#THE ECSTASY OF SEEING HIM COME TO CARRY ME OFF | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ihavemanyhusbands · 23 days ago

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Bacchanalia

Also on AO3

Pairing: Lucius Verus Aurelius x Fem!Reader

WC: 2.2k words

Summary: At one of Rome's debauched celebrations to the god Bacchus, you and a handsome, masked stranger have a little celebration of your own.

Warnings: MINORS DNI this fit is 18+, smut, porn with no plot, implied orgy (it's happening in the background somewhere lmao), masquerade type setting, oral (m and f receiving), shenanigans with wine, fingering, unprotected p in v (you better not try this at home), creampie, swearing, aaaaand I think that's its but lmk if anything else lol

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The atmosphere was heady, perfumed with sweet violet, myrtle, and the musk of sweat-slick bodies. The air was thick and smoky with incense, giving the vast room a dreamlike quality. The warm flicker of candlelight casted long shadows of writhing forms on the walls, moans and other sounds of ecstasy drifting to your ears as you passed by a couple of curtained siderooms.

Still, nothing really seemed to pique your interest enough to get involved. At least, not yet.

It wasn’t your first Bacchanalia, so you already knew what to expect, but you were even more thrilled at the fact that everyone was wearing a variety of different masks. Even the naked servants carrying trays of wine did not show their faces. Pleasure did not always need a name, after all. Without it, one could be whoever they chose, if only for a few hours.

Your mask was meant to represent Diana, lunar goddess of the hunt. You walked slowly and deliberately through the halls of the estate, doing exactly that, except you weren’t entirely sure what you were hunting for.

You passed an archway that led to the gardens and saw a couple of lovers playfully chasing each other in the moonlight, wearing the faces of nymphs and satyrs. You huffed with amusement, leaving your empty cup on a passing servant’s tray and continuing on your way.

Your eyes skirted past Jupiter who was clearly trying to get your attention, but his disappointment was short-lived as Juno came to lead him away. You sighed, following an instinct that led you down another hallway across the atrium.

And suddenly, rounding the corner, you saw a stag at the other end of the hall – or at least, a man who wore the mask of one. The two of you seemed to spot each other at the same time, freezing on the spot. Time seemed to condense into just that moment, while you assessed one another.

He was tall and statuesque, built like the beautiful Adonis. He wore a loose, artlessly draped toga, revealing most of his lean, muscled torso. The thought of him wrapping those strong arms around you, lifting you or wrangling you into different positions, immediately came to mind. As if he could sense your thoughts, he smiled, an eager invitation to make fantasy into a reality.

You huffed once again in amusement, curiosity finally overtaking you. Like you, he didn’t seem to be accompanied, but that was all the better in your eyes. Something about him seemed to stir your greediness, unwilling to share the bounties of your hunt.

You pantomimed retrieving an arrow from a quiver at your back, notching it to an invisible bow and drawing it back, then releasing it with a splay of your fingers. He reeled back as if struck, clutching the imaginary wound on his chest and falling to his knees. Your chin was raised triumphantly as you stalked towards him, looking down to see a pair of crystalline eyes staring back at you through the holes in the mask.

There was a spark of mirth in them, reflecting your curious desire. You grabbed his bearded chin with one hand and leaned in, your eyes drawn down to the slight heave of his chest. A smirk pulled at the corner of your lips.

“Got you now,” you said, voice low. “Come with me, my trophy.”

You turned to lead him away, glancing back flirtatiously as you let your tunic slip off your shoulder. He scrambled to his feet, following behind as you searched for an empty side room. You beckoned him into the first one you found, slipping inside, and he took some wine from a passing servant before joining you.

The room was darker than the hallway, with only a few candles illuminating one side of it. You let your tunic fall to the ground just as he entered, warm light flickering over your skin. He stood there for a moment, stupefied at both your beauty and your boldness. He felt himself the tribute to an actual goddess, blood already boiling even if he hadn’t even touched you yet.

He approached, raising the cup of wine to your lips so you may drink. His free arm snaked around your waist, pulling your body flush against his. Instead of drinking some himself, though, he raised the cup above your heads and poured the rest of the wine on both of your chests. You gasped, taken by surprise, and he tossed the cup aside carelessly.

He buried his face in the crook of your throat, licking the droplets that had spattered there as you pulled at his toga, clumsily undoing it. His eager tongue lapped at your clavicles and sternum, moving down to the swell of your breasts. But before he could get there, you pushed him back only to get your mouth on him, too.

The wine tasted even sweeter on his skin, especially when you heard the soft little moan in his throat. Unable to resist, you bit one of his pecs, tongue swirling around his nipple. He sucked in a breath, kicking aside the fabric of his toga as it fell to his feet. He gently tugged your head back by your hair, his lips meeting yours ferociously.

You weren’t sure if your head swam from the wine or the kiss, but you submitted to it all the same. His arms enveloped you once more, his tongue dragging over yours, eliciting a soft mewl from you. You felt a sort of frenzy overtake you, the impulse to devour him whole threatening to consume you. Especially as there was a rather pressing distraction between you, bumping against your navel.

You cupped him in your palm, smiling against his lips as his breathing hitched. “Someone’s excited.”

“H-how could I not be?” he rasped, head tilting back as your lips went back to his chest. “Who else can say they’ve been ravaged by the fierce Diana herself?”

You chuckled, flattered at his words. “No one, of course.”

You left a trail of searing, open-mouthed kisses leading downward until you were on your knees in front of him. You kissed one hip bone and then the other, repeating the teasing process with his thighs. His erection pulsed in response, demanding attention. In the low candlelight, you could see a glistening bead of precum on the tip of it, lightly smearing near his belly button.

You flattened your tongue and licked the underside in its entire length. He shuddered, thigh muscles clenching as he resisted the urge to guide your head. You teased the tip with a few kisses, swirling your tongue around it and tasting his arousal. You gripped the base as you took it in your mouth, his deep groan nearly giving you goosebumps.

One of his hands hovered just behind your head as it bobbed up and down, taking more and more until you could feel the tip at the back of your throat. He murmured expletives, his eyes screwed shut. But before he could get too close to the edge, the muscles of his lower abdomen already tense, he pulled you back by the hair as he bent to kiss you.

His tongue invaded your mouth, tasting traces of his precum. Given the mess you’d been making of him, a debauched string of saliva connected your lips as he pulled back slightly to look at you. You grinned, biting your lip, your hand still stroking him. He placed a hand over yours to keep it in place, drawing in a long breath.

“Not like this,” he husked, caressing your cheek with the back of his hand. “Let me have my turn.”

You slightly tilted your head to one side and nipped at one of his fingers playfully. You could feel your own arousal drip onto the floor, more gathering between your thighs. The least he could do was help clean you up.

“Come here, then,” you said, rising.

You had him sit on the floor, his back against the wide couch on the other side of the room. You drew closer, practically cornering him, and propped a foot on the edge of the couch by his head. You enticingly slipped your fingers through your slick folds, feeling his hot breath against your cunt as he lifted his head.

“Fuck,” he groaned, tongue tracing your inner thigh, followed by his teeth. “Sweeter than wine…”

“And there’s more where that came from,” you rasped, fingers threading through his hair so you could press his face against your cunt.

He lapped you up with gusto, using lips, and tongue, and teeth to savor you properly. He gripped your leg for support, keeping you in place at the same time. Your head tipped back as a moan was wrenched from your throat, your hand keeping a tight hold on him. Absently, he stroked the head of his cock ever so slowly, keeping himself teetering on the edge. But he wanted to save it for the best part, when he’d be buried deep inside you, your bodies melding into one another.

Your hips rocked back and forth against his face, seeking the added friction. He moaned against you, feeling like he could stay there for hours, drawing out your honey and worshipping you. Quick little flicks of his tongue against your clit make heat spiral upwards from your navel, your legs beginning to tremble.

You held onto his head as a choked sound escaped you. You gushed on his tongue as you came, a few more erratic drags of your hips to fully ride it out. Your cunt clenched around nothing, achingly empty, but not for much longer. You were still dazed when he decided to take over control, grabbing you by the hips and turning you around to bend you over the couch.

One of his hands pressed your head against the mattress, keeping your hips hiked up. You leaned into his touch as you felt him palming the swell of your ass, making you squeal a little as he bit the supple flesh. He teased the entrance of your cunt with the tips of his fingers, humming pensively.

“Seems like you’re more than ready for me…” he purred, a teasing edge to his tone. “Shall we try it out? Hmm?”

You could only nod desperately, hips wiggling as he pulled back to situate himself behind you. He dragged the head of his cock through your folds, coating himself in your slick, and lined himself up with your entrance.

“Nice and slow,” he said, pushing inside. “That’s it. Oh, you see how you’ve got me? How I’m aching for you?”

You gripped the cushion under you, nearly overwhelmed by the delicious stretch that bordered between pain and pleasure. He felt impossibly deep at that angle, hitting a spot that had your eyes rolling to the back of your skull.

“Gods,” you mewled, voice tight. “You’re so big.”

He chuckled, the sound melting into a low groan as he kneaded your ass with his hands greedily, spreading you to get a better look at his cock sliding inside your cunt. “And yet you’re taking me perfectly well.”

He was in no rush at first, keeping his thrusts shallow until you grew more accustomed to him, enjoying the velvety warmth that enveloped him. You pushed your hips back to meet his thrusts, his grip on them tightening. He was trying hard to stave off his growing pleasure, but you felt so good that he knew he wouldn’t last too long. He murmured praises as the snap of his hips became faster, obeying your pleas to go harder.

“Give me another one,” he pleaded in return, leaning more of his weight on you, pinning you down. “I want to feel you properly this time.”

You didn’t have much choice but to take it as he pounded into you, rough, feral noises escaping him every time he bottomed out inside of you. Your teeth sank into your forearm as you came apart a second time, dark stars dancing across your vision.

He husked an encouraging ‘there we go, there’s a good girl’ close to your ear as he felt you clenching around him, pulling him along into oblivion. He stayed buried to the hilt on his last stuttering thrust, his grip on your hips bruising as he filled you with his spend.

His hand rested on the back of your neck like a mark of ownership, his cock twitching once more at the imagery. But you both needed to recover your strength first, and so he collapsed on the couch as you rolled over onto your side.

You looked at each other for a moment, sharing a soft, exhilarated laugh. He pulled you closer, one arm draped over your waist. In any other instance, with anyone else, this sort of intimacy with a complete stranger would seem off. But there was something about him that made it feel almost natural, and therefore you welcomed it.

“Who ravaged who, in the end?” You joked, making him chuckle once more.

“Let’s call it a tie for now,” he said, fingers tracing your back. “After all, we still have plenty of time to decide who the real victor is.”

You huffed, tracing his lips with your thumb. “Something tells me you think it’s going to be you.”

“Well, if there’s one thing you should know about me,” he said, nipping at your thumb. “It’s that I don’t like to lose.”

“Oh, is that so?” You countered, pushing him onto his back and grinning like the cat that got the cream. “As it happens, neither do I.”

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#lucius verus x reader #lucius verus smut #lucius verus x you #lucius verus fanfiction #gladiator fanficiton #gladiator smut #lucius verus #x reader #minors dni

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zarnzarn · 2 months ago

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TW: jumping on the manwhore au but aftermath, discussion of S/A, read carefully.

Three weeks pass.

Odysseus is carried through them with ecstasy and joy, reuniting and grieving and laughing and rearranging.

But then everything settles down, and-

It was him who'd ordered it. Ordered owls to be carved into every free inch of Ithaka, coveted shipments of the secretive birds for his personal menagerie, sold trinkets in the market. Made no secret of who favoured them, when he had half the houses painted blue.

But now every step he takes in his own home haunts him.

He cannot so much as look to the side before feeling the urge to flinch away, shame growing inside of him until it chokes him up. Cannot look at any owls. Cannot look at any of his men.

("Well, if our captain can't think his way out of it, at least now we know talking filthy works just as well!" One of the men chortles, unaware of how Odysseus' blood had run cold, standing with his hand raised to knock.)

("This day, you've lost it all, consider this as my goodbye-")

("Come on, she's a beautiful, powerful lady! How bad could it really have been, Captain?")

("Captain?" Eurylochus whispers, as Odysseus wipes the blood off his mouth and reaches for his cloak. The ships are silent, even though the roar of the waves has left. Eyes stare at him from all directions, wide and-

Pitying? Horrified? Odysseus can't really tell.

"Full speed ahead," He says, voice ruined, and keeps his chin high as he hobbles back to his room.)

(When the sirens come, all he sees is Penelope. It is nice, at least, to know that he can discard the intrusive thoughts creeping in about natural reactions and forced pleasures.)

("Please- please don't do this, don't make me choose, I'll do anything-")

("Leave me the fuck alone, both of you. If Penelope does not take me back after all of this, it's her choice. But I have to get all of us off this island and it's better me than you.")

"Ody- Your Majesty!" Odysseus reaches into his robes, pulls out the whittling tool and the wood, busies himself as he walks. It's one of the younger men, the ones who'd barely been boys when they left. "Listen, we were wondering if- if you'd come join us at the festival! The- all of the men, really, we've been- heh- missing you since we now have to share you with the rest of the kingdom. We could- we could sing together? Like we used to?"

Athena's prayers.

"You go ahead," Odysseus murmurs, eyes on the carving. "Next time."

"But you didn't come for the last one either!"

"I have-" He hears his own sharp tone, stops and swallows to soften it. He was terrible to all of them, he knows, those last few days aboard the ship, rude and sharp and brutal like all the other royals, where he never was before. "I have work to do. Have a good day. I've heard the new hound stock is coming in today, you should see if you want a pet."

He ignores whatever is said in response, walking on. He wonders, darkly, what they think of him. Do they still think he enjoyed it? That it was a privilege to be had by gods?

("He won't speak to us!" One of them hiss that night, when the lad comes back sniffling and downcast, like all the others. They'd grown up with Odysseus, almost like younger brothers, and all of the younger ones were taking the sudden frigid silence hard. They all were. Somewhere they had lost their friend, left him behind without noticing, until only their king returned. "He cannot possibly think we think less of him for sacrificing so much, for- the gods are impossible to hold up against, he can't think we blame him for-"

"We don't know what he thinks," Polites says, pulling his head out of his hands and wrapping his arms around himself. "He doesn't even look at us."

The men around the fire are all silent.

"He has to know, right?" Someone whispers. "He has to.")

"What did happen on the trip back?" Penelope says, voice quiet, sitting next to him. He jolts. When did he reach their bedroom? "Something did. You have barely touched me since that first day."

Odysseus opens his mouth, but for the first time, he has nothing to say. What can he? She had known, the first second he had turned his eyes from her in shame, and yanked him back in anyway with eyes blazing like a lion, growling that she didn't care what he had to do to come back, as long as he had.

Odysseus doesn't feel like he has.

Penelope carefully takes the whittling knife away from him, as well as the spear he'd carved. "And you have not prayed, after your return."

(He had tried. Had walked right upto the temple steps when everyone was asleep, and then turned around and thrown up in a bush.)

"Have you heard the story of the high priestess Medusa?" He murmurs, staring at the wall. Watches the shadows dancing across. "Athena used to tell me about her. One of her favourite devotees. I never understood why she cursed her, when it was not her fault."

Penelope puts a hand on his shoulder. Both of them are shaking. She has seen the scars, the ones that glow beautiful and bright, left behind by each god who touched him.

"A gorgon, snake-woman, capable of turning anyone she looked upon to stone, gods and humans alike. No eyes upon her, ever again."

The breeze blows in.

"At the time, I thought it to be a curse." He whispers. Remembers the story of the way she had screamed in the temple bower for Athena's help, insane, at the feeling he knows now is violation of self and celibacy both; Athena's chosen, ripped away from one of their ways of worship by force. "Now I know it was a blessing."

"But-" Penelope swallows. "Perseus-"

"Was a mercy." He looks at the ground. "She was pregnant. She did not wish to be. Athena granted her so."

"The shield is to honor her," Penelope murmurs. "Not a trophy."

He hums.

"I-" Penelope starts, voice thick. "I remember when you asked. When we first got married. If I was fine with not being joined with you in bed often, as long as I was satisfied. Was it-?"

"Only her priestesses can have true celibacy, her devotees less, me lesser. I had a crown to continue, so Athena accepted a more lenient vow, when I became her student." He stares out at the sea, the sky. "But I had vowed. I had sworn." A half-sob escapes him, some delayed noise of grief. It feels far away now, and the scars have all healed, but he cannot move past the violation, the stares, the whispers. The shame of betrayal. "I had an oath, Penelope."

"It was not your fault," Penelope whispers, taking his hand like he will shatter like glass. "Poseidon seems to target all of Athena's people. If anything-"

"We fought," He says, turning his head to press his face to her shoulder, shuddering as he confesses it. Abandoned by his own god. "She left. Maybe this is her punishment, all the eyes, all the time. Paranoid that another Olympian will jump out of the shadows, do it again."

"Or," Penelope says after a long pause. "She does not know. Only one way to truly find out."

Odysseus considers.

"Could you," He swallows, throat clicking. "Could you get me- the things from my shrine?"

He does not expect her to actually arrive.

He shakes in front of her, for the first time, feeling small and foolish and broken. Wishes he could go back to being twelve, do it all over correctly. "Lady Athena," He says, as formally as he can. "I beg your forgiveness. Please- please, is there anything I can do to-"

"About time," She interrupts, bored. "Finally willing to concede that I was right?"

Odysseus feels bile rise in his throat. "Yes, goddess. I was- stupid, to ever consider otherwise."

Penelope's hand is clenched tight in his robes, kneeling with him.

"Good," Athena says, pleased. "A war well won, all things considered. Our glory will go down in the history books." A pause. "Why are you on the floor?"

"What?" He chokes out.

"You've never kneeled to me once, even when I've taken you out at the ankles, you impudent brat," She snorts. Odysseus feels his pounding heart freeze in his chest at the- fondness in her voice. Fondness. She is not furious with him, not unforgiving. "What, do you want something else-"

She knocks him on the head, flicking him on the forehead playfully- then freezes as he looks up at her. Goes completely still, and he knows she can see what they did to him.

Penelope's hand reaches out to steady him.

"Only your forgiveness, goddess," His voice breaks. "Only that."

After, Penelope holds him, crying silently herself as she wipes at his cheeks. Athena sits with her head in her hands, helmet removed, anger finally under control but completely silent. Just sits there at the edge of their bed, bent over, face buried in her own palms.

Finally, she straightens, inhaling. Turns to look at him. "You may not be alive to see it," She tells him, quiet and furious. "But this is their last transgression, I swear to you. I will find a way to get revenge. They will die."

"I do not-"

"They will die. And no vows have been broken." She hesitates, hand hovering over his ankle. Odysseus crumbles, nodding desperately, and nearly passes out at the relief of the familiar touch, sharp and cleansing, godly and unlike the chaos of all the others. "You need not apologise to me about that."

He sniffs, turning his face into Penelope's shoulder. It feels freeing, some latent relief that Athena finally sees him, understands, forgives. She is not the terrifying goddess so far removed, cold and cruel, that he was starting to think she truly might be; bowed over in grief and horror for him, like a friend- he just wishes this was not the reason why.

Her eyes are gold at the edges. Crying. Nauseated almost, at the fact that- her uncle. Her father.

"Would you-" Odysseus wheezes. His heart hurts still, for their fight, for what happened after, for how hard he knows she will take it. "Can you-"

"Anything, champion," She says softly, strained. Gives him a half-smile. "My friend."

"The wings-" He whispers, feeling stupid, but-

"Slow," Penelope murmurs, reaching out to steady Athena as she climbs in close. Her voice is wrecked. She does not say anything more.

Owl wings fold around him, not white or blue or pink, patterned and brown like the mud; home. Home.

"No one will see you," Athena murmurs, and her voice is wretched, but caring. "No one can see you. Peace."

"Peace," Odysseus repeats, and leans into them both, letting the darkness shroud around them like an embrace. Peace.

Home.

#odysseus #athena #penelope of ithaca #epic the musical #manwhore au #tw sex assault #medusa #my fic #idk how to explain it but. athenas champion. i feel like he Would in some versions be celibate in worship as well yknow

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babyfoxflower · 3 months ago

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The One That Outsmarted Him

Human! Alastor x Fem! Reader Oneshot

Warnings: 18+, MNDI, Yandere! Alastor, Murder, Blood, Kidnapping, Groping, Implied Noncon

You.

You were the only person to ever escape Alastor ‘the Bayou Butcher’ Hartfelt. It was honestly slightly humiliating that the one to outsmart him was a silly girl. A petite woman who he could have easily overpowered and slit her throat. What a pretty little throat yours was.

Once the humiliation wore off though. Alastor started having different feelings about you. Admiration, respect, and strangely, for him, infatuation. In other words, he was in love with you. You were going to be his. Whether you wanted to or not. He’d track you down, chain you up so you couldn’t escape, and love you for the rest of his life. Even if you managed to escape, he’ll just hunt you down again.

Alastor hummed as he opened his trunk, in there laid a brown sack that squirmed around and made muffled panic noises.

“Someone wake up from their nap? Don’t worry, ma Cherie. You’ll be out soon,” he cooed as he stroked his large hand over the outline of a human body.

He hoisted the sack over his shoulder before closing the trunk. He carried it all the way down to his basement, where there was a comfy queen sized bed with a chain ready for his darling.

He gently dropped the bag onto the bed, causing a little bounce. He opened it up and there you were, looking so adorable and confused.

“There she is,” he chuckled as he pulled you out of the sack.

Your hands and feet were bond and there was a gag keeping you from speaking. As soon as you saw who your captor was, fear consumed you and you started to fight the best you could in your state.

“Now, now, I’ll untie you. Just let me get the chain.”

Alastor picked up the chain that was attached to the wall and placed it as gently as he could on your neck before clamping it closed. It had enough room for you to breathe but was still sturdy enough to make sure you weren’t going anywhere.

He then untied your wrists and ankles before removing the gag.

“Please, don’t kill me! I didn’t tell anyone about that night!” You cried out.

“Shhh,” Alastor placed his finger to your lips, “It’s alright, my love, I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Then why did you bring me here?”

Memories flashed back of you coming in the station after hours to get something you left behind. You heard something in the recording room. Curiosity got the better of you and you entered only to see the famous radio host who happened to also be your employer stabbing a man to death.

The smile, the horrid smile that was on his face as he carved into the unknown man. Just the pure ecstasy Alastor was clearly experiencing from such an atrocious act. It was so terrifying that you nearly fainted. However, all you could do was stand there motionless, face twisted in terror.

Once the man was dead, Alastor laughed, “Thank you for the entertainment, ol’ chum.”

He began cleaning his glasses with his handkerchief, his face still covered with the crimson liquid. When he put them back on, he turned and saw you.

“Oh dear, looks like we have a little witness. Y/n, you just had to show up at the wrong time,” He tsked.

“Please, Mister Hartfelt…” was all you could manage to say.

“I try not to make it a habit of killing women, but I guess in this case I have no choice. Sorry, Sweetheart. But, hey, I’ll make it quick. You’ll barely feel a thing,” he said as he approached you.

Tears started streaming down your cheeks, “Please, don’t kill me. I won’t tell anyone.”

“A real shame, you were such a hardworker and quite a charming lady,” he raised his knife.

Out of desperation, you did the one thing you could think of in that moment, you kissed him. Alastor took a step back, shocked. Out of surprise, he dropped his knife. You seized the opportunity and ran away. You escaped with your life.

Now what could he possibly want with you? It was true that you didn’t tell anyone about that encounter. You only quit by letter and never went back to that radio station again.

“I brought you here, ma Cherie, because I love you,” Alastor pressed his lips against yours.

“What!?” You said into the forced kiss.

He reluctantly pulled away, “I love you and I’m going to keep you forever.”

“What!?”

“I assure you that you will be safe and provided for, my love,” he smiled tenderly as he brushed a piece of hair behind your ear.

The look on his face was of a smitten schoolboy. Pupils dilated, face flushed.

“How can you love me? You hardly know me. I worked for you but it’s not like we ever talked much. Not mentioning that you tried to KILL ME!”

“I know, but that was in the past. Let’s focus on the future instead,” he wiped your remaining tears away, “I love you and will never hurt you now or ever. That’s a promise.”

Suddenly, he lifted you up and laid you down so that your head was on the pillows. You let out a squeak that he found absolutely adorable. He took off his leather gloves and let his hands explore your body.

“What are you doing?”

“I apologize, I just couldn’t resist getting to touch my bride,” he said before cupping your breasts in each hand.

“Bride!?”

Alastor ignored your outburst and forced you into another kiss. His hands massaged your chest. He moaned at the feel of you underneath him, how soft you were. The fact that you were all his now, oh, he was going to savior this moment.

He held you down as you kept trying to push him away. How cute, you were playing hard to get. He continued to kiss you until you eventually kissed him back, you didn’t want to but it seemed like he wasn’t going to stop until you did.

A string of saliva formed at the bottom of each of your lips as he pulled away, “Let’s get these clothes off, shall we?”

“Wait, I’m a…”

“A what, my love?”

“A virgin.”

You regretted saying that as it only seemed to make him even more aroused. He licked his lips even. A hunger rose from deep inside of him.

“Oh. Isn’t that lovely? I get to be the first and only man to make love to you,” he smiled a slightly psychotic smile.

“Wait!” You pleaded as he began removing your dress.

He suddenly stroked that special place between your legs which led you to moan uncontrollably. Your body betrayed you.

“Don’t worry, ma Cherie. I will be gentle. I promise,” he gave you a reassuring kiss before unbuckling his belt.

#tw: noncon #alastor x reader #alastor x female reader #alastor x y/n #alastor x you #alastor smut #human alastor x reader #human alastor x female reader #human alastor x y/n #human alastor x you #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x female reader #hazbin hotel x y/n #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel smut

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dilftaroooo · 1 year ago

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Being perverted strikes naturally within Gojo, so when the idea of being a step brother comes to mind during sex he can’t help but act upon the roleplay. You think he’s gross for it, but his questionable passion for it keeps you engaged (oddly enough).

☆word count: 6.3k+

★tags/tw(18+): dark content + stepc*st roleplay + foot f*tish + toe sucking (f!recieving) + dubcon (because reader is unsure at first) + reader is college-aged/gojo is 28 + squirting + age gap + vanilla sex + pubic hairs + scent kink + implied ass eating + hesitancy + reader is afab using she/her pronouns + mentioned latex kink + use of 'satoru-nii' + established relationship + gojo is a lil' mean + and sassy + lots of kissing + nipple play + creampie + getting caught having s*x + exploring kinks + praise kink + pet names + skull fucking + gag reflex + snot + we're talkin' 'big beefy whore with black compression shirt' gojo here + reader is a bit inexperienced + questions of certain kinks.

☆a/n: hey alexa, play 'poundtown by sexyy red' ayyye come suck a bitch's toooes. enjoy y'all, this shit nasty af.

You’re not a kink shamer.

You understand the sexual thrills of getting off to something that turns one on to the point of fulfilled ecstasy–weighted breaths and skin coated with a sheen of sweat from the unorthodox fantasies that provoke the human mind and manipulate the human body, keeping them bound to the shackles of pleasure as their perversion engulfs them whole. It feels beautiful–ethereal, dare you say, and you get that. Who wouldn’t want to feel blissfully satisfied just by mere thought alone?

Now, exclusive of the deranged fetishes involving children, scat, or whatever fucked up shit out there that's befitting for a lowlife, you would say that you're a pretty open-minded individual. Always tolerating the naughty anecdotes told by your friends’ concerning their past hookups, distinctively remembering the giggles you all shared when reciting one of the stories from a particular friend that had them clad in a latex suit, lips decorated with ruby red, and three-inched heels coming into contact with the cheek of their previous partner as they squirmed in shameless arousal.

‘It was pathetic to see, but I’d be a liar if I said it didn’t get me going…’ And that mutuality between both parties is what makes it even more fun. They both get a kick out of something they enjoyed, so what’s to hate about it?

You’re not a kink shamer–not at all.

You and your boyfriend of a year and four months, Satoru Gojo, always carried the qualities of a couple depicted in unrealistic romance movies: the nuzzle of the nose that tickled your cheek before delving in for a peck, the surprise hugs he’d startle you with as you prepared an early morning breakfast, as well as the intertwined fingers while you both make your way to his favorite bakery (his kisses are even more sugared after scarfing down the kikufuku he’d order no more than a minute ago).

You always felt like the princess to his prince, stumbling over your gown to keep up with his hurried footsteps as you both venture through the gracious evergreen of a mythical forest. You have no time to remove the pastel violet and pink petals slotting themselves in your locks since your hand remains occupied with Satoru’s, moving exquisitely to the melodic song of the nightingales. It was a dream from a childhood storybook.

Moreover, what was revealed in public was, undoubtedly, the same in the comfort of your bedroom, living at your university’s on-campus apartment that you shared with two indifferent roommates. He would frequently stop by after work to spoil you with his affection. Always asking how your day was and whether or not you finished your assignments.

He was a tad bit older than you–twenty-eight and going, but you didn’t mind the age gap, it gives you all the more reason to tease him for his ‘old’ age, to which he responds with a pout and furrowed eyebrows, ‘Oh, how mean! Who would’ve ever thought that my darling angel could be such a devil…?!’ He’d say with faux anguish. He knows you’re only playing around–such the jokester.

Though, he couldn’t say the same for you in bed. Protected by the warmth of your sheets, you relished at how accustomed your body and soul were to his heartfelt transactions, vanilla-flavored sex, so sweet and tasteful on your tongue as he kissed you with want. Tongues twirling a sensual dance as your lips combine in rhythmic harmony. You also loved it when he coos in your ear, reminding you of how you’re so good to him before wrapping his lips around puffy areolas in a way that makes you writhe.

He’s so gentle with you. Handling a fine china cabinet with the utmost care, he makes sure he touches you in ways that wouldn’t break your fragile body. And when your nude skin presses against his as a result of his thrusts to your core, he reminds himself to get you moaning in his ear and get your hands gripping against the muscular curvature of his back.

It feels good. It always feels good. So, why does a part of you feel…bored?

The love is there, you won’t question that. When you come, you feel as though you’re one with the stars. And above all, he praises you. It’s nothing new, but in this context, you like to be his ‘pretty girl’ whenever the tip of his nose pushes against your wet clit. So, why do you feel like something is missing? You don’t know.

You haven’t been in many relationships. The last one you remember was in high school, dating a boy who only loved you out of teenage fever, and you shamefully admit that you reciprocated his confession. You were both young and unknowing of what the aspects of ‘love’ really meant. You never went past the boundary of hand-holding and cheek-kissing, so it remained stagnant until the moment you both broke up.

None of it was mutual, however. You can recall how distraught you were as you bawled in your mother’s arms, asking her what you did wrong while she soothed you with maternal pets to the crown of your head. That being said, it’s safe to say that you really don’t know what’s missing from you and your boyfriend’s intercourse–like, really.

But, thankfully, Satoru makes up for what you lack, telling you not to fret since he knows a lot and letting you know how much he’s been wanting to get to this point of intimacy with you–wanting to whisk his girlfriend away from the comfort zone that you’ve grown so attached to.

Satoru is without exception, enthusiastic to portray more during times of intercourse, yearning to teach you more than just the fluffy, domestic sex you both indulge in. It’s lovely and all, bleh bleh, whatever, Satoru gets it, but, man, what he wouldn’t do to see you on your knees, between his sinewy thighs parted for your form as he hovers above you, your head tilted upwards to take in his thick shaft through wet lips.

He’d make sure his red, throbbing tip hits the back of your throat so he can hear that sickening gag scurry out your mouth paired with the sloppy froth of your saliva slapping against his heavy balls with each quick thrust. He’d be too occupied to find the snot dribbling from your nose revolting because you’d be taking him in so deep.

That’s forever been his little fantasy–that amongst the vast amount of others. And to try each and every one of them with you would be a delight.

After you confessed to Satoru, you couldn’t help but notice how peculiar his ministrations started to get. It was gradual–starting with spanks on your ass to eating said ass. You’ll even bring up the time he used your feet to get off. It caught you off guard, you’d admit.

That day he had you pliable–on your knees with the left apple of your cheek flushed in the pillow beneath you and arms resting idly on your sides as you allowed your enthralled boyfriend to take the lead.

You assumed he was just gonna spit on your already-soaked pussy before massaging your puffy clit in the teasing, clockwise motions he likes to test you with, cock oozing with leakage before languidly gliding upwards to push in-between your cunt lips, but what you didn’t assume he’d do was trace his slimy precum against the soft skin of your toes to then rub his tip across your soles.

You tried to retract your feet away from him (toes wiggling in the process which had them accidentally graze across his balls. You could’ve sworn you heard him hiss) and protest his weird behavior but Satoru was already three steps ahead, firmly gripping both feet and nearly squishing them together if it wasn’t for the thick base of his cock preventing them from touching.

Each thrust he made ached with raw fervor and fuck him from being incapable of suppressing his passion because he couldn’t help but look down and see your cute pussy pucker and asshole twitch. What a sight for sore, cerulean eyes. Just as sore as your ass after he slapped it with an ever-so-firm hand, silently thanking his calluses for the rough impact.

He found it adorable how your shimmering entrance craved for insertion, winking rhythmically at him as though it’s saying, ‘Please fill me up, ‘toru! ‘M so lonely without you…’ (he chuckles to himself at the personification when done in a high-pitched tone).

But your pussy always gets his attention. You have another hole too, ya’ know–one that sits right above it, unused and virginal. Just imagine his excitement as he leans forward, cock still buried at the innermost part of your feet, to take a closer look. He’d smile at your coyness when you felt his hot breath blow on your skin, unsure of his next move.

In this new position, he can trace the faint smell of sweat emerging from you, and God, does that turn him on. More than it already does. So of course he had to steal a taste, trailing a fat strip of saliva against the rim, you squeal at the warm and wet feel of his tongue touching a place it had never been before,

“S-Satoru…what the fuck!” You jolted before moving from your position, migrating to any spot as long as it's far from your lover. You’ll never forget the sleazy look on Satoru’s face as both corners of his rosy lips tilt upwards for a cocky grin–yuck.

It grossed you the fuck out.

Not in a way that antagonizes your boyfriend, you love him too dearly to feel as such, but in a way that questions his morals. Why on earth would someone like Satoru want to be minimized to using the bottom of your soles for pleasure or savor the briny taste of sweat that builds up around the tight ring of your ass? I-I mean, you excrete from there, for God’s sake! That’s gross, especially in a place where the sun doesn’t shine.

You understand that he likes doing it, but why? How could something so perverse and dirty get him hard so quickly? Where’s his shame? His humiliation? His guilt? Were they not present whenever he sneaks a lick at your toes?

Perhaps you are trying to understand–who wouldn’t want to indulge in their lover’s feet, to caress the tough surface of their heels, and lead up their toes, to draw soft lines against them with plush lips as their medium before dipping them inside the wet cavern of their mouth and sucking the small digits before swirling their tongue and–ugh!–no! No, no, no, that’s sick! How can one do such a thing with ease? You can’t possibly imagine that.

But you’re not a kink shamer…right?

Your question remains unanswered, though, as you’re interrupted by Satoru’s moistened kisses trailing down the curve of your neck. You must’ve been in your daze for quite some time considering that the camisole top and loose shorts you lounge in took their positions on your bedroom floor.

“Come back to me, baby.” You hear your boyfriend murmur and you deliberately oblige by running your digits through the white sea of his mane, wild and free as your fingers feather against his roots. He hums with love before leaving a kiss that's sloppier than the previous one. It starts with your usual routine, with soft and tenderhearted sex.

He pecks at your clavicle and you whimper in return as silvery lashes tickle the most sensitive areas of your skin. The passionate atmosphere continues to flow within the four walls of your room–containing your moans and your kisses and your touches, reverberating them in your heated figures while filling you both with distinct pleasure. It was good so far.

“Have any ideas in mind for tonight, sweetheart?” His voice is muffled as he joyfully sucks at the skin between the valley of your breasts, teeth clasping over the hot flesh to induce a mark darker than what your skin tone provides. You hold onto the fabric of his black shirt, soundlessly wondering why he is still garbed in unbreathable polyester while you remain bare save from your panties.

Lolling your head to the side in thought, you dwell on his question. Should you have something in mind? This isn’t the same as getting asked where to eat for dinner, per se. And owning to your inexperience with sex and fetishes, you’re incapable of bringing anything to the table in this sense.

You open your jaw, mouth filled with saliva due to the raunchy actions performed by your boyfriend onto your supple body, ready to speak your retort as you lick your chapped lips in preparation, but, Satoru knows you better than you know yourself.

“Yeah, I know you don’t,” It’s like he was born to study you. Your eyes travel to his person again, orbs resting upon Satoru’s scalp as you wait for him to finish. “Nothing in that gorgeous head of yours. It’s okay, though. I don’t blame you. I know an amateur like you wouldn’t have anything planned.”

As might be expected, your brow raises at his comments slightly glazed with a patronizing drip, it’s gotten your attention, all right, as you turn your head to glare down at him. He’s sucking on your nipples this time and you forge a jerk but don’t falter, perked up by this newfound attitude from your loving partner.

“Oh?” You start and it carries the same uppity weight as his tone. “And I suppose you have it all figured out?”

He nods right after gazing up at you with arctic globes saturated with a heavy rush of sincerity and you can already feel the dreamy sigh materializing in your throat but never emerging. Satoru immediately sniffed out the indignance behind your words like a trained bloodhound. He rises from his spot upon your heaving chest to travel his way to the swoll of your chin, apologizing with a quaint kiss.

“I do,” His smile is affectionate. “You know I always do, sunshine.” You gasp once something hard nudges against your squishy thighs before poking the outermost part of your panties.

“-Always think of something for that little cunt.” It isn’t long before it's cast to the side for clear access to your glimmering slit, doused in slick because your boyfriend had a remarkable way of handling you. He didn’t miss the embarrassed mewl of his name when he used filthy words.

He also didn’t miss the pull of air you took in as his thick finger swept up your bodily remnants, coating the fingertips of his middle and ring finger. You voluntarily buck your feeble hips in desire for him to push through your entrance but you know he wasn’t going to give it to you that easily. “You know, it gets me going when we do stuff like this when others aren’t around–when we do something so forbidden.”

What–?

“Forbidden…?” Each syllable muddles your tongue as you ponder on its meaning: something that typically isn’t allowed or accepted–you’re not unaware, it’s a simple word, but is that the word he meant to say? “Why would it be forbidden? You’re my boyfriend, are you not?” Unless there’s something you’re unknowing of.

Perhaps he has a wife that he kept hidden in the shadows of his past. What if one wife turned into several wives? Maybe he’s a bloodthirsty murderer, ready to indulge in his next killing after getting you to trust his charming blue eyes and pink-liped smile. You don’t exactly know what the forbidden aspect of it all that he’s keeping from telling you-

You hear him ‘tsk’ and you assume it was meant to be taken seriously but it seems covered in mockery.

“Hah, Boyfriend? Have you no shame?” And he chuckles deep and grimy. “Don’t act like don’t know, dear.” You honestly don’t. “What would our parents think if they saw you, my sweet, little sister, grinding her greedy pussy against her older brother’s fingers?”

Oh.

Oh God.

Gritting your teeth for an evident cringe, you hurriedly toss your head to the side to break eye contact (how did he even manage to hold it for that long despite what he just said?!). There’s no way he’s doing this. Out of all kinks…

“For the love- Satoru. Stop, that’s fucking-” A sharp whine halts your sentence, stressed to the point of exaggeration. You don’t bother looking back up at him, already imagining his brows creasing with complaint at your disgusted remark.

“Ehh, what happened to ‘Satoru-nii’?” You almost would’ve forgotten the fingers sketching light circles on your sensitive button, going in for a pinch before tapping it aimlessly due to its slippery surface.

You clench your thighs together but Satoru’s heaping form prevents you from doing so. He’s a big mass of muscle reminiscent of a bull–broad shoulders along with thickened veins peeking through tough skin in the forms of streams, carrying the pulsing blood flow of adrenaline and transporting through each significant section of the body to energize his raging carnality.

“Are my fingers dwindling your vocabulary already? I just started using this pussy, sugar plum.”

A part of you wanted to believe he was joking–trolling like he usually does on literally every occasion. He knows how acquiescent you were in situations like these. So easily obedient to follow his golden rule when clinging to his hip, taking full advantage of your attributes to get you to do the perverted shit that spoiled his brain to corruption.

Of course, there’d be times when you’d retaliate, shouting out a brief ‘no’ before leaving the conversation unfinished, but it’s okay because he can butter you up to your good side. Use his words and his hands to do the convincing. Satoru has attributes of his own too.

But gazing into his eyes and seeing how aquatic blue dissolves into crimson red, only driven by lust, tells you he’s serious.

You look off to the side once more because staring at your nightstand is more soothing than staring at your deviant boyfriend. Out of all kinks, why this one?

“I don’t,” You close your eyes in an attempt to rid yourself free from his piercing glare. “I have no clue what you’re talking about.” You weren’t about to do this. You weren’t about to play into his wicked fantasies of being a relative of any sort. That doesn’t sound appealing at all.

“Don’t be like that, babe.” He mutters softly as if other people were in the room, prying with open ears to catch whatever dialogue is being transmitted between the two of you. A fingertip taunts at your sloppy entrance, just barely shoving past its tight grip. Sexual anticipation surged through your core at his ministration (his giggles at your hopelessness didn’t help you any). “You won’t know unless you try. Come on, do it for me?”

He’s too cute to refuse when your peripherals pick up his bottom lip raising upwards for a pout and feather-like lashes fluttering over glossy, blue orbs. Practically, begging you to follow through with this look alone–if only he wasn’t so handsome and used his charm against you in every way possible. God damn it-

“You’re sick, you know that?”

“Then you’re my antidote.”

You exhale in defeat since you unfortunately realize there’s no way out of this. Satoru’s too adamant to get you to play along with him, it’s insane. Turning your head to fully face him, which feels like the one-millionth time you’ve done so, you look him in the eye before aiming at the button of his nose, upturned and perky. Mentally getting ready to produce the God-forsaken words you are about to utter.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” You start and the way Satoru’s face lights up like a kid on Christmas irks you.

You still feel mortification swirl in your skull like second nature. Your cheeks feel hot and it hurts–were you really about to do this?

Satoru was still teasing you to no end. Teasing that doubtlessly wet pussy with expertise. He was killing you by not giving you what you craved, only remaining on the surface as he waited for your verdict. Just one more push, one more shove and you’ll get there.

“And why is that?” He inquires.

Your bottom lip quivers with hesitation before an erotic groan escapes you. He’s so close to putting them inside. “Because you’re-” You pause to wait for a sliver of courage to finish your sentence. You’re not sure if you can-

“...I’m?” He continues.

You both catch on to the shaky breaths you’re letting out, two separate bodies feeling two separate emotions, one agitated and the other electrified.

“You’re my,” You tense but Satoru loosens. “-my b-brother.” He’s the Cheshire cat as of now. You wail once two fingers invade your thirsty hole, entering with a mushy squelch.

“And what is it that we’re doing, huh? What is it that we’re doing that would be so revolting to the public eye, hm? Tell me.” Can he stop pushing you already, for crying out loud?

“You fingering my, my,”

“You got it, keep going.”

“...fingering my p-pussy.”

Satoru cherishes your hesitance and rewards you, his obedient puppy.

Digits curl upwards in search of that sensitive g-spot resting amongst your gushy insides. If applied enough pleasure, he’d be able to see how your back arches off your cotton sheets. Your mouth opens for a silent scream as the force of his fingers supports the buildup of liquid passion, pounding the area in addition to his palm rubbing your stiff clit the deeper he goes.

“There you go, my sweet girl, my gorgeous, little sister.” He fingers you harder and sucks at your erect nipples–when did they get so hard? As a matter of fact, when did your body feel so hot and needy? As though you’re deprived of something.

Your boyfriend sucks at your tit before biting the small nub, grazing his teeth along sensitive skin for a chomp, causing your hands to fly to his head and grip the fur of his undercut, all while wincing in pain. He retracts his head with your nipple still in his mouth, giving it a stern tug like an elastic rubber band. You would have cursed him out if it wasn’t for the fingers still beating at your nether regions.

“Ah, S-Satoru!” He bites harder and you remember his request from earlier. “Satoru-nii.”

As if you hear a winner's buzzer, he hums in approval and releases before gorging his lips around the other one, gently guzzling it this time, skillfully whirling his wet appendage around the nub in combination with hungry sucks. He unloosens with an obnoxious, wet pop!

“M’so glad your mom married my dad. If it wasn’t for that, I wouldn’t be able to take care of my little sister’s pussy like how I’m doing now. Wouldn’t that be so sad?!” He inquires gleefully. “I’d be so miserable–jerking myself off to meaningless porn when I could be stuffing my big dick deep inside your aching cunt. Hearing you moan out how much you love your older brother for making you squirt your sticky juices all over me. You even got your hairs trimmed in the way you know I love.”

The sound of fabric grinding against fabric fills your ears as he maneuvers his head to reach down to your pelvis, stuffing his nose on top of the shortened pubes, his mouth hangs dangerously over your clitoris.

He takes in a deep breath like he’s smelling the fresh air of healthy trees and freshly cut grass, basking in your heady scent while feeling his cock go rigid in the plush of your mattress.

Too aroused to feel embarrassed, you buck your hips so you can finally get his mouth on your itching button and he finally compels, switching between sucking in your clitoral hood and tonguing your labia. Satoru moves his fingers faster in hopes of provoking your climax. He knows your proximity by noting the way your thighs tremble and toes spread across your sheets.

You finally get to the stage you’ve been craving since the beginning of this session. Releasing your fluids onto your awaiting boyfriend, the grip at the nape of his neck more powerful than before, you squeal a brief ‘Satoru-nii!’ as he proceeds to lap at your overstimulated pussy. He’s now sparkling with your juices. Satoru sits up on his knees after wrapping his buff arm around the width of your shoulders to hoist you up and get you closer to his thighs, your figure remains seated as you process what he wants you to do–he wants you to suck him off.

So you lean your sweat-stained face over his clothed member and unwrap it like a Christmas present you’d save for last because it's so big. His cock springs up rudely and smacks at his now naked abdomen (when did he take off his shirt?) with a loud clap. His abs are so detailed and his pecks puff out in pride while he looks down on you, like his little servant.

He controls the length of his cock with a stern hand and traces ivory white lipstick over the plump of your mouth, a hazy web of precum connecting to your upper lip.

“Wrap those beautiful lips over my cock, darling angel. You know it makes me happy to see you stuffed full with my dick, no matter the hole.” He cheeses when he hears a quick scoff come out of you.

You listen anyhow, swallowing the tip of your big brother’s rod, hallowing your cheeks like a skeleton to circling your tongue around its rosy circumference. You feel your remaining cum dribble onto your bed when you hear him make a guttural moan from above. Clenching his ass cheeks as fingers place themselves on top of your head like an armrest, laying idly as of now.

“Oh shit, baby, yeah, just like that. Keep sucking me off juuust like that.” He bucks his hips impatiently once you decide to devour him up to the mid-base, continuing the actions of sucking in your cheeks to tighten around his cock. “Fuck!” He mewls before chuckling humorlessly.

He stares down and you look up. Your eyelids roll back til they’re just below your brow ridge to catch sight of azure undertones. You were just about to wonder why he was tittering until pressure made its way to both sides of your head. When his pearly white smirk twinkled under dim lighting, that's when you knew-

“Hmphh,” The noise was pitiful when subdued by the heavy weight of Satoru’s cock.

“Hold still, pretty girl.” He coos before pushing his hips back and applying the same manner to your head as he controlled you effortlessly and then thrusting forward and forcing your head to do the same. His balls slap on impact with your chin when he buries himself deep into the hot cavern of your throat, you have your nostrils planted on the silvery wisps of his pubes, reeking of potent masculinity. He leaves you in that position, powerless as he ignores the smacks to his meaty thighs.

“Hold it,” He warns. His voice is pitched below the Earth’s surface. “Gotta teach you how to please big bro properly.” You fight hard as his tip keeps irritating the thing that hangs at the back of your throat, trying to oppose your body from naturally activating your gag reflex but it ends up being fruitless. Your throat convulses as it bulges with his cock print and you cough out an ugly sound. Your vision blurs once you feel your eyes start to water up. You want him to move back already!

“Good.” It’s like he heard your thoughts because he finally retracts from his perfect spot lodged in your gullet. His swollen tip tickles the surface of your lips as you gasp several breaths of air. Just what was he thinking? You could’ve puked!

“What the hell was- mmph!” Halted by another intrusion of his cock burying itself in the pits of your throat, you muffle out a sound of surprise. You couldn’t believe it.

Satoru starts, “Less talking from you, sunshine. I wanna hear you slobber on my dick. Think you can do that for me?” He quickens up the pace of his thrust, going at the speed of someone walking. You gag disgustingly at each thrust and you can feel snot starting to leisurely slip from your nose (just what he wanted to see).

“That’s a messy girl, my messy sister. Got you, hah, so worked up you even got snot dripping from your nose and your spit running down my balls. Oh, you don’t know how much I longed for this.” He resumes his praises and tips back his head for a howl, feeling himself approaching his end as he hears you glurg, glurg, glurg on his veiny member.

“Oh shit, shiiit…!” Suddenly, you’re abruptly pushed off of him, freeing your esophagus from the restraint. Your back lands on the bed with a thud, your landing protected by your doughy comforter. Satoru stands motionless as he recovers from edging himself to oblivion. Biting his lip, his cock twitches up and down before it gradually remains unmoving.

You don’t even remember it happening, but you’re already restricted underneath Satoru’s panting body, thighs folded backward for a mating press, squeezing your squishy tits together, and feet perched on top of his shoulders. He takes his infamous spot between your legs, his overworked hands, decorated in calluses and scars, cuff around the underside of your knees.

He gifts you a heated kiss on your lips. “‘Toru-nii-” You say while struggling to keep up with his tongue. He breaks away from you and the string of saliva snaps into two.

“I hear you, baby, want me inside you already, I know, hear you loud ‘n’ clear.” His tip finds your entrance and it's sopping wet tenfold. He’s never seen you so needy in his life. He pushes in slowly and smoothly. Relishing your moans as he delves within you inch by inch, his thick cock stretching you out deliciously. You squirm in lascivious desire each time he enters you.

“I know, sugar, I know…” He soothes you upon hearing your sobs go up an octave. His head rests at the empty spot next to your neck and his hair tickles the crevice. “Almost there.”

As soon as he sinks deep in your warm cunt, he pecks your cheek with a softness that resembles duck feathers in a pillow before plummeting into you. A pornographic squelch resounds through your room.

“Hnn, T-Toru-nii is, so deep, ah, in my pussy!” You yelp. He’s so glad you’re still following his gross footsteps. So dazed by his cock hitting every ridge nestled within you.

“Yes, that’s right, little sis. And you’re gonna be a good girl and take it for me, right?”

You give a nod, “Yes, I will. I always will. Just f-for you.”

“Mmm, that’s right. That’s what I like to hear.”

He inclines his torso backward, finding his attention on the feet placed at each side of his shoulders, more specifically, the one to his left as he grabs your ankle with ease, stroking the bone and putting your pedicured toe between wanting lips, your french tips hitting the roof of his mouth while lapping at your salty skin.

His pelvis hammers into you at a steady rate in combination with the gushes emerging from both sexes, it's so damn loud, you’re quite sure your Resident Assistant will come banging at your door frantically, telling you to lower it down because of the noise complaints that lead to your room.

You giggle, not just at the thought but at how much it tickles to feel Satoru’s tongue swirl around each toe.

“Satoru, that tickles.” You quip and the aforementioned man stares at you with knowing lids, purposely tasting your soles which have you trying to take your foot away, but the position you’re in makes it impossible.

You feel as though hours go by as your older brother pushes on with fucking you silly and having a makeout session with your foot. His v-line collides with your poor pussy on every steady beat and you can’t help but let your earlier accusations fall from your mind like slippery soap.

The revulsion, the distaste, the discomfort–all of which were confined in a silk-woven case, trapped and compacted hitherto its evolution of approval. Although tentativeness plagues its cycle, the result remains beauteous as a cherry red butterfly protrudes through the rotten surface of the cocoon. The successful escapee finally swarms the sky with a setting sun.

It feels good. You feel good. Your pussy feels good as your step brother pounds it with intent–with purpose. You wiggle like a fearful worm ready to be eaten once the need to release creeps up slowly.

“My little sister always manages to feel so good. This pussy is just gripping me so fucking tightly and-” He stops abruptly and so do your moans as you hear your front door creak open.

The sound of jiggling keys and the chaotic trembling of plastic bags alert both your ears as you hear the door slam shut accompanied by a relieved sigh. You glance at the digital clock on your nightstand–‘10:35 PM’. One of your roommates is back from work. Coming home to rest easy from their enervating shift, she wants nothing more than to take a scalding hot shower, laze in her bed, and listen to nothing but silence as she drifts off to sleep.

But before those temptations come into play, she first wants to check up on you to see if you’re still in your room. Walking up sluggishly to your door, she raises a hand to prepare a few knocks while you and Satoru both stare wide-eyed at the shadow that occupies the crevice beneath your bedroom door–still like Michelangelo's statues.

“Hey, (Name), you in there?” The pause is long as you look up to Satoru and see his gaping mouth transform into a smirk before turning your attention to the door.

“Uh, yeah, I’m here. What’s up?” You ask, slightly hoping that your answer will satisfy her queries on your safety before retreating to her room.

“After work, I took a quick trip to the store for some wings and frozen pizza if you’d like some. Even got honey-barbeque-” You smile at her gentle antics. She remembered your favorite flavor.

“Oh, thanks, I really appreciate th-oh!” You’re stopped once Satoru resumes pounding your sloppy pussy. You cover your mouth in an attempt to conceal your yap but a strong hand grabs both wrists to cuff them above your head.

“Keep talkin', sis. Can’t leave mom pondering, now can we?” He whispered with precaution. That devious little-

“H-Hey? Are you okay?” The squishy slaps of both Satoru’s precum and your wet fluids compose a cacophonic symphony. Shit, if he keeps going, you’ll-

“Yeah, m-mhm. I-I’m, fuuuck, fine.” Satoru grins maniacally above you his hot breath pasts your cheek and into your ear. The tip of his cock abuses your cervix as he compacts you tightly under giant muscle, arms littered with bulging purple and blue veins as he keeps you steady. His pubes tickle your clit whenever his hips kissed yours. Both breaths were getting heavy.

“Are you sure, you sound…sick.” Her words were laced with worry as she stood there, unmoving. “Do you need for me to come in?”

Satoru finds her naivety hilarious but decides it's time to break the barrier. He does so by raising his hips to an exaggerated extent before hammering back into you, the sound much louder than before as clapping fills the atmosphere. He guarantees your roommate will pick it up. Which she does.

“Wait, are you-” She gasps when she hears your sobbing moans echo in her ears. “Oh my God.” You’re too fucked stupid to give a reply when she blurts out an embarrassed ‘sorry!’ before taking hurried footsteps away from your door.

“Guess we scared her off, huh?” Knowing damn well he was the one who only made the effort to let your roommate know you were being pounded to oblivion. “Think she’s gonna tell everyone about this? Tell everyone how her son and daughter ruin the family name because we were caught fucking each other in your room?” He’s quick to pick up in your roleplay.

“Hnngh, I don’t know, ‘Toru.”

“I’m quite sure she will. What do you say, sweet girl, how about we both give a real reason to soil the family name and let me come in this pussy?” His thrusts start to stutter with each filthy word–cream drips from your cunt and down to the tight rim of your ass. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as you groan quietly.

“Answer me now, sweetheart, or Satoru-nii is gonna-”

“Yes, Satoru, fuck. Please come inside me, please, ‘don’t care about anyone in this family but you! Come inside me, Satoru-nii!”

With that being said, he fulfills your wish by giving you one, big thrust and stilling his cock deep in his little sister’s pussy to pump his hot seed in increments. Whimpering loudly as he does so. His face contorts in the cutest grimace that you wish you could smooch. You heavily breathe in unison until he pulls out of you (fingering his remaining cum back into your fluttering hole).

He kisses your cheek, then your forehead, and lastly your lips before saying, “You did so well for me.”

And it’s after this session that have you thinking–‘perhaps you do get it’.

#gojo satoru x reader #satoru x reader #gojo smut #gojo x reader #satoru smut #gojou satoru x reader #gojo satoru smut #satoru gojo x reader #gojo x you #satoru x you #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #jjk smut #jjk x reader #tw:stepcest #tw:foot/fetish #tw:dubcon

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charliehoennam · 9 months ago

Text

gentle giant

Summary: The Solomons enjoy quality family time with their young baby daughter as per request by @j23r23

Pairing: Alfie Solomons x F!reader

Warnings: fluff, language, mentions of pregnancy and natural childbirth, oc!daughter, hints at smut

SHARING IS CARING, SO REBLOG.

"She can't even play with that yet, Alf. She's too small" you told him when he brought home a large and lavish dollhouse, carried up to your daughter's nursery room by a couple of his men.

"Course she can't now. But, she will someday. Nothing but the best for my little Laura."

You chuckled and shook your head at his excitement, deciding to let him be happy because he genuinely was.

He has never been prouder of anything in his life.

It was needless to say that Alfie wasn't like most fathers of the time. Every day, you woke up feeling blessed and fortunate enough to be his wife.

Now, you are the mother of his child. Of his first born princess that he was already spoiling with all the finest little clothes and toys.

It's been a few months since you'd brought Laura into the world and Alfie's pride radiated as if he'd just learned he was going to be a father. Having expected the high of newfound fatherhood to fade away with late night nappy changes and early morning hungry cries, you were surprised to find that he was still so thrilled about being a father.

Not only was he proud of his little Laura, but he was still amazed beyond comprehension at your body.

During the pregnancy, he constantly marveled at the growing bump in your belly. Alfie was no fool; he understood perfectly well how a woman's body works, yet it was still the greatest miracle to him.

He never stopped calling you a Goddess for having the power to create life.

The birth of your daughter left him complete ecstasy.

Most men, especially in Jewish traditions, it was uncommon for the father to be present in the room for such a thing. But, then again, Alfie was no common man. He was always far from ordinary.

He insisted on being present to watch the miracle himself.

You'd talked about it before and assured him the midwives would take care of you. After all, he had hired the best staff to take care of you before, during and after the pregnancy.

He still continue to insist on being present - as long as you were comfortable with his presence - to watch his beloved daughter come into the world. He would've brought her out of you himself if only he knew how.

You wondered if it might have been instigated by the jealous thought of having a doctor between your legs.

You were more than grateful that he had insisted so strongly because you truly believe that, if it hadn't been for his motivating words and endearing support, you couldn't have done it by yourself.

Alfie had never cried so much in his entire life as he did when he first heard Laura's cries. You knew right away that Laura would have him wrapped around her wrinkly little finger.

And you were right.

It's late evening when Alfie comes home from an exhausting long day of work.

After hanging his hat and coat, he greets his favorite dog and heads off to search for you and his little Laura only to find you naked in the luxurious porcelain tub of your bathroom with your young 6-month-old daughter, sharing a warm bath.

"Well, ain't this a sight for sore eyes, eh?" he smirks from the doorway.

His heart warms as he sees your eyes light up.

"Baths always help her sleep better."

"Can't blame her," he nods unbuttoning his shirt. "Any room for me?"

"There's always room for you."

Of course there is. You hardly get much time to spend with your husband. The absence has him yearning for his family just the same.

He sinks into the opposite side of the tub with a tired groan, raising the water level to your swollen breasts.

"Give 'er here. Give 'er to poppa."

You carefully handed your daughter over to his hands.

Alfie holds her against his naked burly chest, kissing her head and cheeks as he informs her how much he's missed her in the softest tone.

"Daddy's missed you so much, princess. Yes, I have. Barely got see my little angel today. But that's alright, yeah? Poppa's here now, ain't he? You been good for your mother? Behaved yourself?" he questions as if she could respond, taking the small bowl to fill with water before gently pouring it over her back.

You watch leaning back against the porcelain, and admire the vulnerability of the big bad Alfie Solomons.

The word that spread around only spoke how cruel and cunning he was; of the horrors he was capable of and enjoyed inflicting upon those who betrayed him.

Yet, only you know how he could be the complete opposite. This version of him was for your eyes only and, for that, you felt blessed.

With his large hand cupped over Laura's little bare bum, he smiles as he relishes in the sounds of her giggles emitted every time he pours water over her back.

"Yeah, you like that, eh?" Alfie chuckles. "Want another go?"

She squeals happily as he repeats the action, excitedly pulling at his burly chest hair.

He yelps as he tries to unlatch her tiny fingers from his hairs.

"Got the grip of the Devil, don't she?"

"Tell that to my hair. Have to keep it up all the time so she doesn't turn me bald" you smile at him.

She giggles more enthusiastically as she pulls at them again.

"Ow! Laura, I am your father, young lady" he playfully chastises her.

"I think she takes after you."

"How so?"

"She enjoys hurting others."

"No, I enjoy hurting those who deserve it. I done nothing to deserve this" he chuckles at you.

"That's nothing compared to her biting my tits. If you think she's got hands of the Devil, try her teeth."

"They're starting to come in, innit?" he asks gently pulling her chin down to examine the two little white spots on her lower gums. "You never complained when I nibbled on them" he continues shooting a smirking glance at you.

"That was different" you chuckle back.

"I can be gentle" he replies with a wandering gaze at your chest.

"No. They're sore as fuck, Alf. They're off limits tonight."

"They're irresistible, they are. Fucking tripled in size, innit?" he chuckles. "Fucking 'ell, love. God is a cruel bloke, He is."

You laugh shaking your head. Alfie never fails to make you feel like a goddess, despite the worries you had about your changing body. It was exactly uncommon at the time for men to lose interest in their wives after pregnancy.

You'd seen many women go through it and you feared your fate would've been the same.

Thankfully, pregnancy had the opposite effect on Alfie. He was already eager to get started on the second child.

"All I'm saying is Laura will need a sibling when she's older."

Alfie's debating continued even after your shared bath. You're trying your cotton robe closed as he carries Laura into your bedroom where you had laid out her sleeping clothes beforehand.

"You say that all the time."

"Doesn't it make it less true. Besides, the fun part is trying."

Laying Laura down on the bed with a smirk, he stands upright and faces you.

The way he holds your waist has you melting under his touch. You take advantage of the moment to admire his details.

The wrinkles on his forehead, the disheveled light brown locks shining in the warm light of your room, the hairy tuffs that were peeking out from his robe.

You slide your palms up his strong arms until they rest on the back of his neck.

"Alright. I'll put her down for bed and we can have some fun time of our own" you smile sweetly at him.

His plush lips - hidden in his bushy brown beard - spread widely with mischief and excitement, infecting you with arousal as they made their way to press against your own.

You kiss him deliciously, letting his hand rest against your soft cheek. His tongue flicks against your bottom, already begging for entrance. You allow him it.

The kiss is more than enough to fuel the fire already sparked inside, in the depth of your cores. But you're both brought back to reality when Laura tiredly whines and rubs her sleepy eyes, kicking her chubby legs in the air out of frustration.

You part from Alfie's loving hold on you and bend down to scoop Laura up into your arms, assuring her everything is alright in gentle whispers.

Alfie watches how your loving nature is quick to soothe your fussy daugther in admiration. He loves watching you with her. His wife with his daughter in arms. His family.

All the words in every language would never be enough to describe the joy and pride you bring out in him.

Getting Laura to fall asleep is hardly a challenge. She was already tired from the long day and from staying up a bit past her bedtime.

Once you get her warmly dressed for the night, you sit in her nursery's rocking chair to give her one last feed.

She latches onto your nipple quickly, staring up at you with big doey eyes. The mixture of blue and gray remind you of Alfie. Her long lashes flutter as she slowly blinks, suckling for milk as she holds your index finger in her tiny hand.

You hum as you let her drink her fill, hoping to lull her sleep.

She can't resist the building sleep no matter how hard she tries. At this point, she's not even trying to drink anymore. Her eyelids grow heavier with every blink.

Gently tucking your breast back into your robe, you rest Laura's head against your shoulder as you gently pat her back to burp her.

She tries to fuss about having her favorite source of nutrition taken away, but her exhaustion dominates.

It doesn't her long to fall asleep.

Before setting Laura in her crib without stirring her too much, you kiss her head and thank the universe for blessing you such a precious little angel to care for and love.

Walking back to your room, you search Alfie but you find he's no longer there. So, you walk down the hall and the stairs in search of your husband, knowing exactly where to find him.

The office door is open as the light shines, providing the only light in the hallway. As you lean in the doorway, you smile and tap against the wooden door.

"She go down alright or put up a fuss?" Alfie smiles looking up at you from his paperwork.

"No fuss tonight. I think she was really tired." You walk into his office with a smile as you make your way towards him. "Now it's time for the grown-ups to have some fun."

Alfie smirks as his chair spins, watching you struct over to his side. His eyes scan over your frame, drinking in the sight of you as you untie your robe, letting the fabric part and shyly reveal your naked body.

"Unless you'd like to stay down here and work?"

He chuckles as he stands and kisses you tenderly, holding your face in his hands as if you're made of the most delicate and precious glass with his rough fingertips gently propping your chin up to make you face him.

"Love, the only work I've got to do is fucking you until you can't walk."

#alfie solomons #alfie solomons x reader #alfie solomons x you #alfie solomons x y/n #tom hardy #peaky blinders #alfie solomons imagine #alfie solomons fic #alfie solomons fluff

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voxslays · 2 months ago

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Precious Treasure

Featuring >>> Human! Alastor x Reader; In which Alastor and Reader are forced into an arranged marriage, but slowly start to care for eachother…or do they?

Warnings: Heavy Smut (x2), AFAB! Reader, Dub-Con

Later that evening, Alastor returns to you, his expression calm and collected. However, there's a hint of tension in his shoulders and a furrowed brow. "I've taken care of everything with my father. He won't be a problem for now." He sits down next to you, pulling you into his lap. “What do you mean? Was he a problem before?” You ask, not knowing much about their relationship, except how bad of a person Alastor’s father was. But he had never been a problem to the family that you had noticed. Alastor’s jaw clenches briefly before he forces a smile. "Let's just say he had some...opinions about our marriage that I didn't agree with. But it's handled now." He runs his fingers through your hair soothingly. "You don't need to worry about it." He says soothingly

You laugh softly, knowing exactly what he meant. “Oh I’m sure he wanted a grandson the moment we got married.” You smirk jokingly. "Something like that," Alastor mutters, grinning wolfishly, while nipping at your jawline. "Well, let's not let his words go to waste, shall we?" Alastor picks you up bridal style. "I think it's time we started working on that family that both him and I want so badly." He carries you to the bedroom, his arms wrapped securely around you. Once inside, he sets you down gently and stands across from you.

“If we have a girl, he will have a heart attack.” You glance up at him as he laughs darkly. "Maybe that's what we should aim for, then. A beautiful, fiery little girl who drives him crazy." He slowly slides off your dress, his touch gentle. "But for now, let's focus on making her." He climbs onto the bed, his eyes never leaving yours as he slowly unbuttons his own shirt. "And who knows? Perhaps we'll get lucky and have twins. One of each." He crawls towards you, his voice dropping to a low purr. "What do you say, love? Shall we make a baby?" His hands caress your body reverently, his touch both tender and passionate. He kisses you deeply, his love and desire palpable. "Or two?" He mumbles against your lips.

His touch becomes more insistent, his hands roaming over your body possessively. He growls softly, nuzzling your neck. "I want to see you round with my child. I want to feel our baby grow inside you. I want...I want it all, with you." You smile and look up at him. "Wrap your legs around me, love," Alastor breathes against your ear. His hands grip your hips as he slowly enters you, his face contorting with pleasure. "You feel so perfect. Like you were made for me." His voice is hoarse with emotion as he starts to move within you. You cry out in ecstasy. Alastor sets a deep, sensual rhythm, his body covering yours completely. "I love you so much," He pants, peppering your face with kisses. His thrusts become more urgent, more passionate.

You cry and whimper as he pounds into you. He captures your lips in a searing kiss, swallowing your whimpers of pleasure. His tongue dances with yours, stoking the flames of desire higher. One hand tangles in your hair, while the other grips your hip, holding you in place as he drives into you with increasing fervor. "That's it, love. Let me hear you," He encourages, his voice a low, seductive growl. Alastor changes his angle slightly, hitting that perfect spot inside you. "I want the whole world to know who you belong to." His thrusts become harder, deeper, more urgent.

"Come for me," Alastor demands, his thumb finding your sensitive bud and circling it firmly. "Let go, my love. I've got you." His hips piston faster, chasing his own release as he feels you tightening around him. "I'm so close... Ah, you feel incredible!" You moan his name. He swells inside you, his release coming hot and hard as he hears your cries of ecstasy. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, his body shuddering as he fills you with his seed. "Yes, just like that, my love,” Alastor groans, his voice groggy and hoarse. He collapses on top of you, both of you panting and trembling in the aftermath. He lifts his head to look at you, his eyes dark with satisfaction and deep affection. "That was... incredible." He brushes your hair back tenderly. "I hope it takes."

You give him a confused look as you try to catch your breath. “What?” You ask. "I hope we made a baby," Alastor clarifies with a soft smile, his hand resting on your lower abdomen. "The thought of you carrying my child, of creating a new life together... it's almost overwhelming." He kisses you softly. "But don't worry, my love." He gives you his signature smile as he removes his circular glasses and puts them on the nightstand. “We'll find out soon enough." He sits up and pulls you into his arms, cradling you like a precious treasure. "For now, let's just enjoy this moment, wrapped up in each other's love." He holds you close, his heart pounding with joy and contentment. "But just in case, we should probably practice again tomorrow. Just to be sure." He chuckles, nipping at your earlobe. "And the day after that. And the day after that...” He carries you to the bathroom, his arms strong and sure.

The next morning, Alastor wakes you up with gentle kisses, his hands caressing your body lovingly. "Good morning, my love," he whispers, nuzzling your neck. "I hope you're not too sore. We might have been a bit... enthusiastic last night." He grins wickedly. “It’s only six. Let’s go back to sleep.” You groan, your voice groggy and hoarse from the previous night's activities. "Mmm, tempting... but I've got other plans," he murmurs, his hands roaming over your curves. "Besides, we have to make sure, remember?" He kisses down your body, his intentions clear. "Just a quick round..." You blush and look away, able to feel the heat in your cheeks. "Don't be shy now, love. Not after last night." Alastor settles between your legs, his breath hot against your sensitive skin. "I promise I'll be gentle...at first." He chuckles malevolently.

True to his word, he starts slow, his tongue laving your folds with tender precision. He savors your taste, your scent, the little noises you make. His hands caress your thighs, keeping you open for his attention. "You taste divine," He murmurs against you. You whine, tugging on his hair, as Alastor’s mouth works its magic. His lips and tongue driving you closer to the edge. He hums, the vibration sending shivers through your body. Just when you think you can't take it anymore, he pulls back, leaving you aching and needy. "Not yet, my love. We have all morning..." He trails off as he crawls back up your body, his hands pinning your wrists above your head. His eyes gleam with amusement as he kisses you deeply, sharing your taste between you. "Now, where was I?" Alastor muses, his hips settling between yours. "Oh yes! Gentle."

He enters you slowly, inch by agonizing inch. He pauses, his forehead resting against yours, his breath hot on your lips. "Wrap your legs around me, love," Alastor whispers. You comply, and he slides the rest of the way in with a soft groan. "There we are..." You cry out as you take his length. "Shh, it's alright," Alastor soothes, his voice low and comforting. "I've got you. Just breathe with me, ma chéri." He begins to move, his hips rolling against yours in a slow, languid dance. "That's it, darling...just like that..." As he makes love to you, he whispers sweet nothings in your ear, his words a gentle rain against your skin. "You're so perfect for me," Alastor murmurs. "So beautiful." His pace gradually increases, his love-making growing more passionate, more urgent.

His lips find yours, swallowing your moans as he deepens his thrusts. He releases your wrists, one hand cradling your head, the other caressing your breast. "Together, my love." His body tenses, his release imminent. You scream his name as your release washes over you. With a guttural cry, he buries himself inside you, his orgasm triggering yours. You cling to each other, shaking with the intensity of your shared climax. As the waves subside, he collapses on top of you, his face buried in your neck. "Mine.” Alastor says possessively.

"Je t'aime," Alastor breathes, his heart pounding against yours. He rolls onto his side, bringing you with him so you're draped over his chest. "Now that's a proper way to wake-up," he says with a satisfied smile. He kisses you softly, his thumb brushing your cheek. "We should probably get up soon. Shower, breakfast...the usual." He nuzzles your neck, his hands idly stroking your back. "But for now, let's just stay here like this. Just you and me, wrapped up in our love."

“m’ gonna be so sore.” You groan. "Mmm, yes, but what a lovely soreness, hmm?” Alastor grins, flexing his hips slightly to remind you of its cause. "And it's all from me.” He smirks wickedly. "Now, let's make a deal," Alastor says, his tone turning serious. "You stay here with me, and I'll make sure to take extra care of you today. Breakfast in bed, a relaxing bath, the works. But in return, you have to promise me something." You listen carefully, waiting for your husband to continue. "Promise me that we'll do this more often. Not the making up part, hopefully," Alastor says wryly. "But the waking up together, the mornings spent making love, the breakfasts in bed…” He pauses.

"Promise me that no matter what happens, we'll always make time for us, for our love. For these quiet moments that belong only to us." He looks at you with such sincerity, such vulnerability, that you can't help but nod your agreement. "Good," Alastor says, smiling softly. He wraps his arms around you, holding you close as he rests his head on top of yours. "Now, let's make a start on that relaxing bath, shall we?" He carries you out of the bedroom, cradling you in his arms like a precious treasure.

A/N: JUST GOT BACK FROM DISNEYLAND YALL!!! WOOHOO!!!

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dhampling · 10 months ago

Text

the sunwalker's gift gn!reader, 3.3k

“What is all of this in aid of, anyway?” He asks in a lazy drawl, seemingly unbothered. “The adventuring stuff. Do we have a destination yet?”

inspired by this ask where the reader finds a ring - after a lot of searching - that allows astarion to walk in the sun, and proposes with it. enjoy! wc: 3.3k cw: none. gn reader, fluff, all good stuff. no use of y/n. like one vague reference to sex. that's it. liberties taken with the idea of the sunwalker's gift.

Tardy.

“Here then, yes?”

A gentle dirt path carries to the town boundary, the marker one of dry wood and old brandish. Windows of amber; smoke rising to the stars, a biting chill settling on the ground as gateclose approaches.

You turn the map in hand to compare against the settlement before you.

“Think so.”

Astarion takes your arm in his, leaving the map hanging free in his wake.

It takes all the will you can muster not to take his hands in yours and spin him in some sleepy glee-bound whirl in the sheer ecstasy at the thought of what you have planned - instead pulling each other something ragged down the slope in a half-step, half-cant; giddy at the thought of Firewine by a fireplace as your breath clouds the air foggy past your heads.

You’re in a position where - maybe for the first time since the Netherbrain fell - you can see the end.

And it’s close. Ridiculously close.

You want nothing more than to drop and do it now. Knees muddied in the dew-thickened dirt clod and breeze heavy with frost under the big pale moon - teeth chittering, looking up to him;-

Gods. You can picture it. His eyes hooplike with uncertainty, the one last drip of doubt teetering on his tongue - is this some kind of cosmic joke? - a quiet whisper under his breath, a little tilt of his head. Hair rippling in the moonlight. A moment of mutability as he reconciles all you are, all you’ve become together. That there’s a future in which sincerity is all he knows moving forward.

No.

Before morning, for sure.

The gate welcomes you in one last waning breath as the guards head to their watch turrets until dawn, and it takes a minute to truly come to terms with civilization once more. Your eyes flit to each of the little flickering lanterns and candles in windows; to the railings adorned with browning vines and disused terracotta pots.

It’s been months since you and Astarion have been somewhat settled anywhere. Since the Absolute fell and you set off for adventures beyond anything you or he could ever imagine. Navigating the Underdark together, treading darkness above ground; wherever, it wasn’t of any real importance. You’d find lodging where you could, eat with whoever welcomed you; and you did it together.

Of course, your ulterior motive has managed to remain a secret. From clandestine discussions with the Society of Brilliance all the way back to the Gate; to fevered exploration in the deepest chasms of Sembia. Nights spent looking over the ferryboats on the Sea of Fallen Stars and discussing so many different futures the two of you could live.

He is completely disarmed and unsuspecting at your side. Radiant. Hopeful. The world is changed and he wants to see every bit he passes with eyes wide open to good fortune.

“A town called Tardy? Really?”

He sneers.

You shrug.

“It has a fun ring to it. Tardy.”

The word bounces on your tongue as you taste the mull-soak set between your teeth.

A wordless mission to stave off the chill now has you settled fireside in the closest inn with mulled Glowfire. The clock ticks and there’s lively chatter a little behind you in the main tavern room.

“The Scoundrel's Cellar, though. Now that’s a good name.’

He takes a small sip.

‘Why Tardy?”

You turn your head to him with a tight quirk of your upper lip.

“You’re asking me why?”

“Not really.’

Astarion looks at you and smiles.

‘It’s just… nice. To be able to talk at such leisure like this, I think.”

His cheeks are ruddied by the lashings of wind, the hint of a twinkle in his eyes as he reveres you. Hair a little unruly in the mop of curls atop his head but still unbelievably well-kempt for a man who's been on the road for months now. Lost wholly in his sheer exuberance, his joy in living despite the lack of a pulse. His chalice is close to his chest as he warms his hands.

You daren’t linger on your own appearance, thinking a silent prayer that the bathroom has a mirror.

It’s a long moment before you reply.

“Yes! Yes. Absolutely.”

He throws you a quizzical glance but the smile doesn’t leave his face as he shifts to look down at his drink.

“I sometimes picture having a fireplace, you know. How-’

A brief pause.

‘How nice it’d be to sit by it, on an evening like this. Home.”

Astarion stretches a palm outward to the flame and closes his eyes, basking in the scalding heat. Amber shades. Pallid skin a perfect canvas.

“What would you be doing, by the fire?” You query softly as you watch the gentle flickers of his hand, outstretched.

“I- I’m not sure.”

Something resembling a coy smile creeps onto his face, overrun by a timid quiet uncharacteristic of your long-term lover. You lean over to him and take his nimble fire-warm hand in your own. A small kiss planted firmly on the hot skin.

“Go on.’

The willing smile on your face as you egg him on, chin to palm. He tilts his head coquettishly.

‘What do you see in that beautiful head of yours? Because I can see it now - a sitting room full of tapestries and hangings; all of your design, of course. Patchwork blankets. Big comfy seats.”

“Ugh. Fine. Yes.’

Any ill-mannered jest fades almost immediately as he looks into your eyes and beams once more. He is safe here. He knows it.

‘I’m thinking big seats. Maybe-’

He brings his arms out wide.

‘Maybe this big? Possibly bigger? Somewhere to lounge, naturally.’

His hand finds yours in the low light once more, a tentative clutch as he maps out the vision in his head.

‘Soft carpets on stone floors. Incense - none of the dull stuff though, darling; only pure patchouli - and… and lanterns with glass of all colours, so the room glows with light constantly.”

“So we’ve set the scene. Then what?”

Astarion rolls his eyes at you fondly.

“And then… I don’t know. A little cat on the cushions. Books, papers scattered on the carpet as despite the fact we have those big comfy seats; I’m not seeing myself to be inclined to move Her Majesty.”

“After the cat at the Last Light?”

“The very same. But I want a girl cat. Boy cats feel… weird to me. Cats are girls.’

He grimaces and waves his chalice-hand.

‘Anyway. Her Majesty on the lounger, me on the floor. I’m drawing up patterns early into the morning. Big, thick shutters over the windows; but it doesn’t matter because the lantern light is so vivid, and you;-’

There’s a feather-soft look to him when he does look at you.

‘Oh, you.’

You become aware of him drawing small circles with his thumb, eyes unmoving; unblinking.

‘Always you. My love. Should you decide to join me in long-term domesticity-’

He plants a kiss on your hand as you did his. Your stomach is pure cream as you listen, nodding slowly with lids of honey.

‘Then you. Everywhere. Beside me on the carpet, laughing in that delicious way you do. Astride me in our bed -’

You smirk. He looks at you a little deviously.

‘Well, not just bed. Anywhere, really.”

“Is that what the loungers are for?”

A small grin.

“Maybe.’

You gesture for him to continue with a knowing grin.

‘Anyway. Yes. The future. Us. A townhouse somewhere in the Gate.” He sips slowly while pondering.

“What about younglings? You were fond of Yenna.”

The wine erupts down his pale chin in shock, eyes like saucers.

“I’m sorry?”

“Children.” You repeat, holding his gaze with firm affection.

He moves to laugh but there’s a wavering indecision in the way his brows crease.

“Is that even possible?”

“I don’t know. But if it is?”

He stops to think for a moment when the call for Grand High Lord Supreme General Admiral Ancunín - his favoured travelling name - comes from the frazzled barmaid at the front of house to signal your rooms are ready, and all discussion overruled by the fact you’re both bone-weary beyond belief.

As your hand moves to your pocket, you feel it.

Sequestered away in the little velvet box you bought from the Night Market months ago and kept for this.

Later.

Hours on and you’re settled. A small room with an adjoining washroom - modest, but surprisingly comfortable; and just as you’d hoped, there’s a balcony.

Astarion lounges on the bed with a large leatherbound book, looking fondly at you from time to time as you busy yourself with your recent findings, taking inventory and stashing bits away in their respectively labelled bags of holding.

“What is all of this in aid of, anyway?” He asks in a lazy drawl, seemingly unbothered.

“What?”

“This. The adventuring stuff. Do we have a destination yet?”

“No, not in particular.’ You turn to look at him over your shoulder.

‘Why? You’ve not been bothered before?”

“And I’m not now. But I am curious.’

He grins devilishly on the bed and flips the book closed, placing it next to him and sitting straight - legs crossed.

‘What’s the plan, lover?”

“Who says there’s a plan?”

He’s got you right where he wants you.

You feel yourself becoming giddy again - heart wholly aflutter. You’re aware that he’s attuned to the regular pitter-patter between your ribs and despite the conscious attempt to regulate yourself back to calm; you almost want him to find you out this way.

“Nothing. I’m just wondering where we’re - well, wandering. It’s beginning to feel a little aimless”

There’s a moment of silence, prolonged as you fiddle further with your trinkets.

“I-’

You reach for the box in your pocket and run a thumb over it reactively.

‘I’ll tell you later. I promise.”

He looks at you with a curious furrow, trying to eke out a little more information in the quiet din but you’re wise to it at this point in your relationship. You simply yield into his glance with a pleading smile.

“Okay. Okay. I’ll leave it with you. But I do expect answers!”

You heave a sigh of relief. He’s definitely picked up on it.

Once all of your spoils are packed away you take a trip downstairs to purchase more wine and request a bath to be drawn - after all, you’ve been on the road with rivers as your only source of cleanliness for gods know how long.

There are nerves. Of course there are nerves, small pins prickling from within and setting you ablaze with each new thought of him beside you for life, threads weaving a rich tableau life together. Lilting violins and piano sonatas. Finery for days. Some small townhouse, just as he’d described it downstairs.

But you found the thing you’d set out to find on your adventures. Where you head next is entirely up to the both of you.

Provided he says yes, that is.

You imagine the worst possible rejection he could give you - “No, darling. Let’s keep things as they are for now.” - and yet the thought of him calling you darling in that syrupy murmur is rousing enough to keep you afloat.

The bath is tepid, door open whilst Astarion watches from the bed between pages.

“More wine, love?”

“Please.”

Calm. Rain on the thatch roof.

He perches on the side of the washtub, one leg crossed over the other as he passes you a glass full of red. Hums absent-mindedly as he swirls the perfumed waters with a dainty hand.

Your mind drifts to the ring. How beautiful it’ll look in place.

He looks at you with that curious glint in his eye, and you roll your head to the back of the tub in an attempt at meek avoidance.

“Pretty.” He quips.

You laugh quietly.

“Hm?”

“You. Pretty. Hair all mussed like a siren. A vision.”

He lifts your wrist from the water and kisses the back of your hand a few times over, while you squirm in jest. He only retaliates by kissing you harder with a fiendish giggle.

“You’re one to talk.”

The lantern by the mirror lights the tips of his curls from behind. Angelic.

“Yes, I am beautiful. So are you. My darling.”

It must be late now. Maybe late enough.

As you lift from the water - assisted by your lover’s hand - and enrobe once more, you feel it.

Now.

Astarion begins his usual routine of light-proofing the room and blocking the shutters as the threat of sunrise looms on the horizon.

Well. Light.

The rain doesn’t show any sign of ceasing.

Nonetheless, you feel ready. A habit you can’t wait for him to break, checking the shutters for cracks.

“C’mere.”

He turns to you and looks you over.

“Hm?”

“Come here! Please! I’ve got something for you and it simply can’t wait any longer.”

The box is light in hand, soft. You’ve checked it multiple times for the ring and all is in place.

The way he steps to you is cautious. Catlike.

“Is this the thing? Is it finally time?’

You pull him in next to you on the edge of the bed, taking both hands in yours.

‘I can see that little box. Hopefully a trinket worth the hours of agony I’ve endured waiting for you to reveal your secrets.” He grins, pulling you in for a gentle kiss.

You don’t say anything, freeing one hand to take the box.

“This is-’

A sharp inhale.

‘This is it. Wherever we go from here, it’s mutually agreed. All of it. But this is what I’ve been looking for, hence my leadership skills taking forefront again.”

“Don’t tell me. It’s a Bracing Band!’

You shove him gently and he giggles, reinforcing his clutch on your hand.

‘Okay, okay. I’m done. Show me.”

He waggles his fingers around your palm and grins expectantly. Gods. You rip the bandage off and open the box to him.

He’s seen a picture of it before - it’s in one of his books, that’s where you got the initial idea - but you know he hasn’t read it or he’d onto you weeks ago.

And he doesn’t recognise it.

“I- What is this?”

A gentle whisper as his eyes run over the golden rays cast with aged enamel.

“A ring.’

Astarion’s death glare takes a new form, this time wholly inhibited by the uncertainty in his frozen hunch.

You stand and spin to a kneel on the floor in front of him.

‘A special ring. Really, really special; in fact.’

Plucking it from the velvet, you hover the band over his fingertip.

‘Firstly though. Marry me?”

You don’t think you’ve ever seen him so completely and utterly shocked.

Mouth firmly agape as red round eyes attempt to scan yours for any sign of deceit, jowls trembling a little in the yellow lantern glow. A small gulp as his lips meet once more.

“You picked an inn called The Scoundrel's Cellar, in a town called Tardy, in the middle of a thunderstorm; to propose marriage to me?”

“Had to be here, had to be now. Couldn’t wait any longer. You’ll understand in a minute, I promise.’

You rise a little to cup his jaw in hand, sinking into a chaste kiss.

‘Astarion Ancunín, will you marry me?”

“Gods!’

There’s a brief tremor as his lips wobble, then a practised breath as he speaks. One hand reaches for your flushed cheek to mirror the gesture.

‘Of course I will, you brute. Maybe you could’ve done with a better choice in ring, of course; but I can learn to love it, I’m sur-”

“You are beyond insufferable, Astarion. Kiss me right now.”

The immediately resulting kiss is brimming with yearning. A cup full to spilling as he takes the ring in your hand whilst you put it on him.

He hunches all the way over to meet you on raised knees, grabbing at body-warmed bedclothes for one another; tenderly, in peals of quiet laughter between breaths and silent shouts.

“Wait. I’m not done.’

He’s giddy now, too. Knee bouncing.

‘There’s a reason it had to be that ring.”

“It’s hideous, pet. Give me a reason to love it.”

You spin to your feet and to the furthest shutters, opening them a slight as he watches on in guarded curiosity with the biggest smile lingering on his face.

The first hint of light.

“C’mere.”

“You’re bossing me around an awful lot today, my darling betrothed.”

The weight of the moment is colossal, ocean deep. Despite his sheer joy he won’t come willingly. The burns from the dock the day the Absolute fell were molten for weeks and you still both have night terrors ringing loud with the sound of his agonising yells.

A gentle hand extends to him.

“The Sunwalker’s Gift.”

Then it clicks. Slowly. The final puzzle piece.

“No. Surely.”

“Yes.”

“It can’t be.”

“It had to be.”

“What if it isn’t?”

“Then we have a wedding to plan in the Underdark. But I wouldn’t traipse across the realms on just an inkling, you know.”

“I know you wouldn’t.”

“Well then.’

Your hand waits expectantly, fingers mimicking his waggle.

‘Just a finger. Please.”

He sits on the bed, spinning the ring mindlessly; before he looks at you with a resolute nod.

“I’ve trusted you with far worse, all things considered.”

Astarion approaches slowly and meets your hand, interlinking your ring fingers together and waiting for your word as you position yourself within the light.

“On three?”

Three arrives and nothing happens.

Hands raised, fingers lit in a single low beam of early light. Frozen.

“Astarion? All good?”

He moves your hands wholly into the light. Nothing. Twists the tangled fingers as if examining for damage. Rain careens into the window.

“I- Yes. Yes. All good.”

Dumbfounded.

You erupt into a bubbling grin, pulling him to the balcony doors and planting another soft kiss onto bewildered lips. Looking to the worn bronze handles with a brief head tilt.

A simple, overwhelmed nod. Brows knitted together in a milky daze, mouth slack. He looks like he’s going to collapse.

The doors edge open and you cautiously step to lead him by arm.

Nothing. Not a single sizzle, no cinders. Forearm, arm, body; head.

No tug on your hand as he races back indoors. No wretched cries of pain nor gasps of hurt.

It’s a few seconds before he speaks. The sun now burns bright enough to see the streets below with razor clarity.

“The rain. My- my hair-’

Barely above a whisper.

‘Looks perfect. As it always does.’

Your eyes don’t leave him. Not once. He’s completely floored, gazing into the middle distance mindlessly.

‘Love, sit.”

You gently tug an iron-wrought balconette chair over to him and help him to find purchase atop it amongst his overwhelm.

“I- I love you. Thank you.”

“Anything. Anything for you.”

He shakes from his haze once wet through, lightning on the horizon awakening the Astarion you recognise best. Closes his eyes with a soft smile.

“You’re going to catch your death out here, you know.”

His grip on your hand is vicelike, clutching it to his chest with zealous reverence.

“Then we’ll have to have a hot bath later. Right now though, I think a celebration is in order.”

You free yourself from his grasp for two moments, barreling back inside for the last of the wine and the large bedsheet. You place both chalices on the iron table and sit beside Astarion outside in fits of laughter whilst wrapping the sheet over both of your heads. He snatches your hand back and kisses it for an age. Devoted.

“To Tardy?”

He lifts his chalice in his free hand, and you do the same in yours.

“Tardy!”

#my writing #astarion x reader #astarion #astarion ancunin #baldurs gate astarion #bg3 #astarion x female reader #astarion x male reader #astarion x gn reader #astarion x tav #fluff #one shot #x reader

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marvelfanfn2187a113 · 3 months ago

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hiiiii my duudes i love your writing sm😡✨✨ aaand it's my birthdayyy!!if it's possible can you write a sister winchester oneshot where it's like a tradition on her birthday to get her 2 pies, one to smash her face in and one where they eat it together✨

Thank you!! 🙏🏼🙏🏼

Happy birthday! This idea is so cute!

Birthday Pie

Sam and Dean Winchester & little sister!reader, John Winchester & daughter!reader

The tradition started when you were three years old.

“What’s with the extra pie?” Sam asked as John laid two pies down on the diner table.

“Birthday girl gets a pie to herself,” John explained. Barely had he set it down before your tiny fingers gripped the sides of the pie. “Whoa—hey—no!” John couldn’t stop you in time—your grip had unbalanced the pie, tilting it so fast that you couldn’t stop in time; the pie smashed right into your face.

You whined in discomfort, pulling at the pieces of apple in your hair…

But the three men at the table couldn’t stop laughing.

“Don’t worry about it sweetheart,” John said between chuckles. “We can all share a pie.”

…

“Not again!” You whined as each brother held a pie to carry to your table.

“This tradition is never dying,” Dean assured you with a wide grin on his face. He and Sam each put a pie down before facing each other.

“Every year…” you mumbled, dropping your face in your hands. You lifted your gaze long enough to see Dean—for the first time in years—beat Sam in the rock paper scissors, which meant Dean would be smashing the pie in your face.

The moment Dean got distracted by his ecstasy at winning, you made your attempt; sliding off your chair and making a break for the door.

“Every year.” Sam grunted as he grabbed you by the arm, pulling you towards him until your back hit his chest and you were stuck in his grasp.

“Finally my year,” Dean crowed as he grabbed one of the pies. “Shame we have to waste a pie though.”

“The picture’s worth it.” Sam grinned, and you groaned.

Sam held you in place while Dean took aim and shoved the pie right in the center of your face. You came out of it dripping filling and choking on apples—always the apple pie.

“Happy birthday, little sister.” Dean snapped a picture and handed you a fork. “Now come over here and help me eat this other pie before I finish it for you.”

Taglist:

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#the winchesters #dean and sam #dean winchester #supernatural dean #sam winchester #winchesters x sister #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #winchesters x reader #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x y/n #sam winchester x sister!reader #sam winchester x you #dean winchester x little sister #dean winchester x sister!reader #dean winchester x sister #dean winchester spn

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lyneira · 2 years ago

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random spicy headcanons featuring haganezuka, rengoku, tengen, sanemi, giyuu, and gyomei!

fem!reader x rengoku, tengen, giyuu, gyomei, sanemi, haganezuka (separate)

cw: penetration, oral, praise kink, breeding kink, body worship, mentions of kama sutra positions

RENGOKU (continued, check out my first post!)

Fucks fast, and like I said in my initial post about him, he'd enjoy a position where he's firmly grounded in order to fuck you at the speed he desires. Therefore, he'd likely prefer to be standing up as he thrusts into you. Maybe having you on the edge of the bed in mating press as he stands, hovering over you as his cock slams into your core repeatedly. Or he might fuck you up against the wall, holding onto your thighs wrapped around him as you'd cling to him for dear life. Not only does he have incredible speed, but he also has the stamina to match it. Everything that he'd do would be overwhelming.

eager as heck, if you even mention anything relating to having sex or mention even the subtlest innuendo, he'll be stripping off his clothes and will be pouncing on you immediately the moment you two were finally alone. And when he'd pull down his pants, you'd see that his cock would be proudly shot up, hard with precum staining his tip. He'd been holding in his arousal for you this entire time and would be making you responsible for it.

If you asked him to be slow, he would go slow...initially. It's until he's swept up in the ecstasy of your cunt squeezing around him and sucking him in that he'd begin to both quicken his pace and bury himself inside of you even deeper.

The faster he thrusts, the more he would run his mouth and babble on like, "haa, you feel so good! so good..!! I think I'm gonna cum...ah-! Cum with me, y/n..! I wanna feel you release around me...!" and before you can say a word, he'll let his seed spill into your core, letting out a choked moan as he does so. Although he pauses for a second to catch his breath from his high, he wouldn't waste any more time before continuing to thrust into you, ensuring that his wish be granted. And so it would when he he reaches down to rub circles on your clit and hits your sweet spot. With the spasming of your walls, you'd finally let you're own juices envelop him, and he'd smile at the sound of each wet, sloppy smack that occured as he slowly dragged his cock in and out of you. "Ahaha...there we go...that's a good girl"

he'll always be honest with you, even if it might sound a little graphic. He might tell you something like, "be prepared for what's coming later. I'm gonna fuck you 'til the morning comes" and none of it would be an exaggeration. He will be fucking you until the sun rises. He's not one to say things just for show. Anything that he says is a promise to you. So when he also says that he'll make you cum over and over again, you will be coming over and over again. And if he says that you'll be having his babies, you will be carrying his children soon enough.

UZUI

would totally manhandle you and would do you in the freakiest positions that would test the flexibility of both you and him, as well as strength. With his physique and physical prowess, putting you in any kind of position would be so easy for him. Whether he'd have known the positions in the kama sutra or not, he would've already tried them out with you. 69, Lotus position, Plough position, Hero position, Star position, Frog position- you name it. This man is kinky as he is flashy.

Tengen's a total dom, but I think he'd have times where he'd enjoy laying back and letting you do most of the work. Therefore, unlike Kyojuro, he'd probably enjoy having sex sitting down or laying down. Probably would enjoy you riding him with you straddled on his lap, in a cowgirl or reverse cowgirl position. And he wouldn't mind you sitting down either... particularly on his face. Don't you dare try to hold back by simply hovering your pussy over his lips, he wants you to truly sit and feel all of your weight pressing down on him. That way, he could give your lower lips the deepest kisses, as well as the most passionate french kisses, delving his tongue deeper into you. He'd enjoy watching the exasperated and blissful look on your face as he pleasured you from below, widening his smile into your cunt

He'd punish you if you were ever being naughty or difficult, and would do so by edging you, and then overstimulating you. Again, he'd observe your face, waiting until your brows furrowed and your mouth went agape as he was fucking you into your next high. Yet, before you could ever reach it, he'd quickly pull out, letting your walls clench over nothing. Despite your pouts and glances of frustration at him, he'd do this multiple times until he can no longer resist your adorable expressions. So when he finally lets you orgasm, seeing the blush spread on your cheeks and cloudy look of lust shroud over your half-lidded eyes, he can't help but continue to fuck you. Then those hazy eyes of yours would soon be flooded by tears, overwhelmed by the stimulation he would be giving you.

would probably enjoy fucking you doggy style too though, so that he could slap your ass easily.

I think he wouldn't mind public sex? The thrill of possibly getting caught would entice him. With that risk of getting caught, he'd be teasing bastard for sure, and a cocky one too. He'd be the type to hush you when your moans were growing in volume, "Quiet now, darling... you wouldn't want anyone to hear you now, would you?", all while having the biggest smirk on his face. And the most irritating thing about all of this is that the truth is he would definitely want someone to hear how good he was fucking you, and you know it.

HAGANEZUKA

Look, I know Haganezuka can have a rough and aggressive streak with his temper, but I think he'd have the capacity to be just as tender.

Okay, this is gonna be a weird analogy but hear me out: If he loves you enough, he'd treat you the same way he'd treat his swords-- with extreme care. So much that I see him being into body worship, trailing kisses up and down your body, and muttering his adoration of you against your skin. He'll be passionate about you and it'll show in the way he holds your body so delicately, afraid of giving you the slightest scratch.

And with that kind of passion for you, it'd feel like heaven to him when he's finally able to thrust it all into you, all of his love and admiration.

On the other hand, I don't think he'd mind it at all if you left scratches and bite marks on him during the act. In fact he'd love it if you did. Just as he receives scars and callouses as a result from smithing the toughest blades, he'd view the marks you'd give him as a testament to how well he was fucking you. He would bean with pride at the sight of it.

This is kinda weird, but I'd see him putting up windchimes in the bedroom as to soothe him and assist him in being more gentle whenever his temper is raging. He knows how big he is and how he could get carried away in the heat of the moment, letting all his frustrations out on you, so he'd try, to the best of his ability, to be more soft. The last thing he'd want is for you to get hurt, after all, and if that means having to set up windchimes around the room, so be it.

also, he'd be the type to growl when he's balls-deep inside of you and you're squeezing around him so tightly. I just know it.

The persistence and determination of this man would be off the charts. He's not stopping until he's fucked you right; that means he isn't stopping unless your body was trembling and spasming underneath him, overwhelmed by the intense pleasure he was giving you. Feeling the way your thighs would shake at the sides of his head and feeling the way you would jerk your hips into his mouth as he ate you out, would please him so much.

SANEMI

My initial thought for Sanemi would be that he's a mean dom, but I honestly feel like he could be a soft/service dom too. This man is just a big tsundere

I think he'd totally start off sex like, "Ha! You're such a dirty whore. If you want my cock so much, then beg for it" but as he's fucking you, he'd whisper, under gritted teeth, nearly reaching his climax, "I love you so fucking much...cum with me, yeah? come on, I've got you"

Like, he puts up a rough and intimidating front, but would totally melt in your arms if you gave yourself to him and took care of him.

cradle his head as he sucks on your tiddies, he'd be drunk on your milk and would smother his face in between them. He also wants to take care of you, so he'd probably finger you as he sucked upon your breasts, giving you stimulation in both erogenous areas. And when you release, he'll pull them out to lick off your nectar stained on his thick fingers, and would give you a kiss, allowing you to get a taste of yourself

Most of all, Sanemi always wants to protect you. He'd probably cling to your waist tightly as he fucked you. While his embrace might give you a sense of security, it would also do the same for him. You were here in his arms, safe and sound, where nothing could ever harm you; that all what matters to him

Call out his name in bed, it would delight him tremendously. Hearing you scream for him would not only swell his pride, but more importantly, it would make him feel needed. So when you call out his name, of course, he'll be there for you, and would tend to your needs.

Screaming his name as he further buried himself inside you, he'd lowly groan into your ear, "I'm here, pretty girl...and I'm gonna make you cum all over me. I know you'll love that"

I'll probably write mean dom Sanemi in another post, stay tuned LOL

GYOMEI

he will be the most gentle with you. He's so afraid of hurting you, but still wants to pleasure you.

Your pleasure is his pleasure, so when he hears your sweet sighs and moans, it would all shoot straight down to his cock

Therefore, in that case, he'd likely have you take the reins more often when it comes to sex. He'd enjoy you riding him, hitching his breath when you first gently insert the tip into your cunt, getting used to his girth, before letting yourself sink down on him to take a little bit more of his length, which was already stretching you out like crazy. He'll let you take your time putting it inside, and when your walls have adjusted and his length is able to slide in and out with ease, he'll begin thrusting up into you himself. As you begin to tire out and he's reaching his own high, he'll instinctively take hold of your hips and bounce you on his cock with his own strength. So even if your legs give out and you go limp, he'll still be fucking you.

Your jaw will most definitely hurt after sucking him off, because everything about him is HUGE

He'd be perceptive in bed, listening closely to your breathing, your heartbeat, to your moans and cries, taking note of which motions bring you pain or pleasure, and he'll make love to you accordingly. Despite observing all of these things, he'd still make sure to verbally ask you if you were okay.

Even though he aims to be gentle, he isn't opposed to bringing you to your limits during sex. He wouldn't want neither of you to miss out on the euphoria that the act of making love has to offer due to fear. He wants to make love to you wholeheartedly. Thus, he'll often grasp your hand firmly to reassure you when he was splitting you open and after you both reach your highs, he'll softly caress your cheek and press a deep kiss to your temple, telling you how good you've done

GIYUU

not very vocal, the most he'll do is grunt or groan.

Rather, he communicates a lot more through his eyes (if you've watched the demon slayer ova, you'll know what I'm talking about). He believes that "the eyes are the windows into a person's heart", so he would always seek your gaze as he makes love to you, wanting to know how you're feeling, how much you're enjoying it, and in his gaze, you'd find such admiration looking back at you. His eyes would always be seeking your permission before proceeding

hence, he'd prefer positions in which he can face you (so missionary, cowgirl, mating press, all that jazz)

he'd fall for you all over again if you would tell him what you love about him or praised him in general during sex because he cares about what you think of him. Heck, if you just said that he feel so good, then that's enough to make him bust a nut lol

a/n: I honestly did giyuu a little dirty by not giving him as many hcs, I'll probably continue his in another post lol

#kny smut #demon slayer smut #demon slayer x reader #kny x reader #rengoku smut #tengen smut #haganezuka smut #sanemi smut #gyomei smut #giyuu smut #rengoku x reader #tengen x reader #haganezuka x reader #sanemi x reader #gyomei x reader #giyuu x reader #lyneira's spicy stuff~♤#nene writes~♡

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