#got to stretch my painting muscles

[bichaels]

[screampied]

☆ cw. fem! reader, husband nanami, dad bod, mating press, protected -> unprotected, size kink, bręeding, praise, mdni.

it’s something hot about how husband! nanami just isn’t aware of how big he really is.

he’s insanely thick - easily stretching you with only just a few vast inches inviting its way in between your slippery entrance. the rubbery tip of the condom nearly snags against your gripping insides as he moves, hovering his soft weight above you. heavy, rushed pants of breath drag out from each lung as he looks down at you lovingly. just a mere glimpse of you, and he’s already ready to propose to you all over again.

“f.. fuck, sweetheart. hold on t’ me.” he’d grunt with two beefy arms held against either side of you.

curled twines of blond hair paint a nice bushy portion of his chest like a canvas. it starts near his neck before trailing further down toward his plump abdomen. nanami’s tucking his head into the crook of your shoulder, silently gasping at each veiny inch that disappears inside. “k- kento,” you moan, one of your legs hooking around his wide snapping waist. he’s hesitant before his hands pull your legs way up to your chest. “mmp- don’t stop, baby.”

“hah- promise,” he groans through clenched teeth, his jaw locking by the second. the stretch he creates was so good that it’s got nanami falling right into your chest. his body was practically akin to a pillow, and he’s squishing himself on top of you before your cunt squeezes around him. fuck- fuck- fuck- that same word chants in his empty brain, nearly slipping out a hoarse whimper at how slick you coated the entirety of his cock. “c’mon, sweetheart. open for me like ‘y always do. gooood, biiiig stretch for kento.”

but as he’s gradually bucking his unsteady hips into you while gently placing a hand on top of your tummy, the two of you are met with a loud abrupt ‘snaaap!’ sound, and nanami pauses.

literally - the condom pitifully snaps apart, ignoring gravity as the now ruined rubber tightens around his shaft. nanami’s panting in your neck as his entire body quivers over you before he mumbles out a raspy, “o.. oh.. shit.”

it’s rare for him to swear, but at that particular moment, you throbbed, impatiently chewing on the skin that lived on your bottom lip.

your bare heel rubs soothing circles around his tense back muscles as you suddenly meet his lustful gaze.

his eyes - they’re shining almost. the more you peer into his fawn, almond eyes, the more you got lost in his gentle, ardent stare.

“i- it’s okay,” you’d breathlessly mumble, feeling his dick retreat its way out of your sopping pussy. it’s a loud, sobbing ‘pshs’ sound that slops from your vocal pussy before you shakily whimper, “go raw, ken.”

“hah- dirty girl,” he’d groan, pressing three wet open-mouthed kisses against your temple. in immediate response, your body shudders underneath him as you hear as you feel him starting to shuffle.

with a single veiny hand, nanami snatches the snugly-fit condom off of his length before tossing it in the nearby trash bin. “ ‘m not sure if i’d last long…my lo- oh fuuuck.”

nanami’s dead silent.

shallow, shaky breath falls from his rose-colored lips as the v-shaped head of his blushing cock lightly taps against your slobbery cunt.

you’re so soaked, abundantly pouring from all sides as your legs remain prettily spread and folded. nanami himself couldn’t help but stare, openly gawking as he’s slowly creating a nasty full thrust.

just one-

a single thrust that’s making you both fall against each other at once. he’s laid right over your body, being careful not to crush you as he grunts at the occasional clenches of your cunt.

the best way to describe nanami was like a teddy bear, so soft ‘n round from all angles. with him having you in mating press, you’re feeling all of his weight plummet down onto you, each pound of his cock becoming deeper within every swallowing inch. it’s got you speechless, moaning continuously as a few strands of his chest hair collide against your skin.

“mmpf- s.. so big, ‘ken,” you’d moan, twisting your toes in anticipation at the raw friction.

he’s so big - even bigger without the rubber it seemed, and you gasped once you felt his soft foreskin slide its way inside. truth be told though, you’d never get used to his size no matter how many times he’s stuffed you full. your gummy convulsing walls merrily greeted nanami’s shaft as your arms wrapped around his rounded belly. “ugh- there, right fuckin’ thereee.”

“god- woman, you’re just.. huuh- askin’ for another baby,” nanami grumbles, blond brows creasing together as he tenderly rubs a wide palm in a circle around your tummy.

his dick’s thoroughly massaging through you perfectly, and he’s sucking his teeth at the natural feeling. your slickness coats him so good, and he’s still got you in the lewdest mating press with your knees shoved against your chest. “ ‘s that what you want, princess?” and as he speaks, his voice lowers, feeling your tummy anxiously tuck inward. “you’d look so pretty again all plump.”

with a look of meek, you cup his face, gently stroking a thumb over the crack of his parted, pouty lips. “mhm-” you’d nod, holding in a gasp once he presents your pussy with one vigorous thrust.

it’s sharp- and you whimper at how his cockhead slammed itself deep against your clit. as your thighs frantically shook, nanami holds them up before playfully tilting his head at your response.

“mhm?” he repeats your little mumble, a hiss nearly slipping through his clenched teeth as he pulls out before sloppily pulling back in.

the slimy squelches that followed were just the definition of wet. each dramatic-sounding squelch that yelped out between your legs had nanami on the verge of shooting blanks right then and there. not just there and there but inside you, too.

as dewdrops of sweat dribble from all sides of his head, nanami presses a sticky wet kiss against the crevice of your mouth. “use those pretty words, i wanna.. wanna hear my sloppy wife talk to me nice.”

“k— kentooo, please,” you’d whimper, writhing underneath his soft body. he’s pressed up against you, practically suffocating your body with his huggable warmth. each barreling inch he spent inside you had you drooling from the inside of your mouth. nanami hums, sneaking a kiss on your damp lips before feeling you claw a hand down his chiseled back. “hah- cum inside. f- fuck me.”

exactly at your sweet pleading words, you felt his dick throb inside of you. it’s more of a sporadic twitch, and it makes you let off a cute ‘ooooh!’

nanami slumps his head in between your sore jiggling breasts, sliding a tongue down the crack of your chest before groaning. “f.. fuck, when you ask me like that, can’t r- resist, honey,” and his voice dripped with such sensuous desire. nanami’s shaft greedily kisses its way against your pearled clit before his entire body erupts into vicious shakes.

he knew he wouldn’t last long at all - especially raw because once he’s starting to swell from the very tip, he’s gutturally groaning right between your tits. gluey golden strands of hair tickled against you as he’s cumming hard, whimpering into your chest.

nanami’s entire body quakes violently, and his thrusts switch from rhythmic to pathetically sloppy within seconds..

even still, you’re folded in such a pretty way, taking each slobbery drop that fills into your cunt deeply, and you moaned once his dripping tongue glides a path down toward your sensitive nipples. “mmph-” he’d grunt, muffling himself as he’s still dumping such a thick load.

nanami guides a hand down between your legs, smearing the back of his wedding ring against your flooding pussy. with a loud pop! your nipple wetly plops out between his lips and he holds still.

“take it, sweetheart. ‘s all for you,” nanami lowly whispers against your clammy chest, his heavy eyelids flapping shut. your warmth - it’s so balmy inside, and he’s already shuddering once his leaky tip sprinkles the final remnants of cum deep into your womb. it leaves a beautiful dry taste in his mouth, and nanami uses a thumb to spread a flap of your folds apart. “she’s s- so pretty.”

“f- fuck..” you’d suck in a airy moan, panting at the pitching faint spurts of wetness that echoes through your ears. gooey, thin torrents of cum run down the opening of your cunt as he pulls out, and you gasp once nanami suddenly flips you over.

now - you’re laid on your chest with your hips raised, ass arched up, and your neck most certainly raised.

“hah- forgive…me,” nanami throatily murmurs, using the back of his wedding ring once more to slither down your cream-coated pussy. his tone, it’s far lower this time—raspy with a bit of a smoky airiness to it.

oh- you were just an entire mess. he’s already licking his lips as he takes in the beauty of his wife’s backside, immediately feeling his sensitive dick twitch at the coarse, arching sight.

the way his cum just messily cascades down between your syrupy slit, splattering onto the silk white sheets in the process - he wanted more..

nanami hungrily rolls out his tongue before licking your pussy from top to bottom—shamelessly relishing in his bittersweet taste that soaks against his sizzling buds. the viscous mess glitters a sheeny filthy coat onto his pursed lips before he huffs, sitting back up.

with a soft little tap, you whine, feeling the familiar upturned curve of nanami’s hardened tip smack against your cum-slobbering entrance again and again..

“arch a bit more for me. atta girl, mhm- let’s.. hah- aim for triplets this time, my love..”

[mossmx]

I'm rewatching Space Seed (khan episode) and literally all of it could have been avoided if I was the history ensign, once again billion of people could be saved by asexuality XD

[artdcnaldson]

Pat just being like “c’mon babe I promise, I just need to get off and it’ll help so much. Just the tip, I swear, that’s all. Just the tip.”

Maybe with Art’s gf? They’re close and you know they’ve done more together than they’ll admit to and Art’s got those catholic premarital sex notions so you’re kinda on edge and if it IS just the tip then it’s fine, right? If it doesn’t go any further than that… it doesn’t count as cheating when it’s his best friend and it’s just the tip….

Turning that on its head and sweet blushing virgin Art getting so worked up that it’s Your turn to say “just the tip, baby. It doesn’t count if you’re not all the way in. I bet it’s so painful, I wanna help. You can give me the tip.”

Naturally neither stop at just the tip teehee

FUUUUUUUCK <3 this has been hidden in my inbox and I JUST found it. Feeling INSANE!!!

Patrick thinks you're too sweet to go unfucked, to have your needs ignored in favor of some moral high ground bullshit. He knows how needy you are— you're not exactly subtle when you watch Art tug his sweaty shirt off on the tennis court, how you clench your thighs and cross and uncross your legs to get a bit of friction.

And he doesn't miss how you watch him either, when he's shirtless on the court, or at the pool. When it's hot in Art's dorm and he's stripped to his boxers. You watch him, you swallow and lick your lips and look away.

And there you are, staying the summer at his parent's empty mansion. Art's inside sleeping off a hangover, and you're with Patrick at the pool in a tiny bikini. You turn and stretch and reapply sunscreen onto your skin, and that's all it takes for Patrick to pop an obvious boner.

He's not above begging. Pleading. Getting on his goddamn knees for pussy. And he's very convincing. He knows you need more than what Art can give you, and Patrick doesn't even have to give you everything, you can save that for Art, he promises.

How can you say no? You should say no, but you don't. You let him tug your bikini bottoms to the side and tease the head of his cock through your sticky folds, bumping against your clit while you writhe on the plush lounge chair.

It doesn't take long for you to beg him. Each time his cockhead nudges against your entrance that tight ring of muscle there twitches, like your body wants to suck him deeper. When he just barely breaches your entrance you moan so pretty, it's like music to his goddamn ears.

It takes all of his self control to keep from driving in, deep, fucking you like he wants. But he's good. Even when you move your pretty manicured fingers to rub at your clit, even when your cunt clenches and pulses around him. He wants to fuck you the way you deserve, but he's a gentleman. He keeps his promise. He pulls out to cum, painting your cunt and bikini bottoms sticky white.

And once you have that, you just want Art more. You've gotten a taste, and you want the real thing bad. But Art's so sweet, so repressed.

Your poor, sweet Art, who has to hold you still with firm hands on your hips after five minutes of making out. Whose face goes ruddy and sheepish as he says he just needs a second to cool down. Who apologizes for getting so worked up and tells you that you're just so pretty he can't help it.

And you're so convincing that Patrick would be proud. Because it doesn't count if he's doesn't go all the way in, right? It'll help if he just gets a bit of release, then he won't be so tempted and overwhelmed by you. Isn't that a good thing? To just give in a little so he isn't tempted to give in entirely? Won't god understand?

If god doesn't understand, Art does. He swallows down a nervous lump in his throat and tugs down his jeans and boxers. His cock is flushed red and beading precum just from a heavy makeout session.

"You can't touch it." The words make you want to pout, but Art's like a skittish animal— one wrong move and it's over. So you lay back on the bed peel your panties away from your drenched pussy, so slick it's obscene.

It's just the tip. Art's a good boy, he'll behave. His hands shake as he leans down, brushes your hair from your face before he gives you a soft kiss. His cock notches against your entrance and you're both trembling with pure want.

It takes all of his self control, it really does. He feeds the first inch or two inside and you're so tight and wet and hot that he nearly cums then and there. He ruts into you with soft, shallow motions— making sure not to go too deep, even if he wants to. And he wants to so fucking badly.

"Just a little deeper," you nearly beg, and how can he say no? Just a little more. It won't hurt, it feels so good anyway. And then a little more, because he's already come this far. And then your heels press into his ass and he's buried in you to the hilt and you're squeezing him so tight that he can't help it.

He comes with a strangled groan, hips jerking clumsily as he instinctually tries to bury himself deeper. He collapses on top of you, all of the energy sapped out of him as he continues to rut into your cunt.

"I don't think that's going to help with temptation," he mumbles against your throat.

You kiss the crown of his head and pet his soft curls and assure him that it's fine, that he didn't mean to, that he didn't sin that much. He's a good guy, god will understand. All the while, you're keenly aware of a shadow of someone standing just on the other side of the door. A very smug, very proud Patrick Zweig.

[gumified]

hate sex with toji fushiguro

content: fem!reader, mean!toji, big dick!toji, degradation, dirty talk, fingering, overstimulation

note: no clue why but tumblr hates me and won't let me add images so i don't have any dividers TT

//

arguments are annoying. arguments with toji, however, are more than annoying. they’re a living nightmare. the guy’s already an asshole and add the fact he has the ego the size of an elephant, he became unbearable. the two of you got into arguments often because you hate each other's guts and every single time he had to ensure that he was in the right and you weren’t. not to mention that the two of you were roommates and you were expected to go home everyday to face him.

the argument this time was stupid and dumb in every possible way. you were angry about him leaving his clothes everywhere and he got mad at you for being a ‘nagging witch’ as he called you. the shouting then started and you were sure the neighbours were very tired at the constant screaming that came from your apartment.

one minute you’re shouting at each other and the next you’re lunging at each other and ripping your clothes off. the intensity of the moment overtakes any sense of rationality. your lips collide with his and he hungrily mashes his face against yours. toji’s hands roughly rip your blouse apart, groaning when he catches sight of the red lacy bralette you have on. you push him against the wall, your lips never leaving his, and he responds with a ferocity that matches your own. his hands are everywhere, exploring every inch of your body, igniting a fire that consumes you both. toji’s fingers are tangled in your hair, pulling you closer as his mouth moves feverishly against yours. your own hands are not idle, tearing at his shirt, exposing the sculpted muscles beneath.

“like what you see, fushiguro?” 

“fucking love it.” he growls, tugging your jeans off and pushing you down on the couch. he lifts his shirt over his torso and you marvel at his muscular body. everything about him is so seductive and you feel your panties grow wet, sticking to your folds. his breath is hot against your neck as he trails rough kisses down to your collarbone, his teeth grazing your skin in a way that sends shivers down your spine. you gasp, your nails digging into his back, earning a low growl from him that reverberates through your entire body. “gonna fuck you so hard you won’t be able to walk.”

you scoff as he climbs on top of you. “yeah right.”

“don’t believe me doll?” toji’s voice is deep and husky, each word dripping with lust. his fingers press to your core making you squirm. he knows exactly the right buttons to push to make you unravel into a pile of moans beneath him but you refuse to please him with your noises, keeping quiet. “why’re you keeping silent angel?”

you don’t answer and it angers him even more. toji shoves his fingers into you and you bite your lip hard. he smirks, thrusting his digits in and out of you, making it harder for you to keep everything in. your pussy’s growing wetter as the lewd sounds fill your ears and you lift your hips for him to reach deeper. each time he thrusts them in you feel more drawn into the pool of desire that he's creating, the one that sucks you in and never lets you go.

a blissful feeling shoots through your body and a moan finally slips past your lips when he curls his fingers. toji grins, satisfied with the way you wriggle around. he scissors you open, fingers stretching out your tight core and each time he does you squirm against his grasp.

"that's it." he says, kissing your neck. "that's it baby, moan for me doll, such a filthy slut, you’re dripping all over my fingers." he leaves marks and you feel him suck at your neck, lightly nipping the flesh. you're more than happy to let him and you lean your head back, giving him a bigger canvas to litter his dark purple paint. 

your orgasm is fast approaching and you can't say anything before his fingers are ripped away from you and he replaces it with his cock. toji slams down on you, the tip of his cock reaching your cervix and you scream. he’s so so big and you aren’t given any time to adjust to his sheer size as he starts fucking you with carnal desire. you let out a strangled sob, clawing at his back, nails digging into his taut muscles.

"f-fuck you." you pant, hands gripping his biceps to stop you from sliding up and down from the force of his thrusts. "you're an asshole fushiguro."

toji groans, sweat dripping down his forehead, continuing to pound into you. "and you're a brat."

curses leave both of your mouths, sometimes directed at each other or sometimes directed at the pleasure both of you are feeling. either way, you're feeling like you're riding a euphoric train straight to heaven, not that you'll ever tell toji that. his low grunts make you whine as you call his name repeatedly. his cock feels so good around you, throbbing around your walls as you suck him in. 

there's something about the way his hair falls into his eyes that makes your hands reach to knot them into his dark locks. toji hisses at the slight pain but he doesn't stop instead he goes faster. everything about toji fushiguro makes you go crazy and with his cock thrusting in you with no mercy, it only increases your frenzy.

"shit, hnghh, don't do that fushiguro." you moan when he hits a particular spot inside you which makes your body jolt. toji smirks and he positions his hips, slamming into the exact place again. he smiles innocently at you.

"what, this?”

"yes! o-oh my god…yes yes yes, toji r-right there!" you shout, feeling your whole body tingling with your release coming soon. "fuck!"

it comes so quickly and you feel yourself drowning in your orgasm, the way the feeling overtakes your body. there's a sharp sensation that slowly spreads across your body and you bask in the feeling of having your release. it doesn't last long because toji's still pounding into you, a low animalistic growl leaves his throat.

"who told you that you could cum?" you gulp, realising what you’ve just done. his eyes darken and he fucks you harder, hips snapping to yours. “fucking whore, you never listen do you? can’t ever be an obedient little girl f’me, fucking pain in the ass.”

your cum leaks out of you and his cock makes your pussy a mess. you're still super sensitive and at the rate that he's thrusting into you, you're going to cum again. toji moans as he pounds into you, throwing his head back and his hands squeeze your ass. you sob at the overstimulation, tears escaping your eyes as you whine and whimper under toji.

“‘m sorry, ‘m sorry toji- just felt so good, ‘m sorryyy.” your incessant babbles echo through your apartment as you feel your mind blank as his cock bullies into your pussy.

"yeah? you should be sorry slut, always fuckin’ nagging, need to fill you with my cum so you keep quiet." 

you whine feeling your body grow hotter under his touch. you feel yourself nearing your second orgasm and you know toji's close too by the way his thrusts are even quicker. a series of moans leave both of your lips and you feel his cock twitch inside of you before his load is dumped. warm cum spreads throughout your pussy, coating every inch of your gummy walls and you feel yourself overflow with cum. your orgasm wracks through your body too, this one more powerful than the other and you find yourself crying out his name, chanting it like a mantra.

the feeling's all too much and toji collapses into you making sure not to squeeze you too hard. you can feel every abdominal muscle through skin to skin contact. his breath fans across your neck, hot and ragged. you run your fingers through his hair, feeling the damp strands against your fingertips.

"you know what this means y/n?" you look at him confused and he smirks. "means i can finally fuck you in that bathroom."

[lovlidollie]

daddy kenji headcanons ☆ｏ(＞＜；)○

kenji sato x fem!reader

rules! super strict rules that he expects you to follow. you’ve got a curfew, a specific bedtime, screen time limitations, he treats you a lot like emi.

he’s got punishments for you as well. for example, if you’re being bratty and don’t want to listen to his warnings, he gets fed up real quick. he’s rolling his eyes and throwing you over his lap before you even know it. you’re left a blubbering, wet mess by the time he’s done with you, ass burning red and face covered in tears.

he knows you don’t drink enough so he has a literal sticker reward station for when you met the water goal he’s set. he rewards you with star stickers, which when you reach a certain amount you can trade for a special prize ;)))

loves marking you up ! hickies, bruises, bite marks are the more primal offences, but he also loves littering you with jewellery. his favourite is a dainty little necklace he got you for your birthday with his initials on the back :3 he wants to make sure everyone knows you’re his !!!

on that note, has a kink for you spending his money. he’s got so much of it, there’s only so many cars he can collect before he’s bored of them, so he’s given you full reign on his card ! you’re allowed to buy whatever you want, so long as you always give him a lowdown on what you’re getting, (he wants to know what his little girl is interested in !!!) and that you purchase all the expensive, skimpy lingerie that he wants to see you in.

on another note, he loves it when you make him cute little bracelets ! he wears them all the time, especially when he’s batting because he knows the camera zooms in on them.

has your initials painted onto the side of his helmet with a little heart.

when you’re over at his house, he wants you only wearing skirts :3 proper pants are banned !! only short, tiny skirts that make it easier for him to bend you over in.

drenches you in designer ! he doesn’t care it you don’t need or want it ; only the best for his baby !!!

he expects ice baths to be ready for him whenever he comes home from a particularly hard match, whether that’s because he’s lost or gotten into another fight. you always give him a shoulder massage, helping uncoil his tense muscles, but it’s not long before he’s asking you to strip and get in with him ! leads to rough bath sex almost all the time and water splashed all over the ground.

needs to let out his frustrations after losing a match, and his favourite way to do it is you ! he’s high on adrenaline and anger, filling up your pretty holes with his big cock and leaving bruises everywhere. he’s so mean with it, so degrading, treating you like a literal sex doll.

harshest, meanest sex with the softest, most loving aftercare !!! “look at your pretty cunt sucking me right, baby. ‘s fuckin’ pathetic. love takin’ daddy’s cock dont’cha? yeah, that’s right, fuckin’ whore.” to “my sweet girl, perfect girl. did so good for daddy. c’mere angel.”

call him ‘daddy’ and pout while looking up at him and he will fold. he’d do anything for you when you give him that face.

fucks your throat hard n fast. his cock’s big, so thick, that when you try wrap your hands around it there’s still a gap. he fills up your mouth so good, forcing himself all the way. you gag and choke around him, cheeks wet and red from how hard you’re trying to be good. he does that thing where he taps the head of it on your lips, telling you to “open up,” with a smirk.

he has a size kink. loves seeing how small you are in comparison to him and his cock. he’s so huge that the first time he tries to fuck you, there’s so much resistance that he can’t even slip the tip in. ends up having to stretch your holes out with his fingers and toys for weeks on end, trying to get you to open up for him. “c’mon sweetheart. you wanna take daddy’s cock one day, don’t you?”

loves fucking you in his jersey. it’s like a physical branding, he’s making you completely his. seeing the ‘sato’ on your back makes him downright feral.

so forward with pda you wonder half the time how he hasn’t been written up for something. he has no problem with shoving his tongue into your throat in public. if he wants to taste you then there’s nothing that can stop him 🤷‍♀️ it doesn’t get much further than a little bit of light groping because you’re still his and he’s still an insanely jealous man ; no one else deserves to see you in that state but him.

let’s you wear whatever you want in public (to a degree). he can fight. he has no problem showing others that you’re his and his alone.

[beloveds-embrace]

DukeDom Poly!141

So, in one of the things (Simon and pleasure), you mentioned boudoir paintings…

OMFG I CAN JUST IMAGINE HIM MAKING ALL OF THEM DO ONE, I bet you he hangs them in his room. OH OH OH! also, I bet Simon can draw skjsudisndh 😭😩! HED SIT DOWN WHILE ONE OF THE OTHERS IS GOING AT IT WITH THEIR DUCHESS AND JUST DRAWS IN HIS CHAIR ON THE SIDE 😩😩. Reader laying on her back or ass up in the air, all sweaty and glowing while one of the boys goes at her in bliss and Simon just drawing her from the side lines… 😫🤭😩

Also, can I be 🪭 anon?

Dukedom 141 masterlist

God, Simon painting them himself? Absolutely yes.

He’d do sooo many paintings of you, it’d be concerning if you could actually think past the pleasure that clouds your mind. He has you in so many different lingeries, things that make you turn warmer than a furnace and your men’s eyes darken with want; silks and laces that snag around your soft skin, garter belts that frame the length of your thighs, custom panties with nothing more than a neat, glowy string of pearls to line your cunt with a matching jewelry set.

Simon dresses you himself, and none of the men say anything against it; he is in his element, drawing the stockings up your legs and kissing your ankles along the way, big hands carressing your calves. He takes his time lacing up your corsets and bras, kissing up your spine, cupping your tits in his big, warm hands and kneading and groping until your nipples are stiff enough for his liking, for what he needs to do his painting, and you have that lovely, desperate and needy expression on your face.

Simon may do the painting, but to him, the scene itself is art: you, you, you. Face down and ass up, bared to his gaze and brushes while Kyle keeps your hips up with a hand under your belly and three fingers pumping in and out of you, your noises, sweet moans and cries, a background melody with Kyle whispering praises into you ear until Simon can see how well you cream around those thick fingers.

Art, that’s what you truly are. No painting will ever truly capture your beauty, but still, Simon tries-

And that means he also has you in so many different poses. Another day, another lingerie sets, teeth marks indented over your body, your ankles and calves, while Johnny keeps you pinned and spread with his body. Simon focuses on your straining muscles, your pretty painted nails raking down Johnny’s back and leaving behind angry red lines that don’t compare to the way he pistons into you, your pretty cunt stretched around him and your combined cum drenching the bed. Your legs, adorned in heels Simon specifically got for you, shake and tremble, your pleasure visible and audible to all.

And John… Simon doesn’t think he’s ever seen a better seat for you than his face. You look perfect, twitching and whining, your hair and makeup a mess of a canvas, John’s hands around your hips like unbending snakes. He’s made you cum so many times, your nub swollen and sensitive under his heavy tongue, you’ve soaked his beard, his face, his neck- and yet he doesn’t stop. A queen has no reason to leave her seat, no? And yet it’s your expression that has Simon fixated, the way you look around, look at him as if you want to beg him to save you or join you. Maybe both.

Simon paints each and every one. Moments frozen in his paintings, never comperable to the real thing, and yet adored all the same.

(And you stare at the finished paintings with awe, in spite of your blush. The way he’s drawn you… you never knew you were seen so beloved.

You turn back to Simon, bejeweled fingers wrapping around his cravat, and pull him close to kiss the corner of her lips. Your men continue to admire the paintings, but you are focused on the painter.

“I want one of you and I, Simon my love.”)

First time writing smut (if this can even be considered that 💀😭)

[mariasont]

My Assistant - A.H

a/n: im a little addicted to bimbo reader rn if you can't tell lmao

masterlist

‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧

pairings: aaron hotchner x bimbo!assistant!reader

summary: you can't reach a book so hotch helps you out

warnings: none? fluff, reader climbing a fucking book shelf and for what

wc: 0.8k

"Oh, biscuits!" 

It was a ridiculous thing to say, but frankly you didn't care. You were on your tiptoes, chest flush against a bookshelf. Spencer had asked for a book for the case they were working, and naturally, it was nestled on the top shelf.

Balancing precariously on your stilettos, you stretched as tall as you possibly could, your fingers skimming the spine that was an inch too far away.

You shifted your weight back onto your heels, planting your hands firmly on your hips as you considered the stubborn object just out of reach. Sure, Spencer would grab the book without hesitation if asked, and he'd do so with a smile, but you really liked feeling useful.

For over a year, you've been the one at Mr. Hotchner's beck and call--fetching coffee, filing papers, and attending to, basically, his every need (not the one you wanted though). To others, it might seem trivial, but you really liked it. Well, you really liked him. 

At first, you were intimidated--how could you not? He had a reputation. You heard the stories--a man who never smiled, his ever-serious nature, and Penelope's not so family friendly description of his sternness was enough to unsettle anyone.

But you considered his reputed severity to just be part of his charm, he was far from the figure others painted him as. He was a good boss, always fair, never once raising his voice at you or demanding too much. In your eyes, he was perfect. You might be biased. 

The idea of climbing the shelf was a gamble, especially in these shoes, and it seemed almost certain to end with a less-than-elegant fall. Still, you couldn't resist the challenge and hoisted yourself up anyway, the shelf wobbling perilously as you did so. 

You pressed on, climbing higher, the wood's groans of protest falling on deaf ears. If this was how you were going down, so be it.

"Almost there," you muttered to yourself, straining every muscle in your arm, you were sure.

And just as you almost had the book, your balance faltered and then found new footing, the sensation of falling dissipating. In its place, you found your ass delicately perched, nearly seated on someone's broad shoulder.

You honestly didn't even need to look to know who it was--embarrassingly enough--you had basically memorized the feeling of Hotch's hands. Though they had never been wrapped around your legs like they were now. His grip was warm and strong, sparking a wave of electricity that rippled through your whole body.

"Got it!" you cried out, your victory fist pump nearly launching you from Hotch's shoulder. But his hold on your thighs clamped tighter, securing you in place. "Thanks, sir."

You angled your head downward, locking gazes with Hotch--his eyes a rich blend of ember and molten chocolate that you really liked looking at.

His eyebrows were arched in a silent question on his well-defined face as if he really couldn't believe what you were doing. 

"Careful," Hotch murmured, his hands lowering you to the ground. There was a fleeting brush against your ass, surely accidental, yet it sparked a flurry of butterflies swirling in the pit of your stomach. "In the future, just ask. I wouldn't want you hurt over something as trivial as a book."

"Oh, don't you worry about me, sir. I'm like, practically a pro at rock climbing when I'm not here." you said, letting out a bubbly giggle.

He regarded you with a look that was equal parts amusement and disbelief, clearly not convinced.

"Okay, not really, but wouldn't that be cool?"

"Well, rock climber or not, let's keep those feet on the ground, please," Hotch remarked, the slightest quirk of his mouth suggesting a suppressed smile. "It's less of a fall from there."

"Sure thing, sir!" you beamed, popping off a silly salute, noting his struggle not to roll his eyes. "But I did get the book, so it all worked out in the end, right?"

With a gentle nudge on your lower back, Hotch directed you towards the conference room.

"Yes, it did, but for future reference, Spencer's height makes him more capable of reaching those books himself."

You couldn't help the blush that colored your face, and you managed a flustered smile.

"Well, I mean, it is what I get paid to do, sir."

"No, you get paid to do my bidding, not Spencer's," he teases, giving a gentle squeeze to your side.

Your laughter rang out, a bit too high, a bit too bright, as his touch sent a delightful vertigo spiraling through you. 

"Well, yeah, okay, that's fair. But it's been pretty light on the to-do list from you today."

"And you're complaining about that?"

With the conference room in sight, you pretended to lock your lips and throw away the key.

A rare laugh rumbled through his chest, and you felt your knees buckle, you were sure you could have melted into a puddle right there and then. It was such a beautiful sound, and you desperately wanted to become familiar with it.

Spencer emerged from the conference room, his eyes landing on the book in your hands. "Is that The Selfish Gene?"

Hotch took the book from you, handing it to Spencer with a firm look. "Reid, I'd appreciate it if you didn't recruit my assistant for your library runs."

taglist: @hotchhner @khxna

[astralnymphh]

been having ellie williams eating pussy fixation lately, with references to a breeding kink (on readers side).. and breeding denial (on ellie's side).. self-indulgent tbh. witerally just a quickly written drabble. might elaborate another time. [ellie img from claymorrr on pinterest.] here we go! ☆

"E-Ellie— fuck, need 'ur fingers."

An airy sea, darksome and stuffy, eats the glass behind your thin curtains. In turn, the nooks that escape even the most most lurid of light in daytime, have shifted into that sea. Utterly. No silhouettes, no screens, no photo collages of you and her are bound to be seen. Quiet, homely ambiance is one of the things keeping your ears attentive to the bedroom around you, and what's happening inside of it.

Everything. Every sonant breath, every choked gasp, painted eerily— except Ellie.

Dim light a source at the head of your bed, only the shapes closest to it are palely painted. Auburn mane, cedar brown lashes, the heads of your knees, the head in-between them. Feasting sensually on the hallowed breeding grounds hot at the center of you, painted filthily in the sounds it made. Cradled in the perfect light, just enough for your pupils to zero in, and never zero out, consumed by the movement of her working her hungry muscle in and out of your drenched entrance.

"Huh," amused by your please-less plead, your clit is greeted with a scoff against it. "But you've got my tongue, don't need my fingers babe." that serene, soundproof whisper trying to convince you. So sure that what is given, is what will be taken.

Yet, a pit of greed takes root in your brain, and you find anything below the stretch of her painfully lacking.

As Ellie tucks her tongue back inside, lapping at your wetness, you pursue in tales of whines. "Wanna be full of you," leaves your bitten lips, higher-pitched and pulled across your teeth as that knot inside you responds to her tongue; swells on the mouthy sounds that come from it rolling stripes through your folds. Tighter, tighter, it tenses deliciously— and elapses before you can even focus on it, earning her but a frustrated huff out of you, "It's not enough."

"Don't wanna come on my tongue?"

Your hips snap forward for her once again withdrawn mouth anyway, afraid to loose any string of sensation. "Ellie," you fuss her name, and that pussy-eating grin of hers curls into a shit-eating one, laying her risen, pinched and dapple cheeks on the plush of your thigh. Annoyingly cute— just emphasize the annoying part.

"What's up?" clearly, she wants to get under your skin. Tenderly question you, deny, deny, ignite the sparks and quench herself on how cute you are. Grasping that something henpecks you to act so neglected and taking it into advantage like a sagacious cunt, bringing you to orgasm on her plan alone.

Unreserved, your lips.

"Want you t' get me pregnant," breathlessly muffled, humility has fled you. Dirty delights scorching at the hills of your cheeks, reach spoken ends at the tips of your tongue. "Els, I want you— you to.." the recital becomes lost in the haze of your head.

"Yeah?" her cheek tilts off your thigh.

"Yeah."

Her fingertips sunk in the crevice of your crotch and thigh, exert pressure, scooting you completely up to her chin. Silently setting up her answer; her play-along, earnest, and downturned eyes telling you to want otherwise. "Mhh, don't think you're ready for that. Knock you up on a whim? C'mon, babe"

Spoken replies don't necessarily represent gut truths, the telltale opposite answer present in her swallow. Ellie thinks, if she lets herself feed into that desire now— she won't stop.

"Just take my tongue, okay?"

Though weak, you agree, "Okay."

"Good girl," she grates, as if her throat had dried in pausing all attention from your pussy. Her hands float off your hips for a split second before smacking back down, admiring the way it ripples and jiggles the fat there, collecting her peachy, bottom lip beneath her top teeth and tugging it inside. Enamored with your cunt, and how it leaks sleek in the yearn for her fill, her claim, her name.

Her babies, even?

"So fuckin' pretty, gonna let me take my time? Fill you up when we're ready?" coos at it, reaching a lousy hand down to grope herself. In so doing, she brews a moan of her own ache she simmers at, "Fuck." and takes her free fingers as an opportunity to slap your folds, splaying your labia nastily with her index and ring, and hawking spit to your hole— honestly, just to watch it drip like syrup through your pussy lips.

She really is unreserved.

Cold when it hits— you twitch, but hotly-stirring when her tongue peeks out to smear it up to your clit, eyes shut with careful precision— you suck your stomach in.

"That's more like it."

[introloves]

can we puh LEASE get a drabble or a one shot on that gojo undercut thing u posted im beggin on my hands AND knees 🙏🙏

you knew he wanted something from you. you could feel it in the way he folded his frame down against yours. borderline suffocating, a malformed pout stretched across his face while humming against your neck.

“what is it.” you wondered, tapping away on your laptop without so much as paying him any attention- wounding him further.

he scoffed, wondering how you could be so cruel considering the fact he was dying. his eyes painted against the sheen of gloss painted over your newly done nails.

pink.

they were pretty and pink, and oddly resembling a part of him you just loved sucking on. his ego absolutely through the roof with that fact. you hadn’t put up your usual fight when he suggested the color brushed over that acrylic.

“nothing.”

a lie.

he himself knew what he wanted, but he never gave it up easy. choosing instead to wander away from the back of the couch you were so prettily purchased on. walking to stand directly in-front of you- the laptop screen doing nothing to block the majority of his body. tight shirt tucked into sweats that were hung a little too low for your tastes to be casual.

eyebrow raising and huffing with the hint served on a silver platter before you. smiling knowingly while closing the device and setting it aside.

opening yourself up to receive the heavy weight of his body, an exclaimed huff of air leaving you when his arms braced your body. engulfing them with ease- face planting first into your chest and groaning like he’d just found nirvana.

lifting his face to really show up that pout. letting those arms wrapped around you leave the circumference of you to grab at your wrists and plant them firmly against the shortened hair laying against the lower part of his head.

giggling when you finally got the unspoken hint. taking those newly manicured nails and raking them through the translucent hair.

“nothing, huh?” you teased, finding it easy to follow along to his whims. it was him who had paid a pretty penny for your current set after all.

answered with only a groan- eyes shut tight while you traced your initials into the hair there.

a vein prominent along the curve of his jaw with the force of his clenching teeth, something inside of him purring with the fact that you were so well taken care of.

taken care of on his money, with the color of his cock head painted on your nails.

shamelessly moving his face to nestle further against you, hands grabbing at you with an intensity not in proportion to your actions. wondering why the singular act of you running the tips of your styled nails across the short hair of his undercut had him reacting like this.

“satoru?” you inquired when his breathing nearly heaved while he let the full weight of him lay against you. answered with another near incoherent hum.

“is this okay?” words giggled sounded just a little teasing- but you truly wondered if this was fine. you’d never seen his body react in this fashion- not unless he was buried deep inside of you.

and with that realization, it seemed like a veil had been pulled from your eyes. looking over the curve of his back, over the defined planes, and watching the shifting of his hips against the couch cushions.

glossy lips pulled into something that resembled a smile before bringing your nails back and running them over the surface with just a little more pressure. making sure to watch for any shift in his demeanor.

barking out a bell of a giggle when his body tensed, coils of muscle wound tight and with an intensity that would have scared anyone that wasn’t you.

“feels good?” you wondered, and he could only nod. looking up and marveling at the pretty face smiling down at him. choosing to stretch himself back up to his full height. looming over you with that same intensity highlighted seconds previous.

“yeah, that feels good baby.” satoru huffed, letting you see for yourself when those horrible, teasing, wonderful sweats detailed the throbbing outline of his cock.

“do you wanna feel good?” he wondered, not letting you answer before tugging down the front of his waistband. finding it funny how close in color the pink tip of his matched your fingernails.

[rafeandonlyrafe]

those three words

words: 1.2k

warnings: 18+ only, smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex, descriptions of reader being short and curvy, like 3 uses of the word kid?, they say i love you for the first time <3, established relationship, protective!rafe, kinda drug dealer rafe but really barry just makes a ~scary~ appearance

“rafe-” your eyes widen as you take in the scary looking man standing in front of you, heavy footsteps making their way in your direction.

“it's alright, kid.” rafe moves effortlessly in front of you, blocking your entire body out as you grip onto the back of his shirt.

“who's that you're hiding?” the man asks. you peek around rafes tall frame to blink at the stranger.

“she's mine.” rafe simply grunts out, and the feeling of confusion and fear is replaced by pure flattery as your cheeks blush red.

“she's a cute little thing, huh?” he smirks at you, gold tooth catching the sun as you quickly duck back behind rafe.

“yeah, she's my cute little thing.” rafe turns to you, placing his hands on your shoulders and gently pushing you towards the sliding glass doors. “and she's going inside right now.” his tone is soft, but still commanding.

you glance once between rafe and the man before gulping and rushing inside up the stairs to rafes bedroom, locking yourself inside and even crawling under the covers like the warm material could keep you safe.

you wait patiently, silently as you listen, letting out a sigh of relief when the footsteps you hear making their way up the stairs are clearly rafes, not the stranger with the heavy gait.

“who was that?” you ask as you open the door, rafe pressing you back inside, easily flipping the lock behind his back to trap you back in his room.

“nothing for you to worry about, doll.” rafe smirks at you before his lip drops when you let out a frustrated huff. “come here.”

rafe moves to the bed, pulling you onto his lap, caging you against his body with his thickly muscled arms.

“shit like that is for me to deal with. you don't need to be stressing your pretty little head, okay?” rafe says slowly. you nod back even slower.

“what are you here for, huh?” rafe taps your nose, getting you to refocus on him, seeing your mind already starting to drift elsewhere. “tell me baby.”

“im here to look cute…” you glance down at your fingernails, painted a light shade of pink. “and make you happy…” your cheeks flush red at the next part. “and make you feel good.”

“exactly.” rafe nods. “so when barry comes around, you come in here and wait for me to get back, okay?”

you nod more enthusiastically this time, the worry and anxiety floating away. rafe is there for you, he'll always be there for you, to protect you. you just need to clear your mind and let him.

“so you gonna make me feel good now?” rafe ducks his head to bring it closer to your face. he towers over you, your tiny stature is part of what made rafe attracted to you. graced with beautiful mature curves but short legs and torso which made you pewny next to his massive height.

“course.” a smile stretches across your plump cheeks.

“get naked for me then.”

you slide off of rafes lap, feet padding softly against the rug he bought just because your bare feet got cold against the wooden floor.

you start with your tanktop, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth are you slowly lower it until you fling it away, cupping your hands around your bra, the light pink matching everything, just as rafe likes it. 

you reach behind your back to undo the bra next, pulling the straps down teasingly slow before letting the cups fall away to the floor.

“god.” rafe groans out, unashamed as he grips his cock through his pants. “i like the show, baby, but i need you right now.”

despite his size, rafe moves quickly and smoothly, grabbing your waist and pushing you towards the bed, flopping onto your stomach.

before you can even adjust, rafe is pulling you by your hips towards the edge so your feet are hips are at the side of the bed, legs hanging down.

rafe loves how easily he can manhandle you, make you his little fuck toy as his hands push your skirt up, revealing a tiny thong that is quickly ripped away.

rafe watches as you spread your legs while he undoes his jeans, your pussy already gleaming with wetness as you bare yourself for him.

“that's my girl.” rafe smirks, grasping his freed cock and running it through your folds, feeling the way it soaks his head before he taps it against your entrance, once, twice, and then a final third time before pushing forward, burying his cock inside of you with a groan.

“oh, fuck.” you squeal out, rafe not giving you even a moment to adjust. he wouldn't need to wait for his hand or a fleshlight, so he doesn't wait for you either, instantly setting a rapid pace, his cock squelching into your wetness with every thrust.

“god, so tight. so tight and-” rafe let's out a low moan. “and fucking tiny.”

rafe grips your hips, lifting your entire ass off the bed, your flowy skirt falling even more down your back as he holds you up with ease, smiling to himself as his muscles bulge, knowing this is undoubtedly what will be on his mind next time he works out.

rafe pulls your hips back with every thrust to meet his as your arms scramble to support yourself, but no need as you ultimately resign to your fate, bare cheast pushing against the bed as rafe fucks you, ass in the air.

“god, so good for me baby.” rafe groans out. you're not doing anything other than staying still for him, but you still glow at the praise, clenching your cunt around his cock every time he pulls out.

“jesus, you don't want me out do ya kid?” rafe chuckles, having to work to get his cock out just to slam back in.

“love your cock.” you manage to say. “‘ts perfect.”

“aww, baby.” rafe coos out. “it's your pussy that's perfect for me.”

rafe thrusts harder as if trying to prove his point. you feel his cock swell inside of you and know it's moments before your cunt gets flooded. you relax when the warm cum fills you as rafe moans, fingers squeezing your hips so tight you're sure to bruise as he holds you down on his cock until it's done pumping.

“fuck.” rafe groans, pulling out as you clench your pussy, trying to not let the cum escape, loving the feeling of being filled up with rafe.

“come on, turn over kid.” rafe taps your hip as you flip onto your back, giggling as rafe falls with a bounce onto the bed next to you, pulling you in for a kiss.

“see, kid. that was exactly what i needed.” you can already tell the shift in energy from rafe, the way he's more relaxed now, face not hard set with stress.

the words escape your lips before you can help it. “i love you.”

your eyes widen once you realize what you just admitted, causing rafe to laugh. you pull away, suddenly feeling awkward and exposed, only for rafe to tug you back close.

“relax, baby.” he says, running his thumb over your cheek. “i love you too.”

taglist: @drewstarkeyslut @forstarkey @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv @drudyslut @jjsmarijuana @rafescokenostril @jjsmarijuana @seeingstarks @angelofcigs @cece45450 @babygorewhore @vanessa-rafesgirl @michelleisheres-blog @outerbankspov @drewstarkeyswifehoe @cutielando @kamninaries @rafeyslove @rafeinterlude @bellbottombaby @deeaardiary @rubixgsworld @wearemadeofstardust0 @leighbronk @starkeysheart @pradabambie @tobesolovelysstuff @alexiskirkland @rafestar @babygorewhore @juniebugg @magicalyoura @cokepewpsii @mysticallystilinski @luvdella @aerangi @vogueprincess @yourenogoodforme @auryyz @mayhem-72 @thestarlithideout @marvelfanfics1recs @rafesgiirl @ditzyzombiesblog @chiaraanatra @tobiaslut

[screampied]

✧ ⁺˳ cw. fem! reader, praise, size kink, fıngering, dirty talk, oral fixation, mdni.

“easy, easy,” sukuna groans, having you laid on his broad, empty lap. you’re straddling him, chewing on your bottom lip as he’s knuckles deep into your drooling cunt. already, a clear sheet of slick coats down a single finger of his and you’re twitching from his hold. a cocky grin paints against his lips as one of his free hands attach to your waist. “ah, c’mon. not that bad. ‘s just one finger, princess.”

“y- your fingers are s-so thick, ‘kuna,” you babble out in broken words, and it doesn’t take long before your muscles tighten. indeed, he had much length to his fingers. he was easing you up because just moments ago, you insisted on how you could easily take him on the first try. of course, he decided to help you out anyway, finding amusement in how you’re already about to gush out from just a single digit. the stretch was immaculate, your tummy churns in a line of zig zags as you feel him slowly insert yet another finger inside. “fuck, ‘s long.”

with a breathy chortle, he makes you slump forward into his chest. “such a weak girl,” and his voice pitches against your ear — his breath, hot and fanning near the soft lobe of your ear. “if you can barely handle two fingers, what makes you think you can take two of my cocks, little one?”

your moans become more loud, echoing through the bouncy walls of his devilish, isolated chambers.

your body fails to remain still, grinding against his hand directly underneath you. “k- kunaaa,” you huff, your own jaw becoming loose and dangling itself agape.

it was so delicious . . the stretch, oh the stretch,

the way his two fingers curl into a salacious circular motion, rotating around the goopy insides of your sopping pussy. you were weak, so so weak.

he groans, hearing the slosh slosh squelches your own mess sings from the impact. “hah, ‘s good. i can take one more, please.”

chuckling, his lips press against your forehead. “hm, dunno. maybe i should take ‘em out..”

“s- sukuna,” you whimper, hearing him snickering at your desperate plea. your walls were more clingy than you were on a daily basis, sticking against the texture of his fingers like glue. with your face buried into the crook of his neck, you gasp once you feel the alleviated pressure arise furthermore. “pleaseplease, more. i can take another finger. need another finger.”

“girl,” he snarls, a single fang baring and you jolt into his chest once he spanks your pussy once.

the brief sting that follows makes you throb and it scratches such a good itch in your brain. “what did i tell ya? you don’t need, you want. repeat that sentence for me, pretty.”

“i— i want another finger inside,” you correct yourself, your eye twitching at his familiar sass. sukuna remained seated on his notorious throne, sexily manspread with you on top of him also. your legs felt like mush practically, and the stimulation has you swooning for more. gasping, you bite down on the breaking skin of your lip once more. “want it, ryo. want you.”

“good grief, does fingering make ya forget manners too?” he slyly grins, ruby red eyes peering into the depths of your precious soul.

you sigh, knowing what that meant. as he’s still got two fingers tucked away deeply into your cunt, your arms sling over his tense shoulders. “p- please.”

“atta girllll,” he praises, another one of his hands tugging against the fabric of your blouse.

as you still make a cute attempt at rocking your hips against his lap. he slowly inserts another thick finger inside. tightening around each one individually, you whine before your entire body jitters.

sukuna chuckles deeply against your ear, feeling the claws of your nails seep into the flesh of his arm. “oooh, so three is the limit. i see,” and within three seconds, his digits pull out of your cunt. a slimey string of your filth sticks against his fingers. as he looks down with an utmost hungry gaze, he brings his fingers up to his mouth before sniffing them.

“mhm,” and with glossy eyes, you stare as the demon pops his three fingers right into his mouth. you’re still taking your seat on his lap, watching as his forked tongue devours your enchanted taste. slit eyebrows furrow in arousal before he takes it back out, bringing his fingers toward your quavering lips. “open. taste it, girl,” and as your lips happily part, he slides two fingers inside your mouth, watching you suck against them. he groans, imagining you were putting your cute throat to use on his cock— not his fingers. your pink tongue swishes around, curling against the digits and you taste the bitter taste of your own sweet. “messy fuckin’ woman. taste how dirty you are for me? yeahhh, lick it all up ‘cause ‘m gonna put ‘em right back in. gotta train this weak cunt for the real thing.”

your head bobbles a bit— every few seconds sukuna’s lengthy fingers would thrash back against your uvula, causing you to almost gag. as you lick them clean, tasting his own syrupy saliva in the process, he quickly pulls them out before stuffing them right back into your greedy cunt as promised.

sukuna raises a brow as your head lowers onto his chest. “eh,” and as your tongue playfully licks against his neglected nipples, his breath hitches. you catch him off guard and he grunts at the suddenly sensitivity. “fuck are ya doin’ brat. didn’t tell you to s-suck on . . mhm, those.”

he doesn’t exactly pull you away.

instead, he drags your head closer, looking down embarrassed as your mouth latches onto his thickset pecs like a leech.

it felt odd, strangely new.

you’re sucking against his swollen perky nipples, lolling your tongue around before that’s when he abruptly pulls you off. with a new look of neediness in his eyes, sukuna watches as a trail of your own spit departs from his nipples. you leer back up at him with a teasing grin forming on your lips and he scoffs.

sukuna ryōmen was flustered..

“y’er .. fuckin’ weird,” he grouses, and once he sees your growing simper, he uses a hand to make your head move back toward its former placement near his now dampened pecs.

“keep .. doin’ that. never told ya to stop, little girl. phew, i- i liked that.”

[vampiefemme]

𝐬𝐦𝐨𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐮𝐭 | 𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐦𝐬 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

description: you’ve been getting closer to ellie lately and, unbeknownst to you, your blossoming crush is entirely reciprocated. cue your first smoke sesh together… and a little something more, too. [modern au, ellie and reader are both over 18]

warnings: weed use, oral sex, fingering. this fic is 18+, minors do not interact.

author’s note: my first ellie fic and my first fic on this blog! pls be nice :) let me know what you think <3

The first few times you hung out with Ellie, she’d offered you a joint. It’s no secret that Ellie’s the town’s top dealer, a welcome sight at rowdy house parties, her backpack stuffed with ziplock bags of the best bud around. You’d tried weed before, had taken a puff or two from poorly-rolled blunts here and there, but you’d never particularly enjoyed it. Mostly, you’d just coughed up a lung and felt nothing but a vague lightheadedness. So when Ellie rolled up a joint the first time you’d come over to her place, offering you a drag after she’d sparked up, you’d politely declined.

Ellie had arched a brow. “You mind if I smoke? Shit - I can put it out.”

Before you’d had the chance to respond, she was already reaching for the ashtray on her nightstand, ceramic and painted to resemble an eight-ball.

“No, no, it’s fine,” you interjected, reaching out and touching her wrist almost involuntarily. You pushed down the flurry of butterflies that erupted in your stomach at the contact. God, you had to be touch-starved or something. Since when did touching someone’s arm make your heart skip a beat?

Ellie looked at you with a guarded kind of suspicion, like she didn’t believe that you were fine with her smoking. “You’re sure?”

“I’m sure,” you said, lips curling into an encouraging smile. “I don’t mind weed, it just doesn’t do anything for me.”

“Huh.” Ellie nodded. She lifted the joint to her lips again and you glanced away, chest tightening from the sight of her lips pursing.

“If you ever wanna try again,” she paused to exhale a plume of smoke, intentionally avoiding your direction, “let me know. Not to, like, toot my own horn or anything, but I’ve never had someone try my weed and not like it.”

You let out an easy laugh. “Okay, we’ll have to see about that.”

Ellie was smiling at you, those green eyes twinkling like so many stars. “No pressure.”

That was months ago, when the summer heat still blazed from sunrise to sunset. It’s mid-winter now, the chill nipping at your cheeks and the end of your nose. To your agony, it hasn’t gotten any easier to breathe when you touch Ellie - when she greets you with a hug and a smile at her front door, you feel like you’re paralyzed with want. And Ellie’s probably none the wiser, of course. You wonder if she’s ever noticed the way your breath hitches when she stretches out on the couch beside you, leaning her head on your shoulder while some tacky eighties film lights up the television screen. You figure she’s oblivious - she’s just being friendly. She probably doesn’t even know you like girls, anyway. Plus, she doesn’t shy away from talking about the girls she’s been with before. You’ve spent more than a few nights seething with jealousy as she recounted her latest hookup, schooling your expression into one of disinterest or even mild enthusiasm.

It’s been a while since she’s talked like that, luckily. You’re grateful you don’t have to feign excitement about Ellie’s latest conquests anymore.

“Whatcha thinkin’ about?” Ellie interrupts your internal monologue, hands still working at the joint in her lap. She’s got a pile of ground-up weed on a rolling tray, sprinkling it into the perfectly-rolled cone like it’s muscle memory. It probably is.

“Nothing,” you blurt, cheeks warming. “Sorry, just zoned out for a second.”

“Oh, bullshit,” Ellie quips, rolling her eyes despite the smile playing at her lips. “What, you can’t tell me? I thought we were friends, cherry.”

You flush anew at the nickname. She’d picked it out for you after you’d scarfed down an entire jar of maraschino cherries one night, after Ellie had bought them for ice cream sundaes. You’d never live that down… But you’re not sure you want to, because every time the nickname leaves Ellie’s lips, you feel like you’re glowing bright red with admiration.

“We are friends!” You nudge Ellie’s shoulder with yours, rolling your eyes with that same playfulness she’d expressed. “Sorry, it’s just - it’s embarrassing.”

Ellie narrows her eyes. It’s like you can see the cogs turning in her head. “Embarrassing? What, you got a crush on some guy or something?”

You open your mouth to respond, but before you can, she’s prattling on again. “Y’know, just ‘cause I’m gay doesn’t mean you can’t talk to me about your crushes. Swear I won’t be weird about it.”

Oh god.

“It’s not - I’m not…” You sigh, gaze lowering to your lap, where you’re fiddling with your hands. Should you tell her? You should probably tell her.

“I like girls, you know.”

It’s quiet for so long that you need to look up at Ellie to make sure she’s still there, still listening. And she is; her eyes are glued to you, wide in disbelief.

“What?” You feel like a bug under a microscope with her looking at you like that. “Is it that hard to believe?”

Ellie shakes her head emphatically. “No, no - it’s not. I just didn’t expect that.”

She turns away to finish rolling the joint, twisting the very end of the paper until it forms a little point. “Guess you’re just full of surprises, huh, cherry?”

You bite your lip to stifle a smile, but Ellie sees it anyway.

“So who’s the lucky girl?” She asks, rummaging through her pocket until she finds her lighter. You watch Ellie spark the joint, the twisted end catching fire until the cherry starts to glow. Ellie takes a few puffs and the scent of smoke tickles your nose.

“I’d prefer not to say,” you tell her, chewing on the inside of your lip. Your nerves are off the wall; you’re so anxious that the joint in Ellie’s slender fingers is suddenly tempting.

Ellie scoffs. “Boring.”

She looks up at you as she flicks ash off the end of the joint, and when she notices you eyeing it, her brows lift.

“Want some? Will that make you spill?”

You huff a nervous laugh, toying with the ends of your hair. “No… I don’t know. Maybe?”

Ellie whoops, her free hand curling into a fist of victory. “Fuck yeah. Here, take it.”

She offers you the joint and you take it, but not without a moment or two of hesitation. You will the anxiety away with the thought that you probably won’t feel anything. Ellie watches as you bring the joint to your lips and inhale, praying you won’t cough and make a fool of yourself. Especially not with Ellie watching so intently.

By the grace of some kind of divine being, you don’t cough. Your throat tickles, and you feel emboldened to take one more hit, letting the smoke fill your lungs. You imagine your body relaxing, the knot in your stomach unwinding. You hand the joint back to Ellie and she takes a puff of her own, her lips curled into the faintest little smirk.

“So…” Ellie trails off expectantly.

“God, you’re persistent,” you groan. She just peers at you knowingly from behind a veil of smoke.

“There’s not much to tell,” you say. “I’ve had a crush on this girl for a while now, but I don’t think she feels the same.”

“Have you asked her?” Ellie prompts, flicking ash off the joint.

You shake your head. “No way.”

“Then,” Ellie pauses to take another hit, “how do you know she doesn’t feel the same?”

You should be feeling anxious with her drilling you like this - you know you should. Usually, you’d be retreating into yourself with every prodding question Ellie asks. But all you feel now is yearning; there’s an ache in your chest that only she can remedy. And, clearly, Ellie’s clueless about it.

You don’t want her to be clueless, you realize.

The words leave your lips before you can think better of them. “Do you, Ellie?”

Her brows knit together, forming a crease that you’ve memorized by now - like every other freckle and wrinkle on her face. “Huh? Do I what?”

You reach for the joint and she yields it without question.

“Do you feel the same about me?”

The weed has certainly helped with your nerves, you think, watching Ellie’s expression shift from confusion to realization. Her plush lips part, but all that comes out is a series of stammers and false sentence starts: “I—you—what?”

Fuck it, you think. You stretch out to reach the nightstand beside Ellie’s bed, leaving the joint in one of the ashtray’s notches. A steady stream of smoke ribbons upward from the fading cherry.

“Ellie,” you start, settling back into your place on the rug. You look at her to find her already staring at you, blinking. “It’s you. I have a crush on you. It’s been—”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Ellie interjects, voice softer than you’d expected.

You blink. “I didn’t want to ruin our friendship, I guess. And you always talked about other girls, so I thought you just… Weren’t interested.”

“Cherry.” Ellie sits up on her knees so she can get closer to you, the sleeves of her oversized flannel slipping down to her forearms as she reaches out and grabs your face. Her touch is gentle but firm, insistent. You can feel the callouses on her fingers against your skin, her thumbs brushing up against your cheekbones, and the air is suddenly so thin you can hardly inhale.

“I have… I’ve had feelings for you for so long. So fucking long, cherry.” Ellie’s gaze is intense, eyes boring into you. You feel exposed, raw, alive with something electric.

You stare right back at her, frozen in her grasp.

“But you were always talking about other girls,” you say. Doubt lingers in the back of your head; this is too good to be true. Right?

“I know, fuck, I’m sorry,” Ellie sighs. “I thought you weren’t interested in me. Thought it was hopeless, y’know? My perfect best friend having feelings for me? Unreal.”

One of Ellie’s hands smooths over your hair; it’s something she’s done plenty of times before, but it feels different now. More intimate, with your shared confessions between you.

“Wanna know something?” Ellie asks then plows on, not really waiting for an answer, “I stopped hooking up with other girls a while ago. I just… Couldn’t.”

You nod in understanding. Your eyelids feel heavy all of the sudden, each blink heavier than the last.

“They weren’t you,” Ellie adds.

They weren’t you, her words echo in your mind.

“Ellie,” you breathe. Her face is impossibly close; you can pick out every detail of her face. Each pore, each freckle, each fleck of brown in her green eyes. You can smell the weed smoke on her breath.

“Cherry,” she responds, voice hushed just as low as yours. “Cherry. Can I kiss you?”

“God, yes,” you practically whine.

When Ellie kisses you for the first time, she tastes like relief.

Her lips are soft and insistent against yours, the pad of her thumb warm against your cheek as you lean in closer to kiss her back. It’s like time has gone still; the hum of the speaker on Ellie’s dresser fades away, as does the sound of the winter winds hissing and whooshing against the window. All you know is Ellie: her hand slipping down the length of your back to grab your hip, her mouth hot and needy against yours. It’s a desperate sort of kiss, one that you’d both been yearning for, and months of pining drain from your mouth to hers, then back again.

You’re not sure if you’d been kissing for seconds or hours when Ellie finally breaks away, gasping.

“Fuck,” she whispers. The tip of her nose brushes against your cheek, then your nose. “We should stop, before I…”

She trails off but you know exactly what she’d left unsaid. And your stomach flips in response; the mere thought of what else Ellie might do with her mouth has your cunt throbbing.

Ellie’s hand leaves your hip and it’s like she’s left a burn there - one shaped like her touch, a scathing outline on your skin.

“I don’t want to stop,” you find the courage to admit.

You’re not sure who makes the first move this time - only that you’re kissing again, swallowing Ellie’s pleased moans as your tongue prods between her lips. You gasp and pant into each other’s mouths, hands roaming on newly discovered skin; Ellie’s hands slip beneath your tee, her palms hot against your abdomen, your hips, your lower back. When her fingers find the clasp of your bra and unfasten it, you practically shiver with anticipation, back arching into her touch.

“Whoa there,” Ellie laughs, nudging her nose against yours. You go in for another kiss, annoyed that she’d stopped, but she pulls back. “You’re sure you want this, cherry?”

“Please,” you say, taking advantage of the moment to pull your shirt over your head and set it aside. You toss your bra into the growing pile, turning back to Ellie to find her gaping at you.

“Christ,” she says, licking her lips, “you’re fucking perfect.”

She gives you one last heated kiss before her mouth moves to your jawline, then the column of your neck, where she leaves a trail of wet kisses. She sucks on a spot right on the crook of your neck, just shy of leaving a hickey, and your toes fucking curl.

Ellie only gives a low hum of approval at your reaction before she’s moving lower, lower. Her kisses cover your breasts, every inch of skin worshipped by her lips until she finally takes a peaked nipple into her mouth. You feel her tongue swirl against the sensitive bud and you nearly cry from the pleasure, one hand flying up to knot into her hair and tug.

Her gaze moves up to meet yours, and your cunt tightens again at the look of unbridled desire in her eyes - her lids are heavy, too, but you can’t tell if it’s from the weed or sheer lust. Maybe both, you’re not sure, but you don’t have much time to consider it before Ellie’s moving to your other nipple, tongue laving against the taut flesh before she closes her mouth around it and sucks. A ragged moan tears from your throat and you tense, tugging again at the locks of Ellie’s hair in your fist.

She leaves your nipples flushed and sensitive, shining with saliva, and you’re suddenly very aware of the layers of clothes separating you from her. Separating the wetness of your cunt from hers, the bony curve of her hips from your needy mouth. You need those layers gone.

“Ellie,” you whine, pulling at the collar of her flannel.

“Shh, I know,” she coos, voice dripping with syrupy sweet lust. “Why don’t you get on the bed for me, hm?”

You nod and oblige, but not without stopping to slip out of your jeans. You leave your panties on because, well, they’re cute. A white lace thong with a tiny, silky pink bow just below your navel - Ellie’s eyes linger there as she stands at the edge of the bed, unbuckling her belt and stepping out of her cargos. You can feel the wet patch on your panties as you press your thighs together and watch her undress. She’s always been on the thinner side, but as she slides off her flannel and pulls her sports bra over her head, you realize that she’s much more toned than you’d imagined. Her arms flex with each movement and her abdomen is clearly taut with muscle; every inch of new skin she reveals only adds to the agonizing desire churning in your stomach.

Luckily, she seems just as eager as you are. She’s still in a pair of oversized plaid boxers when she grabs hold of your hips and yanks you toward the edge of the bed, pulling your knees apart so she can see what’s between them.

“Look at you,” she says, eyes wide at the sight of your soaked panties. “I didn’t realize you were so needy, cherry. Should’ve let me take care of you sooner.”

Her words send another gush of arousal flooding from your cunt, your stomach twisting. “‘M sorry, Ellie.”

“Don’t be sorry,” she says, lowering herself onto her knees before you. Her fingers hook beneath the lace of your panties to pull them down, leaving them in a crumpled heap on the rug.

Her face sinks between your legs, and the first stroke of her tongue against your folds makes you shiver with relief.

“Oh my god,” you gasp. Ellie moans against your pussy, tongue splitting through your folds, spreading your wetness with every swipe and lick. Your back arches involuntarily, your toes curling in sheer pleasure.

She laps at your cunt like a woman starving, hot tongue drawing circles around your puffy clit. It’s maddening, the way she knows exactly what you need, speeding up and slowing down in accordance with your moans and sighs and whimpers. You’ve never felt so close so quickly, but you don’t want it to stop - her mouth is magic between your legs, and as you hurtle towards your orgasm, she slips a finger into your clenching hole. You nearly scream.

“Ellie,” you moan shakily, your thighs tightening on both sides of her head. “Ellie, I’m gonna…”

She just moans again, mouth working at your clit while her finger sinks in and out of your cunt. She adds another not long after and it’s hardly a stretch with how wet you are. You’re trembling with every stroke of her tongue against your clit, and soon enough, you feel yourself slipping off the edge into oblivion. Your orgasm tears through you like never before, hot and electric, every muscle tensing as Ellie finger-fucks you through every wave of pleasure. Eventually, you push the heel of your hand against her forehead, too overstimulated for her to keep sucking at your too-sensitive clit. She pulls back and sits on her heels, fingers leaving the tight grip of your cunt as she wipes her mouth with her other hand. Your slick covers her from the nose down, the shining evidence of how good she’d made you feel.

“So fucking pretty when you come,” Ellie tells you, standing up and lifting a knee onto the bed beside you. Her hair is a mess, you’d made sure of it, but she doesn’t seem to notice or care.

“Think you’ve got a few more for me?” She smiles at you, wolfish and wicked, and her hand moves to grope at one of your tits.

“Mm,” you hum, reaching out for her. “Only if you have a few for me.”

When she’s close enough, you slip your hand between Ellie’s legs, your fingers brushing through sparse curls to find the heat of her folds. She’s soaked, you realize with self-satisfaction, your tongue swiping over your lower lip.

This will be fun.

[rafescvntyclubgf]

Backseat - Rafe Cameron Daydreams ☁️

+18 Minor DNI

Frat!Rafe x Yearning!Reader

+18 Minor DNI

🪄 warnings: brief unprotected p in v, language

📖 You and Rafe want to hook up but the rooms are all taken

✨ “Round two aight? You’re not gettin away from me.” ✨

400

Rafe’s strong arm wraps around your shoulder as he walks you up the stairs of the frat house for the most unnecessary tour, considering all you have on your mind is him and getting him alone. All his words are going in one ear and out the other. The only thing you’re retaining is the depth of his tone and rasp in his voice, making you even wetter.

Rafe reaches down, turning his door knob finding it locked. “No fuckin’ way,” he hisses. His eyebrows furrow, annoyance painted all over his face as he lifts his fist, banging on the door. You hear Top next, screaming that the room is occupied. Rafe’s hardened demeanor softens again as he leans his back into the wooden door, pulling you in by the small of your back as he wets his lip, flipping his snapback around to lessen the space between you even more.

“Occupied,” you pout, body buzzing as you find yourself deliciously close to his lips, just far enough to see his smile curl into a smirk. “You think any of these are free?”

“It’s a big house, doll. We got options…” He croons. “My trucks always free if you wanna be alone. We don’t need to play this guessing game.”

“Your truck huh?” You light up just enough – Rafe, takes his chance, leading you in the opposite direction a moment later. The two of you walk back through the packed frat house as you feel your heart start to pick up speed. As soon as you pass the threshold you let out a gasp as Rafe takes you into his arms. You wrap yours lazily around his neck, fingers lightly scratching at the nape of his neck making the blonde groan and smile. “So…”

“So…” You giggle, cocking your head ever so slightly. Rafe chuckles, turning his gaze narrowly, trying to compose himself.

“I like you, sweetheart.”

“I like you too,” you add, making Rafe turn his full focus back to you.

“I don’t want you to think I’m out here for a quick fuck. ‘Cause I’m not.”

Your eyes widen at his words, lips pulling in a sweeping smile. “We’re fuckin’, Cameron?” You asks in that breathy tone that has him pushing your back against the side of his lifted truck, hauling you into a searing kiss. Rafe’s tongue slips between your lips, reeling with yours as his body grinds into you, pulling away between kisses to confirm exactly what you wanted.

“Yeah – yeah we are.” He opens the passenger’s side door, setting you down, making you gasp as he lays back the seat fast. The two of you works off your clothes, stealing kisses in between. Your bare skin clings to the leather as Rafe pulls you to the edge of the seat, moving closer on his knees with one hand on his cock, the other on your hip.

Your fingers trace down his broad chest, catching all that you can see in the dark. A single streetlight gives you a sliver of light, just a glimpse of his tanned, toned skin, and muscles. “I wish I could see you,” you sigh.

“Round two aight? You’re not gettin away from me.”

“Okay,” you respond dizzily as your fingers trace through his abs, retreating to hook around his neck as his fat tip glides through your folds, catching your clit making you moan. Rafe leans in again, just like he did in the frat house, that same magnetism pulling you in as well. Rafe’s lips brush softly against yours, pressing firmly as he pushes in.

Your lips separate from his as they fall open in a soft “o”. Rafe kisses the corner of your mouth as his cock fills you completely. “Rafe…” You squeal. He circles his hips, letting you adjust to his size to no avail as he stretches you out like never before.

“Holy shit…” He grunts in reply as he drags his long, thick cock out making you whine at the loss of him. “You feel too damn good, princess. You alright?”

“So good…”

The car is quiet, the soft bass of the party is all that’s heard between Rafe’s teasingly shallow thrusts resulting in lewd squelching of your wet pussy, making him chuckle smugly. Rafe reaches up, wrapping his hands around the two metal bars connecting the seat to the headrest. His big biceps flex as he curls his fingers around the metal, no doubt planning on using his grip to fuck you right. “Ready for more?”

[hemlock-dreams]

Hypothetically, if you were going to write hunting!spider as a fic, how would you do it? Like, where would the story start—with Peter as the bartender, or his backstory? Would you flash back to his old universe?

-🕊️

Like this: ITS A FIC NOW!!

Check is out: Here!

Peter hasn’t worn the suit since here got here. He hasn’t done much in the last two months of his new existence beyond haunting New York like a phantom, trying to figure out who he is and where he stands in a reality that hasn’t been unfortunate enough to have a Peter Parker in the first place.

Or a Spiderman.

Strange hadn’t been kidding about the magic. Peter feels like the victim of his own hubris, asking for a clean start, a world where no one knew him. He’d asked and he’d been delivered.

Almost. 

The world is there, technically, but it’s like looking at a painting he’s seen a thousand times, only to realize the details are off. It’s the phones with the home button on the bottom, the different slang, the green money, all his favorite songs with wildly different lyrics, so many painful differences- a slow death by a thousand cuts.

Peter thought it would be easier, like a new beginning stretching out ahead of him, the sea-breeze smell of a fresh start after stepping out of Ryker’s. 

But Uncle Ben isn’t waiting for him at the docks this time. Nothing is waiting except the uncanny arms of a city that used to know him. Like running into an ex after years apart, recognizing the same general shape, but being strangers all the same.

Damn it. He should have asked Strange to take his memories too.

At least then Peter would know what to do with himself instead of haunting Brooklyn at night like a ghost, fighting the cognitive dissonance of taking turns he used to know like the back of his hand, only to be startled when they lead into dead-ends or open out into streets that shouldn’t exist.

That’s why he hasn’t worn the suit. Because forget being Spiderman, who the hell is Peter, here?

His melancholy is interrupted by a woman’s voice, faint if not for Peter’s enhanced senses.

“Listen, you’re a sweet guy, but I don’t like mixing work and my personal life.” The voice is extra sweet in the way women get when trying to talk themselves out of a dangerous situation.

No matter the lifetime, Peter can’t ignore that.

So he changes course, beelining towards the source with silence that’s more instinct than experience. He sticks to the shadows, easily avoiding the few flickering streetlights between him and the alleyway. His night vision pierces the darkness, tracing down the detailed shape of the tall, lanky man cornering a woman in the middle of the alley. 

He’s leaning, off-balance, clearly drunk, and boxing her in with one leather-clad arm, “Come on, Scarlett. I been asking for your number for weeks. Just one date, give a guy a chance, huh?”

Well, it was comforting to know that no matter the timeline, scum remained scum. 

“Paul, you’re wasted.” The woman- Scarlett, is draped against the wall, seemingly at ease and deceptively loose-limbed, even as she fists a set of keys between her knuckles, “Why don’t we have this discussion somewhere a little nicer? There’s a cute cafe that’s open tomorrow-”

“Fuck that. It’s always one excuse after another with you,” The guy- Paul- snarls, swaying from one foot to the other. The frustration is a ticking bomb,  “Why are you bein’ such a fucking bitch?”

Like clockwork, the slurs come out, and a peaceful resolution is no longer an option.

Scarlett realizes it too, because the hum of anxiety lacing her syrupy-sweet tone finally bleeds into her body. Her muscles lock, visibly entering fight or flight. 

That’s Peter’s cue.

“Is there a problem?” Peter’s voice is like a knife in the dark, popping the bubble and making the two flinch.

“Who the fuck are you?” Paul sneers, face slack and ugly from drink. “The fuck you think you’re doing, butting in?”

Peter ignores him, glancing towards Scarlett, who flicks her eyes between them and the rest of the alleyway. Unfortunately, there’s only one entrance and he’s blocking it. Out of options, Scarlett plasters herself to the wall.

“This is between the lady and me.” Paul is still talking, stumbling towards Peter, “But I’m a nice guy, so I’m going to give you a chance to turn ‘round and walk away.”

“Generous, but I’ll have to decline.” Peter murmurs and crosses the distance, invading his space before the man can respond. The promise of violence always lights something in Peter’s stomach, but for all the man’s shit-talking, the fight, if it can even be called that, is pathetic. Paul is so drunk Peter can taste it in the air, and his spidersense doesn’t even bother kicking in as he dodges one wobbly punch after the other. 

He doesn’t bother dragging it out. It only takes one good fist to the gut to drop Paul to the ground, followed by one good kick to the chest to keep him there. The aftermath is anticlimactic, awkward silence punctuated only by the rattling wheeze of the unconscious man beneath him.

Even pulling his punches, Peter probably cracked his ribs. It would take more effort than he’s got to feel sorry, especially since Scarlett is still glued to the wall, eyes trained on him and practically vibrating with adrenaline.

Slowly, Peter creates some space, backing out of the alleyway so he’s not obstructing the exit. “You gonna be alright?”

“Yeah.” Her reply is curt and wary, but Peter isn’t offended. He knows what he looks like, looming in the dark with his ratty clothes and unkempt beard. Best thing he can do to convince her of her safety is to walk away. 

So he does just that, and he’s almost halfway down the block when he hears her behind him, clacking heels loudly in the chill night air, “Wait!”

Peter pauses, turning around. 

Scarlett stops a few meters away, clutching the strap of her gym bag over her chest. “Sorry. That was rude of me. Thank you.”

Under the streetlights, her face is striking. Her bright green eyes are smoky and sensual, with bold cheekbones and dark lips framed by wisps of red hair falling out of a messy bun. She’s exactly the type of woman Peter would fantasize about back in Rykers, the kind he would see on pinups in Marko’s cell- tall and feminine, with lean legs and a waist Peter could span with both hands. 

The resolute look on her face reminds him so much of M-

He shunts that thought as soon as it appears.

“Don’t worry about it,” Peter responds with a shrug. He’s not stupid enough to lecture a grown woman about walking the streets at night. “Was there something else?”

Scarlett chews on her lip, eyes flicking back to the alley before settling on Peter for a few long beats. Whatever she sees in him makes her sigh, and some of the tension leeches from her shoulders. “Feel like walking a girl to her job?” 

Peter is a little surprised, and he takes a second to consider, mostly so he doesn’t look threatening, then nods, “Where to?” 

“Maggies.” At his confused look, she raises a brow, “Saint Margaret’s?” 

Still not ringing a bell, “Is that a…church?” He doesn’t remember any Saint Margaret’s in his Brooklyn, and it just reinforces that fish-out-of-water feeling that’s been choking him for the past few months.

“A church, sure.” Scarlett snorts derisively, laughing under her breath. When Peter doesn’t join in, she shoots him a wide-eyed look, “Oh. You’re serious. It’s an dance bar”  

Walking at night makes more sense now. That, and the obvious stage name. “I don’t know where that is. I’m…kind of new in town.”

“I can see that,” She says, and the gold of her hoop earrings catches the light as she falls in step beside him. Peter keeps his strides short and even, staying in her line of vision as they walk. It doesn’t escape his notice that she’s still got her keys between her knuckles, though they’re no longer clutched in a tight fist, “What brought you to New York, Mr. Good Samaritan?”

“Peter.” He says. “I was looking for a fresh start and kind of washed up here,” Peter feels like he’s being called out on some lie, as if anyone glancing in his direction will peg that he doesn’t belong.

But Scarlet is just nodding, unawares, “Nice to meet you, Peter. And I get it. That's why I moved here, too. It might take a bit of time to get your bearings, but it's worth it when you do." They’re heading down the street, taking a turn on 81st that should have led into a main thoroughfare but doesn’t, instead turning into another little set of streets full of gated-off shops covered in graffiti. Even the gang signs don’t look the same. He tries not to think about it.

“I appreciate what you did,” Scarlett is saying, “Paul’s been a pushy bastard but I thought it was all drunk bravado, you know? I never believed he’d actually follow me. I’m glad you were there, but I’m sorry it had to end in violence.”

Resorting to violence is one of Peter’s favorite pastimes, but he’s absolutely not going to admit that out loud. Instead, he hums, tucking his hands into his stained hoodie, “Some people only listen when it's fists talking. Hopefully the lesson sticks.” Peter frowns, “You said he followed you, does that mean he knows where you live?”

Men like that tend to hold grudges. Especially if they've been had their head knocked around in an alleyway.

“Thank god, no.” She shudders next to him, gripping the strap of her bag a little tighter at the thought, “He caught me coming from my day job. I’ll have to tell Weasel to put him on the blacklist for the club though…and change my shift. Ugh.” 

Peter nods in sympathy. Shiting schedules between two jobs is going to be a nightmare. “Weasel?” 

“The owner of Maggie’s.” She clarifies.

“Your boss is named Weasel?” Yikes. Peter can’t imagine what kind of shit someone had to do to earn that nickname.

“Yeah.” She laughs, “But don’t let the name fool you, he’s weird but he’s decent. There are lots of other clubs in the area but Weas lets us have a bigger cut than most other places. Plus, we get to set our own rules.” 

They cut the street, avoiding some dark patches where the streetlights gave out.

“That’s good.” Peter agrees, “Otherwise this is a pretty sketchy walk for a small paycheck.”  

It really is a sketchy walk, and his spidersense pings at odd moments, though nothing comes out of it save the odd junkie that wanders out of the shadows.

“I’ve had worse,” Scarlett shrugs, finally tucking her keys back into her purse. The stiff line of her shoulders has completely melted away now that they’re in what Peter assumes is familiar territory. “This is nothing compared to my last job.” 

“Which was?” 

“Telemarketing.”

Peter would rather take his chances soloing Thanos. “Point taken.” 

“We’re almost there. Just down the road.” Scarlett points one long acrylic nail toward a looming brick building punctuating the street. Peter wouldn’t have given it a second thought if not for the single garish neon sign of a scantily dressed nun at the corner, directing his attention towards a nondescript door.

“Welcome to Saint Margaret’s School for Wayward Children,” Scarlett enunciates each word with an eyebrow waggle, grinning when Peter cracks a smile. “Finest entertainment this side of Brooklyn. Thanks for walking me.” 

Peter doesn’t doubt it, especially if Scarlett is where they set the bar for dancers. “No worries. Stay safe, yeah?” Then he turns, intending to keep walking until his head is empty.

Scarlett pauses with her hand on the door, “You’re not going to come in?” 

“Not really my scene.” A true statement, one that doesn’t have to acknowledge that Peter is capital-b Broke. Hard to get a proper-paying job when he doesn’t legally exist. He’s done a few gigs under the table, but the last few weeks have left Peter sleeping on empty rooftops with an emptier stomach. 

“Really? I was hoping I could treat you to a drink. It’s the least I can do.” Scarlett sounds disappointed.

“You don’t owe me anything.” 

She puts a hand on her hip, “Fine. Let’s consider it a celebratory drink then.”

“For?”

“Ugh,” Scarlett rolls her eyes. There’s no way she doesn’t know how charming that is. “For getting rid of Paul. Making new friends- whatever you want.”

Peter huffs a small laugh, “Friends? We just met.” 

It’s not an outright refusal, because Peter is weak for the first real taste of human contact he’s had in months, and Scarlett smirks like she scents blood, “What can I say? I got a good feeling about you.”

Peter snorts. Now that’s a first. 

“C’mon, Tiger. One drink. What have you got to lose?”

Peter exhales a long, slow breath, “Nothing.”

[theragethatisdesire]

eren jaeger x reader, jean kirstein x reader - drabble, 18+!!!

wrote this a few weeks ago and i'm bored so have a little drabble of a jean x reader x eren threesome from...another angle<3 sorry i've been so dry lately, have this as my official apology :)

minors do not interact. this is nsfw and intended for those 18 and up.

wc: 1.6k

warnings: degradation, p in v, fem!reader, sorta dubconny if you squint (reader's just a lil shy), voyeurism;)

-

Jean’s girl.

It has a nice ring to it, one that you’re proud of. His parents’ friends refer to you as such, always going on about how cute you look in those sundresses you wear to Sunday dinner. When you stop by the office, paper bag in hand, the boys yell out, “Jean’s girl’s back! Got any lunch in there for me, sweetheart?”. Even Jean himself is guilty, tucking a stray lock of hair behind your ear and whispering that he “needs to see his girl’s pretty face”.

“Look at your girl, Jean,” Eren says with a cruel, barked laugh. It’s mocking, makes your cheeks burn even hotter, if that were possible.

“I see,” Jean says quietly, the lower half of his face disappearing behind his beer as he takes a sip, “I see her.”

You squirm in Eren’s lap, trying to adjust to the foreign weight of him inside of you, wincing at the slide of your thighs on his, made easy by the wetness he’s already coaxed from your body. Jean’s eyes are dark as he watches you wriggle, one hand palming over the bulge behind his zipper, slow and steady. You really can’t believe he let you do this—let Eren do all of this, this slow unraveling of your body, this tarnishing of your pretty title. Jean’s girl, spread out on Eren’s lap with his cock shoved up into her stomach. Your head spins.

“How’s it feel, baby?” Eren’s eyes are sparkling, wide and glittering like a mountain cat lying behind a bush, when he thumbs at your chin. You know now that his teeth are as sharp as they look, the aching blossom of fresh bruises thudding along your shoulders.

“J-Jean,” you stutter out pathetically, trying to turn your head to your boyfriend. Eren’s faster, large hand wrapped around your jaw and snapping your head back to him.

“Try again.” He thrusts his hips up, not too rough, but enough that you feel it, a weak mewl falling from your lips. Eren smirks. “That’s not Jean, is it?”

“S’alright, baby,” Jean says from across the room, from too far away. Hot shame clouds your eyes in the form of tears as you realize you want him closer, but you don’t want him inside of you, not yet; you’re growing unwittingly fond of the novel stretch of Eren between your legs, your muscles tense and flexing to keep yourself from rocking forward on to him. “Be sweet to Eren.”

“Yeah,” Eren coos, dripping with condescension as he rubs his thumb through the drool on your bottom lip, “be sweet to me.”

You nod shakily, wiggling your hips again and having to bite into your lip to stop the moan from escaping, but with the way Eren’s grinning at you, you think he knows what lies in the back of your throat. Well, he does know, to an extent– your jaw still aches from him fucking into your mouth earlier, stretching your lips wide around him.

“I’m gonna ask you again,” Eren says firmly, pressing his forehead to yours, “how’s my cock feel in you, hm?”

“Feels good,” you slur quietly, barely more than a breath. It’s enough for Eren, it seems, as he groans and throws his head back. You watch his Adam’s apple bob with the throaty noise, watch the furrow appear between his dark eyebrows. He really is beautiful, breathtaking even– he reminds you of that painting, what was it called? The Fallen Angel?

Eren’s head lolls back up, his bright eyes flickering over every part of you, like he doesn’t know where he wants to start, pretty creature that you are. He trails his hands over your breasts, stopping to tweak a nipple and grinning viciously when you yelp in surprise. His fingers move further, down over your ticklish rib cage and swirling around your belly button before settling firmly on your hips. Eren looks at you like he might eat you alive if you turn your back for one second, and your stomach twists.

“It’ll feel better if you move, won’t it? Want my help?”

You look questioningly to Jean, who shakes his head no at you, and inclines it in Eren’s direction. Not me, him.

Scary isn’t the right word for Eren, not when he has so much love in his stomach, but it’s all guarded under several strips of barbed wire. Poison drips from his tongue as readily as sugarwater might; he swallows it all the same. You’re sitting atop a creature with teeth, a creature that fights when it’s cornered, but god– isn’t he so pretty?

“Yes,” you breathe out to him, twitching your hips atop his as if to emphasize your point. Eren chuckles darkly in his throat, fingers digging into your hips hard enough to bite. He rolls you against him once, twice, and three times is enough to have your jaw dropping, eyes flitting up to the sky.

“There you go,” Eren grits out, swearing under his breath when you tighten around him, “told you she liked me, Jean.”

“Knew she liked you,” Jean bites back at him, huffing a little laugh when you moan in protest, in embarrassment, “just wanted to see if she’d show you.”

“She’s braver than you give her credit for.” Eren thumbs at your chin again, chokes on a groan when you suck it into your mouth, run your tongue lovingly along the pad of his finger. “Look at that…beautiful.”

He’s rolling your hips faster now, enough to force a tinny whine from you. You can feel Jean’s eyes lingering, can hear the wet schlick of his hand on his now-freed cock; you’ll ask him later what you looked like, back arched and breasts shaking to the rhythm of your own haggard breathing, rocking your hips into Eren’s like your salvation depends on it. Jean’s girl, taking his best friend’s dick while he watches. Anything for your man.

Eren’s hand wanders down your tacky stomach, starts rubbing at your swollen clit gently. It’s so raw and sensitive after nearly half an hour of Eren prodding and sucking and licking at it with his tongue, that you jolt harshly, like you’ve been electrocuted.

“Eren!”

“Good?” Eren pants, and suddenly, you’re both moving so much faster than you were before. Eren’s bullying himself up into you, hitting something that reminds you of Jean, and your tears fall faster. “Tell me how good it is.”

“It’s– fuck, so good,” you whimper, cutting yourself off with a moan. Eren hisses in satisfaction, pistoning up into you faster.

“Listen to that dirty fucking mouth,” Eren chides, abandoning your clit in favor of wrapping his hand in your tangled hair, grabbing a fistful and forcing you close to his face, “you don’t sound like Jean’s perfect little girl to me, not anymore.”

A sharp inhale from across the room reminds you of your lovely, golden boyfriend, of the cock he’s fisting watching you fall apart in Eren’s arms. It brings a rush of fresh heat to your veins, one that’s mercifully absent of shame. It’s the sparks of your orgasm, white-hot and creeping along your bones like it means to pull your head under.

“I n-need to cum, please,” you admit, whining it openly in the air for Jean to hear. His only answer is a quiet swear, the sounds of his hand growing faster and wetter. Eren laughs again, pulls your chin down to him.

“So polite, aren’t you? Give me a little something baby, wan’ a taste.” Eren tugs your mouth open with his thumb, opens his jaw expectantly. Even amidst the rhythm of you bouncing on him, you find the presence of mind to spit, a long strand of drool swaying from your lips as it falls into his mouth. Eren’s eyes flicker at you menacingly when he swallows, growls deep in his chest.

“Good girl,” Jean murmurs from across the room, “good fucking girl.”

“Hear that?” Eren says, fisting your hair harder as your walls flutter around him, betraying just how close you are to going under. “He’s so proud of you, isn’t he? Taking my cock like a fucking champ.”

“Uh-huh,” you moan pitifully, hips moving with a mind of their own. Your eyes are out of focus, but through the bleary haze of your tears and pleasure, you can make out Eren, jaw slack and eyes sharp as he watches you start to truly lose it. His fist around your hair grows so tight you squeak, and he yanks your head down to rest against his shoulder. It would be almost sweet, if he weren’t tearing you apart at the seams.

Eren’s lips, his hot breath, ghost over the shell of your ear as he whispers to you. “Bet he’ll be twice as proud if you cum all over my cock, nice and pretty for us.”

That snaps the thin thread of sanity remaining in you, and you convulse around Eren, wailing into his shoulder. He makes no effort to shush you, to pet you gently and work you through it; no, Eren only curses loudly, bites into your shoulder so hard your body jerks even as it clenches and contracts around him, shoots his hips up into you– a warmth begins filling you from the inside out, sticky and balmy against the electric aftershocks of the orgasm wracking your limbs.

Once Eren’s hips have stopped twitching up into yours, he grabs your tired body by the shoulders, shoving you to sit up properly on his softening cock. You mumble something akin to discomfort, wiggling as disobediently as you can while Eren examines you. Your muscles are still quivering with the aftereffects of cumming, though, and you aren’t able to put up much of a fight, something Eren notices and grins at.

“You’re really something, aren’t ya?” Eren says to your limp form, rubbing his hands on your shoulders. “Might have to share your girl more often, Jean.”

-

just a little snack while i battle my way through the 1500 wips i have going!! <3 love you all