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alrightberries · 1 year ago

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nitroglycerine | k.bkg

SUMMARY: "you wonder if katsuki's using part of his quirk— if this is what his nitroglycerine feels when it activates: warm in his hands, before it explodes."

alternatively, the weird in between of fuck buddies to lovers.

TAGS & WARNINGS: idiots to lovers, implied sex, both of you are bad at feelings

"do you like me, katsuki?"

katsuki looks good tonight, you think. out in the balcony, bathed in moonlight and the soft glow from the lights of his room. the left side of his hair's bedhead mussed from where he'd slept next to you and he's wearing your hair tie on his wrist, hands nursing the #1 sexiest hero mug you'd gotten him as a gag gift for christmas two years ago that he swore he'd throw away.

he looks good tonight, you think, marked with little pieces of you. he looks like he's yours.

"fuck's that supposed to mean?" he doesn't answer the question, and you bite back a smile at the red tinting his cheeks. you tell yourself it's from the cold.

"c'mon," you nudge him with your shoulder. "do you like me?"

"no, you're annoying."

"oh, fuck you—"

"—again? you're greedy tonight aren't ya."

your cheeks warm. "that's not what i meant and you know it."

his shoulders shrug the slightest, and the teasing smirk he gives you feels far too close to a smile, one that he hides when he takes a sip from his hot chocolate.

"do you like me?" you repeat your question. this time he sighs, like the drama queen he is.

"yes, alright?" katsuki realizes too late that his words are a little too airy, a little too soft to be a snarky reply, so he amends it with "wouldn't let you mark me up if i didn't."

it's then that your eyes drop to the hickeys on his neck, trailing down his bare chest and disappearing into the hem of his sweats. you know you're no better with the finger shaped bruises on your thighs and the bite marks underneath your— his shirt.

you don't know why you like marking each other up so much. maybe it's because you both need to keep your lips preoccupied. katsuki doesn't like kissing, says it's too intimate for a friends with benefits situation. you've slept together, yes, multiple times, but you've never been... intimate, with him.

(that's a lie, your brain supplies. he's held you close late at night, fully clothed and feeling like putty in his arms when you tell him a shitty a joke that has him barking out a laugh, vibrations on his chest reverberating against your cheek; he's taken you out on not-dates, telling you to dress pretty, i'll pick ya up at seven and ended the night not in his bed but on his kitchen counter, with his sleeves rolled up and a cocky grin on his face when your eyes light up after he feeds you a spoonful of the lasagna he's cooking because he decided the restaurant couldn't make good food to save its life. he's the friend you sleep with every now and then, sure... but you haven't been just friends for a while now.)

you hum at his response, and it's followed by a light shake of your head. "i knew you'd say that," you mumble.

"if you knew what i'd say then what was the point of asking?"

you shrug. "wanted to hear it come from you."

he only nods in lieu of a reply, and you silently take the mug when he offers it to you, content when the hot chocolate warms your body before handing it back to him.

it's when he's taking a sip that you decide to ask, "do you love me?" and katsuki nearly spits out his drink. you're laughing and staring at him with amused eyes, and he's trying not to choke with a mutter of what the hell, y/n before he gathers his composure.

then he's tossing your question around his head and he looks at you. really looks at you.

your eyes look pretty tonight, he thinks. bare faced and smelling like his sheets, wearing the first shirt you saw when you opened his closet. he didn't bother telling you it was his favorite, not when you looked at him so sweetly when you asked him if you could borrow it, brain taking one look at you in his clothes and immediately deciding that this version of you is the sexiest and he can't help the way his hands are drawn to your waist, nose nuzzling into the crook of your neck and almost purring when he realizes he can smell his laundry detergent and soap mixed with your scent.

and yeah, your eyes look pretty tonight, he thinks. your eyes look pretty when they're only looking at him.

"no."

"you don't?"

"i don't."

there's a gust of wind that surrounds you, and he pulls you closer when he notices you shiver, mug forgotten on his little table. he's warm— unfairly so— when he brings his arms on either side your body, trapping you between the metal railing and his chest. when you risk a glance at him, red eyes are staring into yours, and your heart just about stops, all the air knocked from your lungs from the way he looks at you.

and then you compose yourself, lips curling into what you hoped was a teasing smile.

"liar."

"m'not lying,"

"you sure?"

"if you knew what i'd say then what was the point of asking?" he repeats his question from earlier. so you shrug, turning away from him and his intense gaze as you murmur, "wanted to hear it come from you."

there's a beat that passes, and katsuki's body is still behind you. you could almost hear the conflict in his head, his internal debate. one side wins over the other, you think, because your heart nearly jump out of your chest when the arms that were once beside your body suddenly find their way around your waist, and he rests his chin on your shoulder with a sigh.

"maybe if you ask properly," he finally responds, his warm hands finding your cold ones. you hope he doesn't notice the way your pulse speeds up at his touch.

"okay," you murmur, suddenly aware of just how close katsuki really is. you'd been close to him before, underneath his sheets. but it was never... intimate, like this. his face was never pressed into your neck, like this. his hands were never holding yours, like this.

and there's— there's a warmth in your chest, one you tell yourself is there because of how close he is. katsuki feels so warm pressed up against you and you're dizzy from the way his smell fills your senses, could feel his heart beat from where it's pressed against your back. you wonder if katsuki could feel yours, too; your heart, the way it's beating so fast you're sure it's going to explode. briefly, you wonder if katsuki's using part of his quirk— if this is what his nitroglycerine feels when it activates: warm in his hands, before it explodes.

"bakugou katsuki," you announce teasingly, biting back a smile when you feel him scoff. "do you love me?"

it was meant to be a joke, at first. asking him. like asking him stupid stuff like would you love me if i was a worm? but now that it's out there— properly, like he'd said— it feels a little too real, a little too soon. cheeks feeling a little too warm for the cold air of the night, gaze a little too warm to be just a friend.

you aren't sure if you'd be heartbroken or relieved if katsuki said no— properly, like he'd said. you could laugh it off, write it off like the joke it was meant to be and you could go back to being... whatever the hell it is you two are. maybe this time you bit off more than you could chew, maybe you should've backed off when you still could and take back your question, crawl back into his bed before you actually do feel what his nitroglycerine does before it happens: warm in his hands, before it explodes in your face.

but you've never been good at knowing what's bad for you.

"well?" you murmur at his silence, "do you?"

"you want the good answer or the real answer?" his question makes your heart drop. it's a cold douse of water to your face, and suddenly you can feel the chilly air again, hands too cold for your own good. it's nitroglycerine, exploding in your face.

"well?" he murmurs when your reply takes too long for his liking. then he's leaning in, somehow making the already small space between you even smaller, and his eyes glance down to your lips. your heart begins to race again.

maybe it's the way he's looking at you that makes you feel brave, brave enough to glance at his lips, too, before you murmur, "the real answer."

your heart's in your throat and his heart's on his sleeve, but katsuki doesn't reply. instead, his hand's on your cheek and your eyes are fluttering shut, lips tingling at the sear of his kiss. only this time, it's katsuki who feels it— what nitroglycerine feels like: warm in your touch, explosions on his lips.

#lil warm up to get back into the swing of things #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou x reader #katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader

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pullthehilt · 2 months ago

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Reader is Yuu with an implied family with siblings. Not re-read or edited.

One day you realise that there is just a bit too much food on the table. It takes eating with the others to truly notice, but it starts with Grim complaining.

"We've been eating the same thing for days now!" And you laugh because it's true. After eating it fresh the first day, you tend to pack up and store the rest equally in the fridge and freezer because, yes, it's a lot. Dishes that are soups, or meals that are cooked in the larger pots and pans. Food that is to be served with rice on the side, portions that are bigger than your face. That isn't to say that you had a lot of thaumarks on you as you're just good at making bulk purchases worth it.

Everyone laughs at Grims moping, remarking of how he should be greatful you're feeding him at all. The banter is great.

But you're picking at your packed lunch now.

Why do you cook so much? Why do you reach for the bigger pots and pans? Why are your portions always for more than one?

From the fog of your mind, you see... your kitchen. Or you think it's your kitchen. It's not the kitchen back at Ramshackle, but the one from before Ramshackle. You're bustling around the counter, chatting to a faceless figure by the table, and reaching for seasonings without even looking. You're opening cabinets and finding what you need easily and asking the figure to make some rice to accompany whatever is in that pot. There's the squeals of children and hearty laughter from the other room. And hands, there's a hand at the small of your back and you think it's a motherly touch because how else can you describe the gentle way they press you to the side of their body.

For the next few days you can't eat properly. There's weight at your gut that substitutes for food and you don't make anything more. When your friends come over to invade the living room of Ramshackle, you don't have much snacks to offer them.

Peering into the fridge only reveals the stacks of containers of food you were eating days prior. You're mulling about maybe something you can make for them when,

"Whoa, talk about excess. Grim wasn't kidding." Ace's voice is right behind you.

"Ugh, sorry guys. i don't think I have anything proper to really feed you guys--"

"Is that some sort of egg salad?" Deuce's hand slithers forward to grab at one of the containters. "You have bread?" Nodding you gesture to the other cabinet. "Then I'll snack on this-- Er, if you wouldn't mind."

Epel peers from the doorway. "You don't happen to haf' some meat in 'er do ya?" Your fingers linger, before meekly pulling out a corrisponding tupperware.

"It's a bit stiff though, Epel."

"Hah, I'll jus' throw it on tha' stove or somthing. If it's still tough, I dun' care. Sometimes just gotta eat the greasy foods." He takes the tupperware and slaps it into a pan to heat it up. The aroma of sizzling meat is quick to attract both Sebek and Jack who add to the noise of chatter amongst the others, the former mostly.

You find yourself to the side, watching as they scour through your leftovers, opening and nodding at the meals inside before choosing which to heat up. And it's loud, but not grating. They're navigating through your space with expertice, slipping past each other and peering into cabinets. Jack's making rice and Sebek is counting the plates (whilst also making sounds whenever he sees a chip in the odd one or two). Over the stove Epel and Ace are jerking their hands into the pan, nipping their fingers to the corner pieces of the meat to just 'check if it's ready to eat'. Gathering the spoons and forks, Deuce nibbles on a piece of his egg salad sandwich before disappearing in the living area where everyone is setting up.

The dinner table has been set. You don't feel entirely there, floating to a cushion on the floor as your left overs are bought over to the table plate-by-plate. Everyone sits around you, Grim settled into your lap as he nibbles on a piece of fried fish, and they're passing the dishes around.

You've eaten these things before but you've always eaten them with Grim or alone when Grim takes his naps early. Instead of one set of cutlery scraping at porcelain, there's multiple sets-- a symphony playing to their hunger as they gather more to pile onto their plates.

#and then i didnt want to write anymore #JDSIFASF just a thought fr #i was talking to my friends who moved out for uni and we were all just talking about meals and specifically family meals #i got really sad just thinking about it #in my culture we dont really have individual meals and instead have meals where its quick and convenient that can feed quite a few #and we eat it with rice so its like long lasting too icl #anyways i have a lot of thoughts but my writing is soooo bad lol #twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #x reader #jack howl #epel felmier #ace trappola #deuce spade #sebek zigvolt #grim #twst yuu #>hilt.rambles

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thriftedtchotchkes · 1 year ago

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body language

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

summary: joel shows up at your place in the middle of the night with a camcorder and an idea

warnings: 18+ MDNI, no outbreak, soft-dom!joel, soft!joel, sex tape, established relationship, smut, unprotected piv, size kink, praise kink, overstimulation, fingering, rough sex, mild camera anxiety, moodboard for aesthetics only

word count: 7.4k

“Joel? It’s two o’clock in the morning, you alright?”

He never calls this late. He’s never even up this late. Joel’s a creature of habit—asleep by midnight and up, bright and early, at seven. Yet, it’s still his name lighting up your phone and illuminating the pitch black of your bedroom, waking you out of a near-dead sleep.

It takes him a moment to reply and, for a second, you think maybe he’s been out drinking with his contractor buddies. But that’s not like him, especially on a weeknight.

When his voice finally filters through the speaker, he sounds…off. His deep drawl is lower than usual, thick with something syrupy and heady that you’d probably be able to place if you weren’t teetering on the cusp of consciousness.

“Be better if I was there with ya.”

Oh.

Now, you’re awake. The barely concealed intention in his tone and words is unmistakable, and now you know exactly why he’s calling you at two in the morning on a weeknight. Because he hasn’t seen you in weeks, and he’s horny.

Heat licks at the base of your spine, and you get it. It's been a while since he’s been in your bed, and you're horny, too. You lean over to retrieve your phone from the nightstand, and your pilling flannel sheets slip down to your bare thighs, exposing your feverish skin to the brisk autumn air drifting in through a cracked window. It feels like the sweetest relief—you usually run hot when you sleep, but it’s nothing like this.

Switching the call off speaker, you unconsciously lean into the small screen as if it were him. A photo of Joel, soaked and covered in sand at the beach last year, flashes up at you and your lips brush against it as you murmur into the mic.

"If you wanted it bad enough, then you would be," you tease, your voice sultry and still heavy with sleep. You settle onto your back, kicking the sheets further down the bed so you can splay your fingers low on your stomach. They dip just slightly under the waistband of your underwear, closer to where you hope you'll need them soon. "So? Tell me how bad you want it."

You've never done the phone sex thing with Joel before, but if that's what he's looking for, then you're more than happy to play along. Every hushed sigh and bit-back groan, you want to hear it all. To let the gentle vibration of it in your ear reverberate through your body, feeding your arousal until it’s humming between your legs.

It’s been way too long. This might hold you over for now, but after tonight, you're going to need the real thing. Your boyfriend, close enough to touch, instead of a crackling, disembodied voice.

But, before you can even begin, your call is abruptly halted by a hard knock at the door. You shoot up, ripping your hand out of your underwear to rest over your racing heart.

No one’s ever at your door at this hour, and the fact that someone is either spells trouble or a mistake. Part of you is relieved that you’re on the phone with Joel in case there’s actual danger out there, but another nagging part really wants to ignore the interruption. You’ve got better things to do.

But you investigate, anyway. Better safe than sorry, right? Then, you can enjoy whatever Joel’s got planned for you to the fullest.

"Jesus, what...hold on, I think there’s someone outside," you whisper harshly into the phone as you slide out of bed, creeping as quietly as you can to the front door. "I'll be right back, I’m gonna go—“

To your surprise, Joel continues on anyway, undeterred by the commotion and the obvious alarm in your voice. But he sounds strange again, almost like he’s echoing.

“Want it real bad."

You grip your phone tighter as you struggle to hear what he's saying, but you’re too distracted by the chaos unfolding around you to focus. He’s acting so out of character. Seriously, what the hell is going on? You have no idea why this night’s been so out of wack, but it's starting to get a little too weird for your liking.

“Uh, say that again?"

The call drops and you're left staring at your home screen, feeling confused as hell. That is, until you hear those same words in that familiar, deep drawl coming from the other side of the door.

There's no way.

You unlock it without bothering to look through the peephole, opening it to find a very disheveled Joel leaning against the doorframe. His face is already so close to yours like he’s been waiting for you to come to him, eagerly. Impatiently.

The scent of his favorite spearmint gum fans over your face, and you subconsciously drag your tongue along your bottom lip in anticipation. His eyes follow the action, captivated by every minute movement you make, and you can tell how much just being in your presence is affecting him. The intensity in his gaze would make you feel nervous if it wasn’t for the obvious want simmering below the surface.

God, why does all of this feel so potent? You’re panting...when did that even start? It’s suddenly hotter than the stifling warmth under your sheets, despite being half-naked in your open doorway, but it feels good. Right. Because he’s breathing as heavily as you are.

There’s no traces of beer or whiskey on his breath. So, he's completely sober, then. Whatever you were hearing in his voice, that wild look in his eyes, completely overtaken by his blown pupils—he’s not drunk on any of that. Only on thoughts of you. Your breath hitches when he speaks again, in person this time.

"Don't think I need to repeat myself, do I?"

Your eyes drop to the intimidating tent in his sweatpants before darting up to meet his.

"No, I believe you," you breathe out.

And, god, do you.

Adrenaline floods your veins as he lurches forward to kiss you, and, finally, you get to taste that dizzying combination of mint and Joel. The coolness of it on your tongue does little to quell the heat spreading from your lips down to where you need him most.

His hands immediately find purchase where yours were just moments before, sliding up your sides under your oversized sleep shirt—his shirt. He cups the soft skin of your breasts, and you moan wantonly into his mouth, suddenly desperate to be bare in front of him.

But he ignores the bunched-up fabric shielding you from his view. He actually seems pleased by the sight of it on your body and the scent of himself still lingering on your skin. You haven't washed it since he left it here, and you can tell it’s stoking something primal in him. Something he's left unchecked since the last time he was with you that threatens to consume him. Shit, you can hear it in his voice.

“Couldn’t stop thinkin’ about ya,” he mumbles against your lips, heavy lines marring his brow as if the thought of not being able to have you for so long physically pained him. “Been up all damn night…haven’t been able to think about anything else all goddamn night.”

He thumbs over a nipple while he tweaks the other, hard enough to startle a gasp out of you, and, oh, he likes that. The blunt outline of his hardening cock is insistent against your hip, but he holds himself back from grinding into you. Even as his body reacts without his permission, he’s still choosing to prioritize your pleasure first.

“You got no idea, the things m’gonna do to you tonight. Gonna treat you right, pretty girl, give ya everything you deserve.”

Your heart stutters, and you practically preen at his praise. This fucking man. You swallow his words greedily, pressing your lips into his hard enough to bruise, and the kiss descends into desperation and an unexpected need to hear more. You want more of those sweet, filthy words, to see what they really mean when he finally delivers on them. And all you have to do is ask.

“Then, give it to me.”

He parts from you with a lewd smack, a string of saliva hanging between you. You use the brief respite to take him in, your eyes roving over his tousled curls and the flush that’s quickly traveling down his neck and spreading across his chest.

He’s so fucking beautiful, and…and why aren’t your hands on him right now? He’s been standing there for minutes, or hours, you can’t even tell anymore. Yet, when you reach out to touch him, he catches your hand in midair. His grip is gentle yet firm, the side of his mouth quirking down as he raises an eyebrow, and you feel like you’re being scolded.

"Oh, honey. I know you can ask nicer than that,” he mutters, lifting it to his lips and softly kissing your palm.

There's a sense of authority in the way he says it, contradictory to the saccharine nature of his words. You're starting to realize you're not in control—that, tonight, what he says goes—but it feels safe. You know he'll take good care of you.

He gives your breast an encouraging squeeze as his other hand snakes further down to palm your ass, pulling your hips into his so you can feel all of him. This is what you'll get if you're a good girl, he's telling you.

You bite back a whine, gazing up at him through your lashes, wetting your lips before you try again. His way.

"Please."

Your voice quivers around the singular syllable that guarantees you’ll get what you need.

“There's my sweet girl. Just need’ta be reminded sometimes, don’t ya?”

He nods his head slowly, commandingly, while he asks the question, and you mimic him. You can feel yourself slipping, drowning in him and this feeling of security. You can’t help it, and you don’t want to.

He leans in to press his lips against yours again, devouring you in a way that feels less hungry and more exploratory, like he’s mapping you out. Filing away everything that makes your breath hitch and your eyelids flutter. He’s not immune to you, though. That much is obvious.

There's a growing wet patch on the front of his sweatpants, and you belatedly realize he didn’t bother putting on boxers before he left his house. He rubs damply against your stomach, just below your belly button, but he’s still not nearly close enough to where you need him. You don’t even know why his pants are still on. They really shouldn’t be.

Then, that same cool breeze and the delicate sound of crunchy, autumn leaves blowing along the sidewalk reminds you why. The front door is still wide open, leaving you standing in your underwear, and Joel with his hand up your shirt, in full view of anyone passing by. Not that they would at this time of night, but the thought is still a little thrilling. But not enough for Joel to leave it open any longer.

He pushes you further into your apartment, kicking the door shut behind him, and leads you backward to your bedroom. God, you can’t wait to see him—his tanned, sun-weathered skin and sparse smattering of freckles.

There’s too many layers between you and if your body isn’t pressed against his soon, you might actually lose your mind. You’ve never been this desperate for him before, but there’s something about the way he’s acting tonight.

This unfamiliar headspace you’re in…fuck, it feels good. You’re trusting him to make up for those weeks apart and, even more so, to dictate your pleasure in ways that are totally new to your relationship. You’ll do what he tells you, you’ll moan for him, you’ll cum for him. He knows what’s best for you.

Your clothes come off first. Your shirt is pulled up and over your head, and then he bends to tug down your underwear, letting it drop soundlessly to the floor. Next go his shoes, then his socks, leaving a trail of fabric from the living room, all the way to your bed.

It’s so sensual—surprisingly so—even though it’s something you do all the time. But tonight, he’s handling you with such rapt attention. His eyes never leave yours as each article of clothing falls to the plush, blue-patterned carpet beneath your feet.

You’re so naked. Compared to him, still clad in his jacket, t-shirt, and pants, you feel…exposed. Vulnerable. Maybe that’s the point. You approach him carefully, waiting for his permission to touch him, and he smiles softly.

“C’mere, baby. Could use a little help here,” he reassures you, reaching out to take your hand. But instead of letting you undress him, he guides it over the thick bulge in his sweatpants.

His fingers close around yours and, together, you squeeze him. Your eyes shoot up to gauge his reaction, but other than a nearly inaudible sigh and pinched brows, he’s not showing any other signs of being affected at all.

Craving more, you grind the palm of your hand into him, relishing the warmth of his cock as it pulses the frantic rhythm of his heartbeat in your grasp. He hisses out a breath, his hand tensing over yours, and a flash of pride lances through you.

Yes. Gotcha.

But your satisfaction is short-lived. To your disappointment, he tugs your hand away, but he doesn't separate from you completely. Instead, he slides it up past the softness of his stomach to rest on his chest. It rumbles softly under your touch as he speaks, except, they’re not necessarily the words you want to hear.

“No more of that. S’about you right now,” he drops his forehead to yours, fixing you with a stern look. “Later, alright? When I’m fuckin’ ya, you can touch me as much as you want.”

Shit. You clench down hard, suddenly hyperaware of the wetness between your legs and the feeling of devastating emptiness. You want it now, but you still have no idea what his plans are.

If you’re a brat about it, he’ll probably make you wait even longer, and, anyway, that’s not what you want to be tonight. You want to be good for him.

His broad hands spread across your waist as he tilts his head to kiss your cheek, then the underside of your jaw. Without warning, he sucks hard, likely leaving a mark you’ll have to cover up tomorrow before work. You hope he leaves more.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble remorsefully, shivering in his arms as his thumbs begin to rub soothing circles into your skin. “I can wait—I…I’ll be better.”

“S’okay, baby, I know ya will,“ he replies, dragging his lips down to your shoulder. “Just keep goin’. You’re doin’ so good.”

Finally, you push his jacket off his shoulders and it joins the rest of your clothes, hitting the floor with a solid thunk. The noise startles you enough to clear some of that comfortable haze, and you slowly pull back, eyeing him curiously.

That’s…way louder than it should’ve been. It’s his fall coat so it barely weighs a thing, even with his phone and wallet in his pockets.

But he doesn’t seem surprised at all. His face is unreadable except for the hint of a smirk, and he doesn’t look like he’s about to talk anytime soon.

You bend down to pick it up, your eyes still on his, and you were right. It’s heavier than it should be by a long shot, and you’re honestly a little taken aback that you didn’t notice it earlier. But, in all fairness, you weren’t noticing much of anything earlier, save for Joel’s hands and lips on your body.

Reaching into his pocket, your fingers brush against something clunky and metallic. It’s not his phone. There’s too many moving pieces, and it’s at least three times its size.

When the mystery item is finally revealed, your jaw drops. Joel can be a pretty spontaneous guy when he wants to be, but this? You never saw this coming.

In your hand sits a goddamn camcorder. An honest-to-god video camera that was just sitting in his pocket with no discernible reason for being there.

While you wait for him to explain, the gadget begins to feel heavier by the second, just the idea of it burning a hole right through your palm. But you know you don’t need him to. You’re not a child, and, in the back of your mind, you already know exactly why it’s there. This is the reason he came here.

That pretty, hazy brain fog halts briefly, just long enough for you to get some answers. You want to hear him say it.

“You said you’d give me everything I deserve, right? I think I deserve an explanation,” you say, forgoing the pleasantries he asked of you earlier.

You’re fighting not to sound weak, to emulate his authoritative tone, but your heart is pounding and you already sound out of breath. Fucking hell, this man. You don’t think you’ve ever been this turned on in your life, and he knew this would happen.

Judging by the way his eyes darken and rove over your naked curves, he’s painfully aware of it. You watch dumbfounded as his patience runs out, and he discards his shirt and sweatpants. Now that his secret’s out, he doesn’t want to wait anymore, either.

You bite down hard on your bottom lip, and your hands clench into fists at your sides to keep yourself from reaching out and touching him, but it feels impossible. It’s right there—his cock, leaking and flushed red at the tip from neglect.

It jerks under your heated gaze, and he exhales sharply through his nose, wrapping his hand tightly around the base. He's clearly struggling as much as you are. Then, he moves closer, all but crowding you into the edge of the bed, and you can feel it pulsing against your bare skin.

“Here’s the deal, pretty girl—you’re gonna cum s’many times as I want you to, and this here’s gonna record it all,” he drawls, holding out his hand for the camera. You acquiesce without any more questions. “Waited too damn long to see you like this and that ain’t happenin’ again.”

His other hand cups your cheek to trace your bottom lip with his thumb, and your lips part around an almost imperceptible gasp. To anyone else but him, at least.

“You gonna let me?”

You nod quickly, praying your eyes convey all of the want you’re feeling and none of the nerves.

“Yeah,” you answer, breathlessly. “I’ll let you.”

But he sees right through you. The apprehension in your voice is too apparent, and he clocks it on the spot. His eyes instantly soften. He tugs you into his arms and holds you close, nosing into the hair just above your ear. Relieved, you sag into his familiar embrace.

“If this ain’t okay with you, we stop right here. Alright? We don’t do anythin’ you're not a hundred percent sure you want,” and he sounds attentive and so earnest.

His bare skin feels so warm against yours, and you allow it to remind you of everything he promised you. Of all of the things he’s about to do to you, for you, and the tape that’ll capture it all. For yours and Joel’s eyes only, whenever you need it. And you know you will eventually.

Rubbing your cheek into his chest, you close your eyes and take a minute to let the calming beat of his heart make you feel less nervous. This is an entirely different kind of reminder, one that reassures you that you trust this man with everything you’ve got. You’re sure of your answer.

“I want this, Joel,” you murmur, slowly opening your eyes to meet his, commanding his full attention. “I promise you, I want this so fucking badly.”

That flips the switch. He swaps your positions in the blink of an eye, looping his arm around your middle to drag you up the bed until his back is against the headboard with you between his legs.

“Don't need'ta be shy. You’re beautiful, baby, that’s all it’s gonna see,” he breathes out, his voice thick with affection and want.

He bends you both forward, his chest solid against your back, to set the camcorder onto the sheets, and tosses a few pillows behind it to prop it up. Something intimidating clicks just as Joel tilts the preview screen toward you.

It’s on. Brightly lit and reflecting back a depraved mirror image of you and Joel, naked and panting and needy.

Okay. Okay, here we go. Another click, and then a red light blips next to the lens.

It’s recording.

The light flashes steadily, and you can feel your body tensing with every strobe. Come on, loosen up. It’s just a piece of metal. A very…scary piece of metal that’s watching your every move. Your thighs tremble from a confusing mix of arousal and nerves, and you start to feel embarrassed.

You can see yourself on the little screen, feeling small yet secure in Joel’s arms, but you’re too focused on the camera’s attention on you to relax. As if he can tell you’re about to shrink into yourself, Joel distracts you. You haven’t told him to stop or asked him to turn it off, and he knows you would if this became too much.

"See what I mean?" He smoothes his hands down your thighs, carefully parting your legs. He gives you every chance to close them, but you don’t. "Fuckin' perfect, just like I told ya."

You try harder to see what he sees, what you're praying the camera sees. He's so free with his compliments and praise, you want to believe you deserve them.

"Prettiest pussy I've ever seen," he mutters tightly under his breath, his fingers massaging the tense muscles in your thighs. "From now on, m'gonna get to see this whenever I want. See myself fuckin' you whenever I can't."

Once you catch sight of your glistening heat reflected back at you, you help him spread your legs even further, watching as your cunt visibly clenches in response.

Oh. Oh...look at you.

You get it now, why he wants this on film. You’re captivated by yourself, by the way Joel bites back a groan and his body seizes up as he fights not to rut into you. You’d love to be able to see that again.

But then his fingers finally press deliciously into your clit and any lingering anxiety completely fades away. You barely even register his lips brushing against your ear, checking in before he continues with everything he’s about to put you through.

“Doin’ alright?” he murmurs between damp kisses against your neck. That tranquil haze begins to settle in again as he mouths wetly at your skin, the coarse drag of his beard a familiar comfort.

“Mhm,” you hum before your head lolls back onto his shoulder, and you slip completely. “S'good...feels good.”

“That's my girl,” he breathes tenderly, rewarding you with more pressure, pressing down harder on your clit.

The slick friction is heady and so effective that all you can do is give in as your hips swivel into his touch of their own accord. He's taking such good care of you, attuned to every gasp, the quickening rise and fall of your breasts.

You tilt your head to observe his expression. It's your only indication of what he’s feeling since he’s still refusing to allow himself to react to you physically.

He's breathtaking, looking like a man starved with his parted lips and pitch-black eyes, locked on where his fingers are slipping through the mess he’s making of your pussy. He must feel you watching him because he suddenly smirks, snaking a hand up your body to cup your breast.

Your eyes squeeze shut and you mewl, pretty and perfect for the camera, your hips bucking clear off his lap when he begins to languidly massage the soft curve. You're getting so close already and your entire body quakes with it, your thighs trembling violently against his as he swirls tighter, faster circles into your swollen clit.

“Joel…ngh—Joel, I’m...fuck, m’gonna cum,” you whimper into his neck, grabbing his thighs to anchor yourself. "C-can I? Please."

“I know, baby, I can feel it. C’mon, give it to me,” he rasps, your demand from earlier falling raggedly from his lips. "Show the camera how hard ya cum for me."

Then, he pinches your nipple hard between his thumb and calloused middle finger, and you’re gone. Your orgasm crashes over you in a blissful wave, your stomach tensing intermittently with every gushing pulse of your cunt, and he doesn’t let up. Not until you’ve ridden his hand through your aftershocks, and slump into his chest, completely spent.

“That’s one, pretty girl.”

That’s…one? He’s counting them? You’re struggling to understand, to even focus on what he’s saying, but he doesn’t leave you wondering for long.

"You're gonna give me four, alright?” His fingers shift from your chest to your chin, tilting your head up to face him. The look in his eyes tells you to listen because he means this. “Want ya to cum on my fingers three times before you cum on my cock. Can ya do that for me?"

Christ. Your eyes dart from the attentive device, still recording every move and reaction you make, back to his. Can you? You’re not even sure if that’s possible, and your bottom lip trembles as you start to overthink it.

You’ve never orgasmed that many times in a row, not with him or by yourself, and yet, he sounds so sure that you can. That he can make you. His thumb gently strokes your chin, and you believe him. You will.

"Yes, Joel," you find yourself nodding obediently, and you're thrilled at how pleased he looks.

He leans down to kiss away your worries, swallowing your surprised squeal as his fingers waste no time starting up those insistent swirls on your clit again. Your hips jerk away from his hand, but he only smiles against your lips, his strong arms holding you in place.

It’s way too much, nearly overwhelming you, and you whimper into his mouth at the oversensitivity. Your floor muscles clench painfully as you continue to try and recover from your last one, but you don’t stop him. You give into him so easily, letting his adoration and sheer desire fuel you.

“That's it. You can take it, I know ya can,” he encourages, pulling away from your lips to gaze down at you in awe. "Look at my girl...so damn responsive tonight. Listenin' so well."

You can’t help the satisfaction blooming in your chest, gasping in relief as the sensitivity begins to subside into intense pleasure. His eyes drop between your legs as your hips start to chase his touch, and yours quickly follow.

“Shit,” he mutters, his voice tighter than it has been all night. “You get so fuckin’ wet when ya cum. Makin' the prettiest mess.”

His middle and ring fingers abruptly slip from rubbing merciless circles into your clit down to your entrance, plunging inside you, and god, it's exactly what you need. His fingertips drag against your sensitive walls, stroking something repeatedly that steals your breath away, and your pussy flutters around him.

He mimics the soft sound but it trails off, dropping to something deeper that rumbles in his chest, and his slow, purposeful thrusts turn aggressive. His fingers hook inside you, and your eyes roll back, lips parting around desperate, choked-out words he'll watch back and probably cum to.

"...t-there, there. Please...don't stop—," you keen, your voice catching every time your hips buck to meet his hand. "—n-need more. Please, Joel, I...c-can you...?"

That gorgeous smirk returns, his face alight with pride. He's so proud of you.

“Beautiful and polite, Christ. Whatever you want,” his fingers don’t let up, and he looks mesmerized by how slick and easy he slides in and out. “Keep askin’ nice like that and I’ll give ya anything.”

Adding a third finger, he starts to fuck into you in earnest, ramming against something deep inside you as his palm slaps repeatedly against your clit. You see stars. Your vision begins to blur, and you’re positive you’re moaning louder than you should be this late at night, but you can’t focus on anything else but the wet squelching of your pussy around him.

You should probably feel at least a little ashamed, but your warming cheeks have nothing to do with the noise and everything to do with the wrecked, stuttered moans in your ear, and Joel’s cock rutting into your ass in time with his fingers.

He's finally losing his composure. That careful self-restraint he's tried so hard to maintain, slowly but surely being dismantled. He clearly doesn’t care anymore, and he wants you to know it.

"Feel that? S'what ya do to me,” he grits through his teeth, his head dropping to your shoulder to watch as he smears precum messily across your skin. You unintentionally squeeze his fingers at his words, and he groans raggedly. "Fuckin'...tight—Christ, ya just keep gettin' tighter. Think m’gonna fit?"

You shake your head furiously, already feeling too full around his fingers, but your body betrays you, grinding down onto his cock before you can stop yourself. He exhales sharply at your reaction, bucking into you a little harder than he means to, and for a moment, you think maybe he likes the idea that he's too big for you. That your pussy's just too tight to take him right now.

That little red light still gleaming next to the ever-observant mechanical eye in front of you would probably love to witness that. A filthy, intimate image of you caught between intense pleasure and pain, forever preserved.

"No?” he murmurs, nuzzling into the crook of your neck. “S'okay, baby, we'll make it fit. Don't'chu worry."

It hits you like a freight train, your second orgasm catching both of you by surprise and knocking the wind completely out of you. He wrenches his fingers out of your heat so he can wrap his arms tightly around you, keeping you from knocking over the camera as you writhe in his lap. It's overwhelming, somehow even more intense than the first, but the sensitivity sets in quicker.

Your nails dig sharply into his arms, and he hisses in a breath behind you. You're scared you might be hurting him, but you're having trouble controlling your limbs as immense amounts of dopamine flood your system, so you scrabble against the damp sheets instead.

Fuck, you can’t. It's too much. He’s still moving beneath you, the slide of his cock against your skin made easier by the slick dripping between your legs, and you’re not even sure he realizes he’s doing it. You want to do this for him so badly, but you're not sure how much more you can take.

One more. You can take one more. Then, he's yours.

Sensing your discomfort, he holds you through it, lets you ride it out until you’re whimpering softly in his arms. But all he offers is a brief, sweet moment of respite before his fingers return to your cunt. He mindfully avoids your clit as he slowly sinks two fingers back inside you, and, now, even you can feel how tight you are. Each one of his knuckles catches on your entrance and rubs you purposefully, if not a little painfully.

"How's that feel, baby? Talk to me.”

It aches. It’s so much. It’s not enough. The warring sensations between your legs intensify the deeper he plunges into you, but, this time, the sensitivity doesn’t ebb. Instead, it amplifies everything. You can feel him keenly, sweat and oppressive heat pooling everywhere your bodies connect, and you melt into it. Into him.

"S'good...keep—," you accidentally clench around him, and your breath hitches at the dull throb that wracks your lower half, "—k-keep going. Want more.”

“Fuck. Such a good girl...so fuckin' good,” he breathes heavily behind you, grunting his pleasure into your shoulder every time your hips try to escape insistent strokes. It's not just the steady grind of his cock between your ass cheeks that’s getting him off. You can see the playful sparkle in his eyes on the screen, regardless of how small his image is. He's enjoying the chase.

You think he could even cum like this, playing this dangerous game with you. It's then that you realize you like it, too. You both know how close you are to earning your reward, so agonizingly near, you can taste it. And he can feel you around his fingers, tensing and relaxing, beginning to adapt to the unbearable soreness as your orgasm quickly approaches.

"Almost there, baby. S'a lot, I know, but you're takin' it so well,” he groans encouragingly. You can hear the subtle anticipation in his voice. He’s a wreck behind you, all but fucking into your skin as he adds a third finger and increases his speed. You let out a pained moan together at the resistance. "Hurts, huh? Lemme make it better, pretty girl. Tell me what ya need."

“M-my clit, please…please,” you beg him. Politely, nicely, kindly, whatever he wants. It’s still swollen and rubbed raw despite how wet you’ve been all night, but, fuck, you need it. Just a gentle touch would be enough to send you over the edge. That’s all it’ll take.

And that’s exactly what he gives you. Three barely-there swirls with his thumb, and you’re screaming, cumming around him so hard, you’re almost worried you’ll break his fingers. Your spasming floor muscles are unforgiving, convulsing violently as you cream into the palm of his hand, but this time he doesn’t wait for it to subside.

The internal pressure suddenly disappears and everything tilts on its axis. You’re being shifted, lifted higher by two strong arms encircling your waist, and something big—god, it feels huge—nudges at your abused hole. Joel’s speaking, but whatever he’s saying is too difficult to make out over the blood roaring in your ears. It sounds urgent. Impatient. He sounds needy.

He lowers you just a hair, and the stretch around his tip feels impossible. You were right. He's not going to fit, and the thought makes you want to cry. He has to. You need him to.

"...baby...baby," his voice finally cuts through the fog. He's shaking, trembling like a leaf all around you, but refusing to move until you can hear him. You realize he's been asking you a question, and he needs your answer now. "Need'ta be inside you. Christ, I—m'not gonna be gentle. I...can't, I can't anymore. Gonna fuck you hard, s'that okay? Can ya take me?"

He gives you a little more, a preview of what's to come before you make your decision, and it fucking hurts. It's also the most incredible thing you've ever felt.

More. You said you wanted more, and you meant it. You nod frantically, whining your assent, but it's not enough. He needs you to say it.

"Need'ya to use your words, baby. Yes?"

"Yes," you choke out around a sob, wriggling in his arms to get him to move faster. He exhales sharply through his nose, the frantic rhythm of his heartbeat pulsing in his chest and cock.

"Yes."

It's the last warning you get before he drives into you in a single, earth-shattering thrust, burying himself to the hilt. It feels like he's splitting you in half, tearing you right down the middle, and replacing every part of you with Joel, Joel, Joel.

And he doesn't stop there, or give either of you time to adjust. He pistons into you, a wet thock-thock-thock of drenched skin against skin, and you accept it gratefully. You're delirious with the feeling of him stretching you past your limit. So full, you're so fucking full of him. It's the only thing grounding you to the present, your unyielding walls fighting to mold around him.

After hours of giving, he finally takes. He's all but snarling into your ear like a starved apex predator feasting on his prey, biting and sucking and bruising every inch of skin he can reach. Yet, he's still so full of praise for his girl.

"Look at us, baby. Y'see that?" he growls, just loud enough for the mic to pick up the wrecked reverence in his voice. He takes your hand and guides it down until both sets of fingers are wrapped around where he's breaching your swollen cunt. You cry out at the thickness of him, the unimaginable sight of you stretched around him, gripping him. "Takin' me so well. Knew you could. Goddamn perfect woman, s'like you were made for it."

You're starting to believe it. That you were shaped in his image, created just for him. You want to return his affection, even a fraction of the praise he's given you this entire night, but you're past the capacity for speech.

The tension in your chest is making it hard to breathe, and every attempted reply is forced from your body as an incoherent string of stuttered moans and broken sobs. Nearly every other thrust punches your cervix, and you can already feel that telltale heat flooding between your legs.

You can't tell him all of the things you want to. So, you show him, instead. Your entire body goes lax in his arms except your hips and hands, and you rock forward on every upstroke, caressing his inner thighs with your thumbs.

His lips press against the underside of your jaw as he whines desperately into your skin, subtle groans rising in frequency and volume the longer you continue your ministrations. You can feel his stomach tensing behind you, and his grip tightens like he's either trying to stave off his release or anchor himself for when he inevitably erupts. He's so fucking close to the edge, now, you can tell.

He can, too. But he needs you to get there first.

Your hips are already starting to buck into his, and he takes that as the go-ahead to give you more. A sign that your body can handle everything he has left. His arms unravel from around you, and he slows his pace to a deep, heady grind that sets your body ablaze.

He snakes one hand up your stomach to cup a breast while the other drops to rub sloppy circles into your overstimulated bundle of nerves, and you cry out at the sudden onslaught of sensations. Your eyes dart to the camcorder as it builds and builds, in your chest, at the base of your spine, and against that spot deep inside you that has you fluttering around him. You promised one more, and you're ready to put on a show it'll never forget.

But that's the opposite of what Joel wants. He delivers a sharp slap to your clit to get your attention.

"Look at me, baby. Don't look at the camera," he grits out. You whine, turning your head to face him, your expression pleading with him to keep doing that. He acquiesces with a smirk, slapping it again, purposefully and repeatedly to punctuate his demands.

"Ya look at me when you cum, alright?"

Slap.

"Nowhere."

Slap.

"Else."

His hand collides with your cunt a little harder, and even he moans at the contact.

Slap.

"Ya don't close your eyes, ya don't look away. Wanna see those pretty eyes when I fill you up."

He releases your breast to grip your chin between his thumb and index finger, holding you in place.

"C'mon, pretty girl. Cum for me."

Then, his assault really begins. He jerks into motion, his hips slamming into yours frantically, matching the sweet, torturous pace of his fingers' rough touch.

Everything goes fuzzy. You feel its steady approach, a surprisingly gentle wave that trickles from where the head of his cock meets your depths, past every sensitive pressure point to where you're gushing onto his coarse curls. But, as it peaks, you barely feel anything at all. A beat of numbness that makes you believe maybe that was all you had left in you.

A moment later, there's euphoria. You're cumming so hard, your vision blacks out, and all you can sense is your bottom half locking down and Joel sobbing into your shoulder while he empties into you, just like he promised.

He fucks you through it, quiet whimpers and murmured praise flowing uncontrollably from his lips. He tells you how tight you are, how your pussy's choking his cock and milking him dry. How good you've been and how perfect you are. He says all of it just for you, but the camera hears it, too.

For a while, he thrusts into you lazily, savoring his sensitivity and sighing through your final aftershocks. Maybe it's punishment for everything he put you through. Or maybe he just likes the syrupy pain of it. Either way, his girth nestled inside you is comforting now that you're both loose-limbed and pleasantly sticky with each other's release.

He lets out a disappointed grunt when he eventually softens and slips out, right around the time your vision returns and the brain fog starts to clear. The flashing red light at the foot of the bed catches your attention again, and you're struck with a sudden idea. One last thing you want him to have on tape.

Sliding haphazardly off his lap, you position yourself on your hands and knees, the camera situated with the perfect view of your core. You peek behind you, shooting a sly smile at the lens before you part your folds, allowing a thick glob of cum to leak out of your swollen cunt and drip down to your clit. Before it can fall to the sheets below, you gather up the mess with your fingers and shove it right back inside you, where it belongs.

Joel groans heavily in response, and his body finally gives out, collapsing against the headboard. You can't help but laugh, exhausted and sated, close to collapsing, yourself. Crawling back on top of him, you wrap your limbs around his neck and waist, and crash your lips messily into his.

As he returns your kiss with sleepy enthusiasm, he tugs you down flush against his chest. His hands slide down your sides to teasingly squeeze your ass, and you pull away with a gasp, intent on teasing him right back, but the bright grin on his face gives you pause.

Now that your head is clear and you're starting to recover, you remember everything that led to this. That, after too many agonizing weeks, you finally got to have him again, in the flesh and in ways you never have before or thought you ever could. And you'll get to relive it over and over, as many times as you need on those lonely nights when he's not there to take care of you.

"I'm glad you came over," you smile softly, unwinding an arm from around his shoulders to brush back his messy curls. "I really missed you."

His grin widens, and he melts into your touch. God, he's...baffling. A total enigma. You wonder how you'll ever reconcile this man with the one on film, but, then, his eyes soften and it becomes clear. Both men love you. Both are Joel.

"Missed you, too, baby. Y'got no idea how much," he says earnestly and with so much tenderness.

"I think I got the picture," you snort affectionately, leaning down to brush your lips against his.

You kiss him again, and your tangling bodies knock over the camera just as the dead battery indicator flashes twice on the screen, then cuts to black.

thanks for reading!

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #pedro pascal characters

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peepawispunk · 5 days ago

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Pedro Character sex headcanons - Part 1

Part 2 here

My masterlist

You can barely get in the door of Tim Rockford's apartment before he's all over you. Pressing you against the door as he bolts it shut, then he's kissing down your neck, sliding his hand up your skirt and taking you apart with his thick fingers before he fucks you on the hall table.

Tim is a busy man and when he finally gets a chance to spend an evening with you he's not wasting one fucking second.

Javi Gutierrez wants to wine and dine you first. You get to his place in Hollywood Hills and he's had his chef cook you a nice meal, and chosen the perfect bottle of wine to go with it. After, you move to his balcony with a new bottle of wine, share a joint and when you finally get too strung out from the flirting touches you climb on him and he makes the prettiest noises as you grind on him, but he's not fucking you out there where anybody could see. He's taking you to bed so he can take his time.

Din had only ever had rushed, transactional sexual experiences. Sex with feelings is totally new to him. He's so overwhelmed and overstimulated, so used to being in his armor and helmet all the time, that just the barest brush of skin to skin contact has him moaning and tensing, biting his lip until it's all swollen and red. He spends so much time attending to your needs and making you feel good, learning how to get you to make the prettiest noises. He doesn't want to be the only one dripping with arousal

Joel is a natural caretaker and service dom. He gets his pleasure from making you feel good. He makes you dinner (he has about five recipes he's really nailed and is confident with), then he rubs the knots in your back until you're loose and pliant and soft under his hands. Then he flips you over and plays with your tits til you're begging for it, before slipping two thick fingers inside you, thumbing at your clit until you squirt all over his wrist. Then he fucks you stupid, til you can't even think anymore. Then he's tucking you into bed, his arm wrapped around your middle with a palm full of titty, kissing your temple and telling you "shh, such a good girl for me. Sleep now and I'll take real good care o' ya in the morning baby."

Javier Peña has an air of dom about him, but what he really wants is to be taken care of for once. You get to his place and he's all cocky and confident as he brings you off on the couch. But then you climb onto his lap and you're kissing his face, running your hands through his hair and whispering words of praise in his ear as you wrap your hand around him, stroking him before you slip him inside you. He moans so prettily as you circle your hips, pressing kisses to his face, his hair, his hands as his fingers lace with yours. His skin pricks with goosebumps as he finally comes inside you with a choked cry, his arms wrapping around and his face burying into your neck as he's dripping out of you, down your thighs and onto his lap.

Dave York is a dom in all meanings of the word. But he's a proper dom, a real one. He knows that consent and trust is important, and that the sub holds all the real power, because they're allowing the play in the first place and setting the limits.

Dave greets you at the door, makes you drink a glass of water, and is practically fucking you with his eyes while you go over the rules and the limits for today's scene. He's full of praise when you communicate your understanding, when you repeat your safeword, and he's really full of praise when he enters the bedroom five minutes later and you're kneeling on the floor, hands ready and waiting to be tied behind your back before he fucks your throat, before edging you to the most powerful orgasm you've ever had with just his fingers and his voice. Then he tells you how fucking good you are, "you're such a good fucking girl, honey. Look at you, taking this big cock like a champ. Pussy's so fucking hungry, huh? Don't worry. I'll feed her real good. Make her swallow it up."

Frankie is the pussy eating king, yes. But it's more than skill. It's his fucking *passion*. He loves everything about it. The taste, the smell. The feel underneath his tongue. The noises you make. Frankie takes his time. He's all slow licks and sucks, soft, whiskery kisses up your thighs until your legs are shaking with want. He toys with you until you can't take it anymore, bringing you slowly to the brink and then backing off, planting kisses on your thighs and knees and tummy until your breathing evens out. When you can't take it anymore, he stops teasing. He dives nose first into that pussy, the intensity of it making your swear and shake as he shows you just how quickly he can get you there, and just how much he was toying with you by making you wait so long. Yeah, Francisco Morales plays with his food.

Marcus Acacius likes to fuck you in the sunlight. He's had a lifetime of dimly lit tents and rented rooms, and he wants none of those reminders when he's with you. Your union is everything good and powerful and pure. It belongs in the light, in the warmth of day. He loves to take you apart underneath him, his broad shoulders and big, calloused hands making you feel smaller and even more precious, the stark contrast of your soft skin underneath his hands that have known a lifetime of work and battle.

He kisses you so sweetly, fucks you face to face so he can see the look on your face, the light in your eyes as he worships you, thumbing your clit with his free hand as he braces himself above you with one strong forearm. He's hoping this is the time it takes. He can't wait to see you round and glowing, bountiful as the fall harvest.

Part 2

#tim rockford #javi gutierrez #joel miller #javier peña #dave york #marcus acacius #headcanons #pedro pascal cinematic universe #thots #pedro pascal #din djarin #frankie morales

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saintgoths · 1 year ago

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☾༺♰༻☽ʙʀᴜɪꜱᴇᴅ ᴋɴᴇᴇꜱ☾༺♰༻☽

mdni very 18+ - you give ghost the best head he's ever gotten.

simon 'ghost' riley.

250+ notes and i'll post ghost giving you eye-rolling head.

If having to have a vastly sized cock down your throat to swallow as punishment for your impish behaviour, you will be able to find yourself between the large thighs of Ghost many more moments in the future, though, he knew you always wanted to rile him up, he knew you loved the punishment of having to use your tongue to please the usually iced man and he played along with it.

Bruised knees as an outcome but an example of your desire for him, amiable to the way his fingers dug into your hair guiding you up and down his length as you shamelessly gagged and drooled on his member. Cheeks hollow as your jaw shivered whenever his cock re-entered your mouth, with carnal written in your eyes you had looked up at him.

His face hidden by his skull mask and his usually dark and arctic eyes replaced by a biting shadowed lust that had watched you feed onto him. “That’s it baby doll,” he whispered as low grunts emitted from the back of his throat, the man found himself gently rolling his hips while the head of his shaft stroked the end of your mouth.

With your hands against his thighs, you found your tongue dancing against the angry red tip that had threatened to spill, and with incoherent words that had left his mouth, Ghost found himself rubbing his tip against the texture of your tongue, his eyes rolling back as a short whimper jumped out of his mouth.

You were the only person who could get him down like this, having him in a mess as he ached for more of your mouth, your mouth a nirvana he fucked, back straight as both of his hands pressed against the top of your head, eyes drunk as his white spill slid down your mouth, “fuck baby doll,” his voice trembled, as he released the rest of his sticky cum and once you felt the width leave your mouth, you obediently swallowed his load before wiping your lips with the back of your hand.

Eyes wide and doe for his next instructions which included him tapping his lap, silently directing you to sit on it and once the weight of your figure had been pressed against his legs, he gently lifted his mask, only showing a bit of his face, allowing you to kiss and embrace his lips as he roughly slapped the curved skin of your arse---ere his fingers gripped into them.

“Y’love getting in trouble don’t ya?” He whispered and caught red-handed, you tucked your bottom lips behind your teeth before you slowly nodded at his comment, his eyes still full with lust, he had now found his hands between your legs. “Well maybe I have to find something else you’ve done, to get you back on your knees,” he hummed and satisfied, you pulled yourself off his lap which had earned a certain look from him

“I didn’t say you could get off.”

“You didn’t?” You teased and as he pulled his mask back down you quickly could see his smirk while the dominant aura clouded his body once more. “Well, what do I have to do to earn your forgiveness?” You asked and as you could feel his eyes examine your body, he finally spoke.

“Take off your clothes,” he said, and so you did.

POSITION REFERENCE.

♆

#simon ghost riley smut #simon ghost x reader #simon riley smut #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley x you #simon ghost x you #ghost x reader #ghost x you #ghost smut

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metranart · 9 months ago

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Mikey/Draken/Baji/Mitsuya/Shinichiro x Reader (Shameless Gangbang Tease)

𖦹 Warning tags: Gang members x Reader, smut, rough sex, shameless smut, five x one, glorious orgasms, creampie, cumplay, breeding, explicit sexual consent, sexual tension, obsession, possessive behavior, five boyfriends to eat, shameless flirting, unprotected sex, breeding kink, breast feeding kink, deepthroat kink, friends to lovers, blowjobs, hair pulling, scratching, consensual fivesome, boys sickly in love with reader (must of this tags belong to the complete story) -

Your dreams were getting worse every day and you knew when it all started. Somehow, these boys just made you awfully and embarrassingly, nervous.

"Some close friends of my brother are going to start working here with us for a while, (Y/N), is that okey with ya?”

Shinichiro had asked you with a soft and friendly smile on his lips. "They are all gang members like I was when I was young,” the black-haired scratched nervously at his nape, “but now that everyone is going to university, they maintain the gang more so as not to lose contact with all the members than other thing—I mean… they no longer break the law….”

You shrugged without turning to look at him, focused on finishing screwing the piece together.

"This is your workshop, Shinichiro; I have no say in that."

It still makes your cheeks burn to remember how uncomfortable your crotch felt when your boss's warm and strong hand suddenly took you by the face so that you had to look him in the eye.

"But of course you have a say in this, (Y/N)!"

The eldest Sano gaze shone with so much intention you could swear your heart skip a beat, his thumb absentmindedly caressing the side of your chin, as he was so used to invade your personal space since both had been working together for over three years by now.

"You are my most valuable employee, you have never taken a day off, you have never been sick, you are never late, you are outstandingly kind and polite to the clients and you always have a smile for me...-" somehow the air entering your lungs wasn’t enough right then, "...that is very valuable to me, and making you comfortable has become one of my priorities." Shinichiro assured you, and you felt like hitting yourself for stuttering when replying.

"I-I don't mind, Shini, really." You did your best to put yourself together quickly, clearing your throat to disguise the gentle pull to free yourself from his greedy grip. "I mean, I already know Mikey and Izana, I get along with both of them just fine,” you reminded him, “I'm sure I'll get along with the rest just as well."

Shinichiro stared at you with that look that indicated he was analyzing you, trying to guess if you were lying to him to please him or if you really didn't mind, after a minute of scrutiny he decided that you were telling the truth.

His smile was almost blinding and the hug he wrapped you in felt even more asphyxiating that it usually did, and although it made you extremely happy to be able to please him in this small thing, how you regretted not having put up more resistance.

You and Mikey's friends started working side by side and you're not sure when it started, but once it did it didn't stop...your dreams became relentless.

At first, it was one dream a week, then one every other day and then daily. Your dreams were innocent and even funny. The next day you came pumped into the workshop to tell them about the comical situation in which you dreamed them.

Draken and Baji used to be the ones who bothered you the most about it, mocking good-heartedly and making everyone share a healthy laugh that lasted till the end of a hard labored day… but one morning you stopped sharing and even when they noticed it, didn’t say anything about it.

Sooner, your cute dreams turned to the dark side, or rather, towards the most obscene and lewdest side. Now full of naked bodies and slap of flesh against flesh, you could even hear the sound with your eyes open, as if it were a cacophony that followed you around.

PLAP! PLAP! PLAP! — sounded every time your thighs collided with theirs, tangled and stuck in so, so, SO many sexual positions, making you wonder when you acquired so much knowledge of the variety of ways your body could twist while taking cock.

“Ya feeling okay, hun?" Mitsuya had asked you, out of the blue, wearing a worried grimace, as if he had been watching you instead of watching the motorcycle he was fixing, "… your cheeks are awfully red, perhaps you have a fever..." the lilac-haired commented with some concern.

"It’s not a fever,” Draken was the one who answered him since his large, cool palm had landed on your forehead without your permission, “but she's certainly especially flushed today, maybe you’re overworking yourself, princess?”

The owner of the dragon tattoo wondered using that petname that made you weak on the knees and before you could start searching for an acceptable answer outside of 'my crotch is on fire, I need professional help and I don't mean a psychiatrist', Mikey stole your hand in his and cheekily placed it on top of his cheek.

"Her hand is also hot," the young Sano accused, using your limp palm to caress his face as if it were a soft cloth.

"Her cheeks have been that color for months now," Baji interjected slowly stepping closer, wiping the grease from his hands before even dare to grace your skin, and even when you thought about dodging his palm which headed straight for your cheek, you couldn’t move. "I think, the one who can best tell us if this is normal is Shinichiro—"

Agreeing on the subject, that for some unknown reason to you was messing up their peace of mind, your boss was called out by the young Sano who didn't care that his older brother was dealing with a client at the time.

“I’m busy,” mouthed the older Sano to his younger version, and Mikey barely had to motion his chin towards you to have Shinichiro apologizing to the client. Shinichiro's features were creased but as soon as he noticed your heated face and tight posture, all scolding evaporated.

"Is it normal for (Y/N)’s face to be that beat-red, Oni-san?" asked Mikey who refused to stop using your hand as a comfort blanket, "I mean, you know her better than us, should we be worried?"

The Elder Sano's attention fell without distraction on you and soon that of the others followed, the anxiety in your head shot like a champagne cork at feeling of their scorching and piercing gazes set on you, and shaking them almost violently away from you, you stated in the least high-pitched voice you could conjure.

"I'm fine! God!" you failed miserable, your voice didn't sound right, "...you all can return to your activities… or-r leave, since it’s past six."

And with that poorly disguised outburst, you turned on your heels, ignoring the worried cries and calls for your attention, took your things and almost ran out of there. Thankfully, it had already been half an hour since the closing time but without a doubt your strange attitude would not pass ignored by that quintet of meddlers. That night your dreams morphed into something offensively, feral.

This time more than one at a time. Draken holding you against the workshop table while took turns with Baji to stuff your pussy—

“She’s sucking me in-” the tall blonde groaned, it sounded more like a wounded animal than a human, “I can’t get enough of this pussy.”

The worst of the dreams was that evoked a thirst in you. A doubt that ate you from the inside out: would they stretch you as well as they did in your dreams? Would they synchronize as precisely as your mind accommodated them? Mikey riding your esophagus while his older brother used your tits as the personal loofah of his cock, Draken greedily filling your wet pussy while Baji stuffed your tight ass, and Mitsuya's long fingers tangled in yours as he guided you over his erect cock, milking himself for cum—And worst of all, you loved every damn second of them using you as their concubine, like a whore who couldn’t have enough.

In your dreams you did the things you wanted to do in real life, in your dreams you weren’t a shy, awkward girl… you spread your legs for Shinichiro's little brother friend’s, letting them use you as their personal cocksleeve, their glorified cumdump…. You hated it and loved it, all at the same time.

And without realizing it or being able to control it, the wet dreams became more graphic and aggressive.

You woke up gasping and scratching the sheets, your body bathed in transpiration and other fluids that left your thighs sticky and forced you to take a daily bath. You hated how flashbacks of your unholy dreams played in front of you, every time they said good morning to you in the workshop, or when they asked you for advice about some repair, or when their hands accidentally graced your skin ... it had turned into the most sublime torture, because even though everyone was already an adult and probably sexually active.... they just made you feel like a schoolgirl again. Out of control and ready to burst by a mere touch.

And, were those devilish dreams that soon made you feel uncomfortable in your own skin, forcing you to distance yourself, forcing you to take cold shower before sleep, and even, forcing you to consider the option of quitting your job...

Not even an entire day had passed, when you had Shinichiro ringing the doorbell of your apartment. You opened the door with some strangeness.

“Shini-”

"-I told you to tell me if it bothered you to work among gang members, (Y/N)," Shinichiro began without even letting you explain why you hadn't gone to work, "...or is it that I'm not a good boss anymore?" He wondered, half-worried, half-offended.

"Did I disrespect you without realizing it—because if that's the case, I’m SO sorry, it wasn't my intention…" the black-haired man's ramblings were so fast and desperate that you had a hard time finding a space to talk, "... I know you-I thought we were friends, that is to say—I consider you my friend, one of my best friends, I even told you how preciousyou are to-to… to my shop-p...” he didn’t mean to say shop but became a coward when all he could think about was not losing you, “and I'm sure that the others thing the same-"

The tips of your fingers resting on his lips was what finally made his voice fade away.

“—Why is your first assumption that I quit my job?”

Without a doubt, you were astonished by how well this man in front could read you.

Shinichiro sighed tightly against your fingertips, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine, forcing you to lower your hand and involuntarily take one step away, almost as if his mere presence burned you.

It didn’t pass unnoticed, making him sigh again.

"...As I said, I know you well and although most of the time I seem distracted, I have noticed that you look…. shaken."

You stood quiet, trying to convey to him confidence but failing miserably since your fidgeting hands were proof enough and if he needed more evidence, your foot rapidly tapping against the floor was there to support his statement.

“…… Shaken?” You repeated, trying to make sense of the word. Well, you were shaken but maybe not in the way he thought.

"I'm fine, it doesn't bother me in the least to work among gang members and yes! I also consider you one of my best friends-"

"Then why do you want to leave?" Shinichiro asked without being able to contain himself, ".... I’m really trying here, (Y/N). We're ALL trying hard in the workshop," he said without thinking, "everyone has their own internal fight to not disrespect you, not to cross that thin line," he continued without realizing that his tongue may be revealing secrets that were not his to share, "... you have no idea how difficult it is for us as well. If I told you what I have heard, what I have been told...—" he continued and suddenly you noticed that it wasn't his words that came out of his mouth:

"I feel like I'm on fire, brother" Mikey..., "my mind no longer belongs to me, boss..." Baji..., "you should force us to wear uniforms, those skirts are going to make me cross-eyed," Draken..., "is it perfume or it’s her natural scent? Cause is drivin’ me insane either way," Mitsuya...

"-God! You're so gullible," Shinichiro growled sternly before ruffling his hair between his hands violently, "...just-just…. Just don't leave us, okey? —we'd go crazy." Your boss admitted shame forgotten.

“The city of Tokyo can’t stand five heartbroken gang members, there would be anarchy..." The eldest Sano joked to lower the tension, to try to save his loose tongue.

He knew… he had fucked up. He said it all, he couldn't contain himself, he felt it was the only way to keep you, even if he only had one a fifth of you, he accepted it, he would covet that fifth... it would be enough, and suddenly, his huge, deep black eyes pierced your very soul with such seriousness that you almost didn't recognize him.

"-So, what do you think?" He asked and somehow you sensed that wasn't referring to work.

You raised an eyebrow and your mouth prepare to part, but he interrupted you again, "-It's what you think... I'm not talking about work anymore."

Shinichiro Sano confirmed, and the oxygen got stuck in your chest. Were you hearing correctly or was this another one of your wet dreams?! because without a doubt Shinichiro had not only declared his feelings to you but also those of four other, extremely close people...

He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, "I know it's sudden but-..." he gathered his courage, "these guys are not only Mikey's family- they are also mine... and none of them could stand to see the other destroyed, so-..."

You waited for him to finish because you still couldn't believe what you were hearing.

"So, we got together to talk, and many truths were told... and we all agreed..." Shinichiro nodded his head, "we wouldn't even feel jealous, I mean, I don't know how this could work but... we just know it can work," he suddenly stopped his speech to scratch his head uncomfortably, "...am I making myself clear or am I just looking like an idiot?"

You grimaced lightly, and he tensed.

"You're making yourself look like an idiot..." you said after a long silence, that without realizing it was consuming Shinichiro’s mental sanity, ".... but the answer is... yes."

He blinked a few times, and his lips mouthed ‘yes’ without sound, he shook his head and this time he did find his voice. "...Are you sure? We don't want you to feel uncomfortable-"

"I don't feel uncomfortable."

He nodded, and just to prove a point to himself, he dared to do what had wanted to do for almost three years. So, slowly searching your hand with his, those long, elegant fingers played with yours for a moment before tangling like a vine around a trunk.

".... I’m just gonna-” he gulped, “… just don’t move, ‘key?"

Your cheeks heated up and without knowing why you were sharing this uncanny telepathy- you already knew what he wanted. You stood still as ordered, and without wasting a single second he leant towards you without letting go of your hand, his nose bumped yours first and there he waited, giving you one last chance to change your mind….. time's up... feeding time.

His mouth pressed to yours and your heart fluttered inside your chest like a thousand butterflies, his lips were soft but firm in their advance, a clash of nerve endings like fuses lighting up to be consumed by desire and lust accumulated by three years of abstinence. His kiss felt like cold water in an arid desert, his tongue briefly asked for permission and as soon as he got it, danced its way inside like a snake sliding into a rabbit hole, devouring and feeding, leaving only destruction in its wake.

Panting and overwhelmed, you stared at each other for a long minute. Your knees shook, and Shinichiro had the quickness of mind to wrap his arm around your waist before you fell.

"God! Three years, (Y/N). You're a sadist." He chuckled against your feeble lips, pecking your heaving mouth as if he couldn’t stand to stay away from you for even a second, it warmed your heart, and both stayed there enjoying the closeness.

".... When?" You were the first to speak.

He grinned, mischievously.

“Are you free tomorrow?” He scoffed, kissing the tip of your nose.

"I work at the store tomorrow," you teased, and his smile turned wolfish. "That boss of yours is an ass."

You agreed and he burst out laughing. "But seriously, Tomorrow is a good day to start."

“…. Start?”

He quirked a raven eyebrow. “Sure, get used to each other, and that kind of stuff. You didn't think we were a bunch of brutes, did you?” you shrugged embarrassed being caught and he snickered, “well, I’m a little offended..." he deadpanned, pretending to be hurt yet that sinful smirk gave him away, "...we want to spoil you first and then,” he held your stare, “then… we’ll stuff you good and eat you for Christmas."

That smirk on his face should have been warning enough....

READ THE WHOLE (8000 word) GANGBANG WITH FEELINGS IN MY PATREON (here you will also find NSFW art of this story) .... Plus, more stories of tokyo revengers and other anime, each with a NSFW illustration from a scene of the story, PLUS! 'Spicy Foreplay tier reward' like: voting poll privilege for future stories, couple pairing selection for the stories and artworks, exclusive smut fanfiction and animation like THIS ONE and my eternal gratitude for your support!!!

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frenchkisstheabyss · 8 months ago

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♡ ฿Ⱡ₳₦₭ ₴₱₳₵Ɇ ♡

♡ Pairings: frat boy!jaehyun x chubby!fem!reader, frat boy!johnny x chubby!fem!reader

♡ Genre: college au/angst/fluff/smut

♡ Summary: Jaehyun has made it a habit of playing with your heart. One day he loves you, the next he hates you, with nothing in between. Growing tired of his games, you find your attention drifting somewhere else. Toward his roommate and frat brother Johnny to be exact.

[Part Two Here 🖤]

♡ Word Count: 2.1k-ish

♡ Warnings: fuckboy Jaehyun in his full villain era (for now), voyeurism, two couples having sex in the same room (not an orgy), technically unprotected sex by way of protection not being explicitly mentioned, a lil spanking, partying, kissing, mentions of drinking, casual/meaningless sex, sexual fantasies, everyone's a lil morally gray, heartbreak & that's all bbys.

♡ A/N: I had a bloodlust for something angsty and ya know this did a pretty good job at satisfying it. It also satisfied by craving for something sweet so I'll keep my fingers crossed it does both for y'all too. 🖤

It was exciting at first. Weekends at the frat house partying with Jaehyun. No rules. No limitations. Everything a girl could want just waiting to be given to her if she asked. And the sex? The sex was incredible. Jaehyun could be a real asshole sometimes but he always knew how to make you come so hard your ears were ringing.

You knew from the start that it’d be delusional to think you were anything more to him than a pretty face and a dependable fuck. Jaehyun’s killer bone structure and gorgeous features make him what one might imagine a fairytale prince to be. All the girls on campus dream of being with him and he knows it. He loves it.

That man has an ego bigger than his cock which is unfortunately rather large. There’s so much of himself floating around in his head that there’s just no room for anyone else. Still he has his endearing moments, ones that make a girl feel special, and that’s what keeps you coming back when you begin to think better of tolerating his bullshit.

That’s why you’re here tonight, knees digging into his mattress, cheek pressed to his pillow, as he fucks you from behind. You feel it, the force of his hips snapping against your ass, his cock pulsing deep in your core. But it feels like nothing. It’s like getting a tooth pulled after the dentist has numbed you up real good. The force of the movement is there but the feeling’s gone.

A few feet away another bed creaks as a girl you’ve only met once or twice rides Jaehyun’s frat brother Johnny like one of those mechanical bulls. This isn’t abnormal. During these parties sex happens any time, anywhere, and that almost always includes being in the same room together. But you can’t help feeling like a pervert for stealing a few glances of the adjacent couple.

Jaehyun never formally introduced you to Johnny. Come to think of it, he's never formally introduced you to anyone. It was Johnny who introduced himself one night when you’d had a few too many drinks for your own good and ended up hunched over the toilet with Jaehyun nowhere to be found.

Johnny sat with you for hours making sure you were hydrated and feeding you snacks until he was sure you were okay. You can’t for the life of you remember what was said. You can only recall that you felt comfortable and safe with him. It was enough to make you develop the tiniest crush that’s only been made worse by how sweet he’s been to you since.

Jaehyun slaps your ass, interrupting your train of thought. Almost simultaneously Johnny begins to caress the other girl’s hips. There’s so much tenderness in the way he touches her and you envy it. You wish Jaehyun could give you even a fraction of that. Just once. Pulling the girl in for a kiss, Johnny wraps his arms around her, holding her close to his chest. With her head nestled in the side of his neck, he cradles her gently as he lifts into her at a slow, rhythmic pace.

You imagine that’s you, not being hammered into but actually feeling something, and magically the friction of Jaehyun’s cock rubbing your walls feels good. In fact, far better than it ever has before. You let out a moan, a whisper, “Aah, oh god.” Jaehyun takes notice of it, loving the way you clench too much not to hit that sweet spot again and again. He’s so distracted by the delicious jiggling of your body, his vision curtained by messy dark brown hair, that he can’t see that he isn’t the only one captivated by you.

But you notice. Johnny’s staring back at you now, his eyes glued to yours as he takes in all those pretty faces you make. This isn’t the first time he’s watched you either. He and Jaehyun were roommates long before you came into the picture. Johnny’s seen more than a few girls naked in Jaehyun’s bed but you’re the only one he’s cared to sneak a peek at. The crush you have on him is so mutual. How you never picked up on it he doesn’t know but it’s oh so obvious now.

The longing behind Johnny’s eyes is immense, luring you deeper into his gaze until he’s all you see. Setting your bodies on autopilot with your respective partners, you begin to quietly explore each other. Your minds indulge in every dirty thought you’ve had about each other. Thoughts you’d suppressed out of fear that you were doing something wrong.

You find yourself getting wetter than you’ve been all night, walls dripping twice as much as they hug Jaehyun’s cock. “Damn, you feel so good, baby” Jaehyun praises, planting kisses down the middle of your back. He shifts to a position he knows will have you trembling and you let out the sexiest moan. So sexy it makes Johnny’s cock twitch inside of the other girl, heat washing over both of your bodies.

“You’re so fucking cute” Johnny whispers in a way that seems to be for the girl in his arms but is meant for you and only you. His face lights up like the 4th of July at every broken moan or arch of your back. You can tell how badly he wishes the pussy warming his cock right now were yours and you get the filthiest rush out of that.

Before you know it the pressure inside you has reached its peak and your legs are shaking, knees threatening to give out from under you. A faint smile creeps across Johnny’s face and he mouths to you, “Come.” And you do, as if on command. Burying your face in the pillow, you bite down on the fluffy cotton and let it fill your cheeks. It’s a gag of sorts, a desperately needed one incase you should cry out the wrong name on accident.

You know in your heart that even by frat boy standards you’ve crossed a line. You’ve stumbled into territory there’s no coming back from. But when it feels this good it’s difficult to want to turn back anyway.

“You’re overreacting. It’s not like you’re my girlfriend.”

You know this to be true, Jaehyun isn’t your boyfriend, but it hurts all the same to wake up to him texting another girl. Your heart sank when you rolled over this morning, still in his arms, to find him making plans to meet up with her tonight.

It was so blatant, he didn’t even attempt to hide what he was doing, and maybe that’s what hurts most of all. You thought he cared enough about you to at least pretend he wasn’t playing the absolute fuck out of you. It’s clear now that you thought wrong.

“You’re such an asshole, you know that?” you shout, gathering your things from the floor, the sheet from his bed still draped around your naked body.

A fully dressed Jaehyun casually searches the dresser for his keys, the smile on his face so cocky you want to slap it off. “Right, I’m going to the gym. You know how to see yourself out right?”

Picking up one of your heels, you channel all your strength into throwing it at his head. “I never wanna see you again!”

Jaehyun opens the bedroom door in time to take cover behind it, the heel of your shoe leaving a dent where it would’ve hit him. “Ooh, feisty” he teases, cracking the door to throw you a wink, “Save some of that for next time, hmm?”

There’s so much you want to say but none of it will change anything. He walks away from you like it’s nothing and that’s precisely what you feel like. Nothing. Unable to hold back anymore, you burst into tears where you stand, gathering up some of the sheet to sob quietly into. You can’t recall the last time you cried like this. A chest tightening, nose dripping, lip quivering type of cry that makes you want to double over in pain.

“Hey, come here” a voice whispers, the rasp of sleep still hanging over it.

You feel a tug on the back of the sheet and turn to see Johnny sitting up in bed, one hand rubbing his barely open eyes while the other clings to the sheet around you.

“I’m sorry if I woke you up” you apologize, too embarrassed to make eye contact, “I’ll just get my things and—”

“No, come here” he insists, pulling you closer to his bed, “Come lay with me.”

Something in you says to resist it—you shouldn’t be crawling into bed with Jaehyun’s roommate—but Johnny’s already taking you by the hand, guiding you down into the empty spot beside him. No words are spoken as he pulls the soft blanket over the two of you, tucking it at your side to keep you warm.

His head hits the pillow, heavy lids closing, as he pulls you into his chest. There’s tension at first, on your part only. A hesitance to allow yourself to fully relax into the gentle embrace you’ve been desperately pining for. But the longer he holds you, his palm massaging your lower back in soothing figure eights, the more you soften.

“You don’t deserve this, you know?” he finally says when your tears have subsided and your breathing has evened out enough for you to speak. There’s exhaustion in those words as he says them, giving the impression that this is something he’s wanted to ask you for a long time.

“Is this gonna be a lecture?” you sniffle, nervously patting the tears from the dips between his muscles, “Because I really don’t need a lecture right now.”

Johnny laughs, letting out a yawn, “Nah, it’s too early for a lecture. My brain’s not heated up yet.”

“Not heated up yet? What does that even mean?” you giggle, leaning to look up at him, your nose scrunched in confusion. Johnny opens his eyes, staring back at you with those starry brown orbs, and you’re transported back to the way you felt last night. If you thought his gaze made you want to melt from afar, it’s reducing you to volcanic ash at this distance.

“Well, it’s like, when you first wake up your brain’s cold. Your thoughts are all jumbled so you’ve gotta wait a little, let it heat up” Johnny explains, the tips of his sable hair kissing your face.

“You’re, uh…” you stutter, searching for the perfect word, “Really…interesting? Yeah, you’re interesting, Johnny Suh.”

The most genuine smile takes over that handsome face as he lets out a joyful squeak, sincerely flattered by your comment. “Yeah? Well, so are you. You’re really interesting and cool and cute. I did mean that last night. You are cute.”

You tuck your head, trying to hide a smile of your own, but Johnny caresses your cheek, bringing you right back where he wants you. “Why do you let him treat you like that?” he asks without the slightest bit of judgment. Your smile fades as you contemplate a question you aren’t even sure you know the answer to. You file through 1001 possibilities before coming to the raw, painful truth.

“I was trying to prove something, I guess” you confess, feeling an odd sense of relief at admitting this to him and yourself. “I thought if I could obtain the unattainable it’d be proof that I was special.”

Johnny scoffs, rolling his eyes, “Jaehyun? Unattainable? I could fuck him if I complemented him enough.”

“Thanks, that makes me feel so much better” you huff, beginning to regret that moment of vulnerability.

“No, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean it like that. I just mean that he isn’t one of those people that can appreciate when they have something special.”

You shrug in defeat, letting your fears tumble freely from your lips, “Yeah, I don’t know if any guy can at this point.”

“So you think we’re all the same?” he asks, tilting your head to let your lips brush his. His lips are like static, making the little hairs on your arm stand on end. Your heart’s running a marathon and the butterflies in your stomach are throwing fits. This can’t be happening. Only it is.

You swallow hard, inhaling the scent of the fresh morning air meddled with his cologne. “Well, I…I mean no one’s really shown me any different.”

Johnny presses his lips to yours, lingering there for a moment to savor the warmth of your kiss. “Can you give it some time?” he whispers, fingers charting a course across the curve of your hip to take your hand into his.

“It or you, Johnny?” you ask, silently begging him not to say a thing if it’s not something he means.

“Hmm,” he hums, bringing your hand up to gently kiss your inner wrist, your palm, your fingertips, “Me.”

#nct x you #nct x reader #jaehyun x reader #jaehyun smut #jaehyun angst #johnny suh x reader #johnny suh smut #johnny suh angst #johnny suh fluff #nct angst #nct smut #jaehyun x you #nct 127 x you #nct 127 x reader #chubby reader #plus size reader

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archangeldyke-all · 15 days ago

Note

tfem reader making sub!sev gag on her dick

hehehe nice i love sub sevika

disclaimer! i'm cis, so let me know if there's any mistakes and i'll fix them asap!!

men and minors dni

sevika's been distant all night, her mind stuck at work, her body stiff with tension even in your arms.

she gets like this sometimes-- so exhausted from work that she's like a zombie. there are a few solutions for it; sometimes you need to force feed her cup of sleepytime tea and a few melatonins and cuddle her until she passes out, sometimes you need to get her fifty dollars worth of undercity grub and let her binge on her favorites until she's feeling human enough to speak again.

and... sometimes you need to take more extreme measures.

"sevika, love." you whisper. she blinks up at you, her eyes tired and far-away. you cup her face and stroke your cheeks with your thumbs.

"mmhmm?" she whispers.

"you're all spacey."

"sorry."

you giggle and kiss her forehead. "'s okay baby. you want me to give you somethin' to focus on?" you ask.

sevika blinks at you in confusion. "i-i don't think my brain can--"

"you won't need to use your brain, baby." you giggle, running your fingers through her hair. "all you'll need to use is that pretty mouth of yours." you trail your thumb over her lips.

sevika shivers, and something sparkles in her eyes as she starts to understand your suggestion. "y-yeah." she squeaks. "yes please."

you giggle. "yeah?"

sevika nods. "yeah. yes. need it." she's whiny and sweet just at the mere suggestion. you lean down and kiss her lips.

"well then get on your knees, baby."

sevika scrambles to the floor, her hands fumbling at your pants while you throw a few pillows into a pile for her to kneel on. you squeak a bit at her eager pulls and tugs, giggling as you smack her hands away from your pants to unbutton them before letting her try to strip you again.

you're half hard just from the desperate way she's fumbling for you, and when sevika whimpers at the sight of you, you twitch.

"f-fuck." sevika whimpers, clawing at your hips. you giggle as you reach down and stroke yourself in front of her face, teasing her just a bit. she tries to dart forward, only for her nose to bump you knuckles. you giggle and push her back by her forehead.

"you gotta wait for permission, sev."

"i-- but--" sevika whimpers. "you're a tease." you laugh and run your free hand through her hair, tugging the ends for just a moment, just enough to make her gasp.

"say please." you demand.

sevika gasps. "please!"

you giggle and let her go. "good girl."

sevika melts, a shy smile taking over her features as she darts forward and licks up the bead of wetness on your tip. you gasp, then giggle as you watch her continue her kitten licks and gentle pecks.

"who's the fucking tease now?" you pout.

"mmm." sevika hums against you. fuck she knows how to make you shiver. "'f 'm not doin' it right... maybe you should show me how ya like it."

you grin. "you are fucking. adorable." sevika grins up at you, her eyes sparkling and alive, the fog from earlier completely cleared. "pinch my ass twice if you need to breathe, okay?"

she nods eagerly, licking her lips as you thread your fingers through her hair and grip her at the roots. she lets out a happy hum, almost like she's purring in your hold. fuck. you need to ruin her.

"open your mouth."

sevika smiles and then sticks her tongue out letting her jaw drop as far as she can go. you tug her face up and spit into her mouth, and sevika groans and scrambles to grab a pillow to shove between her thighs. you let her get one good grind in against it before shoving your dick down her throat.

sevika chokes and sputters, her nose buried against your pubes as you let her soak you with drool. she feels fucking amazing. her throat's gotten used to this treatment over her years with you, and she can fit you all the way. warm wet heat envolops you, and then sevika gags, and you pull back.

she gasps for air and smiles up at you like you hung the stars in the sky for her. you cackle and start a steady pace in and out of her mouth.

sevika's tongue is wicked, and it's doing sinful things to you while she moans and groans against you. one of her hands trail down to cup your balls and play with the sensitive patch of skin just behind them. fuck, she can you like a hand of cards.

sevika's thrusts against her pillow are sloppy and uncoordinated, and you huff a laugh. "poor thing. so needy, huh? got one hole filled and still all you can think about is filling more." sevika whines against you, tears making her eyes glimmer. she's a fucking mess-- her eyeliner streaking down her cheeks and drool trailing down her chin. janna. "sevika, you're so fuckin' pretty baby. such a pretty slut, fuck." you whine.

sevika chokes around you and you laugh, letting her up for one sputtering breath before pulling her back down.

"are you close? 's that what you're tellin' me?" you ask. sevika nods, blinking up at you with desprate eyes. you giggle. "so cute, gettin' off on being good for me, aren't you?" sevika tries her best to nod again with her mouth full of cock. you laugh. "well, go ahead, baby. get yourself off, let me see how pretty you are when you're falling apart for me."

sevika whimpers, and you loosen your grip on her hair to let her pull away for air as she starts working her hips even harder against her pillow. her hand takes over for her mouth, jerking you off desperately as she leans against your thigh, gasping and moaning and shivering as she gets closer.

"you're so fucking cute, sevika, look at you. humping a pillow, cumming from my dick in your mouth, fuck, i love you."

sevika whimpers, and you watch in awe as she cums in her pants, a visible wet patch growing between her thighs.

the sight make's you cum, and you pull back just in time to coat sevika's face with it, making her groan deep and low in her chest-- purring again.

her tongue darts out to start licking up your cum before you're even done painting her face. you giggle, shaking your head down at her in admiration.

"i love you." you whisper. sevika smiles up at you, her eyes scrunched closed, a happy, blissed out smile on her lips.

"love you too. can i use your shirt as a cum rag?"

you laugh and reach forward with the hem of your shirt, cleaning her eyes so she can blink up at you. her eyes are still tired, but all the distance and worry that was there before is gone now.

"there's my pretty girl." you whisper.

and despite the fact that she's covered in your cum and her own drool, despite the fact at she squirted her pants from sucking your dick and riding a pillow-- this is what makes sevika blush the brightest she has all evening.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@kissyslut @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@lavenderbabu @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai @my-taintedheart

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @k3n-dyll @sevsdollette

@ellieslob @xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re @raphaellearp

@iamastar @sevikitty @mascdom @nhaaauyen @annesunshiner

@mirconreadzztuff22 @veoomvroom @lushh-s3vik4s @katyawooga @lesbodietcoke

@strawberrykidneystone @vkumi @fict1onallyobsessed @dvrkhcld @sweetybuzz25

@sluttysierraaa @snake-in-a-flower-crown @ruiwonderz @littlemisszaunite @biblicalcrybaby

@blackgaladriel @nightlyconfusion @dancingqu33n17 @losernb @p1nkearth

taglist!!

@sevikas-baby @ghostscandys

#sevika #sevika arcane #sevika imagine #sevika x reader #sevika x you #soft sevika #sevika smut

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ashblooddragons · 2 months ago

Text

As The World Caves In

Request made by @valuemyheart1

Word Count: 1742

Summary: it's been three weeks since you lost your son to Blood and Cheese. and yet your breast will not dry, they become painful, and Aemond is all to happy to help relive that pain. (also Aemond was not with Syliv he was busy talking to some unnamed lord)

Warnings: memories of B&C, grief, P in V sex, breast worship, lactation kink, still new to smut so please be kind!

I can feel the weight of my breasts, feel how they are filled with milk for babe, it's painful and I should relive it, but there is no babe to feed to take this pain away. I've been fighting the memories, fighting the image of my little boy, my little Aenar.

Oh my sweet little Aenar, he was only five moons old when those monsters came in and took him from me. All for that little Strong boy.

They were supposed to kill my loving Husband, my dear brother, Aemond. They might have if he wasn't speaking to some Lord that was in need of ‘dire advice from the prince’ I scoff at the thought. He was in dire need of my husband? Him? As I had to stand with a dagger to my throat as that blast cheese cut my son's head off? He needed my husband more?

No, and there is a reason that the Lord is now being sharply questioned in the black cells.

I can still see Aemond's face when he saw what they did to our little boy. He must have heard my screams after they sliced Aenar's little head off. He looked like he was going to be sick.

I hear something behind me, like stones scraping against stone. When I turn around to see what is wrong I see two men with knifes grinning at me, one rushes forward when he sees I'm about to scream.

“You can scream lass, but if you do I'll kill ya. Do ya understand?” He asks, gliding the dull edge off his knife down the side of my face.

All I can do is nod and pray that all they want is my jewelry.

My nod seems to satisfy them as the bulky one lifts his hand from my mouth moving to reach for Aenar.

I gasp and step back holding Aenar closer to my chest cooing to him when he starts to cry.

“What do you want? My jewels, you can have them just don't just my baby boy.” I plead helplessly. I gasp when the scrawny one rips the gold and ruby necklace from my throat.

“We were sent by the Queen, the true Queen. She wants payment for her son, and we were sent to make sure the deal was done.” The scrawny one says twirling his blade in his hands as he grins at me menacingly.

For some reason this one scares me more than the goliath.

“What does she want? What has my sister, the ‘true Queen’ , asked of you?” I ask feeling the pit in my belly grow, I have a sick feeling my jewelry is not what they are after.

“A son for a son.” The goliath says pointing to Aenar who is still crying.

I can feel his little tears soak into my silk robe, feel his little heart pumping in. I feel my throat constrict in dear, feel the bile rise in my throat. Black dots flood my vision as panic takes over.

“Give a price, want double the amount done. Just don't hurt my little boy. He's only five moons, please.” I beg but from the menacing smirk on the scrawny one, and the look of mock sympathy on the goliath I know they will kill my boy.

I tried to run but the Goliath grabbed me around the waist and held my head in place. “Told to take you to watch lass.”

I watch as the scrawny one lays little Aenar on his changing table, raise his blade and strike down. It was a clean cut at least, as it only took that one swing for my little boy's head to fall off the table and roll across the floor only to stop at my feet.

I don't hear them leave, I don't hear the guards run in, I don't hear Aemond calling my name. I only heard screams and the blood rushing to my ears. When I turn I see nothing but Aemond, the way he can't decide where to look, our little boy or me. I watch as the blood drains from his face and his skin turns green.

I don't know what to say besides one word. One word is all I need to say for Aemond to know who to kill for this crime against us.

“Rhaenyra.”

I'm cut out of my thoughts by the feeling of a hand on my shoulder. I whip around ready to attack only to find not a goliath nor a scrawny man, but my wonderful husband, my dear brother, I find Aemond.

“Sorry, I asked if you were alright?” He says with that tone that tells me he knows I wasn't here.

I about laugh at the question, how am I supposed to be alright? How am I supposed to ever be alright after what I went through? But instead of bringing up that night I decide to go a different route.

“My breasts hurt, the Maesters say I just have to wait for them to dry up, but they won’t. It hurts Aemond, it hurts.” I say flinching when I touch my tender and swollen breasts. It has only been three weeks since we lost our boy, and I haven't let a drop leave me.

I watch his pupil dilate and hear him take in bated breaths. I know that look well, he's always adored my breasts but once I came with child and they grew, and once Aenar was born he seemed enthralled with the sight of our son suckling at my breast, one of the reasons I continued even though it is frowned upon for a Princess to feed her own child.

“I could help,” he says breathlessly, making me confused how he could help me. “I could– I could relive that pain for you.”

“H–how?”

I feel his bated breath against my lips, feel the hardness of him against my hip. Try as I might I can't fight the desire that courses through veins, nor the wetness between my thighs.

I watch as he moves so he is now hovering over me before he kisses my lips like a man starved. It has been so long since I felt desire, felt this need. I think as I move my hips so my core can meet his length. Though we're both still clothed, the friction is enough to make me breathless.

I gasp when he sits back on his haunches and lifts me so I'm on his lap. “Time to take that Nightgown off, Darling.” He says already raising it and I'm all too happy to help.

“Fuck.” I hear him whisper as he takes in the swell of my breasts, the rich pink of my nipples and the veins that have risen from prolonged fullness.

“Gods I've missed these.” He says kissing along the tender skin making me whimper in almost pain.

“They've missed you, my love.” I say smiling when I hear the guttural growl that leaves him.

Before I know it I'm laid on my back my Husband resting his hips against mine and my peaked nipple in his mouth. I feel each draw he takes, it's a strange relief, for the desire it brings to my core is undeniable, but so is the relief of that painful fullness and stretch.

“Aemond.” I sigh out rocking my hips against his, I need more, I need him.

“Fuck, if you keep doing that I won't be able to hold back.” He growls out gripping my hip and kicking up the milk that has dripped down my right breast.

“Then don't.” I say gripping his hair and forcing him to look at me.

He may hate his eye, but I find there's something ethereal about his scar and sapphire. And even if it is the last words I say, the last thing I think before my last breath I will have him know I adore every part of him, even the scars and darkness.

I feel him untying his trousers as he continues to suck and lick at my right breast. I feel each draw of milk leave me, hear the groan of pleasure he lets loose at each taste.

I feel the leaking head of his cock against my core, feel him hesitate from gliding into me.

“Please.” Is all I need to say before he drives into me with a punishing force.

I can hardly catch my breath as he starts bullying my cunt with sharp hard thrusts as he moves over to my left breast. All I can think of is him, no more pain, no more grief, only Aemond and the pleasure he gives me.

With each thrust and each drag from me teat I see stars, he has always known my body better than I ever could. He could always pick up the slightest frown or smile, and now he is seeing how he drives me mad with desire, how he takes my breath away.

“You were made for me, from your nature to this sweet little cunt that grips my cock like a vice. There is no man, or god that will ever take you from me. Do you hear me?” He says emphasizing each word with a sharp thrust to the spot he knows makes me see stars.

“I was made for you, my love, only you, always you!” I scream out feeling my peak upon the precipice.

With one more hard thrust, I’m screaming his name as I grip his long silky hair like a lifeline. My eyes go black from the force of my peak, and I can only barely hear him let ut a groan of pleasure before he spills in me, for all I can hear clearly is the beat of my heart.

We lay like this for a while, his hands gripping my hips, my legs around his waist, and my fingers in his hair, and him buried deep within my core his cock acting as a stopper so his seed does not leak out of me.

We don’t say anything, for we do not need to, we know this was only a moment of release, of bliss, and that within time we will hold each other close, me sobbing into his chest and him letting silent tears fall into my hair. But we will have each other and that is all we will ever truly need.

@sugutoad @ilikefelines @mmogurl @classicsimpforaaronwarner @sachaa-ff

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