#PwP Fic

[dilf-hunter-fantasies]

fantasizing about…

Sneaking filthy mouthed dbf!joel miller into your dorm room to fuck you on your xl twin size bed in front of your ten dollar Walmart floor length mirror.

2.7k words 🍒 warnings: explicit smut, no outbreak, age gap, female reader, f masturbation, size kink, pussy pronouns, unprotected piv, creampie, use of: daddy, darlin', girl, baby, praise and teasing

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shout out to everyone who supported my first little fic about bf joel!

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Joel grumbled and fussed the whole way up the back stairwell when you snuck him onto your floor. And it was so late you didn’t even have to bribe a friend to run interference with your RA. And when you get into your closet sized room and lock the door he has more complaints!

Bitching about how he’s too old to be sneaking around and worrying about some 20 year old kicking him out. His gravelly drawl is music to your ears though, even if he’s got nothing positive to say.

“Joel,” you warn, but the way your name falls from his lips a second later unravels you completely.

“C’mere, sweetheart,” he murmurs, hooking a finger into the waistband of your sweatpants. He tugs you closer, his free hand sliding under your shirt to rest warm against the small of your back.

“Missed you.” It’s a whisper when you let the words slip out.

“I know,” he rumbles back at you.

You don’t linger on his response thought, not with his mouth already brushing against yours, rough and sure and utterly Joel. You kiss him back, hard and needy, tangling your fingers in his soft curls.

His growl hums low in his chest as his hands gripped your hips, firm and possessive, steering you back until the edge of your bed hit the backs of your knees.

Then he’s slipping his hand into your sweats and nothing else matters but the touch of his rough, working man hands against your smooth skin. When he dips beneath the hem of your panties you gasp and he chuckles, a low, husky sound.

“Shit, darlin’,” he rasps. “She missed me that bad? Got ya tremblin’ already?”

“I told you I missed you.” You make a pouty frown in the dim light.

“You still ain’t find a college boy to keep her purrin’?”

“Fuck n-no,” you choke out the last word as his hand skims lower. “Need a real man.”

“Yeah,” he reluctantly grumbles, “and here I am, at your beck and call.”

When his thick fingers part your slick folds, your breath catches in your throat. When Joel finds just how fucking wet you are for him a scowl depends the lines of his face.

“Oh, this is bad, sweetheart,” he grumbles.

“Bad?”

“Yeah, ya know…bad. As in, no good? Thought you had to be smart to get into college?” He mocks you with his low, manly drawl. But at the same time, he drags his slick coated fingers from your messy entrance to your clit.

Your knees start to wobble. You got so caught up the second he touched you that you’d froze in place, just standing there dumbly while his hand dove between your legs. Weakly, your dig your fingers into his soft flannel shirt for support, biting down on your lip to dampen a moan when he starts rubbing circles around your throbbing bundle of nerves.

“You been neglecting her all week? She’s gushin’ on me like she never been touched by a man before, and we both know that ain’t true.

“No,” you argue weakly, eyes fluttering shut as he works you with the precision of a man who knows exactly what you need. “Jus’ not the same as when you do it.” 

He retracts his hand, your waistband snaps back, and you glare at him for edging you like that. “Hey—” 

“Show me.”

“No, Joel, please.” You whine needily, “Need your fingers or,” you rest your hand over the bulge in his jeans, giving it a gentle squeeze. Your next words come out as a whipser. “Or this.” 

He exhales slowly and you can feel the air in the room shifting. A stern look pulls his brows together and his eyes are dark as midnight. “You gonna argue with your Daddy now, girl?” 

Your face flushes with heat, cheeks burning at the question, and your cunt clenches so hard you squirm. You’ve almost let it slip a few times, but you’ve never called him Daddy before. Not in all the hookups you’ve had since that first summer night. The night when you’d both crossed the line you’ll never regret. 

You shake your head.

“Use your words now, darlin’. I know you can do it.” 

You take a breath to steady yourself before continuing. “M’sorry, Daddy. Not gonna argue, just need you bad.” 

“C’mere,” he says, sitting on the edge of your twin sized mattress. He pats his lap, expectantly. You move to straddle his lap, but he stops you. 

“No, baby,” he spins you by the hips, “face forward. You’re gonna show me how you take care of her when I’m not around. But I’ll letcha sit on my lap.”

Joel’s hands move deliberately, peeling your shirt off and tugging your sweats down, leaving you completely bare. He stays fully dressed, the rough fabric of his jeans brushing against the soft skin of your thighs as he pulls you onto his lap. The thick bulge pressing against your bare ass makes you moan, grinding against him instinctively. His hands grip your hips tightly, holding you still.

“Easy, baby,” he rasps, his breath hot against your neck. “Ain’t even started yet, and you’re already so needy.”

His lips trail over your shoulder, his stubble scraping your skin as he kisses and bites, marking you with soft growls of approval. One of his hands moves up, cupping your breast, his fingers pinching and rolling your nipple while the other slides between your legs.

“Go on,” he rumbles against your ear. “Let Daddy see how she likes it.”

Your cheeks burn, but you obey, your fingers trembling as they find your clit. Joel watches in the mirror across from the bed, his dark eyes locking on yours as you rub slow, teasing circles over your swollen bundle of nerves.

“Look at that,” he says, his voice low and rough. “That’s real pretty, darlin’.”

Joel’s grip tightens on your hips as your fingers work your clit, his eyes fixed on the mirror. His voice is rough, almost taunting. “Don’t be shy now, girl. I know you’ve done this before. Bet you’ve been thinkin’ about me every time, haven’t you?”

You whimper, your motions faltering, but Joel doesn’t let up. His hand slides up to your breast, squeezing hard enough to make you gasp. “Keep goin’. Don’t make me do all the work.”

Your reflection in the mirror is a mess—skin beading with sweat, mouth parted, your body trembling on his lap. Joel’s gaze stays glued to it, and he smirks. “There she is. Knew you’d be a good girl if I told you how.”

His free hand moves down, gripping your thigh as you rub faster, the pleasure building unbearably. He leans in, his lips brushing against your ear. “Don’t stop until I tell you. Wanna see exactly how you make yourself cum when I’m not around.”

Your fingers move faster, the slick sounds filling the room, and Joel’s grip on your thigh tightens. “That’s it,” he growls. “Look at yourself. Drippin’ all over me like the needy little thing you are.”

The tension in your body coils tighter, and a soft cry escapes your lips as you teeter on the edge. Joel’s smirk deepens, and he leans closer, his breath hot against your neck. “Don’t hold back now. Make a fuckin’ mess for me.”

Your body obeys, the pleasure cresting all at once as your orgasm tears through you. Your legs shake, and you gasp, grinding helplessly against Joel’s lap as your fingers work frantically. He chuckles low and dark, watching you ride out your high.

“Good girl,” he rasps, his voice dripping with satisfaction. “Knew you had it in you. But don’t think we’re done yet.”

He shifts his hips, the thick bulge in his jeans pressing harder against your bare, oversensitive core. His hands skim up to your tits, squeezing roughly as he murmurs, “Gonna give you something to think about the next time she’s achin’ for me and I’m not here.”

You’re still shaky when the words slip out, breathless and desperate. “Need you inside me, Daddy.” 

Joel groans, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he presses you down harder against his lap. “Already beggin’? Thought you’d last a little longer than this.” 

“Can’t,” you whimper, your voice breaking. “Need it bad.” 

He chuckles darkly, his lips curling into a smirk. 

He shifts you forward, and the sound of his zipper echoes in the small room as he frees himself from his jeans. The thick, flushed length of his cock presses against your folds, and you shudder, the heat and size of him making you ache with anticipation. 

Joel strokes himself lazily, dragging the tip through your slick, and growls low in his throat. “Gonna stretch this tight little pussy so good, you’ll be feelin’ me for days.” 

“Please,” you whisper again, your hand reaching back to grip his wrist. “I’m ready.” 

“Ready?” He laughs, the sound rough and mocking. “Look at her, baby. She’s so fuckin’ desperate she’s droolin’ on me. You think she’s ready?”

Joel doesn’t wait for your answer. His grip on your hips tightens, and he shifts you just enough to line himself up. The blunt head of his cock presses against your entrance, catching on your slick folds as he holds you there, teasing. 

“Yeah,” he mutters, dragging his tip up and down and smearing your wetness along his huge, veiny shaft. “She’s so fuckin’ messy already, and I haven’t even started.” 

You try to sink down, but his hands keep you still. “Ah, ah,” he chides. 

“We do this how I say. Gotta let Daddy ease you open first.” His tone and the way he takes control makes your eyes nearly roll back. And then he starts to work his fat cock into your warm, wet cunt. 

The first push is devastating. 

Joel groans as the thick head of his cock stretches you wide, your body resisting before giving way, inch by inch. It’s such an intense sensory experience. He’s so hard you can feel his pulse in his dick, every pump of blood beating a steady rhythm as your body adjusts to the intrusion.  

The stretch burns, overwhelming and perfect all at once, and you gasp, your nails digging into his thighs for balance. “Fuck, baby,” he growls, his voice tight. “She’s so tight, it’s like she’s never been fucked before.” 

You can only nod, your breath hitching as he sinks deeper, the obscene wet sounds filling the air. Joel watches the mirror, his dark eyes glued to where his cock disappears into you, stretching you wide. 

“Look at her,” he grunts, his hand sliding up your stomach to grip your chin. He tilts your head forward, forcing your gaze to the reflection. “Watch how she takes me. Watch how fuckin’ perfect she looks creamin’ all over my cock.”

Joel’s hips flex, driving himself deeper, and your jaw drops at the sheer fullness, the way he stretches you far past what should be possible. 

“That’s it,” he grunts, his voice raspy and uneven. “Takin’ me so fuckin’ good, baby. Thought this little college pussy couldn’t handle it, but look at her. Greedy as hell.” 

The mirror captures everything—the way your body shudders with each push, the shiny mess coating his thick length as it glides in and out, and the dark, possessive look in Joel’s eyes as he watches you take him. 

His words register dimly in your mind, making you giggle as you bounce on him. “You’re such a dirty old man. Probably been dreaming for–ah–for ages about having your own college slut to fuck.” 

He growls, one hand sliding to your lower stomach. He presses down just enough to make you gasp. “You said ya wanted a man, now you’ve got one inside you…so, watch.” 

Your head lolls against him, but you watch in the mirror. Where he’s drilling into your sloppy, drooling cunt.

“Feel how deep I am? Fuckin’ you so good you’ll feel me in your guts tomorrow.” 

You whimper, your body clenching around him, and Joel laughs low in his chest. “Shit, you like that, don’t you? Filthy girl. Sittin’ here on Daddy’s cock, makin’ a fuckin’ mess.” His rhythm picks up, the sounds of skin slapping and your breathless moans filling the room. 

Joel’s hand dips between your legs, his rough fingers finding your clit and circling it just hard enough to make your thighs quiver. “Rub it for me,” he orders, his voice dark and commanding. “Wanna feel you gush while I’m buried in this tight little cunt.”

He’s fucking you so deep you swear you can feel his dick in your lungs. All you can do is pant out desperate moans and curses, getting more and more frantic as he drives up into you.

“Fuck, holy s-shit, oh, oh, oh my god Joel, I-I’m gonna cum,”

You’re nearly wailing the closer you get. You can’t restrain your voice anymore. Not when the only thing you can think--no--the only thing that exists, is the sweet bliss when he hits that perfect spot inside of you. Your fingers work furiously, chasing the release, the pressure in you has you strung taut, ready to snap—or scream. 

Joel clamps a massive hand over your mouth, his palm pressing firmly against your lips. The sharp, possessive motion sends a shudder down your spine, and your cunt clenches around him so hard he groans.

“Quiet,” he rasps, his breath hot against your ear. “Don’t need the whole fuckin’ dorm wakin’ up just to hear you screamin’ my name.” 

You moan, muffled by his big hand, and gush around his cock at the thought of people hearing both of you. 

His voice dips lower, laced with dark amusement. “Or maybe you do. Huh? Wanna let all the boys on campus know exactly who fucks this pussy? Who you’re Daddy is?”

The taunt pushes you right over the edge. Your body spasms violently as your orgasm slams into you, your walls pulsing around him like a vice. You’re soaking him and dripping onto his thighs, the wet, filthy sound driving his hips even harder.

“Oh, fuck,” Joel groans, his rhythm faltering as he feels you milking his cock. “You’re fuckin’ unreal, baby. Such a dirty little thing. Can’t get enough, can you?”

Your head is spinning, your body limp against his as the waves of pleasure roll through you. Joel doesn’t let up, though, his thrusts relentless.

“Fuck, baby,” he growls, his voice thick and strained. “She’s fuckin’ sopping wet, clenching so tight.”

Joel’s grip tightens on your hips, his fingers digging into your skin as he pounds into you, harder and faster. The wet, obscene sound of his cock driving into your soaked cunt fills the room, and the pressure in his movements tells you he’s close.

“You feel that?” he rasps, his hand slipping from your mouth to cup your jaw, tilting your head so you can see the mirror. “Look at her, baby. Look how perfect she looks takin’ every inch of me. This pussy was made for me.”

You’re too far gone to respond, your lips parted and your breath coming in shallow pants. But the way your body contracts around him is answer enough, and Joel curses low under his breath, his thrusts growing erratic.

“Gonna fill you up,” he grunts. 

With one final thrust, he buries himself as deep as he can go, his cock twitching inside you as he spills hot and thick ropes of cum, filling you to the brim. The heat of his release pushes you into another shuddering climax, your body clutching him so tightly, milking every last drop.

Joel stays still for a moment, his chest heaving against your back. His lips brush against your ear, and he murmurs, “Mine. All fuckin’ mine.”

He dips his head, kissing and nipping at your neck, the hinge of your jaw, along the top of  your shoulder. Your breathing starts to settle as he soothes you with his ministrations. When he sucks hard enough to leave a mark on your shoulder, you smile dazedly, unbothered. 

You hope he marks every inch of your flesh. 

Because you are his. 

And you wish everyone could know. 

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divider credit

[itwasntimethatdidit40]

Irreversible.

Gif credits

Pairing: Professor Reed Richards x f!reader Rating: +18, NSFW, MDNI Words count: 430 Summary: You get fucked against the blackboard by your hottest professor. Tags/Warning: implied legal but unspecified age gap, reader is a menace, cheating (Mr Richards is married), POV second person, no use of y/n, unprotected p in v, a dash of oral sex and nipples play, slurs, panties ripping, swearing, a reference to physics. (Look, I had terrible grades in physics in high school, I tried lol), it obviously has no connection to the plot of the film, in this one Reed Richards is a professor with a chair at Harvard and chalk is definitely more “poetic” than markers. I’m not a Marvel fan, I’m just trying to have some pwp, please don't come @ me 💀 A/N: We've all seen the pics and teasers and gifs, right? This is totally self indulgent, I wrote it because I couldn't get the image of him writing on the board out of my head. No proofreading, no beta, English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes. Thanks to anyone who will read this!

Masterlist

You loved the way you broke him. Lured him into your web to do exactly what you wanted.

You loved it.

The way he yanked at your bra, exposing your boobs, the way his hands were still chalky and leaving white marks all over you, his scruffy beard pinching your skin, his voice vibrating over your tits as he swirled his tongue over your nipples.

“You wanted this huh?” “Yes.” you cried.

You wanted exactly that when you pretended you didn't understand anything about physics.

Your skirt rolled up over your hips, his face between your thighs, his tongue lapping incessantly between your folds, up to your clit.

He stood up, his forearms muscularly sticking out of the rolled-up sleeves, wrapping around your waist, pushing you against the blackboard.

He stopped to undo his pants and kick them off.

Back on you, he squeezed your ass, coming down on your thigh, pulling up your leg to get a better grip.

"You know I'm married" "Yes" you whined, looking at him honeyed. "And you still flirted like a bitch in heat" he angrily muttered.

Of course you did. You did it every day since you started his class, battling your eyelashes, biting your lower lip, asking for tutoring about everything like you were admitted at Harvard by a fortuitous twist of fate, wearing the sluttiest tops and skirts you owned, marveling at the grey in his hair, telling him it suited him so well, while he tried to explain physics to you maintaining a professional tone.

"You couldn't wait to drag me into this mess, could you?" he snarled on your neck, sucking on your pulse point.

He clutched your panties in his fist and teared them like paper tissues.

"I want you so bad" you purred, burying your fingers in his curls at the base of his neck, encircling his waist with your leg, rocking your naked pussy against his still-clothed cock.

"Fuck me, Mr Richards"

He pulled down his boxers just enough to free his cock, and entered you with one thrust.

"Fuck" he cursed "you're soaked, you hungry slut."

You didn't respond; your pussy clutched tightly on his cock, you moaned as he began to thrust deeper and deeper into you, in a frantic rhythm, making your whole body and the blackboard just on the wall behind you vibrate. Small drops of sweat beaded his forehead, his hair now completely disheveled under the work of your hands, the fabric of his pristine white shirt crumpled as it repeatedly banged against your hard nipples.

You came right there, whimpering and quivering in an empty university classroom where every day he lectured you.

Your lust for him was irreversible, as in the second law of thermodynamics that you had pretended not to understand that day.

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[almostempty]

FYBF (javier x f!reader)

(javier x f!reader) | wc: 4.8k | other fics |

javier takes you home to prove that he can fuck you better than your boyfriend

this pwp was inspired by me having FYBF stuck in my head and the line "I prolly wouldn't treat you better, but I'd do you better"

tags/warnings: 18+ gratuitous smut, infidelity!, no condom, no editing, no y/n, no plot

🎤 i just wanna say that this one goes out to a special baddie and i hope she likes it when she reads it (happy belated bday @gothcsz this for u)

He can’t take his eyes off of you. Every time the lights flash, illuminating your glowy skin and the fluid roll of your hips to the music, he tries to see everything all at once. Tries to map your body, plan exactly how he’d make you sing for him. 

You’re a vision. Feminine and fierce in a way that calls to him. The balance to his masculinity and the tenderness that he wears on his sleeve. 

You aren’t alone. Your friends are gorgeous too. The two of them surround you, smiling, twirling, and mirroring your rhythm. The three of you dance like the rest of the room is watching; like the rest of the room doesn’t exist. 

You’re a playful trio, a dangerous trio. Grinding against each other. Bouncing between each other easily. Maybe you’re more than friends, he wonders, as you tease each other, tangling limbs, and winding your sweating bodies together. You all have magnetic energy. A gravity. The rest of the room orbits around the three of you. 

But, Javier is drawn to you. You’re graceful, yet powerful. Devastatingly sensual. He leans against the bar, shifting his weight on his feet, and wetting his lips. He surveys the rest of the club but always comes back to you. It’s dark, loud, and hot with all of the bodies in the building. 

He knows it’s a slim chance–interrupting the three of you–maybe this is your girl’s night out or something. But then, the song changes to something more melodic. You thread your arms over your head, accentuating the lines of your body, exposing your smooth skin and your curves.

You might as well have a spotlight on you like it’s your revenge dance in a romance film.

Javier’s fingers are itching to touch you. He can feel the weight of your tits in his palms, taste the soft spot at the hinge of your jaw on his tongue, and feel the swell of your ass rubbing against —

Yeah, his dick can feel it, too. Twitching in his jeans. Javier tightens the fist at his side and he slams down the last of his drink. Discarding it on the bar without a glance backward. He can’t turn away from you; he refuses to lose sight of you. 

Your dress ripples, shining when the light hits you as you shift. It looks like it would be soft and slippery to the touch. Just like the rest of you. As your eyes shut and you sway, he decides you’re a fucking killer. You could take him apart moving just like that—but on his lap. You could end him with a look, fuck, he wants to see for himself. 

He’s on the move now. Compelled. You see him, running your eyes over his body. It’s like a rose-colored path pulls him closer with every step. Javier knows it’s his chance to strike. 

He’s on you in a second, slipping in front of you with a compliment and asking, like a gentleman, if you’d give him a song. He doesn’t miss the way you run your eyes down his body and back to meet his gaze. You like what you see, baby? It hangs on his tongue and crooked grin. 

“Sorry,” you murmur into his ear, not slowing down the roll of your body. “I’ve got a boyfriend.” You grip the back of his head tightly, fingers woven into his hair. As if the strength of your grip is the only thing keeping your lips from finding each other. As if sharing the same breath with your noses nearly brushing each other isn’t intimate. 

“A boyfriend,” he repeats, not backing off. The club is dark, loud, and filled with hot, sweaty bodies. But when he dips closer and his lips brush your ear, you can hear every ounce of lust and challenge behind his next words. “If you really want him, why are you apologizing?” His rich voice makes your veins buzz. 

“Seems like you’re wanting me,” you retort in a silky voice, “I can’t be what you need.” He runs his wide hands down your sides, wrapping around your waist. It’s all too much, but fuck, you can’t stop. Proving your point, he guides you, and you’re pliant for him. He turns you, pulling your hips towards his until the swell of your ass rubs along the hard line of his cock. “Fuck,” you breathe out, imperceptibly. 

“Just once,” he murmurs, his breath hot against your ear, making your skin prickle and your resolve falter. “Just tonight.” You almost laugh, almost scoff, but his hands tighten on your hips, guiding your movements like he’s already claimed you. The thrill of it, of how badly he wants you, sends a shiver down your spine.

“Just once,” you repeat, but it doesn’t come out sharp or mocking. It sounds like surrender.

He tilts your head back, making you meet his eyes. His gaze is molten, the corners of his mouth curling into a smirk that’s too knowing. “When you want more, we’ll figure it out,” he says, so confident, so sure, it makes your chest tighten.

The nerve. The arrogance. You should roll your eyes, but instead, you find yourself staring at his lips, imagining how they’d feel.

“You think you can treat me better?” you ask, your voice sharp, deflecting, desperate to push him away before you actually fall into him.

“Nah,” he admits with a small shake of his head, his honesty so casual it catches you off guard. It shouldn’t make you laugh, but it does, softly, a sound that feels dangerously like complicity.

“But I’ll fuck you better,” he adds, dead serious, the weight of his words crashing down on you.

Your breath hitches. Your cunt clenches around nothing, suddenly feeling devastatingly empty. Your body answers him before your mind can catch up. Rubbing against him, searching for more. 

Your silence stretches, but it doesn’t feel like victory. It feels like a test. Javier’s smirk deepens as if he already knows how this is going to end. His thumb brushes over your jawline, a featherlight touch that juxtaposes the ferocity in his gaze.

“You know it’s true,” he murmurs, his tone dripping with amusement. “Your boyfriend,” he pauses, letting the word linger like an insult, “doesn’t even know how to make you look like this.”

“Like what?” 

“Like you’re thinking about how fast you can get me alone,” he says, cocky and unrelenting. Javier’s fingers slide lower, skimming across your waist. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

You don’t. You can’t.

“You think you’re irresistible?” you fire back, your voice sharp, trying to cut through the haze he’s wrapping around you.

“I think you want to find out,” he murmurs, his lips hovering near yours. “I think you’ll let me prove it.”

The heat in your stomach coils tighter. You want to push him away, but your body betrays you, pressing closer instead. His scent—spicy and rich—wraps around you like a trap. The club feels suffocating, the music distant. All you can focus on is him.

“Quit playing,” you mutter, though your voice lacks conviction. “You’re not that good.”

He pulls back just enough to look at you, his expression equal parts amused and predatory. “Let me show you.”

Before you can answer, or argue, he grabs your hand, lacing his fingers with yours. His grip is firm but not forceful, the silent question in his eyes daring you to say no.

The rational part of you screams to stop this. But the rest of you? The part that’s been craving something more? That part wants to find out if he really is as good as he claims.

You part from him briefly, giving your friends a flimsy excuse. Then, turning back without a word, you let him lead you out of the club. 

The car ride is quiet but electric. His hand stays on your thigh the entire time, the pressure just enough to keep your pulse racing. He doesn’t talk. Doesn’t need to. The smug tilt of his mouth says it all: he knows he’s won. 

When you get to his place, he steps aside to let you in first. The door closes with a soft click, sealing the tension between you.

“You want this?” he asks, leaning casually against the wall, like he’s giving you a choice but fully expecting your answer.

You should leave. Go him to your empty apartment. Call your boyfriend. But instead, you turn to Javier, arching a brow. “Your mouth only good for talking?”

His grin sharpens, all teeth and promise. "Oh, I’m gonna ruin you." He pushes off the wall, arms unfolding and drawing you right toward his broad frame. You can feel the heat radiating off him, the strength in his body like a slow-moving tide, pulling you under.

Before you can fire back, he’s on you. His hands grip your hips, pulling you flush against him, and a shiver runs through you at the contact. Your body feels like it’s on fire, every inch of you hyperaware of him, of the weight of his hands on your skin, the hardness of him pressing against your stomach. 

His lips find your neck first, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down your skin, his breath warm and intoxicating. Your pulse quickens. His touch is so deliberate. Knowing. His hands are everywhere—spanning your waist, sliding down to grip your ass, pulling you tighter against him, holding you like he can’t get enough.

You feel the desire flooding through you, the way your body melts into his with such ease. You should stop. You should push him away, tell him you don’t need this. But then his fingers dig into you, and your body responds before your brain can catch up. His grip on you is possessive, like he owns you already. You can’t fight it. You don’t want to fight it. 

He walks you backward until you’re leaning against the wall, your heart pounding in your chest. You swallow, trying to steady yourself, but you feel weak. And then, he drops to his knees in front of you and you think you might actually combust.

“You look good up there,” he teases, his voice husky, low. God, it does something to you when he speaks like that. His hands push up your skirt, his eyes locked on yours, daring you to look away. You don’t. You won’t. He pulls your panties down and you’re on fire, aching for him. “But you’re gonna look better after you come for me.”

The words make your cunt throb. Before you can think to respond, his mouth is on you. His tongue glides against you, the first slow, deliberate swipe making your knees buckle. You gasp, an involuntary sound that escapes your lips before you can stop it. Fuck. He works you over, teasing and tasting, sending shocks of pleasure through your body. Every stroke of his tongue feels like a sin, a slow burn that builds in the pit of your stomach.

His grip on your thighs tightens, fingers digging into your flesh, and you realize he’s holding you steady, keeping you in place. His hands feel so sure, so confident, pulling you deeper into him, his lips pressing against you with a hunger that leaves you breathless.

He doesn’t rush. Of course he doesn’t. Javier never rushes. He seems determined to take his time, to savor every moment, like he’s proving a point. You can feel the tension coiling tighter and tighter, his teasing strokes making you dizzy and needy.

“Fuck, that’s good,” he murmurs against you, the vibration of his voice pulling you in deeper. His breath fans across your skin, setting you alight, as he pulls back just enough to look up at you. Maddeningly confident, lips glistening from how wet he’s had you all night, his smirk is predatory. A warning. A promise. 

A sight you know you won’t forget. 

“Already forgetting how to talk?”

You steady yourself against the wall, trying to summon some strength, some defiance, but your body is already betraying you. The heat in your core is almost unbearable now, and every flick of his tongue only makes it worse. You bite your lip, your eyes meeting his, willing yourself not to give in completely. 

“You think this is enough to ruin me? That you proved anything just by getting on your knees?” you challenge, your voice surprisingly steady, though your pulse is hammering in your ears. You don’t want to admit it, that you’re already close, that you’ll be getting off to the memory of his lips wrapped around your clit for weeks. 

His eyes darken, a predatory glint flashing in them. He doesn’t say a word, just grins. Slow, knowing, and dangerous the curve of his lips has you swallowing hard. He presses in closer, his body a wall of heat against yours. “Oh, no,” he says, his voice low and dark with promise. “This is just the beginning.”

You’d roll your eyes at him for being cliche, but he dips his head back down and you know that he’s right. You’re already lost, and it’s too late to turn back now.

His tongue and lips work with an intensity that leaves you breathless. He alternates between broad, sweeping strokes and more focused attention that sends lightning through your veins. The slick heat of his mouth is overwhelming, and every time you think you’ve hit your limit, he finds a new way to drag you closer to the edge.

Your hands find his hair, tangling in the soft strands, holding him to you like you’d collapse if he stopped. “Fuck,” you breathe, your voice breaking as his teeth graze you lightly, just enough to make your hips jerk.

“Easy,” he chides, pulling back just enough to flash that debased smirk. His face is flushed with exertion and the sight alone nearly undoes you. “Stay with me.”

You manage a shaky laugh, tugging at his hair in retaliation. “Still right here,” you bite out, your voice laced with defiance.

His tongue works you in slow, torturous circles. He moans against you, the sound vibrating through your core, and the sheer pleasure of it has you arching into him, chasing the friction he’s so generously giving.

“You taste so fucking good,” he groans, his grip on your hips tightening as he pulls you impossibly closer. “I could stay here all night.”

The thought makes your knees threaten to give out, and he notices, of course he does. His hands shift, one sliding up to steady you.

“Don’t you dare stop,” you whisper, your voice a desperate plea.

He chuckles darkly, the sound muffled against you. “I wasn’t planning on it.”

And true to his word, he doesn’t let up, working you over with a skill and focus that makes you dizzy. Every flick of his tongue, every scrape of his teeth, every hot, open-mouthed kiss drives you higher and higher until you’re trembling. He adds his fingers, increasing the pressure, and multiplying the intensity. He uses them expertly, fucking into you with them and working in tandem with his mouth to flood your senses. 

When you hit a peak that makes your muscles spasm, and euphoric waves radiate through you, it’s not quiet. It’s a gasping, desperate sound that echoes in the room, and the satisfaction in his eyes as he watches only makes it ring deeper in your ears.

Before you can catch your breath, he rises to his feet, his lips curling into that same cocky smirk that got you here in the first place. “Told you,” he says, his voice low and rough, like he’s savoring every second.

“Not bad,” you manage, though your voice wavers as you lean back against the wall for support.

“Not bad?” he repeats, his grin turning wolfish. He steps closer, his body pressing against yours. 

Javier doesn’t let you recover. He brings you to his bed, stripping clothes off in such a frenzy you don’t get the chance to really admire him. He’s urgent. On a mission. Pulling you on top of him and hooking his hands under your thighs. 

 “Come here,” he orders, his voice a low, commanding growl. “I’m not done.”

You start to protest, but he’s already moving, guiding you down onto him as he lies back against the mattress. He looks up at you, with clear desire, his hands gripping your hips like he owns you.

“Ride my face,” he murmurs, his voice so dark it’s a weapon. “Don’t get shy now.”

The challenge in his eyes leaves no room for hesitation. You settle over him, your thighs wobbly as his mouth finds you again. This time, there’s nothing gentle about it, he’s relentless. Encouraging you to move, to use him, to drown him underneath you. 

The sheer intensity of it makes your head fall back, a strangled moan spilling from your lips. The way he groans against you sends vibrations through your core until you’re barely able to hold yourself upright.

“I’m close,” you gasp, your voice raw and desperate.

That spurs him on. His hands tighten on your hips, guiding your movements, and when you finally break, it’s hot, overwhelming, and all-consuming. You collapse forward, panting, as he slowly eases you down from the high, his lips and tongue still working gently, reverently.

When you manage to lift your head, his grin is smug, his lips shining as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “How was that?” he asks, his voice thick with satisfaction. “Am I still all talk?”

You glare weakly at him, but the fire in your chest betrays you. “Shut up,” you mutter, collapsing beside him on the bed.

But Javier isn’t done. He shifts above you, his body covering yours, his weight pinning you down in a way that makes you feel deliciously trapped. His hands roam your skin like he’s memorizing every curve. He presses kisses to your shoulders, your collarbone, the swell of your breasts, murmuring soft, filthy praises between each one.

He notices how sensitive you are and you can hear the delight in his discovery. “You like that,” he declares. You can only hum in agreement as he rolls your nipples between his fingers. He takes his time, testing the ways you respond to his fingers, tongue, and teeth. He’s quick, learning exactly what makes you gasp and whine. 

Repeatedly working you up with soft swirls of his tongue over your hard nipples and rough pinches that make you squirm. He uses his teeth sparingly, but with finesse, keeping you on edge. 

“God, you’re perfect,” he says, his voice rough with awe.

Your breath stutters, his words striking something deep, but before you can respond, his mouth is on yours. His kiss is a slow burn, deliberate, his tongue darting out to taste yours.

“Not perfect,” you whisper.

Javier lifts his head, his dark eyes piercing. “Wrong,” he purrs, his lips curving into a dangerous smirk. “You’re perfect for me. I’ll make you believe it.”

Without another word, he’s back down between your legs, his mouth finding the sensitive skin at the juncture of your thighs. His tongue is hot and insistent, dragging every ounce of pleasure from you with ruthless efficiency.

He groans against you and your back arches off the mattress, a helpless cry spilling from your lips. “There she is,” Javier murmurs, his voice muffled but dripping with smug satisfaction. “Let me hear it.”

“Please,” you gasp, your hands gripping his hair, holding him to you greedily. He chuckles darkly, the sound reverberating through your body. “Please, what?”

You need him to get over his oral fixation and fuck you already, but you can’t find the words and your hands can’t seem to let go. He’s relentless and tapped into some sort of self-restraint and stamina you couldn’t fathom. You strain your neck, tipping your chin to your chest to watch him work.

You can’t tell if he’s this set on getting you off on his tongue to prove his merit to you, or if it’s more for him at this point. He uses everything. Nose, lips, tongue, chin. Inundating you with all of him. With one wide, heavy hand splayed across your lower stomach, he keeps you in place. His other hand keeps your thigh spread wide for him. 

What does ruin you–that you would never admit to him–has nothing to do with his mouth or his hands. It’s when you prop yourself up on your elbows, and you can see his hips rutting slowly into the mattress. It makes your eyes roll back. It confirms how badly he wants you in a way that feels more raw and vulnerable than any words he could say. 

That knowledge obliterates you. Stealing your breath, and any control you have over your own muscles. You sink, body rolling and contracting with relief and satisfaction. Javier doesn’t stop. He rides out your high, his tongue and lips coaxing aftershocks that leave you breathless and whimpering.

You relax, your hazy, pleasure-drunk mind is quiet and empty for a moment. He takes advantage of your pause, his fingers stroking over your sensitive skin, making you jolt, gasping his name.

His hand slides between your thighs, fingers slick and knowing as they stroke over the spot that has you gasping, your resolve crumbling with every second. “Javier,” you choke out, louder this time, your back arching off the bed.

“I know,” he murmurs, satisfaction dripping from his voice. The sound sends a thrill through you. He kneels between your legs, his body so broad and overwhelming as his hands grip your hips, positioning you just right. His cock presses against you, teasing, demanding, too much, too soon, yet it feels like the only thing your body craves. 

He shifts his hips slightly, and the tip of his cock nudges against your entrance. Your breath hitches. You feel the heat of him, the weight, the promise of how he intends to ruin you.

“Going to make sure you don’t forget me,” he says in a low, gravelly voice, and your body responds to the dominance in his words, buzzing for what’s next. He pushes into you slowly, inch by inch. His eyes never leave yours, dark and intense, watching you as if he can see straight into your soul.

Holy fuck. The stretch is overwhelming but it feels so right, so perfect. Every nerve is on fire, each sensation magnified as he moves deeper. God, he feels good. Sinking in so slowly, you can’t breathe, can’t think. Just the feeling of him inside you, claiming you completely.

“Feel that?” he murmurs, his voice a low growl, the vibrations of his voice reverberating through you. “I want you to remember every second of this. Every inch of me.”

You try to hold on, but it’s impossible. His voice is lethal. The heat of his body against yours, the way his cock fills you completely—it’s all you can do to stay lucid, but you want more. Your nails dig into his shoulders, your head falling back as he reaches the end of you, as deep inside of you as he can get. Your chest rises and falls with shallow breaths.

Javier groans, the sound almost painful. Hungry. His hands grip your hips like he’s holding himself back, the tension in his body taut, coiled, ready to snap. He’s holding back? The thought is enough to make you moan again.

“Perfect for me. Just like I knew you would be.”

The words make your walls clench and flutter around him. He’d use that against you if he wasn’t trying desperately to keep it together now that he knows what it feels like to be inside of you. There’s nowhere to look to steady himself. Your face glows, drunk from the orgasms and his praise, your tits glisten with sweat and his saliva–he slams his eyes shut only to see every detail of you just the same. Another deep breath and he presses on. 

His pace is slow at first. Sawing into you with torturous precision. Each thrust designed to make you feel all of him. 

It doesn’t stay slow for long. His pace picks up, a steady rhythm that makes you writhe. You want to beg, but you don’t know what it is you need. He gives it to you hard, hips snapping as he grunts from the effort. Knocking all of the guilt you’d been smothering right out of your mind.

His force overwhelms you, destroying you with bliss and a floaty time-warping joy. Altering your future, distantly you know you’ll be forever changed because of him. 

He doesn’t stop. Oblivious to the seismic impact he’s having on your pussy and future. 

He shifts his position, pulling you upright with effortless strength. Just like in the club as he rolled against you, you fit together so perfectly it’s obscene. You instinctively wrap your legs around his waist, mindless as he fills you with his cock again, deeper at this new angle. You’re at his mercy. Intoxicated by the way his length tortures every nerve inside of you. 

His face is still steeped in concentration and satisfaction, but there’s something else that makes you study his eyes. The more of a mess you are the more his pride swells, but it’s not about proving his point to you. It’s about proving something to himself. A whisper of vulnerability hides behind his words. You’re too out of it to understand what it means. Just aware there’s something more. 

“You feel that?” he growls, using his deliciously bruising grip to give you the support to bounce along his cock. His lips brush your ear as you flicker between the sensory overload and the clawing, hot need to come again. “This is what you’ve been missing. What you’ll be thinking about when you’re with him.”

You know he’s right. You can only nod your head, chanting yes in rhythm with his hips snapping into you. 

You bury your face in his neck, your breath coming out in short, desperate bursts, the sweet torture of him driving you wild. His hand slides between your bodies, his thumb finding your swollen, sensitive clit and rubbing, and you break again, your body shattering, surrendering to him.

Your nails rake down his back, desperate for release, as you bounce against his slick, toned body. 

But he’s not done. On a warpath. If he only gets one night, he’s going to make it a guarantee. 

He lays you back down with a shift of his body, his hands sliding under your thighs to lift your hips, angling you perfectly. The new position sends you into another realm, your body is his and all he wants to do is wring out every last ounce of pleasure within you. Over and over again.

“Look at me,” he commands, his voice low, rough, and dangerous. You force your eyes open, your gaze meeting his, dark and hungry, and in that moment, you know there’s no turning back.

“I want to see your face when you come for me.”

Each word will be etched into your mind forever. When you dream of him, when you touch yourself, every time you close your eyes. 

His thumb presses against your clit again; it’s rapturous. You come undone beneath him, your body trembling violently, your voice hoarse as you call out his name and a string of curses. 

He follows seconds later with a broken groan. He buries himself deep, giving himself over to you, his cock pulsing with the same urgency to fill you as your cunt clenches in desperation to milk him dry. 

He collapses onto his forearms above you, his breath hot and uneven against your skin as you both come down, the room heavy with the sound of your ragged breathing.

“That’s it,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Breathe.”

The affection and tenderness soothe something deep within you, and for a moment, all you can do is bask in the connection and the depth of something you can’t name. Until it shifts. 

The haze begins to clear, reality creeps back in.

His laugh is low and dangerous, a sound of pure victory. 

Javier shifts beside you, his hand sliding possessively over your hip, but your mind is already racing.

Panic bubbles up in your chest as you sit up, reaching for your clothes. Javier watches you with a satisfied smirk, clearly unbothered by your sudden urgency.

“You don’t want to stay?” he teases, his voice lazy and smug.

You shoot him a sharp look, your hands trembling as you smooth down your dress. “You’re insufferable,” you mutter, but he sees through you.

“Maybe,” he says, propping himself up on one elbow, his gaze raking over you with dark amusement. “But you’ll still think about me when you see him.”

His words hit like a gut punch, and you bite your lip, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a response. You wonder if you’ll ever be able to stop thinking about him. 

“See you Monday?” he says, his tone deceptively casual, but the smirk on his face is anything but.

Your stomach flips at the reminder. Monday. At work. Where Javier works. Where your boyfriend works.

General tags in case y'all want some javi smut too 💗:

@lovely-vamp-princess @gothcsz @auteurdelabre

@adoreyouusugar @swankyorange

@itwasntimethatdidit40 @ivoryandflame @magneticecstasy

@indiegirlunited @syd-djarin @harriedandharassed

@bbyanarchist @94namkooksworld

[pluto-on-mars]

Brainrot

I literally just wanted to write abt Tsukishima fucking you dumb and being mean abt it <3

if you wanna commission me HMU!!!

Tsukishima kei x reader (18+ MDNI)

Includes: dumbification, unprotected sex, overstimulation, degradation, thigh riding/fucking(?), fingering, edging, oral (f receiving), plot what plot/pwp

Wordcount: 1,326 (unfinished)

Tsukishima was always one to tease, and you would normally put up with it. Normally you could handle his teasing touches to an extent. But currently, you felt like you were burning, mind hazy as Tsukishima's lips captured yours in a searing kiss.

His actions were intoxicating, swirling your tongue with his, and occasionally sucking on it. You felt like you were melting, Tsukishima's intense actions causing the spark of arousal to ignite.

You moaned into the kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth as you tried your best to keep up with his actions. Your arms draped around his neck as you pulled yourself impossibly closer to him.

He shifted, causing his thigh to go right between your legs. You rocked your hips, trying to get anything to touch you right where you needed it. Suddenly, he pulled away, chuckling in amusement as you leaned forward trying to kiss him again. Hands came up to grip your hips which halted your movements.

You panted," Kei, please." His face was still close to yours, allowing you to feel the words as he spoke," Please? Please what?" There was a slight mocking tone to his words that went straight to your core.

You tried to buck your hips against his thigh but it was no use, his hands kept you firmly in place but for some reason that just aroused you even more.

Your face flushed, embarrassment crawling into your mind. You whispered," Please touch me."

You watched as a condescending smirk splayed across his features He moved his face closer, lips lightly brushing against each other, but not exactly capturing yours into a kiss.

He pulled your hips down, making your clothed cunt press against his thigh. Your breath hitched as he started to slowly rock your hips," What was that? I'm gonna need you to speak. louder." He punctuated his words by bouncing his thigh.

You felt like you were going to burst, brain processing his words much slower than usual. You begged," Please use your fingers to fuck my cunt, Kei please."

Tsukishima inhaled sharply, his hand going between your thighs, the other rubbing circles into your hips. " Well since you asked so nicely." he cooed out.

His slim fingers traced around your clothed clit, giving feather light touches that was something but at the same time nothing. Your breath hitched, about to beg him to stop his teasing.

But he pushed your underwear aside, cold fingers gathering your slick and swirling it around your clit. You bucked your hips into his hand as you gripped him tighter," Fuck! Kei-"

He let out an amused chuckle as he teased you," Look at you, so wet that you don't even have to suck on my fingers before I put them in you." Your breath hitched as his fingers slipped into your entrance.

He started to move his fingers, quickly finding that spongey spot inside you that made you see stars. You dug your face in the crook of his neck, as you tried to bite back your moans.

His lips brushed your ears as he muttered his words," You know better than to hide from me, or are you just a stupid whore?"

You let out a wanton moan as he started to speed up, thumb suddenly circling your clit. "Oh shit- faster! Please Kei 'm gonna cum!"

He nipped at your ear as he sped up his pace, fingers reaching your g-spot with every movement. You let out a desperate keen," Kei! 'M about to- fuck! 'M gonnacum-"

Suddenly, just as the knot you felt in your abdomen was about to snap, Tsukishima stopped. He laughed at you," What, did you think I was gonna let you cum that easily? You really are dumb."

You rolled your hips, needily nipping and kissing his neck in hopes that would somehow convince him to give you more. He huffed," Look at you, such a desperate whore trying to use anything to get off."

You frantically nodded," Need you Kei!" Tsukishima let out a low groan as your words went straight to his cock.

" Really now? Show me how much you need me." he rasped. You slowly started to rock your hips against his thigh, moaning as you felt him flex his thigh. You felt hot under his gaze as you sped up your pace.

Pressing into his thigh, you moaned as he started to play with one of your nipples, rolling it with his thumb. " Fuck, look at you making a mess of my thigh."

Going faster, you felt fuzzy, static starting to buzz throughout your limbs," Kei 'm gonna cum, please let me cum!" His hands grabbed your hips as he rocked you faster, slowly making pressure build in your abdomen.

"Go ahead, cum for me slut." His name-calling sent you over the edge, the orgasm that you had been waiting for finally arriving. You gripped onto him as your thighs started to shake," 'M cumming! Fuck! Shit Kei!"

Tsukishima would be lying if he said he didn't love to hear you moan his name. His gaze locked onto your face as it started to morph into an expression of pure ecstasy.

He slowly stopped rocking your hips against his thigh as you came down from your high. He put his lips on yours as he swallowed your moans, lightly biting your bottom lip as he laid you down.

His tongue worked his way inside your mouth as his hands trailed down to your tits. Pulling away from the kiss with a sharp pop he left a trail of wet kisses against your neck. Slowly going lower, and lower, hands following in his mouth's wake.

His mouth traveled to your inner thigh, nipping at it slightly. Your legs threatened to close when he let his breath fan across your sensitive cunt. Using his hands to keep your legs open for him, he used his tongue to lick a long stripe up your pussy and swirled it around your clit.

You tried to close your legs around his head, but he was just too strong. " 'M still sensitive!" you cried out. But that did nothing to deter him as he wrapped his lips around your nub and hummed.

" What was that?" He muttered against you, sending vibrations throughout your core. You cried out," Just came- Please 'm so sensitive. It's too good!"

" A whore like you can handle it." He teased right before his tongue delved into your wet hole. He ate you like a man starved, lapping at your folds and thrusting his tongue in and out.

Your back arched as you felt another orgasm begin to build again. Tsukishima moved his hands to hold your hips down, allowing you to close your thighs around his head. Your hands moved to grip his sandy blonde hair, meeting his sharp gaze as he looked at you.

Tsukishima felt you clench around his tongue and he brought a thumb to your clit. You let out a choked moan as you babbled out," Cumming again! 'M gonna- cumming! 'M cumming!"

Tsukishima moved his tongue faster, spurred on by your moans. He moaned into your cunt, your juices covering his face. Finally moving away from your hole, he captured your lips in a kiss. Its passionate nature feeling like a gentle contrast compared to his intense actions.

The sudden feeling of Tsukishima sinking you down on his cock made you see stars, his sinful groan making your walls clench around him. " Fuck, you're so wet, didn't even need my dick to make you such a mess."

He grabbed your hips, setting his own pace as he used his hands to slam them up and down, pushing his dick in and out.

" Such a slut, cumming before I could put my cock in you." He grunted, hands gripping down harder as you tightened around him.

" You-you said I could." You managed to choke out in your breathless state.

" Oh?" You knew it was an immediate mistake when you felt him stop," Still have enough sense in you to talk back I see?" he sneered.

Flipping you around so that your ass was up in the air, he wasted no time pushing his dick back between your folds. Slamming into you at a brutal pace, you couldn't stop the desperate moans that escaped you even if you wanted to.

" Can't have that now can I?" He husked, making his thrusts harder.

[melancholymetropolis]

Exchange pt. III

plot: In which Gojo and Y/N wake up together and have morning sex

pairings: Clan Leader!Gojo Saturo x Lawyer!Reader

genre(s): Porn with Feelings

warnings: unedited (mostly). PORN PORN PORN!!!!!!!!!! (This is kinda stand-alone piece) safe sex. oral sex (f receiving). light choking. multiple positions. fingering. squirting. PIV SEX. pet names (sweetheart, sweetness, darling, etc.) multiple orgasms. LAUGHING DURING SEX. lowkey rom com vibes. play wrestling.

song association: Fetish by Selena Gomez

a/n: don't fight me! I come with smut (3k words worth)

w.c: 4.6k

part(s): Part I Part II

A head of unruly, white hair rested comfortably on my chest. Gentle breaths eased out of the owner's nostrils as he slept peacefully. Parted, pink lips were left slightly ajar and pushed out a deep breath every so often. A pool of drool fell from the mouth as well. It created a medium size spot on my tee shirt. His strong arms were wrapped around my midsection and one of his legs was resting between mine. Saturo held onto me like I was his lifeline. The very oxygen gracing his lungs. Even in his sleep, the man couldn't fake his affection for me. 

My hand found his hair moments later. My fingertips caressed the thick, full locks tenderly. He was truly something of a fairy tale. His face was almost angelic in the low light. It kissed his pale skin like a lover and embraced him with a fondness I knew all too well. Wispy, white lashes graced his drowsy eyes. My hand lowered from his hair and to his cheek. My fingers brushed against the smooth, clear skin of the area. 

“Keep touching me like that,” Saturo grunted, nuzzling my chest. “And I'll get the wrong idea.”

A soft smile fell onto my lips. “And what idea is that?”

“That you're falling in love with me.” Amusement dripped from his voice like a faucet.

I playfully swatted the top of his head. “Oh shut up!”

He lifted his head from my chest in one swift motion. His blue eyes sparkled in the low light and that sleepy smile stabbed me in the heart. 

Holy fuck is he gorgeous, I found myself thinking.

“Admit it, sweetheart,” he teased. “You’re falling in love with me. I mean why else would you invite me to your bed.” 

“Maybe because it was 3 AM when we finished eating?” I suggested, a smile falling to my lips. “And you shouldn’t be driving while exhausted?”

He paused, pretended to think for a minute, before shooting me the cockiest fucking look I had ever seen in my life. “It could be that,” he started. “Or, you were just so worried about your husband’s well being that you wanted him to sleep safely in your arms for the night.”

“Boy, bye!” I chuckled, pushing against his shoulders. “Now you’re dragging it.”

Saturo lifts his body from mine and I instantly felt a cooling sensation dance between the space. 

“Come on, wifey,” he grinned. “You don’t have to hide feelings from your husband.”

I shoved at his shoulders again. “Keep talking like that and I’m gonna kick you off the bed.”

“Oh, I’d like to see you try,” he provoked.

A knowing smirk fell on my lips. “Challenge accepted.”

Before Saturo could throw a snide comment my way, both of my legs hooked around his waist. At the same time, my arms latched underneath his pits. I swung our bodies to the left, effectively switching our positions.  I straddled his waist, allowing my lower half to pin his legs to the bed. I placed both hands on his T-shirt covered chest and pinned his upper half down as well. His blue eyes widened with utter astonishment, fear and a little something else I couldn’t exactly catch. 

“Fuck, you’re stronger than I thought,” he gasped, eyes trailing over my body. His chest was rising and falling at a rapid pace. “I was not expecting that. Like at all…. Shit. I think you took my breath away. Literally.”

Laughter erupted from my chest and poured from my lips. “Well, there's a first time for everything.”

His hands rested on my thighs, a look of amazement still on his face. “Seriously, sweetheart, is there something you're not telling me.”

“Like what?” I giggled. 

“I don't know. . . Like maybe you have a secret second life that requires you to be as strong a fucking body builder.”

“Seriously, ‘Toru, you're being ridiculous.”

“I'm not being— wait. What did you just say?”

I raised an eyebrow. “That you're being ridiculous?”

“Before that,” a smile slowly formed on his face.

“Seriously?”

“After that.”

“I didn't say anything—”

“Don't deny it, sweetness,” the smile was so wide that it practically covered half of his face. “You called me by my first name.”

“I did no such thing!” I crossed my arms over my chest and playfully avoided his gaze.

“Not only that,” he replied, lifting his back from the bed. “You gave me a nickname.”

“No I did not—ah!”

Saturo flipped our bodies back to their original position, with him on top. His massive hand took hold of both of my wrists and pinned them above my head. His knees rested on either side of my thighs, caging my body underneath his. Saturo used his other hand to cradle my face and direct my gaze directly into his eyes. They were electric blue, once again. They shined brightly before me in a way I had only seen twice before. Once at the wedding and the other last night in the restaurant. They searched my face for something I couldn't necessarily pick up. Some truth hidden beneath the surface that I was too scared to reveal. The longer he stared, the deeper the ringing in my ear sounded. 

“Say it again,” his voice dropped to a whisper. 

“Say what?” I smirked, pulling at my wrists. 

“Playing coy is gonna get you in trouble, sweetheart,” he replied, returning my smirk. “I'd watch it if I were you.”

“And what exactly are you gonna do, Ole husband of mine?” I replied, a lustful glint in my eye. “Spank me?”

His jaw clenched and the grip on my wrists tightened. “Please don't threaten me with a good time, sweetness.” He shivered, visibly. “I'll have you on my lap before that cute little nickname leaves your lips a second time.”

“Is that a promise?” I said, allowing my eyes to drop half lidded. 

Saturo sucked in a breath and he clenched his jaw. “I am trying my best to behave. To be the gentleman you deserve. But all I can think about is burying myself in that sweet pussy and fucking you until the next sun rise. So, please, darling, don't tease me. My meager heart cannot take it.”

The desire burned in his eyes like sunshine through a magnifying glass. Point it at just the right angle and the object underneath would catch fire. The object or, more specifically, the person underneath said magnifying glass happened to be me. His gaze was beginning to set my body ablaze. Flashes of our last entanglement flickered through my mind like an old film. The heaviness of his body against mine as he pumped into me like a piston. The feeling of his tongue on my skin and how he groaned my name. I remember the way my nails scraped against the wooden headboard behind us. Remembering the rhythmic banging had sent me shivers down my spine. The look on his face made my womanhood tingle. He was remembering that night too. The evening my shins shook violently on his shoulders and he came so hard his entire body convulsed. 

It was also the last night we spent together before the wedding.

The same night I left him.

A subtle pain started to throb in my chest from the memory. The guilt slowly threatened to consume me. I  reassured myself that I knew better, currently. I knew that the white haired above me was more than just a vacation fling. More than just a cheap thrill to distract me from the tipsy bride-to-be and the plastered bridesmaids. He was a good guy, underneath that silly demeanor. He was thorough. Saturo weighed every option presented to him before coming to a conclusion. He was consistent. When he finally chose said option, he would try his hardest to see it through. He was passionate. There wasn’t a challenge he couldn’t overcome. A person he couldn’t charm. Myself included. 

“Left nightstand,” I found myself saying, a subtle smile on my lips. “Top drawer.”

“What’s in there?” A confused look colored his face.

“Condoms.”

The confused look morphed into three different expressions as the realization of what I said hit him. The first being shock. His eyebrows rose and his grip on my wrists loosened. The words rising over in his brain several more times before it morphed into a look of adoration. Saturo’s eyes eased halfway closed and a small smile formed on his lips. His shoulders relaxed and the grip he had on my wrists was forgotten. A gentle hand cupped my cheek before the final expression took over his face: unadulterated joy. He leaned his body down and pressed his forehead to mine. I could practically hear his heart pounding in his chest. Singing a song I was quickly learning the lyrics to. His hot breath fanned my face and his eyes looked deeply into mine; as if he could see my soul. See how it was opening up for him and how it searched for him after all this time. 

“Can I kiss you?” The question was breathless on his lips. Almost like the moment we were having wasn’t real. Almost as if I weren’t real. 

“Please.”

The softness of his lips melted the ice covering my defenses. My arms wrapped around his neck and I started to pull Saturo closer. The weight of his body broke down the walls I eradicated to keep him out of my heart. His touch pulled away the feelings of confusion and uncertainty. He moaned against my lips; his arms so tightly around my body I could barely breathe. I could barely form a thought, other than the one that we seemed to share. 

I want you.

When the need of oxygen became prevalent for the both of us, I pulled away. My eyes were blurry with lust and I could hear myself panting like horny teenager after such an embrace. Saturo’s hot mouth continued to lay kisses along my neck and shoulder. His hips dropped from the levitating position and situated themselves between my open legs. Saturo arched his back, almost like a feline, and started to grind his pelvic area against mine. The clothes and blanket between us did nothing to hide the intensity of his erection. The teasing thrusts of his hips were sending shivers down my spine, the anticipation of what was to come driving me up the wall. 

A warm hand wiggled between our two bodies and slid underneath my shirt. The wide palm pressed against the soft tissue of my left breasts before giving it a squeeze. At the same time, the bastard ran a hot tongue against the side of my neck. I moaned as a result. His fingers found the nipple instantly. Saturo ruled the bud between his fingers, while leaving little nips at my shoulder. 

“Care to help me out, sweetness?” He asked softly.

His voice was deep with sleep, but had been coated with lust. 

Saturo’s half opened blue eyes looked down at me as if I were hiding something.

The ghost of a smile on his perfect pink lips had me melting in the middle.

“Yes. . . ?” Was all I could mutter after staring at him for a noticeable amount of time.

“Take your shirt off for me, baby,” he replied, the humorous look on his face growing into a full-blown grin.

As I lifted the shirt over my head, a thought appeared in my mind. Saturo was not the kind of person to pressure me into doing things I didn't want to do. Sure, in the beginning, he was a little shit about hanging out and getting to know me— though he never forced me to do it. Nor did he guilt trip into going out with him. Saturo gave me an option. He made it known that it was always my choice to have whatever relationship I wanted with him. 

My hands gripped the bottom of the T-shirt and pulled the garment from my body. The cool air in the bedroom caused me to shiver slightly. The man above me froze the moment he caught sight of my bare breasts. His eyes rolled over them like water on a leaf as his tongue ran against his bottom lip. Saturo brought his face to my chest while panting. His mouth was already ready ajar while he gripped the first mound and brought the dark brown bud to his lips. We both moaned at the action. His eyes fluttered closed as he suckled the needy nipple. After a few moments, he released it with a pop and started to swirl his tongue against it. I squirmed beneath him. I wanted nothing more.

His warm hand slid down my bare belly as he switched to the other nipple. The slender fingers shimmied under the waistband and found my sticky womanhood. Two digits ran along my slit before dipping into the folds and circling my bud. A pleasurable sigh left my body from the sensation. My hips rolled against his hand. The friction was utterly delicious on the neglected area. I felt my body vibrate beneath his; the desire to be consumed by him becoming too great to ignore. 

A little while later, Saturo lifted his head from my breast and started to kiss down my navel. His eyes flickering up to meet mine every so often. I nervously nipped my bottom lip as I watched his face grow closer to my cunt. His hands pulled at the legs of the sleep shorts; I raised my hips to assist in the action. The cool air on my warm cunt made me shiver. An unholy groan left Saturo’s lips as his eyes stared at the curly mound.

“No panties, huh?” His eyes snapping back to mine.

“I hardly ever sleep with them on,” I admitted with a shrug.

“Noted,” he said with a smirk.  

Saturo, then, spread my legs nice and wide to get a better view. I saw his breath hitch at the sight. His thumb ran against the slick slit and I moaned from the feather-like strokes. He pushed my hips apart further and brought my body closer to the edge of the bed. With knees planted on the floor and both hands planted on the backs of my thighs, Saturo dove right in.

Long, slow licks graced my neglected folds and I shuddered beneath him. The tip of his plush tongue ran from my drenched center to the throbbing pearl. He circled said pearl with agonizingly slow movements that made me squirm. 

“Stop teasing,” I purred, gently combing through his messy hair. “I thought you wanted to bury yourself in my sweet pussy, or whatever you said earlier.”

A low chuckle rumbled through him and Sauro’s eyes caught mine. “Aren’t we impatient, sweetness?” He nipped at the side of my thigh, earning a smile from me. 

“Well, it has been a while since you performed your husbandly duties. . .” I trailed off with a knowing smile.

“Oh?” Saturo raised an eyebrow. “So I am your husband now?”

“I mean, you could go back to being my cheap whore,” I teased, propping myself up on my elbows. “I’ll give you a few bills before I send you away.”

“I knew you did that shit on purpose!” Saturo barked with laughter.

“It wasn’t my intention, but I am not denying the allegation.”

Saturo swatted my leg playfully before throwing me a stern look. “Just for that, I should leave you like this. Hot and bothered.”

“You could,” I nodded. “But, you won’t.”

Saturo narrowed his eyes. “. . . I won’t.”

“Good boy.”

His mouth was on my heat once more, sucking the throbbing pearl into his scorching mouth. The teasing was over and the real game began. As Saturo sucked, the tip of his tongue brushed against the underside of my clit every so often. I squirmed beneath him as the pleasure rose in my belly. He must’ve remembered our last time together. The way I creamed all over his face when did that exact movement with his tongue on my womanhood. A flash of something familiar crossed his eyes and watched an arm wrap around my right thigh, as two fingers brushed my entrance. As if to ask for permission. 

“If you add those digits, darling, I’m gonna make a mess of that pretty face.” I sighed, attempting to sound unenthusiastic about the action. “I hope you’re prepared for that.”

The taller gentleman groaned against my cunt, but never removed his mouth from it. He pushed both fingers into my awaiting hole and I sucked in a breath. The digits curled in my sex and found the familiar spongy center at the roof of it. My thighs shook in his arms. Saturo massaged the area with a firm hand. He kneaded my g-spot into submission and I felt body start to vibrate underneath him. 

“Oooh. . .” I cooed, brushing his hair from his eyes. “Just like that. . . Don’t stop. . .”

Saturo groaned again, his eyes half-closed as he looked up at me.

He was truly enjoying himself, more than he assumed possible.

His desire, like mine, tainted the air with its sweet music. I could hear them clearly, despite the amulet hanging from my neck. The energy he oozed was far more powerful than anything I had previously encountered. It bellowed out to me in such a way that it was hard to ignore it. The ringing in my ear was subtle, almost like a whisper from a lover. A warm pool in my stomach started to grow. One by one, my limbs grew unfeeling. I could feel absolutely nothing by Saturo’s mouth on my pussy. My eyes started to roll back as my back arched from the bed. My nails dug into the bed sheets as my mouth hung open. The climax was deep and guttural. It pulled a sound from my being that I did not recognize. I hadn’t realized I was holding my breath until the pressure in my chest grew too great. I had to force a giant wave of cool air to flood my lungs as I cried out Saturo’s name. I felt my legs shake against his face, as he continued to suck my clit. 

“Too much!” I gasped, nudging his head away from my sensitive womanhood. “Stop! Please. . .”

Saturo removed his lips from the aching bud and pressed wet kisses on my soft stomach. He crawled up my body and took me in his arms. He held me tightly as the aftershocks of the orgasm started to wear off. With my back pressed against his chest, I felt myself relax almost instantly. His presence was certain as the sunrise and it warmed me immensely. We laid in silence for several moments, but it wasn’t awkward. It was peaceful. I could’ve stayed like that forever.

The taller gentleman pulled away for a breath moment. Moments later, I heard the familiar slide of the nightstand’s drawer open. Followed by that was a gentle crinkle of plastic and then a soft hiss fell from his lips. Saturo’s arms were around me before my body grew cold. He pressed hot kisses on my naked shoulder, before pressing his hard length on my bare ass.

“Are you still up for this, sweetness?” 

“Yes,” I replied, breathless.

The throbbing member sank into my center from behind and I swore I saw stars. His strong arm hooked across my middle to steady himself. His hips rolled against my plush rear and soft moans spilled from his lips afterward. The weight of his body on mine and the feeling of his breath against my ear was indescribable. The thoughts spinning in mind were in one category: adoration. Maybe it was the dopamine and adrenaline creating a toxic cocktail on my emotions, but all I could think about was my future with Saturo. The way our mornings could be just like this one. Filled with sensual love-making and intimacy that made my head spin. The way he cradled by body as he thrusted into me was exhilarating. He held me like I was going to disappear at any moment. 

After a short while, he hiked my left leg into the arm and hooked his arm around my thigh. Saturo tilted his hips backward and started to thrust into me a little bit harder. My shoulders fell into the crook of his arm as my  back pressed against the soft mattress. His cock moved deeper into my cunt and pressed a pleasure point I had forgotten I had. My eyes rolled back and the air in my throat grew thick. My nails dug into his forearms as I felt my toes curl.

“There it is,” Saturo snickered. “That’s the face I am looking for.”

“ ‘Turo. . .” I moaned, my head falling back onto his shoulder. 

He shuddered from the sound of the nickname and moved his hips faster against my ass. 

My eyes rolled back as I felt the pressure in my belly grow once more. My nerves were buzzing and started to feel my body begin to heat all over. The sensations coursing through me were simply incredible and I didn’t want them to end. I never wanted to be separated from the feeling Saturo, my husband, was giving me. 

Gradually, the thought of being married to him did not repulse me. It ignited a sort of excitement within me that I kept hidden from the public eye. To have such a biblically beautiful man on one’s as we simply lived life would greatly boost anyone’s ego. For that same man to be downright obsessed with everything about me was something entirely different. The passion he had for me was simply extraordinary. The sweet words that fell from his lips as he fucked me tenderly had made my heart sing. The heat from his body and the power that surrounded him was simply ethereal. All reasonable doubt slipped from my mind the longer the thrusted into me. All I could think about was Gojo Saturo and coming home to his girthy cock every night.

One by one, I felt my limbs go numb and my body stiffen. Keep, harsh breaths poured from my lips as my eyes squeezed shut. The feeling of his cock slipping against my walls had broken through the numbness. I could feel said walls begin to contract, squeezing his member tightly as I climaxed. A gush of cool air filled my lungs as my body melted into his. 

“Don’t stop!” I screamed, gripping his arm tightly. “Please don’t stop. . . oh God. . .”

The second wave of the orgasm made my entire body shake against his. My hips bucked against his thick member and my thigh shook in grasp. The older gentleman tried everything to keep the slippery limb from his grasp, but to no avail. 

Frustrated, Saturo rolled my stomach and wrapped a hand across my chest. He pressed his entire body against my back, before putting a hand on my throat. Upon pressing his hips against my ass, I realized that his cock was even deeper than it was before. Saturo started to rock his hips against my soft ass and I had never felt something so marvelous in my entire life. The pressure in which he used to fuck me was unholy. The head of his brilliant cock was hitting a pleasure point so deep in my pussy that I was sure that the other lover knew it existed. The weight of his body pushed my pelvis nearly flat against the mattress and added pressure to my stomach. Just between my thighs I felt something rather fluffy nestled right against my apex. The cushioned item slid against my throbbing clit with each thrust and I felt my entire body shiver.

I had no idea when Saturo shoved a pillow between my thighs, but I knew the move was far from a mistake.

“You are so… fucking… perfect,” He stammered, pounding into slick pussy like his life depended on it. “The best. . . person. . . for me.”

Saturo’s grip on the bedsheets tightened and I felt his hips begin to twitch against mine.

He was getting close.

“Tell me,” I said, breathless. “Tell me that you're mine.”

Soft curses fell from his lips as the fingers on my neck tightened. Jagged breaths fell from his lips as his hips moved faster against my lower half. The heaviness of the member pushed against the roof of cunt. Added with the weight of his body against mine meant that Saturo was annihilating two of my pleasure points at once. The addition of the pillow meant that he was three. I couldn’t even feel the last orgasm building as I felt with the prior two. The lovely man was simply taking me onto an ongoing wave of pleasure, equipped with peaks and valleys. 

The grinding of his body against mine was mind-numbing. I could feel little dribbles of drool spill from the side of my mouth as he fucked me. Incoherent words spilled from my lips like a drunk prayer, along with a few slurred sprinkles of his name. I never wanted that moment to end, I never wanted him to stop pounding me into the mattress as the late morning sun illuminated our sweat soaked bodies. I wanted the moment to last forever. I wanted to stay with him forever; for in that moment he was truly mine. 

My friend.

My lover. 

My. . . husband.

The orgasm poured over me like a soothing wave. It was just as deep as the other two, but didn’t have such violent muscle tension. My eyes squeezed shut as I rode on the high. It made my entire body warm and my heart tingle. It made me thankful for the impulsive decision to invite him into my apartment and into my bed. I almost scolded myself for not doing it sooner. The heavy member still pressed against the inflated, spongy area in my cunt. Every thrust had sent electricity throughout my body. The little control that Saturo was holding onto slipped through his fingers. The power behind his thrusts grew elevated and resulted in him practically dropping his cock in my awaiting hole. The movement further stimulated my sensitive clit, since his heaviness caused my womanhood to have even more contact with the pillow. My pearl ground against the plush surface hard as Saturo fucked me deeper than before. 

“I’m gonna cum again!” I screamed, pulling at the sheets. “I’m gonna cum again!”

“That’s it, baby,” Saturo grunted. “Scream for your husband.”

His fingers pressed deeper into the sides of my neck as my eyes rolled back for the millionth time. The word ‘yes’ spilled from my lips as if it were the only word in the dictionary. I could feel my legs shake violently beneath him and my mouth open wider than it ever had. A warm pool of liquid started to spill from my sticky cunt shortly after, resulting in a small puddle forming between my thighs. The scream that left my throat was so intense that it was silent. I could feel the massive man above me begin to shudder uncontrollably as his heavy member twitched within my snatch. His body fell onto mine in a sweaty heap and Saturo took a moment to catch his breath.

His hand slipped from my throat and he laced the digits with my shaky one. He pressed soft kisses onto my shoulders as I caught my breath. 

“I am yours,” he replied, finally acknowledging my request. The one I nearly forgot. “As you are mine. Forever”.

-------------------

a/n: before you come for me (pun intended), just know that the next installment may not be the happiest.

--------------------

TAGLIST

@amajikisupremacy @sweetdreams-inumimi @reagan707 @wannabeotaku @hazzelle-kento @rav3nmuse @maliamaiden @@satoruontopofme

[bone-trash]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Call of Duty (Video Games) Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: John "Soap" MacTavish/Simon "Ghost" Riley Characters: John "Soap" MacTavish, Simon "Ghost" Riley Additional Tags: Sharing a Bed, Alcohol, Drunken Shenanigans, Sleep Sex, Non-Consensual Somnophilia, Rape/Non-con Elements, it’s not talked about ahead of time but not treated as negative by Johnny?, Unrealistic Sex, Come as Lube, sweat/precum as lube, Drunk Sex, Sleep Groping, Dubious Consent, Consent Issues, Dream Sex, Catholic Guilt, PWP

Summary:

“G-Ghost, wake up!” Soap slurred, trying to sound forceful but failing as he began to succumb to the friction warming his body, “Simon! P-Please wake up…fuck.”

“Johnny?” Ghost groaned and his pace picked up noticeably. “Johnny, my Johnny… all mine.”

A night out drinking has unintended consequences

——

A little smutty fic taking place closer to canon than I have written before, though there’s not much plot 😏

[someofusarequeer]

Daddy's Pleasure

A PWP one shot of Rupert x Taggie Fic!

Fandom: Rivals

Rated: E

Words: 3,346

Status: Complete

Summary:

Rupert is trying to finish the last little bit of his work before the married couple is meant to leave for their weekend getaway, but Taggie is bored. She pesters Rupert until he issues a final warning that if she interrupts him one more time, he's going to give her pretty mouth something to do. Cue the facefucking!

[olrinarts]

Stuck inside during an unanticipated snowstorm, Narinder and the Lamb resort to playing Knucklebones, and it goes... weird. Then the Lamb gets melodramatic. Thankfully, not everyone is content to leave it at that. (narilamb, explicit, 8k.)

[anothersigh]

I saw a Sterek post about mating season and Derek having big balls, and it reminded me an old tweet of mine. Thought to share here too

Been thinking this ridiculous Sterek Omegaverse idea.

You know how omega produce slick when they're in heat? What about something similar with alphas.

When they are close to their rut, male alpha start to produce a heavy amount of cum to ensure the breeding of their partner. So their balls get big and heavy, full of cum to the point sometimes it hurts. Imagen they can't go out because there no clothes for it and also the pain.

And Derek, as an alpha werewolf, he has it worse. Those big breeding balls, full of cum to keep stuffed a beautiful omega.

He always suffered his rut. Because never find a correct partner. Or they wanted something from him or never felt right. Also his balls get bigger that mostly other alphas, even after his rut. So has to stay in his house for days. His body aching for a mate.

Until he finds Stiles.

And @sinqueen69 wrote a fic about it too. Especially with God!Derek, love that trope❤️‍🔥

The wolf god

[almostempty]

he knows (lucien x f!reader)

(lucien x f!reader) | wc: 3.2k | other fics | pic from here

UH HEY! I’m just gonna drop this here and scurry away to finish the other lucien one shot that i also started today, ….and then i’ll return to finishing divorced dad rock joel, and responding to all of the lovely people on here–but, like, i really just need this guy in the most emotionally unavailable and fuckable way, i hope one of y'all gets me

tags/warnings/thots: 18+/explicit, smut, toxic ex/fuckboy lucien, sex instead of communicating or processing emotions, angst but we fuckin’ and that’s the whole plot, we hit raw in my fics bc of my imaginary latex aversion or something, crying, biting, dom lucien vibes (? i never know when that’s the right tag), big dash of pls sexy man fuck the feelings away, tell me if there’s something i should add  

– no editing, no thinking, wrote this in a fever dream while staring at one of the new gifs all afternoon, idk his character! I haven’t watched anything! i just saw the chains and the face and let the horny devil in charge of my sole brain cell take the lead, aka he's my barbie, i was trying to challenge myself to just do something short like 1k- but, uhhhh it’s only 3! 

seeking feedback though (as always) so i can improve!! tell me all ur thots pls! 

“I know,” Lucien argues, “but I never meant to hurt you.” 

“I don’t care anymore.” You speak plainly. Small and quiet. Without conviction. Apathetic. Honest. 

“Anymore?” 

“Baby, please.” He looks at you with those stupid round eyes. He’s effortlessly put together like the wrinkles in his silk shirt were approved by a team of stylists to give him a hint of carelessness. Your incessant attraction to an emotionally unavailable man, it pulls you toward him like a bitter fate. Your therapist, Angie, says you need to learn how to find healthy attachment attractive, but if you shudder with disgust at the thought then what’s the point? 

“Just listen to me,” he continues, talking in circles. Apologizing without taking accountability. Explaining away everything. His behaviors, words, decisions. Apparently, he floats through life at the whim of others. Like one of those ugly deep sea creatures, he tempts you like a glowing lure in the dark. Your eyes glaze over, everything shifting out of focus as you dissociate in your living room. No matter how numb you are, he calls to you. 

You aren’t listening to the words. They don’t matter. It doesn’t matter if his tone is sincere or if it’s thick with flattery and empty promises. It’s more basic than that. Simple. The timbre of his voice. Unique to him. Imprinted in the chambers of your heart. A sharp ache spears through you, and something cracks. A fat, hot, tear escapes. With your shoulders drooping, staring at the ground, the tear falls, splashing on the floor. 

When you look up, meeting his eyes, it’s over. Lucien pulls you close, wrapping his heavy arms around your frame, bracing for the crescendo, keeping you steady. Tears stream endlessly, flooding down your cheeks, sticking to your face and his neck as you bury your face into his warm skin. He’s still trying to placate you, speaking nonsense, thinking he can comfort you. Thinking he knows why you’re upset. Thinking he understands you. 

When your therapist asked you to define love you had described it as being understood. Being seen. Being known. Being considered and prioritized. 

Lucien thinks he knows you. Thinks he understands you. Does he think he loves you? 

Following this line of thought hurts. Splitting you open, a raw beating heart, glistening, thumping, full of life, or a meal fresh and hot for a carnivore to tear into with its sharp fangs. Plump muscle, rich and dark, bleeding out, helpless. Snapping back into reality you shake, a violent sob racking your diaphragm as the pads of his fingers massage the back of your neck. Soothing. Coaxing. 

You want it sharper. Rough. Violent. Distracting. Painful. Anything. With wet lashes, swollen eyes, and ragged breath you become fixated. Licking the salty tears from the dip where his neck meets his shoulder, you can feel his muscles and tendons beneath the flesh. So human and alive. He strokes his hand down your spine, attempting to pacify you, but it sparks something lurid and ravenous, instead. 

You graze your teeth along his neck. “What are you doing?” he mutters the question over the top of your head. Maybe he does know you. “What do you need?” He growls, lowly, the hand he traces your spine with trails lower this time. He’s gluttonous and torrid. A hair-trigger to shift from his concern for your pain and the hole in your heart to a sordid desire to mollify you with his fingers and his cock. 

Maybe it’s a perversion, the tangled experience of despair and desire, the duet of anger and arousal, the sick escape using sex to skip over the emotional suffering. But it’s exactly what you want. It’s the root of the fucked up toxicity. Of everything wrong between you. He does know. He does understand. The same heat that flickers in your core sparks in his. 

Voracious and brash. You bite down, sinking your teeth into his neck, igniting a wildfire. An untamable beast. Again and again and again. Biting, sucking, kissing. His skin tender and raw, your lips wet and swollen. You run a hand along the back of his neck, tugging into his hair, anchoring your grip, and pulling a husky groan from his throat. 

“What do you need?” Lucien repeats, this time with a sharper edge. He detaches you from the safety of the crook of his neck. His two hands. Unnecessarily large, warm, and steady brace either side of your jaw, his fingers wrapping behind your neck. He holds you in front of his face. Vulnerable. Messy. Heat radiates from your cheeks. You release a shaky breath. 

“Don’t make me say it.” It’s a whisper. Pleading and demanding at the same time. 

The cocky smirk that spreads on his face is sickening. It makes you want to slap him, to hear the crack of your palm against his cheek. It makes you want to surrender. Soft and pliable, ready to please and earn praise. It makes you want to scream. To bite him so hard you draw blood. To fuck him until he can’t talk. 

You tell him all of it. Exactly what you need, what you want, what you refuse to say. You tell him all through your kiss. The hunger in your lips as you press them to his, the violence on your tongue, the desperate and vulnerable need to be cared for in the soft moans that rise from your chest, from your heart, from the blood in your veins. He chases all of it. The punishment and pleasure. 

He backs you into the kitchen, caging you against the counter like a scene from a movie. Impervious to whatever protest you make as he clears space, blindly sweeping his arm over the counter before lifting you onto it. The edge of the counter digs into your soft thighs, but it doesn’t matter. You’re ready to drown in the vanilla musk and bourbon-spiced scent of him. The bass in his voice that makes your eyes fall shut and your head tip back against the cupboard behind you. The bruising pressure of his grip that he knows you crave. 

“Baby,” he croons. His words are soft and gentle. As if he propped you on the counter to tend to your wounds. But his hands show no mercy. Roughly ridding you of your clothes. Dropping them into a pile on the floor. He’s ruthless with you. In ways you can’t be with yourself. In ways other lovers could never master. Harsh without being cruel. Deliberate without a plan. 

He lets you tug his shirt over his head. Skin to skin the intensity is primal. “Fuck,” is all you can manage to say. The heat is overwhelming, prickling your nerves and sharpening every sensation. Lucien toys with you like it’s his favorite game. Alternating. 

First, palming reverently at the flesh, sweeping his tongue over your hard nipples, and teasing the wet skin with his hot breath. 

You let him make the decisions. Take the lead. You’re done arguing, done thinking, done with the guilt of letting him in the door, done with acting like you’re any better than him. You brace yourself, one palm flat on the counter, the other resting on his shoulder. Taking whatever he gives. 

He switches up. Everything becomes pointed and precise. He sucks marks into your skin on the underside of your breasts. He pinches and flicks the pert bud of your straining nipples. The contact of his fingers, tongue, and teeth sends white-hot jolts of electricity straight to your cunt. He bites down hard enough to make you choke on a moan. Your whine fills the room, twisted with pain and pleasure. 

“You poor thing,” he purrs. Your face is still wet from your tears. But now they’re tears of frustration. “Just a mess.” You reach for his belt, impatient, but he stops you. He’s not done looking. He lifts one of your legs, propping your foot onto the counter and posing you obscenely in front of him. His gaze makes your pussy throb.

He’s torn. 

Studying your face. Everything unsaid in your eyes. The anguish and rage. The acerbic disdain. The nearly imperceptible longing. 

Admiring your sex, spread open for him. Shining with your arousal. Swollen, slick lips so sensitive for him. Your core, fluttering with anticipation, achingly empty without him. 

He holds your chin between his thumb and curled forefinger. His eyes swirl with lust and something you can’t quite place. “You have no idea,” he rasps. “No idea how much it fucking kills me to see you like this. And knowing I’m the reason why.” 

You don’t know if he means it breaks his heart to see the way you suffer or if he means the sight of you dripping on the counter has him so hard it hurts. You don’t know which you’d believe anyway. He’s not hard up to find someone else to torment or to fuck. That thought makes your throat dry. 

“I can’t stay away from you,” he traces his fingers down your soft inner thigh, closer and closer to where you need him. “How could I?” You tip your head to the side, your limbs and head feel heavy, drunk on a cocktail of everything you love and hate about him all at once. 

“Then don’t.” 

Your reply makes him smile again. He’s so handsome when he smiles it’s infuriating. “You could scream at me, kick me out, hate me–but you still let me touch you, you need me to touch you. Why do I love that so much?” 

“You like feeling important.” You let your snarky comment out without thinking. His question was definitely rhetorical. A few emotions flicker across his face before, a dark little smirk curls the corner of his mouth. 

He feeds off of your challenge. “There she is.” 

“I never left,” you snap, frustration spilling over. He laughs, loose and easy. 

“Listen to me,” Lucien says, low and velvety. Subduing you with the tension and proximity. “I know. You want me to use you. Like you’re my toy. Until you can’t keep those beautiful eyes open.”

“Yes.” 

“I know.” He echoes. Then he closes the gap, kissing you with affection. Holding himself back, but you aren’t reserved. You’re greedy; you want it harder. He just said he’d ruin you, why is he being so gentle? He pulls back with something sincere in his eyes. A whimper falls from your lips, pouty and baffled. 

“Gonna fuck you like I’m trying to ruin you, baby.” 

You narrow your eyes at him. Sometime soon, hopefully? You don’t snap again, answering with another yes. 

He leans in, breath fanning hot over your ear. “But, we both know that tonight you’re the one using me. Ruining me. I’m your toy.” 

Your breath hitches at that. You mouth I know in response, not even able to whisper it. He doesn’t need to hear you say it. He nips your ear lobe and you loose a surprised cry before gasping out his name. 

He’s swift now. Purposeful. Undoing his belt, shoving his pants down and revealing his cock. Reflexively your hips tense and shift. Just looking makes you salivate. He runs his thumb over the bead of precome, drawing it along his length. 

He knows how you want it. His fingers can coax you to an orgasm in no time, but you don’t want that. You want the resistance, the stretch, the dull ache, and intensity as your muscles work to let him in deeper. Nobody makes you feel the way he does. Full. Complete. Mindless. 

It could be pornographic, vulgar, raunchy. The way he pushes your inner thigh further open with one hand while he uses the other to languidly stroke himself. The way he grips himself so tightly like he’s punishing himself. The way his jaw hangs slack and he mutters under his breath about how badly you need him. 

To you, however, it’s a profound admission. A candid confession. The more he goads you the more it solidifies that he’s the one that needs you. That it flows so easily from him because he’s really talking about himself. 

“You say you don’t care anymore, but look at you now, baby.” He shifts closer, at counter height you’re aligned perfectly. He glides the head of his cock up and down the folds of your soaked cunt. You shudder and moan, mesmerized by the sight. 

“It’s almost sad how much you need me, like you can’t breathe without this,” he keeps talking. 

He demands that you watch, as if there was a chance you could stop, as he lines up and sinks into you. You groan in unison. You’re so tight, he draws back out. Repeating the same motion, feeding his cock into you deeper and deeper each time. Your hot, plush walls pulse around him, adjusting. When he finally meets the end of you, he hums, pleased. “You feel that?” 

You bob your head, nodding, agreeing. “Yes.” Your voice is breathy. “Perfect.” You grind against him as if you could take him any deeper, begging him to move with your needy display. It’s wholly overwhelming as is, every nerve within you alight as his cock kicks within you, tensing with the same craving to move. 

He takes your hand in his, nestling your fingers around him. Somehow he feels even larger than he looks, like he shouldn’t be able to fit inside of you, but here you are feeling it and seeing it for yourself. Slowly, Lucien tilts his hips, almost pulling out of you completely before plunging in with force. He keeps up the tantalizing pace, guiding you to touch yourself. He watches your fingers with rapt attention, bracing a hand on your hip to keep you in place as he drives into you with another snap of his hips that edges you closer. 

He gradually speeds up, a master at tempering his desire. Your hip flexor aches as you hold yourself in place but it doesn’t matter. You find your rhythm as he holds steady at a pace that has him landing brutal thrusts that force the words out of your lungs. Soft oh’s and fuck’s pour out of you, under your breath, adding fuel to the fire blazing between you. 

Lucien savors your chanting and the image of you fixed in place, taking him eagerly. Your fingers move with urgency, chasing the release that looms closer and closer. Your mind is blissfully blank, reduced to something animalistic, removed from the burden of your history. “Don’t stop,” you plead, “I’m so close.” 

He doesn’t stop. He fucks you at the same pace, all the way through it. As you contract around him, when everything pulls taut and snaps within you, crying out his name, when it’s too sensitive and you whip your hand away, and as you shudder and breathe deeper and deeper. As the ache in your legs from being spread wide open returns and your ass feels numb where the edge of the counter digs into your flesh. Another tear spills from the corner of your eye, but you can’t say what it’s from anymore. 

When you fidget, he stops moving, letting you readjust. A sheen of sweat glistens all over your chest and you’re suddenly acutely aware of how loud the slick noises between you are. How easy it is to get lost in Lucien's hot and heavy magnetism. You know you were falling apart before he propped you up on the counter, but you’re sure you’re a complete wreck now. 

Lucien pulls out but then leans against you, pinning the length of his cock between you, hot, slick, and messy against your sweat-damp skin. He floods your senses, all you can see, hear, and smell. Caging you in his hand find a possessive hold on you, one wrapped around the back of your neck, one wrapped tight around your thigh as you hitch it around his hip. 

“You feel good?” he asks. You hum in agreement. You do feel good. You know he’s not done yet, and smile wide, still hungry for more. “How good?” he asks and you know there’s something coming next. 

“So good.” You trail a hand between you, drawing a line down his chest and back up to cradle his cheek in your palm. Something about the prickle of his facial hair along your palm feels so natural, domestic, and sweet. You’re tempted to kiss his cheek, nuzzle against his ear, and ask him to take you to bed. But you can’t. You’ll never have that. Instead, you bait him. “I think you’re holding back though, I know you can fuck me harder than that.” 

He scoffs, unamused, blowing a hot puff of air between you. His fingers dig deeper into your thigh, applying the kind of pressure that stirs arousal low in your belly. 

The dark glint in his eye gives you butterflies. “I will, Baby,” his rumbling voice is innately sensual, but the condescension in his tone makes you tingly. You’re so close to him that you can feel his heart beating in his chest, you can feel the same pulse thrumming in his cock, still flush against you as he slants his lower half along yours. He’s all things heavy and firm, strong and sculpted, yet fitting so naturally against you. You need more, wriggling and squirming against him, you can’t contain the restlessness. 

“You know,” he says slowly, drawing your eyes back to his. “You can keep trying to move on, but no one else will ever know you like this. No one else will ever ruin you the way I do. You can tell me you don’t care anymore, but you’ll never let anyone else in the way you let me. They won’t touch that part of you, the one that’s mine—because it’ll always be mine.” 

It trickles through you slowly until your blood feels like it’s boiling. They’re tears of anger now. It’s like a sick double entendre. 

“I know,” your words are steeped in every emotion cascading through you. 

You don’t know if it’s worse that he’s right. That there’s a Lucien-shaped mark imprinted on your heart that will never fade. Or if it’s worse that he doesn’t even know it applies to him just the same. That he always comes back because he’s trying to fill the same void. 

Maybe he does know. Maybe he does know and this is all he can do to make it up to you. 

Maybe that’s why he leads you to your bedroom and lives up to his word. 

Why he fucks you so hard you see stars. Why he doesn’t stop even after he comes deep inside of you with a possessive always gonna be mine. Why he litters your skin with more false promises and confessions. Why he gives you so many orgasms you lose track. 

Maybe that’s why he’s still there when the sun starts to peek through your window. Why he fucks you slowly when you’re too tender and exhausted to take him any harder until you’re floating in limbo between a dream and reality. Why he stays there, just cradling your back into his chest and listening to the rhythm of your breath. 

Maybe he does know. 

PLEASE COME YELL WITH ME ABOUT THIS FICTIONAL GUY BC I NEED HIM IN A SUPER NORMAL WAY or tell me if my writing was incoherent or if you can't relate to the toxic ex that is still the best fuck of your life (cruel and twisted fr)

dividers by @/cyberangel-graphics

tags for the babes that let me annoy them with my thots <3

@lovely-vamp-princess @gothcsz @auteurdelabre @adoreyouusugar @swankyorange @itwasntimethatdidit40 @ivoryandflame

@magneticecstasy @indiegirlunited @syd-djarin

[kinardsevan]

title: kiss me like it's do or die rating: explicit warnings: just straight up PWP, bondage/bdsm summary: Evan’s not sure if he should be scared or excited to find himself in this position today. There’s something to the fact that he’s managed to convince Tommy to go to bed with him again, dominate him again, even if they haven’t fully fleshed out what ‘they’ are.

[thequalityrunaway]

Two mind-linked soldiers, Cloud and Zack, navigate their first long-distance mission. Tied together by Shinra's latest technological project, they struggle to communicate and confront their growing attraction. But when Cloud encounters an enemy mercenary Squall in a forbidden zone during a devastating storm, passion ignites, for all three of them ... "There’s an old saying, ‘pick a constellation, call it home, and look to the stars to find it.'"

[draganwhorror]

Pink Fucks and Flirty Luck

Note: This is a Chet x Reader fic that I decided to write randomly (or not so randomly, as apparently a few people thought Chet needed more love and I felt obliged to do something about it). It's basically porn without plot, so if that's not your jam, then I'd suggest skipping this one.

Also, I'm not 100% sure about this fic. I feel like my interpretation of Chet is, he's a ridiculous, horny alcoholic who likes to make things up either for a good laugh or to see if anyone believes him, but he's potentially a really good/attentive lover. I tried to make his dialogue come across that way, but I did question whether it was too much or too out of character. Regardless, I don't care enough to change it, so...yeah.

Inspo gifs:

The man behind the bar fixing drinks is clearly insane.

“Hey!” he calls as you sit down on a stool in front of the counter. “You wanna Pink Fuck? Easy on the pink?”

He laughs, a silly little giggle that has you rolling your eyes. He probably thought he was so clever.

“Does that line actually work for you?” you ask him, taking your jacket off and draping it over your lap. “Has any woman actually taken you up on that offer?”

The blond man scratches his head, and you make a face, wondering if maybe he had gotten lucky once because the woman he’d hit on had been too drunk to know any better.

"Well, now that you mention it…" he says, leaning in as though he’s about to tell you a big secret. "There was this one time with a pair of conjoined twins. Let's just say things got a little... complicated."

You stare at him for a moment, then let out a snort of laughter as you shake your head at the ridiculousness of it all. This guy is either the world's worst liar or… Well, you don’t want to think about that. Regardless, you find yourself intrigued by him.

"Alright," you say, deciding to play along. "Why don’t you make me whatever your specialty is? And please, for the love of all that's holy, don't call it a 'Pink Fuck'."

He grins, his eyes bright. He looks a little crazy, like he belongs in a white room somewhere. "Well, what else am I supposed to call it? Oh, wait, I know!"

As he moves around behind the bar, mixing together some questionable ingredients, you take in the rest of the place. It's surprisingly clean and well-lit, even if there is some…weird memorabilia scattered around. Your eyes land on a stuffed alligator wearing a tutu tucked behind the bar. Somehow, it fits right in.

The blond bartender sets a bright pink concoction in front of you. It looks like it might glow in the dark if the lights go out, and you vaguely wonder if it might be radioactive.

"Medication time!" he cheers, raising his own glass.

You eye the drink, still unsure about it, and wonder what exactly you've gotten yourself into.

Deciding to give it a go—against your better judgment—you lift the glass and toast the bartender before taking a tentative sip. It’s surprisingly sweet, with a nice burn, although there’s a little bit of an odd aftertaste. Something you can’t quite place.

“Whatcha think?” the man asks, an almost manic grin spread across his face.

“Uh, it’s definitely interesting,” you admit, taking another sip. “What’s in this anyway?”

The man shrugs. “Oh, you know… Some vodka. Some lemonade. Some grenadine. Strawberry liqueur. A dash of nutmeg. Orange zest. And…my secret ingredient.”

You roll your eyes, but you can’t help but smile at his weirdly charming antics.

"So," he starts, leaning on the bar. "What brings you out here to the Elk Lounge? Looking for adventure? Romance? A portal to another dimension?"

He waggles his eyebrows at you, and you laugh. “Just a drink. Maybe some good conversation.”

“Well, I can offer you both,” he says. “Name’s Chet.”

You introduce yourself, and he repeats your name, the sound of it rolling off his tongue making you feel…almost tingly. Or maybe that’s the alcohol. You take another sip of the addictive pink drink, a warm buzz coursing through your veins.

“So, what’s your story?” he asks curiously, sipping at his own drink.

You hesitate for a moment, wondering just how much you should tell this stranger. Deciding it can’t hurt to open up, you say, “Just looking for a change of scenery. Long-term relationship ended a few months back thanks to unfulfilled needs.” You put the last two words in air quotes, rolling your eyes. “Now I’m here.”

Chet nods sagely. “Ah. The ol’ it’s not you, it’s me routine. Been there, done that. Do not pass go. Do not collect $200. Oh, and here’s a restraining order while you’re at it.”

He throws his drink back and slams the glass on the counter. You gaze at him curiously, but he just shrugs and offers you a cheeky grin.

"Your ex’s loss is my gain," Chet says with a wink, refilling your glass without asking. "So tell me… What kind of 'needs' are we talking about here? Emotional? Physical? Metaphysical?"

You feel your cheeks heating up, but whether it’s from the alcohol or his forwardness, you're not sure. “A little bit of everything, I guess," you reply with your own shrug, taking another sip of the intoxicating pink drink.

Chet leans in closer, his brown eyes meeting yours. "Well, it just so happens that I'm excellent at fulfilling needs. All kinds of needs. I once satisfied the cravings of a monk using nothing but a rubber duck and a can of whipped cream."

You snort, almost choking on your drink. Chet’s stories are clearly outrageous, but you find yourself entertained and amused by them anyway. "Is that so? And how exactly did you manage that?"

"That’s a secret," he says, giving you another wink. "But I'd be happy to show off some of my other skills. You know, for science."

It’s not just your face that’s warm and flushed now. You find yourself leaning in closer, drawn to Chet’s chaotic energy.

"And what kind of skills might those be?" you ask, unable to control your curiosity.

Chet's grin widens. "Oh, you know. Mixology. Origami. Tantric massage. Astral projection. The usual bartender skills."

You let out a laugh, shaking your head. “You’re ridiculous, you know that?”

Chet beams. “I may have heard that a time or two before.”

"Well… maybe I'd like to see some of those skills in action," you say, feeling emboldened after drinking the Pink Fuck. "What about mixology? What else can you make?"

Chet's eyes sparkle with a hint of mischievousness. "Oh, I've got just the thing. Just you wait…”

Before you can say anything else, he's already moving around behind the bar, grabbing bottles and shakers with an almost frantic energy. You watch, mesmerized, as he pours and mixes and shakes and stirs.

"Ta-da!" he exclaims, placing a shimmering dark blue drink on the counter. It looks like it’s filled with glitter. "Try it."

You take a sip, and your taste buds explode with flavors you can't even begin to describe. "Holy shit," you breathe. "What's in this?"

Chet smirks, his tone flirtatious as he says, "If I told you, I'd have to kiss you."

Your heart skips a beat. "Well, maybe you should tell me then."

He leans in close, his warm breath brushing against your cheek. "Tequila, blue curaçao, lime juice… and a dash of something special."

Before you can respond to his words, his lips are on yours. The kiss is surprisingly gentle, but it still sends tingles through your entire body. You can taste the sweetness of the drinks on his tongue as it teases yours. Your hands find their way to his hair, running through the frosted blond tips as you moan softly into his mouth.

When you finally pull apart, breathless, Chet's eyes are really dark and filled with desire. "Well," he says simply. "I think we just discovered a new cocktail. I think I’ll call it The Electric Kiss."

You laugh, feeling dizzy from both the alcohol and the kiss. "I think I need another taste," you murmur, pulling him in for one more kiss.

You sigh in pleasure, losing yourself in the feel of his lips against yours, completely forgetting you're in a public bar.

"Mmm," Chet says, breaking the kiss after a moment. "As much as I'm enjoying this, I think we might need to take this somewhere a little more private. Unless you're into public displays? If that’s the case, I know a great spot behind the stuffed alligator."

You giggle, feeling giddy and aroused. "Private sounds great. Got any suggestions?"

Chet grins, that manic look in his eye once again. "Oh, I've got just the place. Ever been to a bartender's secret lair?"

Before you can answer, he's grabbing your hand and leading you towards a door marked "Employees Only." You stumble slightly, the effects of the drinks making you unsteady. Chet catches you, his arm wrapping around your waist.

"Careful," he says, his breath hot against your ear. "Wouldn't want you falling for me too fast."

You roll your eyes at the cheesy line but can't help the tingle that rushes up your spine at his touch. He leads you down a short hallway and up a flight of stairs. At the top is another door, this one unmarked. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a pink fuzzy key, which makes you snicker. He shoots you an amused grin and unlocks the door, pushing it open. “Welcome to my humble abode.”

You step inside, your mouth falling open.

"Wow," you breathe. "This is...not what I was expecting."

The room is relatively normal, save for the random blinking Christmas lights strung all around and what looks like a lava lamp filled with glowing pink liquid.

Chet laughs. “I’m just full of surprises. Now… where were we?”

He pulls you close, his lips finding yours once again. His kisses are surprisingly sweet and soft, and you place your hands on his chest, feeling his heart beating steadily beneath your fingers. He guides you back towards the bed, and you fall onto the mattress with a soft oof, pulling Chet down on top of you.

"So…" he murmurs, nuzzling against your neck. "You got any unfulfilled needs I can take care of?"

You moan softly as his teeth nip lightly at your sensitive skin, tilting your head to give him better access. “Mmm… I, uh… I think you’re on the right track.”

“I aim to please,” he whispers in your ear, his warm breath making you shudder beneath him. “Any…specific areas that need extra attention?”

You blush, but the alcohol in your system is making you bold. “It’s been a while since anyone has… paid attention to… my lower region.”

Chet suddenly moves off of you, a dopey grin on his face. “Say no more! I’ll have you know, I’m something of an expert when it comes to exploring uncharted territories.”

You giggle at his ridiculous comment, but it quickly turns into a gasp as Chet reaches for the button on your jeans, undoing it with surprisingly deft fingers. He unzips them, then slides the denim down your legs as you lift your hips to make it easier for him.

Tossing them to the floor, Chet gazes at you for a moment before crawling back over you, his lips finding yours for another needy kiss. You moan, running your fingers down his back before sliding them up under his gray t-shirt.

Chet moves to your neck again, kissing and nipping, and as he starts to suck on a particularly sensitive spot, you gasp. “God, Chet!”

He chuckles. “It’s just Chet, but I have been called a god before.”

You roll your eyes, but you can’t deny that the man seems to know what he’s doing, even if he is a little odd and has had who knows how many drinks before this.

Chet continues kissing you, and his hands slip under your shirt, pushing it up to expose your stomach. He shifts lower, pressing soft kisses there, making you shiver.

“You know…” he mumbles against your skin, and you know he’s about to say something completely outrageous yet again. “I once made a woman orgasm just by reciting the periodic table. Wanna see if I can do it again?”

“Uh, no,” you tell him with a laugh. “I think I’d prefer a more…hands-on approach.”

“Whatever you wish,” Chet says, kissing your belly before moving a little lower. He slips his fingers beneath the waistband of your panties and glances up, catching the nod you give him as you raise your hips slightly.

He slides them down slowly, and your breath catches in your throat as you’re exposed to Chet’s hungry gaze. He drops them to the floor, staring at you with dark eyes.

“I think I’m going to enjoy exploring this landscape,” he murmurs.

Even though you’re a little nervous and a lot aroused, you part your thighs for him, and he settles between them, his warm breath washing over your sensitive flesh.

Without warning, his tongue darts out, flicking against your clit. You let out a startled cry, your hips bucking against his face. His hands come up to hold you steady, and you fist the sheets, a low moan falling from your lips.

Chet’s technique is almost as erratic and wild as he is. One minute he’s teasing you with light flicks, and the next he’s diving in with unbridled enthusiasm.

“Oh… Oh fuck…” you whimper as he sucks gently on your clit, slipping a finger inside. “That feels…”

Chet pulls away for a moment. “Amazing? Wonderful? Like you’re flying on the wings of a bald eagle through clouds made of cotton candy?”

You snort. “You’re insane.”

“Maybe,” he agrees, lowering his head to continue his ministrations. “But I’m also really good at this, don’t you think?”

Instead of answering, you roll your hips against his face, your head pressed back against his pillow, your hands clenching the bedsheets tightly.

Chet continues to work his magic on your clit, adding a second finger to the mix. You moan, writhing on the bed and panting with need as you feel the tension coiling in your abdomen.

“I’m close, Chet…”

He curls his fingers inside you, sucking hard on your clit, and with a loud cry, you let go, your body shuddering as your orgasm washes over you.

Chet keeps going, prolonging your pleasure until it becomes too much. You push gently at his head, gasping for breath. Chet pulls back, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Did I do a good job fulfilling your needs?" he asks, flopping down next to you.

You're still trying to catch your breath, your body tingling all over. "That was... incredible," you manage to say.

Chet beams happily. "And I didn’t even have to recite the periodic table. Although I still could… if you wanted me to."

You laugh, shaking your head. "You're something else, Chet."

"I'll take that as a compliment," he says, leaning in to kiss you softly. You can taste yourself on his lips, and it only serves to turn you on even more.

Your hand trails down his chest, your fingertips gliding over his belly. You move lower, feeling the hardness of his bulge pressing against his khakis. "What about you?" you ask. "Any unfulfilled needs I can take care of?"

Chet's eyes darken with desire. “I might have something that could use your attention.”

Feeling emboldened by your recent orgasm and the alcohol still buzzing through your system, you ask, "Why don't you show me what needs attention?"

Chet grins as he pushes himself up from the bed. Standing there, he unbuttons and unzips his khakis, pushing them down to the floor. Your eyes widen as you take in the sight of his erection straining against his boxers—which are covered in little rubber ducks, much to your amusement.

"Like what you see?" Chet asks suggestively, wiggling his hips a little.

"The ducks are a nice touch."

"Hey! Don't make fun of the ducks," Chet says, pretending to be offended.

Giggling, you reach out and tug at the waistband of his boxers, pulling them down slowly. When Chet's impressive length springs free, your breath catches. He's certainly well-endowed.

"Wow," you murmur appreciatively.

Chet looks pleased by your reaction. "You know…”

You cut him off, grabbing his hand and pulling him back onto the bed. "Get over here, you goof."

Chet tumbles onto the bed beside you, laughing as he hovers over you. You pull him down for a passionate kiss, your hands gliding down his back. Chet groans into your mouth as you wrap your legs around his waist, grinding against his hardness.

"Mmm, an eager beaver," he says with a chuckle.

Ignoring the double entendre, you mumble, “Can you blame me?"

“No, but…” Chet gently guides your legs from around his waist. “Gimme a sec.”

He reaches over to the nightstand and fumbles in the drawer for a moment before producing a condom.

As he tears open the wrapper, you can't help but notice the bright neon color of the latex. "Is that...glow in the dark?" you ask with a smirk.

"Of course!" Chet exclaims. "Safety first, but make it fun. Plus, it matches my drink special."

Everything out of this man’s mouth is absurd, but that just makes him even more adorable and endearing to you. Though, as he rolls the condom on and positions himself between your legs, all thoughts of glowing condoms and bizarre comments disappear.

Chet pushes into you slowly, giving you time to adjust to his size. You moan, feeling your body stretching to accommodate him, your nails digging into his shoulders.

Chet lets out a low groan as he buries himself fully inside you. "Oh wow," he breathes. "You feel amazing. Like a soft, warm hug for my—"

"Don't finish that sentence," you interrupt with a breathless laugh, rolling your hips, encouraging him to start moving.

Chet takes the hint, starting to move with slow, deep thrusts that have you clinging to him. You wrap your legs around his waist again, pulling him deeper with each thrust.

"Oh god, Chet," you sigh.

"Still just Chet," he answers jokingly, nipping at your earlobe.

“Shut up,” you mutter, your eyes closing as he sets a steady pace. “This feels so good…”

“Did I tell you I once won a rodeo competition riding a mechanical bull? Those hip movements are coming in handy right now."

"Less talking, more moving," you gasp.

Chet’s humor seems to fade away as he shifts slightly, changing the angle of his thrusts, and now he's hitting just the right spot. You cry out, arching your back as waves of pleasure wash over you.

"That's it," Chet murmurs encouragingly. "Let go. Come for me again."

Your body responds to Chet's words and movements, and you can feel another orgasm building quickly. You dig your nails into his back, gasping and moaning as he thrusts into you eagerly, chasing his own release.

"Oh god, oh god," you chant, feeling yourself teetering right there on the edge.

“Nope, j—”

“Don’t you dare say it,” you warn him.

Chet grins, his hand moving between your bodies to find your clit. With a few more perfectly angled thrusts and the added stimulation of his fingers on your sensitive nub, you come, crying out his name as you clench around him. He groans, losing his rhythm.

“Fuck!” he grunts, following you over the edge. His hips jerk as he comes, spilling into the condom.

He collapses on top of you, and you both lie there for a moment, panting and unable to move. Chet presses a soft kiss to your cheek before he carefully pulls out and gets up to go dispose of the condom. When he comes back, he flops down onto the bed, a satisfied grin on his face.

“I’d say that journey into the unknown was a success, wouldn’t you?”

Feeling a little giddy and thoroughly satisfied, you nod in agreement. “Absolutely. Although I think we may need to explore that territory again soon. You know…for science.”

Chet's eyes light up with mischief. "For science, you say? Well, I've always considered myself something of a mad scientist in the bedroom. Ready to experiment?"

You laugh, feeling another tingle of desire race down your spine. "Hmm…tempting. Tell me, Doctor… What did you have in mind?"

[96crewlove]

lesbians rahhh 🤲🏾🩷 link to the series below ⬇️

[godtier]

henlo, megamans ppl, i come bearing two fanfics that tie into my overarching storyline that i started like 4 years ago sobs

(tho no... unfortunately neither of them are the second part because i'm still strugglin thru writing that one out... i'm gomen for anyone who cares)

first fic:

Title: Wherever That Wind Blows, the Destination Is the Same Canon: Megaman X Pairing: none, technically... pre-VAVA/Zero if u squint Summary: Set during the first Sigma-led Maverick Riot and part of the Rekindled fic series, VAVA contemplates the situation he's found himself in while Storm Eagle provides his own observations. They're not exactly wanted. This is basically picking up from where VAVA escapes from Zero's surprise attack at the very beginning of X1. It does tie into my main fic series, but it should be vague/general enough to be readable on its own!

Read it on Archive of Our Own!

second fic:

Title: Down the Beaten Path Canon: Megaman X Pairing: VAVA/Zero Summary: To put it bluntly, this is a "What-If" scenario I wrote as a PWP that takes place during the forest scenes in my fic Unsaid. It's basically just smut for the sake of smut and not canon to the series, so take it or leave it!! I'm not your mom!!

Read it on Archive of Our Own!

lmk what you think! feel free to reblog or w/e! it's been a hot min since i've made content for the fandom (even tho this is just OTP brainrot.....) so i hope someone out there likes it!

[buffyaddict13]

My new fic is called "Just Another Form of Talk."

Dig the great art by @crsinclair.bsky.social