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luvsupa · 2 months ago

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LET’S KEEP IT PROFESSIONAL. . .?

𝜗𝜚 summary: where jjk men want you at the wrong place and wrong time… feat. gojo, geto, choso, nanami (seperate).

tags: fem!reader, pwp,smut, (p in v), ōral sex (f! receiving), lactation kink .. (gojo), gojos a king and he’s OBESSED w you, public sex, car sex, riding, sub men (ish), dirty talk, praise, hair pulling, getting caught, mentions of pregnancy (nanami), slight bimbo reader x choso, ummm dunno what else to add … mdni

w.c: 5,3k

a/n: THANK YOU GUYS SOSOS MUCH FOR 2K AND 2.1K!! IM SO THANKFUL FOR ALL OF YOUUUUUU^^^ HERES A 2K SPECIAL FOR YOU GUYSS MWAAA <33

+ there might be errors errrrr….

GOJO SATORU

“gojo-sama,” the family in front of you scolds, trying to get his full attention. the royal family has come to your estate to propose a business alliance—a union with the well-known gojo clan.

gojo has you seated prettily on his lap on his golden cushioned throne, in full view of the royal family and advisors. halfway through the meeting, he loses interest, he has little concern for these meetings—all he truly wants is to be with you and your newborn daughter.

it was nearly impossible for him to focus, your scent envelops him, clouding his thoughts, leaving only you in his mind. his lower lip quivers as you shift against his hardening cock. he struggles to maintain composure but can’t resist trailing soft kisses along your neck. one large hand caresses your once pregnant belly while you fight to keep your gaze steady in front of the royal family.

your eyes flutter, heart racing as you realize he cannot possibly be doing this now. below, the murmurs of the guests fade away as his heated kisses press against your skin. he hums deeply, almost moaning with each kiss, savouring the softness of your body. his glossed lips leave marks along your neck, gleaming in the natural light, a clear display of his desire.

“ngh—’toru. . .continue. . . later,” you whisper, struggling to suppress a moan as gojo’s other hand kneads your plump breasts through the kimono. the soreness from weeks wroth of nursing makes each touch electric. the king below stares, while the guards exchange knowing glances, accustomed to gojo’s actions.

“gojo-sama, we ask that you—”

“hahh, look at that—you’re leaking,” gojo murmurs, his voice thick with desire as he watches your milk seep through the thin fabric of your kimono, a damp spot growing with each teasing stroke of his fingers over your sensitive nipple. your head falls back onto his shoulder, eyes closing in embarrassment ,unable to face the audience.

shamelessly, gojo’s hand on your tummy snakes lower between your shaky thighs. he smiles knowingly as you’re bare underneath, warmth radiating from you. it’s embarrassing how quickly he’s made you this wet, you blame it on hormonal imbalances.

gojo’s slender fingers part your swollen folds, sending shudders through your body with his icy touch as he rubs gentle circles on your nub. you moan, not caring how loud you are, overwhelmed by his fingers toying with your nipples and clit—all while numerous pairs of eyes remain glued to both of you.

“what’s gotcha’ this drenched, baby? have i not satisfied you enough?” gojo spills out nonsense, even though he satisfies you too much. he spoils you rotten, always going above and beyond—no matter when or where.

“tell me what i need to do, precious,” he begs as his fingers slide into your slick cunt. you both gasp, his long fingers sucked in tightly by your needy walls. your eyes flutter open to see your breasts leaking uncontrollably as he pinches and twists your poor nipples.

your hips buck wildly, greedily taking in more of his thick fingers as your walls cling tightly to him, massaging your sweet spot with every curl and press. you sob, breaths coming in ragged gasps, eyes glossy as you glance at the guests through blurred vision. each breath is a shaky exhale, mingling with soft whimpers as gojo’s cock throbs, pulsating with each of your desperate thrusts—it aches painfully with need. his fingers work relentlessly, coaxing more cries from your lips. your chest heaves with every breath, the sound of your panting filling the room.

“gojo-sama, take your wife out of here! she’s a clear disruption—” the king shouts, but falters as gojo’s icy gaze locks onto his, sending a chilling wave through him. fear creeps into the king’s eyes, and he immediately regrets his words.

in the blink of an eye, gojo places you gently onto the cushioned throne, your eyes fluttering in confusion as you look up to see him towering over you. before you can speak, he drops to his knees, his face inches from your drooling cunt.

he bunches up your kimono to your waist for better access, exposing your slickness that glimmersunder the harsh lights. just as gojo is about to devour you like a starved man, he hears footsteps retreating from the room.

without turning his head, his voice booms with unsettling authority, filling the space with an ominous weight.

“the first person who leaves will be beheaded.”

fear grips the room as every footstep halts. the tense silence makes it clear, all eyes are now fixed on you two, trapped in the suffocating stillness that follows.

and now, here gojo is, his tongue buried deep inside your stretchy walls, his frosty hair sticking to his forehead, cheeks flushed a rosy pink. he lost himself the moment his lips met your pussy, consumed by an imhumane hunger.

your cunt is loud, the lewd sloshes echoing through the royalty room, disturbing the royal family's ears. your pussy spasms as his head shakes like a madman, his killer tongue curling and thrusting as deeply as he can reach. each movement sends shockwaves through you, and he revels in the chaos he's creating.

both of his hands are messily playing with your drenched breasts, which are on full display. he pinches and squeezes your nipples with need, adding to the overwhelming sensations. you're a moaning mess, the dual stimulation too much to bear—a toe curling experience that leaves you breathless.

gojo drinks and slurps loudly on your sloppy pussy, each sound a explicit reminder to his appetite. your pussy is like a drug to him, he's high off you and can't get enough. he needs more of you—your taste, your scent—or he'll surely go mad.

the room is filled with the symphony of your combined sounds, your moans, his greedy slurps, and the wet noises of your body responding to him. it's a lewd display that leaves no doubt about the depths of his obsession and your mutual surrender to this intoxicating moment.

“hahh, i n-need it, my lady,” gojo whimpers, his droopy eyes locked onto your messy breasts, glistening with milk. his mouth waters, a desperate hunger igniting within him as he rises from his knees, his lips and chin still slick from your leaky cunt. confusion flickers across your face until his warm mouth finally envelops your nipple, his tongue swirling around it with an insatiable eagerness, drawing forth your sweet fluids.

his eyes flutter closed at the new taste flooding his senses—so sweet, candied, and intoxicating that it sends a jolt of pleasure straight to his throbbing cock, which leaks eagerly against the fabric of his traditional attire. the sensation is overwhelming that he can’t get enough.

“oh f-fuck, ‘toru…” you moan, your voice trembling as waves of pleasure wash over you. the sensitivity of your nipple sends shivers down your spine, and you arch your back off the cushioned throne instinctively, pushing more of yourself into his mouth.

“mhm… so good,” he groans against you, the vibrations of his voice sending shockwaves through your body. he sucks harder, pulling on your swollen nipple as if it's the only thing keeping him alive. the sounds of slurping and moaning fill the air—each noise a raw desire consuming both of you.

you cry out again, overwhelmed by the sensations coursing through you. you gasp, lost in a haze of pleasure as gojo's mouth works its magic. every flick of his tongue and gentle tug sends you spiralling deeper into ecstasy. the royal family stares up in horror at your lewd actions, they tremble in fear at what gojo would do to them if they said one peep.

but gojo is completely lost in this moment, high on the taste of you. “i can’t stop… i need more,” he moans breathlessly between pulls as your milk coats his plush lips, his own arousal pushing him closer to the edge. each time he pulls away to catch his breath, he’s met with the sight of your flushed cheeks and blissed-out expression—fuelling his desire even further.

gojo has found his new addiction in you, and it’s a craving that will never be satisfied. as he continues to devour your milk with fervour , both of you moan like crazy, caught in an endless cycle of pleasure that only seems to intensify with each passing moment.

he’ll never stop at this rate.

GETO SUGURU

your ears perk up as you hear your coworkers squeak in excitement upon spotting geto suguru, the renowned artist, stepping into the luxurious store where you work. this high-end boutique, filled with fashionable handbags and stunning clothing, is where geto loves to shop—not just for the exquisite pieces, but because you’re always here.

fiddling with the clothing rack, you catch a glimpse of geto through your peripheral vision, flanked by his bodyguards as female employees swarm around him. little do they know—and little does the media suspect—that you and geto share a secret relationship. he often begs you to quit your job, promising to provide for you completely. as tempting as that offer is, you've built a family at work that you cherish deeply.

“hmmm, i was actually looking for this piece in particular,” you hear him say from behind you. his large hand engulfs yours as he selects the coat you were just touching. you stifle a giggle; this is nowhere near his usual style. he always does this to strike up casual conversations in public.

“would you get the fitting room ready for me, mrs. geto?” he rasps, whispering the last part just for your ears. your eyes widen in shock, hoping no one overheard. you nod, noticing your coworkers scoff at how clearly geto has a favorite.

you already know what he wants with that slick fitting room signal—he misses you and wants to fuck you.

that's why he has you bent over prettily for him in the vip fitting room, your hands pressed against the full-length mirror now smudged with your fingerprints. your work pants are discarded somewhere across the room as you watch him tease you mercilessly, rubbing his cockhead along your puffy folds. your pussy aches, desperate for more.

“i missed you, pretty,” he murmurs softly, and you nearly crumble when he slaps his chubby tip against your clit. the wet taps send jolts through your entire body, making your pussy clench around nothing.

“m-missed you too, sugu,” you whimper, voice trembling with need. he swats your ass, drawing a moan from your lips as you lean into the mirror. fog clouds the reflection as he continues to spank your sore skin, each slap a delicious mix of pain and pleasure that leaves you breathless.

“‘m not talkin’ to you,” he scolds as you whine, wiggling your hips back to feel more, a chuckle rumbling from him. “since you wanna ignore my texts... she would never ignore me.” his voice drops as his leaky tip pushes its way into your cunt, your walls stretching to accommodate every inch, almost burning. geto hisses at the way your velvety walls flutter around him, and you feel yourself growing blissfully dumb. the store's background music rings in your ears, a reminder that you're still on the job.

geto watches you slowly lose yourself through the mirror, pulling your hips firmly against his as he slams his cock deep into your walls, making you sob aloud. he pounds mercilessly into your sopping pussy, each stroke deeper than before, his flushed tip kissing your cervix with every thrust. the sound of skin slapping against skin fills the fitting room, mingling with your moans and creating a sweet melody of raw desire.

“fuckkk—pussy so good,” he pants as you clamp down at the praise, a grin spreading across his face as he sees your eyes shut tightly, moaning out pathetic pleas. your pussy sobs uncontrollably, nearly louder than the soft music playing through the speakers.

“mmm, she’s very talkative today,” he rasps wickedly, his hand snaking down to vigorously rub your achy clit, the cool metal of his silver rings grazing your sensitive skin. you cry out from the dual stimulation, overwhelmed by the sensation.

“y-you came here to just speak to my pussy more than m-me,” you manage to say, a hint of attitude slipping through as he pauses, taken aback by your words. his thrusts come to an abrupt halt, and you whine at the sudden stop.

“awh baby. are you upset? wanna show me how mad you are?” he teases with a fake pout, watching as your frustration builds. “poor thing, all worked up and nowhere to go.”

he leans in closer, his breath hot against your ear. “maybe if you hadn’t ignored my texts, i’d be a little nicer,” he taunts, giving your clit a sharp pinch that makes you gasp. “but now? i think i’ll take my time.”

his words send a shiver down your spine as he resumes his relentless pace, each thrust deliberate and punishing. “come on, show me how mad you are,” he urges mockingly, his voice dripping with amusement.

those were his last words before you took control, riding him like your life depended on it. he's whimpering beneath you,struggling to hold back his moans as your pussy works him over, each movement a killer. you're pouncing on him on the adjacent couch from the mirror, your hips rolling at a relentless pace as his large hands knead the flesh of your ass. he swears he's under some kind of hypnosis, his eyes glued to your breasts as they bounce wildly in front of his wide, purple eyes.

your pussy squelches louder and louder with each thrust, a symphony of wet sounds that’s music to his ears—he even thinks he might have to incorporate it into his next song.

“how’re you feeling, pretty boy?” you purr, and a moan slips past his lips at the praise. his eyes flutter slightly as you ride him faster, your walls sucking him in with a steady rhythm.

“hahhh, d-don’t think i won’t get back at you,” he whines, but there's no mistaking the submission in his voice. you grin down at him, taking in the sight of his long locks sticking to his forehead, strands of hair messily splayed across his face. he's completely undone beneath you, humming with pleasure as you continue your relentless pace.

his once-commanding presence is softened by the way he succumbs to your movements, each roll of your hips drawing out more whimpers and gasps.

“mr. geto, we found a few pieces that you might like!”

you stop in your tracks, eyes widening in panic as you hear your manager’s voice on the other side of the door. geto lazily smiles, clearly enjoying the fear that flashes across your face. without warning, he lifts you up from the couch, his strong arms wrapping around you as he strides closer to the door. your heart races as he slams you against the wall beside the door, and you stare up at him, a mix of fear and excitement coursing through you.

“hmm? please tell me more about it, im dying to know more,” he lies smoothly, his voice low and teasing as he wraps your legs around his waist. his cock is still buried deep inside you, and he begins to thrust slowly, deliberately. you bite your lip hard, desperately trying to stifle any sounds as you’re mere inches away from your oblivious manager who rambles on about clothing pieces.

each thrust sends shockwaves through your body, and you struggle to keep quiet as he fucks you roughly. it almost feels like he’s punishing you, yet the thrill of being caught only heightens your arousal. but fuckk, the way you look at him—eyes wide with fear and desire—makes him want to abandon all caution. he wants everyone to see how much you belong to him.

“you like that, baby? you like getting fucked in front of your manager?” he whispers with a wicked grin, his voice dripping with mischief. you gasp as his dick throbs inside your sloppy cunt, your arousal leaking profusely and staining the expensive flooring beneath you.

your managers voice suddenly drops as she realize something is off, her excitement turns to horror as she begin to piece together what’s happening just behind the door.

“yeaa, I bet you do, doll,” geto taunts, his eyes dark with lust.

“just show her how much of a slut you are.”

CHOSO KAMO

“what do you mean there’s no room?” you exclaimed, eyes widening as you looked into the back seat and saw it completely filled. not even a single inch was available for you. of course, two of the tallest guys—choso and riko—were manspreading like it was their job, leaving your poor friends, mina and sajé, squished together.

“well… we thought the car would fit all of us,” choso’s friend, the driver, said as he glanced back, confirming that there was zero room possible. you pinched the bridge of your nose in frustration; you’d already pitched in money for this road trip.

“you can sit on my lap if you’re comfortable,” choso chimed in, his voice smooth and inviting. your eyes nearly twinkle at his kindness, and everyone in the car exchanged side-eyes—half surprised and half amused by the suggestion.

your low heels clacked against the cement as you hurried over to choso’s side of the car, excitement bubbling inside you. when you opened the door, you nearly choked on your saliva at how incredibly good he looked, manspreading in the back seat. his black baggy ripped jeans hugged his long legs perfectly, paired with those monstrous black boots that made him look even taller. your eyes trailed up to his chest—damn, that black compression shirt clung to him in all the right places.

he’s the true definition of an emo hottie!

his lap looked so inviting as you climbed into the cramped SUV. you settled snugly on his lap, feeling his large arm snake around your waist for extra protection. but oh gosh, your cunt was tingling like crazy—your clothed pussy was directly on top of his bulge, and it sent a rush of heat through you.

after nearly hours of driving, everyone in the car is dozing off to slumber—everyone except you, choso, the driver, and the person in the passenger seat. the car jolts suddenly, waking everyone up, but what’s even worse is that you’re practically bouncing on choso’s lap!

“ehh, sorry! the roads are pretty bad here,” the driver says as the car hits a series of small bumps that quickly escalate to larger ones. choso’s arm around your waist tightens, holding you down more firmly against him. you suppress a moan as you feel the outline of his growing cock beneath you—hell, you can even feel it throbbing uncontrollably.

you shut your eyes tightly, nibbling on your plush lips as you try to hold back any sounds. it would be beyond embarrassing if you let out a noise now. but with each bump in the road, the friction between your bodies sends electric shocks through you, igniting a fire deep within.

“f-fuck… need more,” he whispers lowly, just for your ears. your heart stops at his words. did you hear him wrong? but the way he’s holding you down makes it clear that you heard him just fine.

the tension in the air is thick—almost suffocating—as desire hangs between you like a heavy fog. every jolt of the car pushes you closer to him, and you can’t help but grind down slightly, feeling his hardness beneath you. it’s so pathetic how the both of you are grinding hard on each other, holding in whimpers and moans as you feel your panties fully drenched. choso’s breath hitches, and his grip on your waist tightens even more as he bucks his hips up desperately to feel more.

your nails scrape against the driver’s seat in front of you, and you swear you’re about to rip through the fabric. it’s embarrassing how turned on both you and choso are—especially with all your friends in the car!

“pull over here, let’s get some drinks,” riko groggily says, and the car sharply turns right into the parking lot of the convenience store. both of your movements come to an abrupt halt as the atmosphere shifts; everyone becomes hyper-aware of the situation.

“y’all coming in?” riko asks as he opens his door, and you feel your heart race. you and choso exchange a quick glance, knowing exactly what’s at stake. “no thanks, we’ll just stay here,” you manage to say, forcing a casual tone despite the heat pooling in your belly.

you don’t waste a minute as you reposition yourself facing choso, your knees sinking into the plush seat beneath you providing just enough comfort. his hair is messily tousled, strands falling across his face, and those puppy eyes of his are filled with a desperate need that makes your heart race.

without hesitation, choso quickly unbuckles his jeans, pulling out his achy cock from its confines. he lets out a soft moan as the cool breeze grazes his thick shaft, and your eyes widen at how incredibly hot he looks—his rosy tip leaking with anticipation.

“you’re so fuckin’ hot,” he breathes, his voice thick with desire. he’s already intoxicated by you, and all you’ve done is grind against each other!. the heat between you is noticeable , and you can feel your own need building as you pull your panties to the side.

“g-gosh, choso,” you gasp as his thick tip slips inside you, your walls inviting him completely. choso throws his head back against the headrest, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he drives his hips up with fervor, filling you entirely.

“i’m sorry, pretty— we don’t have much time,” he breathes, his voice strained and shaky, each word punctuated by heavy breaths. his hips move with a desperate urgency, thrusting into you with a rhythm all their own. the sound of your bodies meeting is so loud it drowns out the hum of the engine.

you roll your hips, feeling him reach the deepest parts of you. your breaths mingle in the confined space, quickening with each thrust. a moan escapes your lips as his bulbous tip expertly finds your g-spot with each powerful thrust, sending waves of pleasure coursing through you. choso’s breath hitches as he loses himself in the moment, the air thick with tension and desire.

the car shakes with each thrust, the windows slightly fogging up as you both fuck each other with desperateness and need.

“‘s fuckin’ big, cho,” you stammer out, your melodic moans music to his ears. his cock vigorously throbs within your slick walls, and the two of you are growing dumb off each other, lost in a haze of pleasure.

with each thrust met, your cunt begins to spasm around him, clenching tightly as waves of pleasure wash over you. the sensation is overwhelming; it feels like your body is begging for release. the car creaks under the intensity of your movements, the air thick with heat and urgency.

as you both get lost in the moment, choso leans in closer, capturing your lips in a heated kiss. it starts softly, but quickly escalates into something primal and messy. his hands grip your face as if he’s afraid to let go, and you can feel his raw passion pouring into every touch.

your mouths move together with urgent need, tongues tangling in a wild dance that feels intoxicating and electric. he tastes like pure desire—sweet and addictive—as he kisses you deeper. each press of his lips sends shivers racing down your spine, igniting a fire within you that mirrors the rhythm of his thrusts.

the kiss grows sloppier; breaths become heavy and desperate as you both lose yourselves in each other. saliva mixes as you moan into his mouth, the sounds echoing in the confined space of the car. choso pulls away just enough to lock eyes with you, his gaze dark with lust and hunger.

“you’re driving me insane,” he murmurs, his voice thick with desire before he crashes his lips back onto yours. the urgency intensifies, each kiss more fervent than the last, as if he’s trying to claim every part of you.

with a sudden burst of playful dominance he snakes his hands down to your ass, he slaps your flesh hard enough to send a jolt of pleasure through you, a wicked grin spreading across his face as he watches your reaction.

“yeaaa you like that shit, huh? i bet you-“

his words are cut short when you hear the doors attempt to open. you glance at riko, who’s struggling to unlock the door. before you can react, the driver unlocks it, and riko comes flying into the back seat beside you and choso.

your walls clamp down around his thick cock as he groans lowly, the thought of getting caught sending a thrill through you. you bury your face into his neck, inhaling his husky cologne.

“what the hell are y’all doing?” riko asks, glancing at your awkward position on choso’s lap, head hidden in his neck.

“she’s sleeping,” choso replies quietly, raising a finger to his lips to signal silence. everyone nods, but you can feel choso smirking as you bite your lip hard enough to draw blood.

as the car starts moving again, your eyes nearly pop out of your sockets when it begins to shake. the bumpy road makes you bounce on his cock, and you instinctively grind down, feeling him tense beneath you. his eyes flutter as he watches your hips move, knowing exactly how to make him crumble.

“cut the shit, you two- we already know you aren’t sleeping,” nobara says, pointing at the dashcam that’s connected to one of their phones.

they heard everything,

fuck.

NANAMI KENTO

“let’s just fuck it out mama, we can’t be separated.”

“you’re ridiculous,” you scoff, sitting cross-legged in the divorce attorney's office once the door shut closed.

“we need a moment to speak alone,” nanami had asked your attorney as he left, but he was nowhere near wanting to talk and you knew that the moment the two of you were alone.

“ridiculous? this isn’t even the worst place we’ve fucked,” he taunts, rising from his chair and leaning against the desk, his hazel eyes scanning your figure—something he could never get enough of.

“sign the papers,” you say through gritted teeth, but he smirks, clearly not listening as he admires how beautiful you look in the skin tight dress.

“sign- fuckkk,” you cry out as you’re now bent over your attorneys desk, your black dress hiked up to your waist as nanami ruthlessly pounds his cock into your sore pussy as your walls welcomes him back with a warm and slimey snug. within a split second you’ve become a sobbing cock-drunk mess, your tears staining the important documents that are now scrunched up from being smothered underneath your breast.

nanamis thick fingers grip your sides as he rams his cock deep into you, this speed almost too much for you that you feel as if he’s deep in your guts. he desk shakes beneath you, pens and papers tumbling to the floor, but in this moment, nothing else matters. all that exists is the connection between you, a powerful force that consumes your thoughts and senses.

your knees buckle as he lifts you up, steadying you to keep your balance. “c’mon wifey, what about our future kids? you reallyyy want me to sign it?” he teases, his voice playful yet charged with intensity. you find yourself crying out incoherent sentences, lost in the overwhelming sensation of how good he feels.

“s-sign it,” you shudder as his thrusts intensify, you can hear the animalistic growl he lets out once he felt you squeeze tighter. feeling the tension between you as he pulls you closer. his large hand grips your hair, pulling you closer to his chest as you back arches up from the messy desk. your pussy squeaks out broken sobs as he rams his cock sooo deep that you see a small bulge forming in your lower tummy.

“what’s our lawyer going to think, huh? I spent a lotta money for his services,” he rasps, his thrusts growing deeper and more meaningful, as if to prove that you cannot leave him.

“k-kennn, fuckk,” you moan as he tugs harder on your hair, your body trembling as tears spill down your cheeks. he doesn’t care where you are- all that matters is the pleasure coursing through you. a devilish grin spreads across his face, knowing exactly how to push your buttons and drive you wild.

“i know, sweetheart—I know. just let it allll go,” he sings, encouraging you as he coaxed you toward your intense orgasm. soft “oohs” and “ahhs” escape your glossy lips as warmth pools in your belly, your slick walls tightening around him, practically suffocating his throbbing cock.

“hgnn—gonna milk me dry, baby,” nanami stutters, feeling his balls tighten painfully as his breaths become sloppy and jagged. he snakes his hand from your hair to your throat, possessively gripping you just tight enough to spark thrill without pain, amplifying the waves of pleasure that crash over you and drawing your intense orgasm closer with every pulse.

you bite your lower lip hard as you both come undone in perfect sync, a skill nanami has mastered. your walls flutter around him as his hot release fills you, feeling his thick seed plunge deep within your womb. your vision blurs and your ears ring; it’s so messy that your mixed juices cling between your thighs, sticky and gooey.

your mind is so dizzy that you don’t even notice when he gently places you on the desk, your back crumpling the papers beneath you as your legs are pressed against your chest. your permanent anklet dangles and glimmers in the natural light, the diamond ‘K.N.’ charm a constant reminder that he will always be with you, no matter what.

your eyes lazily flutter open to find nanami kissing your inner thighs, your legs still trembling from your previous orgasm. his lips graze your swollen folds, causing your body to jolt in response. nanami's eyes glimmer with amusement as he watches globs of your mixed essence drip down onto the papers creating a small pool on the wooden desk.

“mmm, you sure came a lot for someone who wants a divorce,” he taunts, bringing his cool wedding band back to your throbbing core, globs of cum coating the once-gold ring in a sticky white layer. you gasp at the metallic sensation as he rubs the ring against your swollen clit, toying with you while you sob incoherent sentences. your eyes dart to the door, where you catch a glimpse of shadows peeking through the window. panic rises in your throat as you try desperately to signal to nanami that there are people watching.

but oh he knows,

he knows very well that the entire floor heard the scandalous things you two were doing, and he wants everyone to know.

without warning, nanami plunges his warm tongue into your sopping core, savouring every drop of your arousal as he hums against you. the vibrations sends shivers through your body, and you can feel him revealing in the taste, his tongue exploring every inch with a deliberate slowness that drives you wild. he laps up your juices eagerly, occasionally grazing your sensitive nub with his teeth, teasingly biting it just enough to send waves of pleasure coursing through you. it feels as if he’s determined to make you scream for everyone to hear.

the loud slurping fills the room, making you cringe at how messy and indulgent he is, yet your body craves him more with each passing moment. you feel yourself teetering on the edge, lost in the pleasure he’s giving you, when suddenly, just as you're about to beg for more, the door swings open. several flustered lawyers stand in the doorway, their eyes wide with shock.

“u-uhm, mr. and mrs. nanami, the p-police are outside…”

13K notes · View notes

machveil · 2 months ago

Note

HEY IM BACK TO BOTHER UU

OK IMAGINE THIS

simon seeing how you always coo at babies you see in public (grocery store, shopping, park, etc) and he decides then and there that you WILL be the mother of his children. and like maybe he never even wanted kids but after this happens one or two times he is SET on it.

idk just a thought that i had to share!

I am listening so hard

Simon gets hit with baby fever hard, he doesn’t even know what baby fever is - he just sees you with chunky little babies and snotty kids and something in his brain goes off. he just gets the itch to make you a mom, the urge to buy those stupid little baby shoes that look so fucking cute and why don’t you have a baby now—

Simon isn’t subtle either, he’ll silently guide your shopping trips so you end up in baby aisles, little onesies and pacifiers on display. you don’t even have a kid, but Simon picks up a cute little ducky pacifier and sets it in the cart. “Simon? We don’t need tha—”, turning his back to you, he just sets off out of the aisle, “Might.”, he mumbles

Simon who empties your guest your room one day, paint buckets in hand. he claims to just be ‘redoing’ the room, also lovie, if a box for a crib gets delivered call for him - Simon will sign for it! he’s like a man possessed, just mutters something about, “Could ‘ave a permanent guest…”, and it leaves you chuckling. he’s even got the 141 over to help, Gaz helping Simon paint while John squared try to assemble the crib

Simon who acts shocked when you tell him you’re pregnant, pretends to be innocent, “Really? How could tha’ ‘ave happened?”. he’s extremely excited even though he’s keeping a straight face, but you can tell - his fingers are tapping against his thighs and he’s bouncing his leg a little. and what a coincidence, Simon somehow predicted you’d need a nursery! good thing he converted that guest room, right doll?

#ghost #simon ghost riley #simon riley #ghost cod #ghost call of duty #ghost headcanons #ghost x you #ghost x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #cod #cod thoughts #call of duty #hit post

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parkersbliss · 2 months ago

Text

you lock the 141 outside your house (I know my rights tiktok)

pairing: task force 141 (ghost, gaz, price, soap) x american!female reader

synopsis: you lock them out of your (their?) house, claiming you "know your rights." based on a tiktok trend with soldiers.

warnings: none just fluff and humor :)))

a/n: I wrote this in like an hour and I think it's the funniest thing EVER thanks

Masterlist | Taglist | Prompt List

requests open for tf141!

SEE TIKTOK HERE

—

Ghost:

You watch as your boyfriend gets out of his truck in the driveway. He grabs his bag from the passenger seat and makes his way to the front door, a smile twitching under his mask at the sight of you waiting for him.

Just as he steps to the porch, you close the door and lock it. “I know my third amendment rights!”

Ghost stops at the door, dropping his bag. Rights? What were you talking about? “Your what?”

“No Soldier shall, in time of peace, be quartered in any house without the consent of the owner,” You reply, reading off your phone.

Ghost sighs. Third amendment? Of course, the one American he dates is the one that has them all memorized. You could probably recite them in your sleep. Patriotism, or whatever. Which makes zero sense. You were living with him in Manchester. If all went well and you got married, he was making sure he changed your status to British.

“You fucking Americans.” He grabs the key from his bag, going to unlock the door only to find you locking it. “Are you serious?”

You show your phone at him through the glass, the third amendment displayed on a Google search. He stares back at you from his mask, unamused. “Bloody hell, woman,” he mutters.

You giggle from behind the door and give him a few more minutes before going to unlock it. You knew Simon’s limits. You only needed a few seconds of fun anyway, but by the time you unlock it, he’s gone.

“Simon?” You call out, poking your head out the door and checking around the house. His truck was still there, so he didn’t turn back around. You don’t see any movements or even hear anything. Was he picked up by aliens?

A thud sounds from behind you, and you yelp, shutting the door and turning around.

Simon stands in front of you, arms crossed and his duffel bag on the floor.

“What the hell?” You said, looking him up and down.

“I should be asking you that,” He retorts. “You should really lock your windows, love.”

“Are you… did you climb through one?”

“You locked me out.”

“I went to unlock it!”

“Third amendment rights, my arse.” He grabs your waist, pulling you towards him. “We’re in England.”

You shrug, tracing up his arm. “Thought it was funny.”

Simon just sighs. “Americans.”

Gaz:

“Oh, hell no!” You exclaim as Gaz approaches the door. “I know my third amendment rights.” The lock clicks.

“No fucking way,” Gaz said, strolling up to the glass storm door.

“No soldiers in this home.”

He stares at you, his hands on his hips and that signature scowl on his face. There was no way he was coming home to this bullshit right now. “Open the door.”

“No quartering soldiers without my permission,” You replied.

Gaz rolls his eyes. Your home? He was pretty sure his name was on the mortgage, even if you were living in it 90% of the time. “I own the fucking property! I live here. You’re the guest.”

You shrug, grinning. “Not anymore.”

He runs a hand down his face. Sometimes just sometimes he regrets finding your stubbornness so damn attractive. “I’m going to crash out, actually.”

“Crash outside? Yeah.”

“Let me in!” He shouts, grabbing the door handle and jiggling it.

“No!” You shout back, holding onto it and preventing him from entering without your permission.

Gaz leans against the glass. “Remind me why I chose to date an American?”

You smile at him. “Because we’re funny, and we have better Chinese food.”

He glares at you, trying to unlock the door again. He groans when there’s no avail. “Babe!”

You say nothing, finding his annoyance quite amusing and a change of pace for once.

And then he actually crashes out, grabbing the handle and pulling, twisting, pounding at it. He yells a string of curse words and then starts banging on the doorframe. He gives up, frowning, and leans his forehead on the glass. “Please?”

You unlock it. “Thought you’d never ask.”

He storms inside, throwing you over his shoulder. “You are so in for it.”

“I like where this is going,” You giggle as he throws you on the couch.

He raises a brow, hands coming to your waist. “Yeah?” He starts tickling you. You yelp, laughing under him and trying to push away.

Gaz doesn’t relent and continues tickling you even after you’ve pleaded with him to stop. “You lock me out of my fucking claim it’s your right,” He mutters. “Consider this my very reasonable punishment.”

Soap:

“I know my rights!” You shout, watching Soap approach the door.

He stops in his tracks, tilting his head. He had no idea what you said. The poor guy could barely hear from all the bombs going on around him, and you shout through a door? Good plan. “What are you on about?” He asked.

“There will be no soldiers in my home!” You close the glass door and lock it.

He approaches the front door, staring at you through the glass. His expression is clueless, brows furrowed. “You mean our home?” He knocks on the glass. “Can I come in?”

“Nope!”

He frowns. “Why?”

“Third amendment.”

“Amendment?” He scoffs. What the hell are you talking about? Is this what he gets for dating an American? You start proclaiming your rights? What’s next, the pledge of allegiance? “Are you taking the piss? Does this look like the land of the free?”

You giggle at him, his accent thickening with his frustration. “I’m still an American!”

“Trust me, I know! Can I please come inside?”

“No soldiers allowed.” You tape up a piece of paper displaying those words.

Soap continues frowning at you and realizes he isn’t going to be let in anytime soon. It’s a good thing he knew how to easily change that. Americans and their rights. More like Americans and their feelings. He sits down on the porch steps, facing away from you, rests his chin in his hand, and sighs loudly.

You don’t budge.

He sighs again, kicking his boots on the porch, turning back at you with sad eyes. Still nothing. He concludes there was one last option to get you to let him in. He grabs his phone, and you watch with furrowed brows as he types something in. Suddenly, music is blasting from his phone as he looks at you with the biggest puppy dog eyes ever. Not just any music, but the sad hamster violin music.

“Oh my god.” You unlock the door, opening it up to him. “You’re such a baby.”

He practically skips inside, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Your baby.”

Price:

Your husband stands on the porch, rolling his eyes at you.

“I know my rights!” You shout at him through the window.

“Do you, now?” He asked, playing along with your prank or whatever this was. If it brought you this much amusement to lock him out, he might as well indulge in it. That was the kind of man he was. Until he started freezing of course, then he would demand you let him in.

You nod your head. “As an American, amendment 3 of the Bill of Rights says that I don’t have to house you if I don’t want to.”

Price hums. At least they taught you something in American schools. “Does that extend when you’re in another country?”

“It does to me.”

He huffs, grabbing something from his pocket and displaying it to you. “You know I have a house key, yes?”

“I’ll just lock it again.”

He tilts his head at you. You were really trying to sell whatever rights you thought you had. “Really?”

“I’m taking this very seriously.”

Price strokes his beard. “I can see that.” An idea pops into his head, and he steps away from the glass and in front of the door. You didn’t want to let him in? That’s fine. You wanted to lock the door? No problem. He’s got methods of entering from being in the military, after all. “Guess I’ll just have to kick down the door.” He raises his foot, fully intent on doing it. You were going to repaint the door anyway, might as well get a new one.

You swing open the door. “Are you crazy?”

He strolls past you. “Did I lock you outside our home? Besides, crazy would’ve been bombing the house.”

Your lips parted, unsure if he was joking. You assume he is, but his expression says otherwise. “Are you being serious?”

He laughs at your face, grabbing your hand. “Only if you start proclaiming your rights again.”

You put your hands up. “What rights? Suddenly, I’m feeling like this soldier can stay as long as he likes.”

Price presses a gentle kiss to your lips. “Thought so.”

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pearlymel · 5 months ago

Text

A dance— Capitano

Synopsis : your relationship with him grows, and he seems sweeter than ever.

Wc : 3.2k

Warnings : contains NSFW content, fem!reader, reader is mostly called 'wife', he's super sweet, soft sex, unprotected sex, breeding kink kinda, reader wears a dress and heels.

Notes : part 2 is heree! I highly recommend reading part 1 here. And part 3 is out here!

You've tried creating art, you've tried cooking (with the help of your personal maid, Marina), you've even tried planting.

Yeah, you're a plant mom now. Not only that, you're a cat mom too. Saving the poor kitty from the harsh rain one day, you couldn't leave the poor little one outside. It's mother seeming to abandon it.

All because you have become extremely bored on the days where Capitano wouldn't be here, and he forbade you to even clean your shared bedroom because he thinks it's useless when there are servants present to do the job. (He doesn't want to tire you out.)

Come to think of it, the last time you saw him, he kept avoiding you. Whenever you tried striking a conversation during dinner, he would only hum and nod. Or when you suggested to have another picnic, he flatly refused, and it felt like the hardest rejection to your face.

It's like he had his own mood swings that you had to deal with. One day he would indulge you in the activities you wanted to do, then the next he would refuse.

Like last week.

“I used to do this when i was young.” You tell him with the softest smile to yourself, your fingers working carefully with the flower petals and strings. You were determined to make this flower crown, and you were taking your sweet time just to have him by your side.

Capitano silently listened to your words, his gaze fixed on your gentle movements as you delicately fashioned a flower crown. The air between you was calm, "You have a talent for making flower crowns," he eventually responded, his deep voice breaking the tranquil silence.

"Did you learn it from someone?”

“No… just by myself.” He couldn't help but be impressed by your innate ability to create such an intricate accessory without any formal instruction. "Self-taught." He mused, "You have an unusual aptitude for discovering things on your own.”

You hum back while adding the finishing touches, and he watched your proud display of the finished flower crown.

“this is for kitty!” You smile at the thought of the little one purring with a pretty crown on it's head.

Kitty? Capitano is confused once you start talking about the cat, you seem even more excited when you described how you cuddled with it.

"You just happened to come across this crying feline in the rain, and you brought it home with you?”

“yes! Ah, well… i hope you don't mind.”

“i don't.”

And that was the last of your conversation, and it's been a week since you last saw him.

“my lady,” You recognise the voice of Marina as she knocks on the door, and you grant her the permission of her entry.

You set the sleeping kitten on the fluffed up pillow to reach for the letter she hands you.

An invitation to the grand ball… you read the contents of it, scanning every word as you pull the paper down.

“like a party?” you ask, glancing up at her, "Yes, that is correct. A grand ball is taking place tonight. It's a gathering of the higher-ranking Fatui members and a few... select guests.” she trails off, unsure of what else to add on.

“I can see that this invitation is for Capitano, not to me.”

“lord Capitano doesn't normally attend these grand balls. So my lady, you will have to go instead.” Marina explains this and you feel like you're going to have a headache.

All you wanted to do today was sleep in with the kitten. Not to trouble yourself in some party.

But… if it's for the sake of your husband's reputation, then you are willing to do it.

You hope you don't pass away too quick from your social anxiety.

“Marina, does this really suit me?” You stare at your reflection, and Marina looks at you approvingly, her eyes taking in your stunning appearance. "Sì, my lady, it suits you perfectly," she assures you, "The dress brings out your features beautifully and fits your figure perfectly.”

“and the colour?”

"Oh, yes, the color is exquisite. It complements your skin tone perfectly. You look like a princess attending a royal ball.” and you smile shyly as you take your seat, “You flatter me too much, you know?”

Marina chuckles softly, moving behind you to work on your hair with practiced ease. "It's not flattery if it's the truth. You look truly radiant today." She begins to style your hair, weaving intricate braids and pinning them in place with delicate silver pins.

Though you can't even lie to yourself, you looked absolutely gorgeous, even when you felt a little down since you would be going alone, and you barely knew anyone.

Marina pauses in her work for a moment, her expression becoming sympathetic as she sensed your nervousness. “It's natural to feel that way. But I believe you will be fine. You are strong and independent." She resumes styling your hair, her fingers moving nimbly to create elegant curls.

You smile at her, looking at her from the mirror, “thank you.”

"It is my honor to serve you.” As she finishes your hair, she steps back to admire her work, a satisfied expression on her face. "You are ready, my lady.”

You are ready.

You are not ready.

Because why was everyone's eyes piercing bullets through you as you entered the main hall?

The whispers and murmurs start almost immediately, the guests clearly intrigued by your presence. However, you manage to keep your composure, straightening your back and walking forward with confidence, just like how Marina taught you.

Stay calm they won't eat you, you tell yourself, trying to maintain your composure under the weight of their gazes.

You were here to make friends, hopefully.

You scan the room, hoping that someone would approach you to engage in conversation. Yet nobody, not a single soul, seems to have the courage to do so. The guests continue their conversations and dances, seemingly ignoring your presence.

And so, you find yourself standing alone, sipping on a glass of champagne, feeling lost and slightly out of place.

Well this is boring. You could've stayed in with Kitty and Marina, but at least you get free food. They always taste better, right?

Everyone went silent all of a sudden, but you ignored it at first and continue taking sips of your drink.

But the silence becomes uncomfortable, just what happened to the party?

You turn around, your eyes widening immediately in surprise as you see Capitano walking towards you. Your heart seems to skip a beat as you watch him approach, his presence commanding attention and authority in the room. Capitano stops in front of you, you can't make up what his face must be like right now, but you think he has a stoic expression on his face as he takes in your appearance. His eyes roaming up and down your figure, seemingly appreciating the elegance of your dress.

“husband?” You blurt out, setting your glass aside to greet him.

"Wife," he says simply, acknowledging the fact that you have finally addressed him by that term.

The tension breaks when soft, elegant music begins to play, signaling the start of partner dances in the middle of the ballroom.

Capitano seems to realize this as he glances around at the couples already making their way to the dance floor. He then turns back to you, his expression unreadable as he silently contemplates the situation.

He can see the slight tension in your shoulders, the way your hand clutched at your dress.

"I suppose we should dance, wife.”

“you want to dance?”

"Yes," he responds. "It appears it's customary for couples at these events to dance together." He extends his hand in your direction, gesturing for you to take it. You take his hand, wrapping it gently around his gloved one. His fingers close around your hand, his grip gentle yet firm as he leads you towards the dance floor.

You notice the whispers and murmurs among the guests growing louder. But you chose to ignore them.

Capitano guides you to the center of the dance floor and positions himself opposite you, his hand settling onto your waist, and your hands on his shoulders.

"Do you know how to dance?" You whisper to him, making sure no one listens, and your eyes are on him.

"I may not engage in these social events often, but even I understand the basics of dance." His hand on your waist pulls you closer to him, you follow his lead.

Interesting.

He leads the dance with of assurance and grace, his movements fluid and confident. As you follow his lead and swirl together across the dance floor, your eyes meet his, and you find yourself unable to look away. The closeness between you makes it feel as if the rest of the world has faded away, leaving only the two of you dancing together.

You notice how he seems to turn his head slightly to look at others, mimicking their movements swiftly, it makes you smile to yourself.

His hand on your waist feels warm, almost burning even through the fabric of your dress. It's a strange sensation you've never felt when touching him, despite having already kissed (once) before.

”my dress,” you whisper amidst the graceful dance, “what do you think of it?”

You figured you always needed to give him a little push when initiating things.

His attention drift down to take in the sight of your dress once again. His gaze roams over the fabric, lingering on the way it clings to your figure, and how the color contrasts against your skin.

"It's... " he pauses, you're just wearing a dres, but he finds it difficult to describe what he feels, "Very pleasing to the eye.” he manages to continue.

"You look rather well tonight, as well.”

“Thank you, wife.”

The music suddenly shifts to a slower tempo, and Capitano instinctively adjusts his hold on you, pulling you slightly closer as he continues to dance with you.

You totally ignore how your face is almost pressed up against his chest.

As interesting as the party was, the worst part of was walking back to the estate. Why? Because the carriage decided to break down, or maybe the horses were sleepy, you don't know.

You're glad your husband is with you, or else you might've been sacrificed to the dogs at night, now even ants will fear this big guy.

But what's worse? Your damn heels are killing you. The sides of your pinky toes are already aching that you are sure it will cause nasty blisters by tomorrow.

"Perhaps next time you should wear more comfortable shoes." He stated bluntly, his deep voice betraying no pity for your situation. “but they look pretty, plus i feel elegant in them.” you stop at your tracks, looking up at him with a defeated expression.

"I'm well aware." he says dryly, "But at what cost? You're practically torturing yourself with those heels.”

He's half right, your point still stands. Beauty is pain. And now you'll have to sacrifice your beauty.

Bye bye heels. You slide them off your feet, bow having your poor feet to walk on these rocky grounds. You do feel a little better after, though.

“stay still.” He utters, and you're confused, until he takes your heels in one hand before you feel a shift of your weight off your feet, finding yourself being carried into his arms.

you wrapped your arms around his neck silently, your eyes glancing up at him as he continues walking like he you weigh nothing.

The air around you is peaceful. You feel safe with him, he's not like the scary man you hear from the others. Maybe to others he was, but to you? He was soft for you.

Your head leans on his chest where his heart rested, the beats of his heart makes you sleepy, but you refuse to sleep just like this, you want to spend every single second savouring this feeling.

Capitano carried you all the way to the estate, and through the dark corridors, making his way to your shared chambers.

The soft moonlight filtering through the windows was the only source of illumination, the atmosphere around you quiet.

He gently deposited you back on your feet, you're back home safely.

“thank you.” You whisper, your hands reaching to take the pins out of your hair to let it breath from the scruffy yet beautiful hairstyle, and Capitano starts taking off the heavy layers off him as well, with the helmet out.

You don't notice how one of your dress straps seem to fall off your shoulders, but he notices, and oh did that make something in him stir.

His steps closer from behind you, his hand reaching to put the strap back in place, but instead, he glances at the other strap.

It looked rather lonely being on your shoulder, his fingers delicately sliding the strap down which makes you ultimately still in your place.

Your entire body trembled slightly as Capitano's hands caressed your skin, tracing gentle paths across your shoulders and back down to the zipper on your side. “May i.. help you out of your dress?” His low, gruff voice, asking for permission to help you out of your dress, made your heart beat faster.

You could only nod in response, your voice silenced by a mixture of anticipation and desire. Capitano's touch was meticulous, his thumb and index delicately moving down the zipper with deliberate slowness, prolonging the tension.

Capitano lets out another low hum as he watches the dress slide down to your ankles, now leaving you only in your undergarments. His hands traced the contour of your body, his touch delicate yet possessive. His own breathing became ragged, the sight of you partially undressed igniting a fire in his eyes.

“Will you allow me to touch you?”

The question makes you turn your head, of course he can.

When you don't stop him from wrapping his arms around you, his chest pressed against your back, he takes it as a green light to continue.

His hand first brushed your hair out of the way, to allow his lips to come in contact with the nape of your neck, “you're so beautiful..." he whispered, his hot breath sending jolts of electricity through your core.

“I don't…” he hesitates, wanting to move his hands away, “i don't want to do anything you don't like.”

And your expression softens at his concern, you turn around to take his face into your hands, your thumbs caressing the apples of his cheeks and he nuzzles into your touch, wrapping a hand around your wrist before pressing a kiss to your palm. You further reassure him by littering his face with your lips, giving every empty space of his skin with at least one kiss.

“Allow me to experience this with you, and i shall take care of you till i take my very last breath.” he hoists you up easily into his arms, rough hand under your thighs as you wrap your legs around his waist, he laid you down on the soft sheets, his body covering yours as he looked down at you.

“You occupy my every thought,” he starts, “that it feels sinful to even look at your way.” He leaned down, his lips capturing yours in a searing kiss as his hand continued its exploration, ripping your bra off to cup your breast, feeling your nipple harden under his touch. He rolled it between his fingers, pinching it gently as he deepened the kiss when you gasp, his tongue delving into your mouth, savouring your taste and angelic sounds.

He leaned down afterwards, his mouth latching onto your nipple, sucking it into his mouth and your hands find his ling strands instantly, tugging on them while being careful not to hurt him.

His fingers traced down to your hip, giving them a firm squeeze before ripping your panties off next, his thumb rubbing circles on your clit, feeling you writhe and tense up under him.

It felt like an unknown territory you've yet to explore.

Upon sensing your discomfort, he presses his lips to your eyelids, then to your neck, taking his time until you relaxed, until you started feeling good based off how you were bucking your hips now.

Oh how he wanted to take his time with you, but he was aching so bad that if he continues touching you he might just burst embarrassingly fast in his pants.

“Let me in, my wife.” He gently starts massaging your thighs as he parts them, making you feel more exposed than ever, but he distracts you by softly kissing you again and again while he's unbuckling his pants and pushing them down, revealing his throbbing thick, hard cock.

“Capitano—!” you try to squirm away when you feel his tip push into your tight hole, your lips parting from the way he stretched you open, but at the same time you felt relaxed with his soft whispers of ‘take your time’ and ‘you’re doing well, my wife.’

Your cunt soon takes in every inch, swallowing him whole until you were a panting mess, and you didn't even start.

Capitano then began to move, his thrusts slow and deep at first, letting you get used to his size, to how you feel, to how he feels as he makes love to you for the first time together.

You feel your heart up to your throat and ears, it felt incredible, something you've never felt before, your soft moans echoing in the air along with a few groans coming from him.

He shivered when he felt your fingertips trace the few scars littering his shoulders and back, his dick twitching almost instantly before his thrusts grew faster, more urgent.

His hand reached down, returning back to draw circles around the bundle of nerves, and he could feel your body tense, your walls clenching around his cock as he continued to rub your clit.

“come for your husband,” he breaths heavily next to your ear, and you come undone, your moans filling the room as he felt you milk his cock. He could feel his own release following after, his balls tightening before he slammed into you one last time, spilling thick ropes into your womb, until you were filled to the brim.

Your legs were shaking slightly around him, yet his warm embrace afterwards made you melt, eyelids heavy with him still being buried inside you.

—

You groggily woke up, still half in a dream-like state, the room bathed in shadows due to the closed curtains blocking out the morning sun.

As your senses slowly returned to reality, you heard a soft meow next to you, and sure enough, your little kitten had made itself comfortable in the middle of the bed. To your surprise, Capitano, who was still asleep beside you, didn't seem bothered in the slightest by the creature's presence.

“pst,” you whisper to your husband who only hummed in acknowledgment of your attention. “Can we go have a picnic this early morning? With our baby kitten of course.”

Tags: @sayastyx, @nastylilcvnt, @bigboygoose,

#Capitano #il capitano #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you #il capitano x reader #capitano x reader #capitano x you #fatui harbingers #fatui #genshin harbingers #capitano smut #genshin smut #genshin impact smut #genshin impact capitano #il capitano smut

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nerdlvr · 17 days ago

Text

✩ camgirl

(MDNI)

smut , bff!haechan x camgirl!reader , fingering , supa wet pussy , slight grinding , female masturbation , i love hyuck's hands , honorable mention to his rings , reader and hyuck don't reveal their identities , features a bunch of horny nct members , lmk if i missed anything! , requested here !

"they're gonna love it hyuck- don't be nervous."

he shivered at your touch, watching as you crawled in between his legs, seating yourself in his lap.

"look- this is what they can see." his eyes focused on the screen in front of him.

you were seated in his lap, legs spread slightly to reveal your lacy panties, a wet patch already forming on the fabric. he felt his mouth water.

"you sure this is okay?"

you giggled, back shaking against his chest, "yeah hyuck- i trust you. just focus on me- you'll know what to do."

maybe he should've considered how hard this was actually going to be for him. helping your best friend record for her porn stream was definitely not best friend behavior.

the moment you had clicked record hyuck's length was already stiff against your back, eyes trained on the way the camera focused on your pussy.

"hi everyone! yes- yes- i guess you guys already noticed- i have a special guest today- give us a wave please teddy-chan."

he raised his hand awkwardly, waving at the computer camera.

you turned to look at him, a sweet smile on your lips, "he's a little shy so lets be nice- it's his first time on stream."

you leaned forward slightly to get a closer look at the comments, your ass pressing against his bulge. he groaned softly to himself bringing his hand up to cover his mouth.

"oooou, teddy they said they like your hands, show them off a little hm?" you gave him a reassuring nod, holding your hands out for him to grab.

you held onto his hands, pulling them forward for the audience to see, "nice rings right? look-" you held your hand up next to his, "they're matching!"

he blushed lightly as he looked through the comments, countless fanboys asking if he was your boyfriend.

"comments, comments, they're going so fast! how about we get a donation so we can start- look i'm already so wet just thinking about teddy-chan's hands."

you spread your legs, fingers softly rubbing against the wet patch on your panties.

hyuck felt awkward, hands coming up to pull you closer to his chest, hands accidentally rubbing against your breast.

you let out a soft sigh, leaning your head against his cheek, your bodies getting hotter by the second.

and that's when it pinged!

hit.thejae.spot donated $100 : take the panties off baby!!!

you giggled, fingers quick to tug at the waistband of your underwear, lifting your ass slightly to pull them off, "i thought you guys liked the panties! now you want them off?"

you could feel hyuck's breath against your shoulder, hands hot against your tummy. you turned to whisper in his ear, your voice quiet and soft, " you can hold my legs apart so they can see me, we don't have to go too quick if you don't want to."

he nodded, hands leaving your waist to run along your legs, fingers tight on your skin as he gripped your thighs, spreading you for the camera.

hyuck felt like he couldn't breathe as he looked into the computer. your core was on full display, glistening against the dim lighting coming from the screen.

"look at how wet i am guys- what should i do hm? wanna- i wanna touch myself."

he could hear the fake pout in your voice, your words coming out high pitched and whiny. your fans ate every bit of it up, your sweet act only making them hornier- making hyuck hornier.

ping! sungis.hung donated $250 : let him touch you.

hyuck gulped as he read the donation, heart beating faster against his chest.

"let him touch me? hm what do you think teddy?"

he placed his face against your neck, nodding slowly. you placed a kiss against his cheek, whispering into his ear, "everything at your pace hyuck- i'm right here- you're okay."

one of his hands let go of your thigh, moving it up towards your core. he was hesitant, fingers just barely hovering against your heat when-

ping! poisonme.lee donated $275 : teddy dude rub on her clit

ping! doiebunny donated $300 : teddy-chan make her moan for me

now the comments were directed at him, his eyes scanning through the countless donations, "looks like you guys like teddy-chan more than me huh? guyss don't make me cry- oh!"

hyuck ran his finger along your slit, collecting your juices, before popping the wet finger into his mouth for a taste. you turned your head to watch him, eyes wide.

ping! xiao.getsdown commented : no way he just tasted her, shy my ass!

ping! sho.her.mytaro commented : jealoussss!!!

his fingers were wet with spit as he pulled them out of his mouth, immediately moving them to run along your core again, collecting your juices as he moved them towards your clit.

you gripped onto his thighs as he began to rub against your sensitive bud, a moan slipping from your lips as you threw your head back on his shoulder.

"doing so good teddy- look at you."

he looked towards the bright screen in front of you, angled perfectly at your wet cunt, his fingers slowly rubbing against your swollen clit.

"fuck hyuck, feels so- fuck."

your whispers were hot against his cheek, your moans filling the space between you two.

"am- am i doing good?"

his free hand gripped your thighs harder, pulling your legs further apart.

"so good baby- so good."

ping! sheepyyang donated $500 : that pussy's begging to be fucked teddy-chan! give her some love!

he chuckled against your neck, fingers running past your folds and towards your leaking hole, pressing slowly.

the mewl you let out as he sunk his fingers into your cunt was like music to his ears, cock painfully straining against his pants as you pressed your body against his.

"stay still tiny, you're gonna hurt yourself."

his dull nails scrapped against your walls, the slight stretch burning your core. "teddy- please, want more."

ping! jen.gobark donated $550 : you heard her teddy, fuck her with your fingers man.

you moved your arm behind you, hand reaching for hyuck's hard length, squeezing the tense muscle, "need you hyuck- fuck me."

your wish was his command, fingers sliding in and out of you, your juices squelching against his hand.

you squeezed your eyes shut as you focused on his movements, long fingers running along your pulsing walls. your body tensed as he reached his knuckles, cold rings pressing against your hot cunt.

"teddy- oh my, teddy please."

he smirked into your skin, lips planting soft kisses along your neck as his fingers picked up speed.

ping! ping! ping! ping!

any donations and comments were drowned out by the sound of your growing moans, pussy gushing around his fingers.

"you like that angel? just a little bit more okay? i can feel you squeezing my fingers baby- i know you're close."

your only response was a half nod, head reeling at the pressure building in your stomach. his free hand let go of your thigh, leg weak and bruised by now, and placed it on your sensitive clit, rubbing harshly.

"hy-teddy, oh- oh- oh!"

he chuckled at your slip up, fingers only moving quicker against your core, shutting you up.

your hands moved forward to grip his wrists, trying to stop his movements as your stomach clenched, pussy releasing your sweet juices against his harsh fingers.

"too- too much, teddy ow- ow."

you tried to push him off of you, body twitching as he removed his fingers, his other hand still languidly rubbing against your clit.

"i got you- i got you."

he rubbed your belly, fingers letting go of your abused clit, his soft lips planting a kiss on your cheek.

ping! bananajohn donated $2000 : please let him become a regular.

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shrimpybbq · 4 months ago

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season 1 rafe with his gf & son

i have to be sooo truthful here in that rafe is like 90% the actual worst during the events of season 1 to high school gf!

he's still doing drugs and going to parties, never coming home until the early morning if at all

maybe he was on better terms with his gf for a while, but everyone on the island knows that the pair are always on-and-off

when they are good, rafe is surprisingly sweet to her. he's always opening doors and looking after their son so she can rest. rafe is so much more physically affectionate too during these times, with his hands always on her, stroking her hip or playing with her hair

and then when they fight, it's like all that goes away and he's back to ignoring her

she lives in the main house now as that's where their son's nursery is, but most of the time she's sleeping in the guest room after they argue

rafe's idea of family bonding is going to the country club, drinking his expensive whiskey and eating overpriced food. he likes seeing his son look around wide-eyed at the new sights and new people, and he enjoys having his son sit in his lap while he drinks, mumbling nonsense to see his little smile

he tries to take his son out golfing once only to realise that he couldn't be away from his mother for so long, much to his annoyance. it's fine though bc he's insisting they all go together next time - problem solved in his mind

rafe and high school gf! go to midsummer's together as each others dates. rafe wouldn't have let her go with anyone else anyway, but he likes the display of having her on his arm. he matches his suit to the floral design of her gown to make the statement even clearer (they have a child together and he's worried about people knowing she's his???)

he manages to hide a lot of the events that go on from his gf, but some of them still reach her ears courtesy of sarah, and he can't stand the disappointed look she gives him. sometimes though, he makes her sit down and listen to his explanation, trying to get her to see his side. he's so relieved when she nods and no longer looks at him in that way (but she still doesn't tell him he was right, he always notes)

when barry burns rafe, he's knocking on the door of the guest room with tears in his eyes, clutching his badly burnt arm to his chest. gf just looks at him wide-eyed, telling him to sit on her bed while she grabs the first aid kit. rafe can't help but let the tears stream down his face as she cleans, his head coming to rest on her shoulder as he sobs. that night is the first time he sleeps with her in the guest room, his head nuzzled into her chest as she cradles him

ok but if barry ever threatens his girl and kid rafe won't let it go. he's landing a punch on the drug dealer's face immediately, his rage spiking instantaneously. barry learns not to threaten them again after the second time he wore purple bruises on his chin

oh, sweet pretty gf has no idea what rafe has done to the sheriff, and he plans to keep it that way. he wanted to protect his dad, but he absolutely refuses to let anything happen to his own family. she's so shocked when he tells her of john b's actions, the boy having lived down the hall from them, and rafe plays into the role of protector again. he's got her in his arms as she cries about how he was around their son, and rafe just hums and tells her "i would never let someone hurt either of you, you know that right?". it warms his heart to see her nod into his chest.

sometimes his gf walks into the nursery only to see her son not in his crib, but she knows exactly where he is. pushing open rafe's door she sees the two of them in bed, her sweet baby cuddled up on rafe's bare chest as they both sleep. he needs to be with his son when he has a bad day, which seems to be more often than not nowadays

rafe is rapidly growing more mentally unwell and the only thing that seems to soothe him is his gf and son, and he spends as much time as he can with them. the little baby is always in his arms as he coos down at him, watching his kid's eyes brighten at the sight of his dada. rafe reasons with himself that everything he does is to protect his family and that he couldn't be wrong then, could he?

Click here for pre-season 1 rafe, gf & their unborn son

Click here for season 2 rafe, gf & their son

Click here for season 3 rafe, gf & their son

Click here for season 4 part 1 rafe, gf & their son

Click here for the 18 month gap before season 4 rafe, gf & their son

Oh this was a bit of a novel, but rafe truly has so many facets to explore, let alone once you give him a big motivator like a kid!

#rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron headcanons #rafe cameron blurb #rafe x reader #rafe imagine #rafe fic #rafe cameron outer banks #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe outer banks #outer banks x reader #outer banks imagine #outer banks headcanons #outer banks fanfiction #high school gf! au #dad!rafe au #dad!rafe

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comatosebunny09 · 1 month ago

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— cw: making out, steaminess, jealousy, tooth-decaying romance, terms of endearment

He takes you with him to a gala to celebrate the opening of a new museum.

It’s a little overwhelming, showing up on his arm like this. Everyone’s attention has been on you since you stepped inside the venue. There’s no clear-cut title to your relationship. But he doesn’t correct the other guests when they address you as his lady.

You’re not used to the attention. The whispers of how refreshing it is to see him with someone after years of bachelorhood. They talk about who you could be. A model, an actress, a singer. Talk about how you could’ve come to be his girl. The handsome, seemingly cold, and stoic business mogul smiling boyishly with you on his arm. No one’s ever seen him glow like this. You should be so lucky.

It’s flattering, their gossip, but it’s getting to you along with the champagne bubbling in your stomach. You slip out of the banquet hall for some fresh air. Truthfully, you plan to escape to your room upstairs to take off your dress and recharge. You don’t belong amongst these people, and it shows. You stick out like a sore thumb.

You saw him chatting up a beautiful, statuesque woman on your way out. She kept touching his arm, smiling all pretty, giggling bewitchingly. He wasn’t doing much to stave off her physical display of affection. Must’ve been an old fling. How could you possibly compete with that?

You step into the elevator, heaving a sigh. Suddenly, a large hand slips between the doors, halting them from closing. He eases in beside you, a furrow between his brows as he watches you in your periphery.

“Were you not enjoying yourself?” he asks, breaking up the tense silence that befalls you as the elevator lazily drags itself between the floors.

You fiddle with your necklace, a nervous chuckle in your throat. “No, no, I was. I just…”

He suddenly spills over you. Blots out the bright lights overhead, filling your vision with only him. He perches his palms on either side of your waist on the rail behind you. Exudes a dizzying warmth and heady scent that makes you feel more inebriated than the bubbly you consumed.

For a moment, you forget how to breathe. You swallow against the dryness in your throat, squished up against the elevator wall. He quirks a brow, wordlessly encouraging you to continue. Studies your face with scarlet eyes smoldering like burning coals, fully aware of his effect on you.

“I—”

“You?”

You stiffen when his fingertips graze your cheek. He sweeps some hair behind your ear, watching your mouth quiver as you struggle to form words. Your gaze falls to his lips. You’ve kissed before. Though there’s no definitive title to your relationship, it stretches beyond that of interviewer and interviewee. Ambitious journalist and prodigious business mogul. Beyond mere acquaintances or friends.

He’s made it glaringly obvious that he likes you. He’s showered you with gifts and his time. Whispered the sweetest words to you, held you close. It would be nothing to kiss him now. To lay claim to him, spiting the pretty woman who’d been throwing herself at him earlier.

You’re not usually one to initiate. But you call up some courage, fingers wrapping around the lapels of his tuxedo jacket. He blinks at you, a little perturbed, lips slightly parted. You pull him to your height to kiss him, trapping a sound of protest in his throat.

He melts against you, the kiss evolving into something more heated as he anchors you to the wall with his body. His hands find yours, trapping them overhead, fingers tightly wound together.

He ravages your mouth. Leaves no part of it untouched by his tongue, drawling pretty mewls from you. He groans in response, addicted to the way you taste. To how you feel, so small and pliant against him. How you sound, sighing all content and gasping for air each time your mouths part.

The elevator dings, signaling it’s reached its destination. You’d forgotten you were onboard, lost in the feel of Sylus’ mouth moving against yours. He breaks away reluctantly, desire burning beneath his irises. He studies you for a beat before pulling you out of the elevator. You toddle behind him like a fawn, your heels too tall, legs feeling like jelly.

You vibrate with anticipation as he drags you to your room door. Pushes you up against it, swooping in for another taste of your lips, hand at the crook of your knee, bringing your thigh up to his hip. He swipes your keycard whilst your hands frame his face, and you’re kissing a little more desperately now. Stumbling back, shoved up against the door’s other side once inside your room.

His hands roam up and down your sides. He notches himself up against you, knee nestled between your thighs. You moan as he pulls away from your mouth, blistering your neck with kisses leading to your collarbones. Instinctively, your fingers find his hair, mussing up his pretty, white coiffure.

His phone rings in his pocket, the sound jarring amid your labored breaths and the rustling of fabric. He tries to ignore it, busy nipping at the junction of your shoulder, palms roving over the plush of your thighs, your hips. Whoever’s calling must have a vendetta against you because they don’t let up.

With an irritated sigh, he draws away from you. Still strokes over your skin, his cell held between his ear and shoulder as he grates a harsh “What” into the mic.

You stifle a chuckle. He looks so cute like this, lips kiss-swollen and smudged from your lipstick. Cheeks flushed, mottled red. His hair is slightly askew, the collar of his dress shirt wrinkled, and his bowtie loosened. He watches you with a crease to his eyes, cupping your cheek while his thumb teases your bottom lip.

You chase the feel of it, locking eyes as you nip at his fingerpad. His gaze darkens. He wants to kiss you again, but whatever’s taking place on his phone seems to be holding him back.

“On my way,” he sighs, shoving his phone back into his pocket. He inches in for a kiss, this one chaste and guiltless. Fingers smoothing back your hair, he breathes into the space between your mouths, “Forgot I had a speech to give.”

You pout, knowing where this is going, tugging on his jacket like a clingy toddler. “You leaving me?”

He chuckles, the faintest smile canting his lips beneath the low light of the hotel room’s entryway. “Only for a little while. I’ll come back for you, sweetheart.” He presses himself fully between your thighs, the seam of his trousers delightfully grazing your inner thigh. “Promise.”

You brush your noses together, lids lowered. “Okay,” you drunkenly nod, ghosting your lips over his.

“Wait for me?” It’s more of a request than a question, but you agree. You’ll always wait for him.

After kissing you one final time, he peels himself away, straightening his tie and smoothing out the wrinkles in his tux. You watch him from the slit of your door with a smile before closing it, propping yourself up against it, and sliding down.

With a dreamy sigh in your lungs, you’re a giddy mess as you fling yourself onto your bouncy mattress, kicking and squealing into the pillows like an enamored teen.

#sylus x reader #sylus x you #sylus romance #sylus fluff #journalist!reader #business tycoon/mafia boss!sylus #sylus fic #lads sylus #sylus #love and deepspace sylus

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arcielee · 7 months ago

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A night of pleasure.

Paring: Ser Gwayne Hightower x Female!Reader Word Count: 1.7k+ Warnings: AFAB Reader, the newest Hightower serving cunt, dom flare perhaps?, oral (m receiving), p in v, edging, masturbation with a sprinkle of voyeurism Author’s Note: This is a slight alternative of Baela not noticing them, so Gwayne and his merry men could tell Crispy to fuck off and they found that place off of Rosby Road. Thank you my Tumblr kindred spirits who helps me brainstorm, and a huge thank you to my beloved @aemondsbabe who beta read and helped me make sense of this smutty smut.

You awaited in a row with the other girls who had been called down by your Madam for review. It was often on behalf of some big bellied lord who was traveling along Rosby Road, who would choose which one he would take his pleasure from with sweaty grunts and moans, but tonight was different.

The honorable guest in question was Ser Gwayne Hightower; he walked the line with a smirk playing on his lips and his eyebrow arched with his scrutiny that came in-hand with his privilege. He was undeniably handsome though, with copper tones against alabaster skin and a dusting of freckles you only noticed when he finally paused in front of you.

You straightened enough, poised for display, burning as his gaze relished over your figure. The murky cobalt blue of his eyes darkened with his smile.

“I want her.”

Tonight you are the envy of the other girls. You can feel your thighs tensing with your anticipation as you follow him into the room. You remained by the door, watching as he pulled his tunic over his head; your eyes washed over him, admiring the muss of his red hair to the pale planes of his chiseled chest.

He caught you staring, another smirk on his pink lips. “You should undress,” he said, more a command than a request.

You burned under his heady stare, your fingers quick to unlace your gown and allowing it to puddle at your feet. Your cream chemise underneath was sheer with the candlelight of the room, an amber glow that poured over you both.

He moved closer towards you, his hand moving to cup your cunt and feeling through the cloth that covered it; you were bare beneath, your heat already pooling into his touch, and he hummed his satisfaction. He leaned closer, his breath hot in the shell of your ear. “This as well, pretty girl,” he said and his words bolted through you; you removed it, completely bare before him.

“Now on your knees,” he gave the husky command and you sank to the floor at once, looking up at him through your lashes. “Good girl.”

Your eyes fell to his waist and you could truly understand his arrogance that was heavy between his thighs. He wore his breeches low on his hips with a tease of golden hair that dipped towards the thick outline that pressed from his crotch. Your fingers trembled to touch, but he gave another hum of encouragement which emboldened you to loosen the laces and pull out his cock.

Ser Gwayne was kinder than most. His virtue was his patience as he watched your wonder. You gave a tentative lick and a kiss at the base; he throbbed as your tongue curled underneath, following up towards his swollen cockhead. You could taste the salt of him and you shifted, moving slowly to take him inch-by-inch until your nose pressed against his lower abdomen.

He groaned, something that vibrated through you, and his hand rested on the nape of your neck, not forcing you but also keeping you in place. His hips bucked and your fingers bit into his thighs, your eyes watering from the lack of air, and only then does he release his hold.

You coughed, tears streaming down your cheeks, and you saw his satisfaction blatant on his beautiful face; your thighs clenched, your body betraying you. You spit on your palm and your fingers wrapped around the base of his cock again as your mouth moved to reclaim his length, your wet gag mixing with another guttural groan from him. His hips rutted against your face as you slurped and sucked; you were quick to find a tandem with his thrusts, his cock throbbing against your tongue.

He pulled away from you. “Get on the bed.”

Another command that you are eager to follow, a slick already spilling between your thighs. You sat yourself on the edge, your thighs plush and your arms rigid at your sides, waiting.

He moved towards you with deliberate steps that gave a lewd sway to his cock, shining with your spit. Your mouth watered, eyes blown, and you looked up when he chuckled. His finger curled under your chin, tilting your head back further to meet with his heady gaze. “You seem almost desperate for more,” he observed with another smile.

Before you could answer him, he pushed you back, his hands wrapping around your ankles and propping your feet against his chest, folding you in half into the mattress.

You tucked your chin to your chest, watching his hand guide himself, following your silken slit before he slowly sank into you. You moaned and your hands moved under your hips, canting to try and accommodate his size that was splitting you in half.

He paused once he was fully sheathed, a low groan pulling from the back of his throat with how you fit around him. He was flushed, rose and golden in the lighting, a lustful black swallowing the color of his eyes when he looked down at you. He moved, his hands pressing into the back of your knees to balance himself as he began to fuck you into the bed.

You were panting with his brutal pace, your hands knotting into the sheets. His hips snapped against you, filling you with a passion that builds in your core. You dared to lift your hand, your fingers flitting to touch the bloom of nerves above your entrance; it was a trill of pleasure before being stopped suddenly.

“Did I say you could touch yourself?”

You felt cold with his words. He pulled away, perched at the end of the bed, his cock red and glistening as he watched you. You clenched around nothing, spilling and staining into the linen from the tease of pleasure that now aching through your bones. “Please, ser, I did not mean to offend–”

His hand wrapped around your ankle and he pulled you back towards the edge. It does not take much for him to move you until your torso was pressed against the mattress, your knees touching the floor. You felt his weight pressed to your back with a heat that had you squirming, and he chuckled. “You have not earned that yet,” he said, blowing softly in your ear.

Gooseflesh rippled over your skin with your pitiful mewled response, your hips wiggling for friction. Ser Gwayne tuts, pulling away, and his one hand gripped onto your hip to hold you still. You tensed as you felt his cockhead dragging through your silken folds, coating himself before he moved to fill you once again.

The new angle sparked something at the bottom of your spine with flames that prickled across your backside as his stroke went deeper and deeper. Your hips bucked back, meeting with his building motion, and his hands bruised into your hips with his brutal pace, the wet smack of skin-to-skin as he fucked you.

You clawed at the sheets, your mouth falling open, a wordless plea for release that was trilling to your nerve endings and teasing you once again. As your velvet walls began to flutter, he hissed, pulling back to pump himself to completion; you could feel his pearly spend spilling on your arse.

You wished to bury your face and cry, your body thrumming for a release that you were denied again. Your palms pressed to wearily push yourself upright, turning to look at him.

Ser Gwayne was standing, already tucking himself away. The brilliant blue of his eyes returned with a shine that looked you over. “Do you feel you have earned it, pet?”

He was teasing you, his lips ticking upwards. Your thighs clenched again, your head nodding. “Then you may now touch yourself.” His tongue clicked at the end, and your eyes widened. You were rooted until he spoke, “I will not tell you again.”

You scrambled to lay back onto the bed, uncaring of how his sticky spend seeped into the sheets. You grabbed for the pillows to lie against and you spread your legs for his show. Ser Gwayne was rapt to watch from the end of the bed, almost stoic as his eyes settled onto you. You do not look away, bringing your fingers to your lips and suckling before they dropped below to touch yourself, just as he commanded.

His jaw ticked with your salacious gesture, which was mostly unneeded as you were still wet and wanting, but it allowed a genial glide for your fingers to find your pearl. Your blood rose to the surface, beckoned by his bold stare and by your precise touch that uprooted the abandoned pleasure that had been pulsing earlier. Your fingers circled to pull a low moan, and his eyes fluttered at the vision you made: so pliant and plush, so very obedient.

“Just like that,” he rasped, his eyes unable to tear away. His hands flexed at his side, blood pouring until his cock was half-hard. “Let me hear you.”

You licked your lips, your moans spilling louder as your fingers continued, returning you back to tip you over that precipice with a honeyed burst of passion, pulsing thick onto your hand. It comes as a sobbed release, your chest heaving to catch your breath with how it shattered throughout; you melt into the mattress, boneless.

“Let me taste you.”

You opened your eyes, wet lashes clumped together, to see the gentleman gone to madness; he kneeled between your thighs, his fingers dimpling with his hold on you. His head dipped, a deep breath and a murmured, “Heavenly,” that tickled your skin. He placed an intimate kiss to the blossomed bundle of nerves. You cried out, your thighs tightening to a vice around his head, and he groaned against your wet cunt.

Ser Gwayne pulled back to look at you, his eyes lust-blown, and moved up to capture your mouth for a first kiss, stained with your tart taste that glossed his soft lips.

“You did so well for me,” he praised, nestling against you for another kiss. It was deeper this time, his tongue curling to your own, and your pulse began to flutter in your veins, your passion renewed. “I have decided that I will be keeping you to myself, all night.”

hotd masterlist || arcie's navi

#house of the dragon #hotd fanfic #ser gwayne hightower #ser gwayne hightower x you #ser gwayne hightower x reader #gwayne hightower #gwayne hightower x you #gwayne hightower x reader #afab reader

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restaurant-management-ecosystem · 1 year ago

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#customer facing display #guest facing display #restaurant point of sale #restaurant pos system #online ordering system #self service kiosk #full service restaurant #kitchen display system #quick service pos system #restaurant management software #restaurant pos software #restaurant management ecosystem

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eatos-blog · 1 year ago

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#guest facing display #restaurant POS system #full service restaurant #kitchen display system #restaurant management software #restaurant point of sale #online ordering system #quick service pos system #self service kiosk #restaurant kds #ai pos system #ai food ordering

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seresinhangmanjake · 26 days ago

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Healer

Feyd-Rautha x reader

Summary: Feyd's a bit attached to his new healer.

Notes/Warnings: nothing really. Cursing, kinda. Mention of injury.

Words: 3500

Feyd-Rautha Masterlist / Main Masterlist

He’s been trained never to forget a face. A lesson that started in childhood, which he instantly showed an aptitude for. Sealing the details of a face to memory keeps the image of an enemy alive. It keeps the anger festering. It overtakes his dreams so not a moment is wasted thinking of anything other than the victory of the battles ahead. It keeps him strong, formidable, a weapon of destruction to be used to the benefit of Giedi Prime whenever the situation calls for it, which is not infrequently.

But there’s been one exception in his life. An exception to those thoughts—a bit of room in his head for a dream other than those of fighting and bloodshed—and it is dedicated to you. Your face. Your eyes. Your smile.

He never met you. Never spoke to you. Only saw you. As you were led around the Harkonnen fortress by the elder healers, who were all growing too old to properly do their jobs, he peeked around corners and followed down hallways, trying to catch glimpses of the foreign girl.

He felt like a fool with each silent step he took. Much like the healers, he was too old to be doing what he was doing: lurking about his own home like a child playing hide and seek, striving to be unseen as if he was not important enough to have eyes upon him at all times. But he couldn’t help himself. He was curious. You were unique, and he liked unique things. He liked special things. Special things were all the more satisfying to corrupt. Though, for the first time, he had to contend with the incessant resistance to the voice telling him he didn’t want to hurt you.

Then you were gone, snatched away from him not a day later. But he’s never forgotten you. Your face has remained a clear image over the last five years, every feature unaltered. Not a mar on your skin misplaced.

That’s why he recognizes you instantly.

You’re a bit taller; hair a touch longer. Your features are more defined but still show the delicacy and softness that he remembers from years prior. Curves are prominent; hips wider, breasts fuller, the Geidi Prime leathers doing a poor job of hiding your shape. But you’re still as foreign-looking as ever. Equally as intriguing as the first time he saw you.

He’s acutely aware of his surroundings: the lack of air circulating, the placement of his body as he leans against the metal table in the center of the room, his discarded shirt. He’d stripped himself of the top half of his bloodied armor before you entered and now can not tell if he’d prefer to have kept it on. Modesty is not a trait attributed to him, but he feels too exposed with you here, like every thought he’s ever had of you is plastered across his pale skin, and the second you look at him, you’ll see the telling display.

But you’ve yet to look in his direction. You’re busying yourself, far more concerned with the bowls of medical supplies on the cart against the wall. You grab a couple of gauzy pads, some tape, and a small metal spatula that you’ve scooped some ointment onto.

Glancing over your shoulder, your eyes flick to his bicep before you return your attention to your collection. “It’s not too bad,” you tell him, and fuck, he likes your voice. He never got a chance to hear it before. You’d been an obedient little guest while trying to keep up with everything the elders were telling you years ago, and obedient little guests sew their lips shut. “Though I’m sure you’re aware of that.”

When the melody of your voice dissipates, he looks down at his arm. Truth be told, he forgot about the small slice that, with a bit of luck, a slave managed to inflict in the arena. The rush of pleasure subsided and he ceased feeling the warm trickle of blood seeping from the wound the moment you walked into the room, instantly more preoccupied with your surprising presence.

He was expecting one of the elders, the healers he’s had since he was a boy. But with their recent displays of poor memories and trembling fingers from age, he supposes it was only a matter of time before they would retire. However, he was not made aware of a replacement—a much younger, captivating replacement.

“You're new,” he says through the gravel in his throat.

“Yes,” you confirm. “But I assure you I know what I'm doing.” Then you turn and set your supplies on the table to the side of his body, laying them out in the order you intend to use them before getting straight to work.

The flinch that your touch induces when you rub an alcohol-soaked pad over his bicep to disinfect and clean the drying blood from his skin stuns him. He’s not a flincher. He never flinches. But he can’t help it. He can’t help the tingle that runs down his spine. He can’t help how his stare glues to your face as you work. He can’t help wanting to press his thumb to your bottom lip and tug it free from the trap of your teeth.

If he did that, would you even notice? You’re a thorough worker, honed in, too focused to stop and pay attention to him. Your steps are executed with the ease that years of practice afford, and the task is completed much sooner than he would’ve liked.

Your thumbs stroke over his bicep, smoothing out the edges of the tape that holds the pad to his skin. “There,” you say, satisfied with the job.

Finally, you look up at him.

The tingle returns, and bumps travel down the length of his forearms as he watches each shift of your features. How your eyes widen, how your lips part, how your breath hitches, making his heart hammer behind the wall of his chest. You’re so close. It wouldn’t take much to kiss you. A slight dip of his head. A hand on the back of your neck to draw you in those remaining inches.

But then you blink. The bond of your gazes breaks, and you take a step out of the bubble of space you were sharing. You clear your throat. Your eyes fall to the floor. “I’m done,” you mutter before quickly gathering the used supplies and discarding them in the trash. “I will see you after your next fight, my Lord. Assuming you suffer any injuries.” And then you’re gone.

—

It’s painful to Feyd’s pride, letting a weaker man succeed in injuring him in front of all of Giedi Prime. Spectators know the slave is an easy kill. He’s too thin, muscle mass barely evident. It’s a duel that should last mere minutes, if that, and yet Feyd lets it extend well past expectations—just long enough to ensure a few slashes of his opponent's blade will penetrate his thin armor without it being obvious he’s allowing the assault to happen.

The second Feyd feels the third nick in his flesh, a swift, skilled maneuver ends the slave’s life. Three is better than one, he thinks. More injuries means more time spent with you tending to him. And he wants that time. It is all he’s thought about for days. Feeling your touch again. Hearing your voice. Peering into your eyes.

He does not waste a moment to bask in the cheers following his victory, a tune he usually absorbs as if the sound grants him extended life. Instead, he drops his crimson-coated weapon onto the sand beside the fallen body and stomps toward one of the arena exits.

You startle when you see him, so subtle that had he blinked, it would’ve gone undetected. A brief scan of his chest confirms what he knew you would be surprised to see: more blood than before, more cuts for you to heal.

Composing yourself, you make your way to the aid cart. His eyes follow every movement of you collecting what you need before you turn to him, once again arranging your tools in the order you intend to use them.

The alcohol is cooler to the touch this time, a direct repercussion of his burning skin, and he grips the edge of the table until his knuckles whiten. He wants to reach out. He wants to feel you. You’re not as close as you were a few days ago, and it’s a glaring mar on the fruition of his daydreams. A wedge of air between you.

He leans in a modest couple of inches to see if you will maintain that distance. When you don’t, he says, “Where are you from?”

Your mouth opens and then closes. A pause, and then it opens again. “Caladan,” you say, your eyes still trained on the process of your work.

Caladan. Now that you say it, it makes perfect sense. The hair, the accent, the color of the clothes you wore five years ago. He hasn’t interacted with many Caladanians, any Caladanians, but still, he should’ve guessed.

“That's where you trained?” he asks, but he knows the answer. It’s common knowledge that Caladan produces strong healers, and you tell him just as much.

“We have good teachers,” you say as you swipe a spatula’s-worth of ointment just under his collarbone. “Healers from many planets find their replacements on Caladan. I was chosen to come to Giedi Prime long ago, once completing my education.” Feyd hums in acknowledgment. Your eyes flick up to his and then go back to his chest. A pink tinge seeps into your cheeks. “I visited once.”

“Is that right.”

You nod. “I liked it here,” you tell him. “It’s different, but different is…” your voice trails off. “Sometimes different is good.”

Feyd agrees. Different can be good. He runs his gaze down the length of your body. Sometimes different can be very good.

“Eager to leave such an inferior place?” he asks as you take a step to his right, starting on the cut across his pec.

Your brow pinches and you swallow—he can sense the hesitation—then you bite your lip. You can’t keep doing that: nibbling on that lip until its swollen state is indistinguishable from that of a long, thorough kiss. He’ll be inclined to do something about it. With each passing second, the urge grows harder to resist, and he’s just about ready to lift his hand to your face when you answer.

“There was nothing for me on Caladan,” you say. “Nothing for any of us. We were the children without families, without parents.”

Feyd snaps himself out of his fascination with your mouth and scoffs. “So what? They’re useless, anyway.”

The pressure of your hand holding the pad against his chest lightens, and you look up. Your expression is blank, but you hold his stare.

He can’t tell what’s tumbling around in that mind of yours. Maybe you know, maybe the truth of what he did to his own mother reached far enough to find an orphan’s ear on Caladan. Though what he’s done does not matter to him, he’s suddenly unsure of the effect it may have on you, and he can’t say he would be pleased to have offended you if it widens the gap between your body and his. But it proves inconsequential when your lips quirk up at the corners.

You lightly shake your head as you get back to work. “I wouldn’t know. They were dead before I could remember them.”

A huff blows from his nostrils. “Then trust me.”

Just barely, Feyd detects the slight curve of another smile. Silence passes as you tear off a strip of tape from the roll. Once the tape is sealed to his skin, you move away to begin cleaning up, but he grabs your wrist. You freeze solid. Then your head whips to stare at the contact. “There's one more,” he says before he releases you and turns.

As you step up behind him, the swell of pulsing energy surrounding you merges with his. Each puff of your breath warms his skin. The muscles in his back flex and shift in anticipation of your touch.

“Right,” you practically whisper. He nearly shudders when the tip of your finger traces a line just under the cut. “Just…stay still.”

Easier said than done.

—

He’ll admit this one potentially went a bit too far.

He had to do something, though. Something drastic. It’s been months of you tending to his intentional low-grade injuries, but lately you've begun to address them at a much quicker pace. After his last three fights, you’ve come in, slapped a piece of tape on his wounds, and rushed out before he could pull a word or two from you.

He can’t make sense of it. He doesn’t understand how what he did made everything change. From his perspective, you’ve grown closer. He knows you better from shared details of your history and life—details he does not care to request from any other soul on the planet—and those touches, those moments of skin-on-skin, were only becoming more intense. Your fingers were lingering longer. Your cheeks would redden whenever your eyes met. When your body was close enough to his, your breathing would turn shallow. Then one day, he touched your cheek, ran his thumb over your bottom lip, and now you run away as if being in his presence for too long will suck the life out of you.

But this you cannot run away from. This requires more attention.

A groan rumbles from his throat as he peels off his top layer and tosses it aside. The fabric is damp, slick with sweat and blood, and it makes a sloppy noise when it hits the floor. He looks down. It’s deeper than he intended. Not life-threatening by far, but you certainly won’t be able to stick a bandage on it and go on your way.

With a heavy exhale, he grabs a pad from the cart and presses it to his abdomen before crossing the room to lean against the edge of the table. He waits. After a handful of minutes, his patience curdles; thoughts of the impossible start to invade. Are you hiding? Did you escape? Have you thrown yourself off a ledge to get away from him?

You open the door before he can entertain any other questions.

“You’re late,” he grumbles.

The door slams behind you, your gaze instantly going to the blood-soaked gauze. There’s a lack of your usual grace as you stomp your steps in his direction. “Let me see it,” you demand in a tone he’s never heard from you. His heart pounds at the fire in your eyes. The pace of his breaths quickens.

He does his best to control the rise and fall of his chest, but it’s impossible. Luckily, you’re too distracted by the state of his lower body to notice. “Why are you late?” he asks.

“Move your hand.”

“Answer me.”

“Move your hand.” His brow raises. A beat passes, and then he pulls back the gauze to reveal the gash in his torso. A frown sets on your face. Your eyes snap to his. “Why?”

“Why what?”

“I watched you,” you tell him. “You gave that prisoner a window.”

“You’re late because you were watching the fight?” You’ve never watched his fights. It is not permitted. Your role is to wait for him, not join in on the entertainment.

You cross your arms under your chest. A crease forms in between your brows. “Why did you let him stab you?” you say, voice steady with the exception of the wobble that briefly sneaks in halfway through.

An immediate sense of satisfaction settles over him. It’s rapidly becoming clear—you’re more than bothered, more than irritated, you’re worried. And now he has the high ground. “Maybe you should assist me instead of asking questions. I’m bleeding out.”

Your lips part, but whatever words you have contain themselves just before they release, and your mouth closes. You stare at him. A smirk curls the edge of his lips that makes you roll your eyes.

With a huff, your arms drop down to your sides. “Stand up straight.”

When he does, your hand knocks his aside to remove the pad so you can better examine him. The bleeding has slowed. The skin around the wound has begun to feel tight. It still hurts like a damn bitch, and the way you focus on him only adds to the pleasurable sensation.

Your fingers press around the perimeter of the laceration, carefully prodding, searching for signs of something he would not understand, and his throat constricts at those gentle brushes on his flesh. His stomach clenches. Tingles and chills and goosebumps.

Once you’re satisfied with your findings, your hand flattens against the ridges of his abs. A sharp inhale sucks into his lungs as your palm slides up his body, stopping at the center of his chest. You lightly push. “Lay down,” you instruct. His hand raises and covers yours. He wants to hold on, pull you down with him, on top of him. If he could have your weight begging to meld with his, if he could kiss you– “Down. You need stitches.”

Your hand escapes from under his, and as you head over to the cart, he pulls himself up onto the table. Your supplies are all the same save for the pliers and thread that you expertly loop through the hole of a needle.

The punctures don’t sting. He can hardly feel them as he watches you nibble on your lip again, unable to jerk his gaze away from your face. With the seconds that tick by, your cheeks begin to bloom a soft pink. The shade deepens the longer he stares.

“It’ll scar,” you tell him as you tie off a final knot before peeling the gloves from your hands. He finally blinks. As he sits up, you take a few steps back and hug your arms around your waist. “You blocked every fatal attack but allowed this one,” you say. “Tell me why.”

He hums. It should be obvious. For what other purpose would there be? “Do you really not know?” he asks. When you don’t answer, he says, “Or are you smart enough to come to the conclusion all on your own.”

When he sees the harsh swallow in your throat, that’s all he needs. He slides off the table to stand and slowly eases closer, backing you up until you’re trapped between his body and the concrete wall. He searches for trembling, any evidence of discomfort, but it’s not there—no shaking hands, no quivering lip. His head dips, eliminating some unwanted space.

Your chin tilts upward slightly. But you hold yourself back. “My Lord…”

“Kiss me,” he whispers.

You swallow again. “You’re the na-Baron.”

“Yes.”

“We can’t–”

“We can,” he says. And then he leans lower and presses his lips to the delicate skin of your neck. He detects a gasp as his tongue darts out and glides across heated flesh. You smell so good. You taste even better. When he pulls back, your noses are almost touching; mouths so close the air between you becomes thin. “Kiss,” he repeats. “Me.”

Your eyes flit between his and his lips, which demand yours. He watches intently, waiting for you to finally surrender and sink into the pulsing thrum of your bodies.

And then you cave. Your hand goes to the back of his neck and your mouth plants firmly on his.

You kiss him hard, like you've wanted this as much as he has, and he can't help letting you have a moment of control to prove it. But he craves more. His head goes fuzzy as he matches the give and take. Fingers tangle into the strands of your foreign hair, lightly tugging, and he swallows the moan it draws from you.

He's greedy—wanting all that you have to offer. When your tongue touches his, his hands can't stop from roaming from your cheeks to your waist to your hips, pulling you closer.

Already he knows he won't be able to get over this. That this will not be a single kiss but rather the first of many. Very many. And by the way you grip his shoulders, it seems you know it too.

Suddenly, the connection severs and he's forced to chase after your lips, catching one more kiss before you pull out of reach. His brow pinches, but you don't acknowledge his distaste.

Your breaths are heavy as you peer up at him. “I don't wish to be a Lord's concubine.”

“You won't be my concubine,” he says. Concubine has been the furthest from his mind as his yearning for you has continued to grow over the weeks. It's too weak a title. He likes you more than that. More than his Darlings, more than any woman his uncle has attempted to throw at him.

“Then what will I be?”

He picks his words carefully, knowing that what he wants, what he's imagined, could be much too overwhelming. Scary, even. And he has no intention of making you a harder conquest. So all he says is:

“You’ll be more.”

---

A/N: I hope you enjoyed it. I've struggled to write much of anything for the past two months, so this took a lot, and I honestly don't know how it turned out. If you liked it, let me know :)

#feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha x you #feyd rautha #austin butler #dune 2 #feyd rautha fic #feyd rautha harkonnen

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