to compete” The words felt like a knife was pushed in an already open wound. So Vale truly didn’t believe he was able to compete at the top? He swallowed when he felt his until then closed legs been pushed apart.

He smiled while sitting down almost pressed against his crotch. His grin wasn’t the one that Marco was used to. It wasn’t the kind Vale smile he usually had when the academy was together at the ranch. It was the one that made him feel like he was nothing more than prey for a wild animal. Like there was no purpose for him other to get fucked right there and then, on the floor of his motorhome.

As if he had read his thought, Rossi put his hands on him. His finger tips started to touch the neck of his suit. He was playing with it. “But what you are currently doing… It’s just sad to watch” He felt tears return to his eyes and his mind racing. All the thoughts he had tried to get ride of were suddenly back again. They were stronger. “Pathetic… Fighting for… What was it? P14? P15?” His hand were on his suit. He felt them burning through the white leather. His left hand was holding his hip in place. His right hand was on his zipper. He opened it painfully slow.

Bez let out a whine. He didn’t enjoy this kind of intro. Of course he liked foreplay, but not in sticky cloth, when his body was full of sweat and he felt like he was starting to cry if he didn’t got distracted. And he needed hands on his naked body not on the fucking zipper. “One or two points while Digga is on the podium keeping Marquez behind him. And you fail to stick to those few spare points.” “I’m sorry” he forced himself to say. He looked up again. He stared at him, refusing to break the eye contact first. “I made a mistake, okay?! I’m sorry” he defended himself. His mind didn't got quieter. It got louder with each of his words.

Skilled fingers found their way under his leathers. “I know” he said, there was no love in his voice. No kindness. No comfort, not real one. “And I know you wanna do better” “I… I do” That’s how it regularly went. “It’s just frustrating and I feel so-“

Vale’s fingers felt burning hot on his already warm skin. He pushed the material away from his shoulder and his lips silenced him. Kissing Valentino had long lost the feeling of unfamiliarity and strangeness. Back in 2022, it was an unusual, somehow excited feeling to be noticed like that by someone like him. Now that the hero bliss had worn off a little more – after seeing him naked and getting fucked by him regularly. The need to get ride of his thought was more dominant now. And there was no better way than this… Right? So why push him away? He smiled.

Instead he closed his eyes. He knew it wasn’t what he really needed but it was close enough. So he finally shut his mind up when he felt Vale’s hand in his hair. It glided over a pat of his forehand and buried itself in his curls. He felt his nails tear in his scalp. He moaned in the kiss at the sensation. Vale grabbed a big hand of curls at the back of his head and used it to pull his head back. At the same time his other hand added pressure to his still clothed dick.

Their lips parted with a needy sound. Bez heard an unplaceable sound leave his lips when he obligated Vale’s gesture and let his head fall back. He felt the wall of his motorhome against his head and it reminded him that they were still on the floor. Not that he cared. Not when he felt Vale kissing his throat. Once. Twice. Three times. Then the other side. One. Two… Three. Then he moved to his chest. For a moment he kissed his ribcage. He barely felt it. It was just a short, light kiss on his skin.

“Va-Vale-“ he didn’t even know himself what he was about to ask. “Mmmh?” “Please” he whined in a high voice. He felt needy. An embarrassing red colour painted his cheeks. “Awe” Vale mocked him. His chin hit the abs of the younger one as he looked up. He had put his head on his stomach to smile at him. “Don’t worry” His smile was not as cold as before. Instead there was a fire. Like he was playing a game and knew he was winning. “I got you, Marco. Don’t I? You’ll be a very, very good boy for me and let me take care of you so you can perform again”

He spoke his name so softly that Bez felt a sense of pride rise. He quickly nodded. Yes. Yes, he wanted that. He needed to be taken care of so he could perform again. Maybe he had been wrong. Maybe the thing between them wasn’t as cold as he thought. Maybe there was passion and this whole foreplay was just how Vale was. Maybe he liked it. Bez could deal with it. No problem.

Vale’s hands had by now left his hair and were wandering over his body. He caressed his skin like it was treasure. “Oh Marco, you’re still so beautiful” he whispered.

He quickly grabbed his hips, like he was afraid he would run away or leave as if this was now an option. Bez felt the heat between his legs grow. Blood was rushing south way faster now that the older man’s hands were close to the remaining leathers. He felt himself getting hard. It was uncomfortable against his clothes and there was nothing he could do to prevent it. Not that he really needed to. After all this was exactly why they were there.

“I want you” The retired rider whispered as he pushed the material away from his hips. His naked ass hit the cold floor. For a second if was uncomfortable but Bez made a sound of agreement and quickly kicked everything away from them. Vale could have said anything. With his hands basically on his now exposed cock, he would agree to everything. It felt good to be desired even though it's just in a weird way that he didn't even truly understand. But he didn’t care. He came back, every time and accepted greedily whatever he was willing to give him. He took anything. He wouldn't deny the pleasure his mentor brought him for anything.

He wanted to feel his hands on him, like he did right now. He needed to feel him grabbing his thighs. It was close to being violent. He pushed in the skin and buried his fingers in there for a moment. Marco moaned. He knew his skin was probably turning red, stained with the pressure. Pain and pleasure mixed and his neglected cock stood up for attention. There was a little bit of pre-cum leaking to prove his excitement.

He was no longer thinking. Desire took over and his hands grabbed Valentino. He felt his neck and pulled him closer. He hungryly kissed him. He wanted to feel his lips on his. He wanted to feel his body against his. He wanted to feel his skin on his and pretend just for a moment that this was real. That they were real. That there was hope. That those two had future together even though he wasn't even really sure if he wanted said future not that this was a concern for him at the moment. After all, all he wanted right now was there. He wanted a release. And the one willing to give him the release he needed was his hero Valentino Rossi. He was in front of him willing to fuck him stupid.

He felt his hand wandering down between his legs. Just for a moment he was carefully stroking his thighs. His mind was finally quiet. He could finally breathe. He could just enjoy the moment and that was all he wanted. He kissed his mentor and kissed him again while feeling the vibration leaving the older Italians chest. „How eager" he replied while starting to touch the tip of his cock.

Bez response followed with a needy whine that accidentally escaped his throat. He took it as an encouragement and rubbed the tip of his cock before suddenly leaning down. The rider felt his breath stop for a moment. He started at the dark hair that was now only a breath away. He could feel the breath of the older against the skin of his V-line. It somehow burned against his already hot skin.

There was no more hesitation. He put his hand on his head and tried pushing him towards his leaking dick. The next thing he knew he felt warm lips on the tip of his dick. Before he could even realise what was going on his whole cock was surrounded by heat and wetness. He almost screamed from the pleasure.

His lover sat a fast and unbroken speed. Clearly not his first time. Bez knew that. But now with his hand burried in Vale's hair, all he could do was moan his lovers name. He tried to control his breathing. He couldn't decide if having his eyes wide open or closed tight enough to see stars was the better option. His gronas formed words. "Vale! Va-Va-Fuck!"

He sucked him off and when he felt a familiar heat pool in his lower abdoman he let go of his head. Instead his hands now formed a fist and he pushed it against the ground. „I'm… I'm gonna… I'm gonna come! Fuck! Vale-!"

Then the sudden release hit him. The tension left his shoulders as he came. He didn't had the strength to continue to push himself against the wall so he didn't. He let go and breath. He was breathing heavily. He was trying to control it when he felt Vale's mouth leave his skin. He looked up. His eyes were tired but he could clearly see the smirk in the older man's face.

He had swallowed and was now getting ride of the last drops that were still in the corner of his mouth. „Better?" he asked and kneeled next to Bez. For a moment he hesitated but than quickly nodded. „Yes, thank you Vale." „Always" he whispered and kissed him. This time it was a soft one. Almost careful as if he wanted to apologize for being to rough earlier.

„Okay, the race should almost be over. I'll be heading back now and you should finally take a shower" he announced and stood up. Bez stared at him in disbelief. He had gotten used to the sudden end of their sessions. That didn't mean he liked it. “See you later, okay?”

Bez knew he couldn't expect anything different. It wasn't part of their arrangement. So he faked a smile. “Yeah, see- see you”

Vale didn't even looked back as he closed the door. The silent 'click' confirmed that he was now gone. He had left. Bez stared at the door. He imagined Vale was still standing there.“I just… I need someone and I don't want to be alone right now”

He buried his head against his knees. Emotions he couldn't place overcame him as he was cursing himself again.

That night he went out. Not with the academy or his team. They asked him to join but he politely declined. He wasn't in the mood, at least not for the popular, loud, straight club, they always went for. He now went to a different kind of club. More private. Less known. It was a messy one actually. The kind no one told you about. He preferred those one. Especially cause this one, was known to be a gay club.

So he sat down at the bar. He burried his head in one of the biggest hoddies he owned and looked around. He watched a young woman flirt with a slightly older one. Both laughing and sharing glances. They looked so in love. They looked happy and Bez wanted excatly that. He was on his 3rd drink when a voice behind him suddenly addressed him. For a moment he was annoyed. He had no interest in talking to a fan. He wanted to bury his Frust in alcohol.

“Sorry about your DNF. You really deserve better”

Confused he turned around. He knew this voice a little to well. He was meet with a shy smile. He smiled back. Maybe it was a reflex, the crippling loyalty or the alcohol. Probably a combination of all three. But he smiled back, a kind, real one.

“Sorry about your penalty. P10 after a fight like that was undeserved" he said and watched Marc Marquez smile.

[anawrites3]

Number 6 please

With superbat

Maybe sub bruce👀👀

6) “i’m going to fuck every last thought out of this pretty little head.”

Now also on my ao3!

Bruce's chest heaved with the force of his breath as he reflexively tested the binding on his wrists. They were tied together with a tie, tight but careful, in a way that made it difficult to slip out of if he wanted to. He didn't, he was the one that wanted to be bound in the first place but still, he couldn't quite stop himself from tugging at it.

A firm hand settled gently on his shoulder, stopping him, just as warm breath tickled the side of his neck.

"Shh, you're okay." Clark murmured, lips brushing against Bruce's skin to press a few kisses right against his pulse. Bruce shivered but he relaxed instantly, head leaning back to rest on Clark's shoulder. "Yes, that's it. You were very good but you can rest now, you can relax, baby. I've got you."

"Kal," He said, voice between a whine and moan, as Clark's hand slipped down his body, caressing his chest, stomach, before stopping by his navel.

"I'm here." Clark hummed, nosing at the sensitive skin of his nape. His thumb stroked along Bruce's hip, before dipping into the waist of his pants. "And I'm going to fuck every last thought out of this pretty little head. Just focus on me, sweetheart."

And so Bruce did. He focused on the sensation of Clark's hands, firm and steady where they touched his body as if it was the first time Clark saw him bare and wanted to commit every little curve and dip to his memory. He focused on Clark's lips as they kept pressing wet kisses against his neck and jaw, on the way his shirt was rubbing against the skin of his naked back.

"That's it." Clark praised in a murmur. His hand sneaked lower to wrap around Bruce's cock and stroke it almost lazily, making him moan and press into Clark more. "Such a good boy, so good for me, Bruce."

Everything gradually faded away, to the point where there was nothing but Clark. Clark and his firm, confident touch. Clark and his sweet words. Clark and his lips pressing hickeys and bruises into his skin. Just Clark Clark Clark and the way he gently lifted Bruce by the hips to push his cock inside him in one smooth thrust.

It was almost too easy to fall into the subspace like that, knowing Clark was right there, always ready to catch him. It was easy to focus on him and only him, to forget everything else - responsibilities as both Brucie and Batman, the city and its needs, just… anything that wasn't this.

Bruce parted his lips to moan and felt like it was the only thing he was able to do right now. It wasn't a bad thing - no, in fact it was freeing, to just lay there and take it, take everything Clark offered him and give him anything he wanted to have in turn.

Nothing existed but this - the pleasure sparking through Bruce's entire body as Clark moved him up and down effortlessly, the wet sound of their skin hitting, Clark's heavy pants and quiet moans right against his ear.

"You're taking me so well, sweetheart." Clark mumbled against his temple and Bruce's fingers flexed, yearning to touch him. "How are you feeling?"

"Good." Bruce whimpers, and maybe he would be embarrassed by the sounds coming out of his mouth if anyone else was with him, if he wasn't so deep down. "So good, Kal."

Clark changed the angle just barely, the tip of his cock rubbing against Bruce's prostate with every thrust and the sudden surge of pleasure Bruce felt was almost blinding. It took him a moment to realize that it's actually because he closed his eyes without realizing and huh, Clark really was making it hard to think.

"Don't think, baby." Clark whispered as if he was able to hear it, sucking another mark onto his skin. "Just sing for me. I'll take care of you."