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screampied · 6 months ago

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✧ ⁺˳ cw. fem! reader, rockstar geto, fıngering, dirty talk, p slapping, squırting, petnames, mdni.

rockstar geto who’s always been good at his hands. his fingers, he loves more than anything to use your pussy before a show to “lessen” his finger cramps from strumming his guitar strings.

“i think i like this melody better, baby,” he’d whisper against the soft shell of your ear — split white knuckles buried deep into your cunt. as you’re sat on top of his lap, your legs tremor as they’re continuously rubbing off against his leather pulled down jeans. “i know, i know,” he utters to you, delving in the fat tips of his digits in and out. within seconds, your coating the entirety of his fingers with his slick. as your head continuously thwacks back against his broad chest, you shudder once he smacks your sopping drooling cunt thrice. “mhm, atta girl. bare ‘round my fingers, that’s it.”

the deafening rock music in the background roar from the blaring speakers — his bandmates were rehearsing last minute whilst their lead guitarist was occupying his time doing this. “s- suguru,” you suck in a heaving breathe, feeling an electric twitch inside your cunt arise. geto had various rings that wrapped around his fingers, plunging in and out of your slippery arousal. every few seconds, you heard his low chuckle, strong designer cologne scent wafting against your flared slit nostrils. “gonna cum, sugu— suguru, fuuuck.”

“not yet,” he presses his lips against the inside of your neck, bringing another rude spank toward your sloppy folds. his palm dampens from each hit. “we didn’t even each the chorus yet,” and you gasp, feeling the jitter of your thighs once his fingertips prod against that spot over ‘n over. “c’mon, pretty. lets hear those sloppy vocals, huh?”

your entire body felt feverishly warm. as you were on his lap, back bristling against his leather zipped jacket, you dig your nails into his meaty thigh.

already, you were slumped, vigorously pawing at his grainy made jeans. geto’s fingers were long, slender, and abnormally thick. deliciously thick, he’s stretched your cunt out so good that it’s got you drooling for more inches. his fingers were perfect, and with every finger that stuffs into your gummy walls, you only imagined what his cock would feel like.

geto’s fingers were the perfect length for strumming a guitar, an even more perfect length to be burying each digit straight into your pussy.

“fuck,” he swears against your ear, teasingly flicking his tongue against your collarbone. as you squirmed on his lap, his two fingers curl into a bowling ball grip. you whimper, your moans sounded so sweet that he contemplated using them as adlibs for a new single. “that’s it, baby. soak my fingers, don’t be shy ‘ta be my messy girl.”

as your body ruts against his lap, the bedazzled lanyard that was thrown over your neck jostles against your shoulders. your pooling heat that steadily flutters into the bottom pits of your stomach only grew, intensifying within each second.

you were seeing splotches of bright white, everything felt like a fever dream. as your clenched jaw dangles open, you wrap weak fingers around his jerking wrist. “s- sugu, ‘m gonna,” and you get caught off by a cute mewl, glossed lips parting into a gasping circular shape. the squelches of your own pussy bounces off your ears.

plop after plop,

your mouth starts to water, envisioning yourself making a mess on the suguru geto’s fingers.

he found your frantic squirming adorable, the way your thighs shook and how your vocals were so naturally pitched. with a voice that sweet, you’d have such potential. “give it to me,” he grunts, feeling a poking pressure brew against his crotch. dark, blown irises gaze toward his lap and he’s getting hard. your ears rang, a shrilling sound going out one ear and the other. two fingers swirl around your cunt, profusely jackhammering against your g-spot until you let off cute pathetic sobs. “c’monn, let’s hear that slutty outro.”

with your brows contorting together, you only last for a few more seconds until you feel a sudden sensation gush straight out of you. a rippling wave sends you on a high — you could barely say anything but moan out the five syllables of his name in a lewd, needy way. over and over until its twisting on your tongue in constant repeat, your own personal orgasmic chant. you’re a puddled mess, left with your jaw dropped and eyes squeezed shut. brief tears stick against your lashes in pleasure as you feel your hips bucking against his lap.

“s- sugu— fuck,” you babble, feeling the intense curl of your toes. gnawing down on the skin that glues to your lip, you coat both of his fingers with a decent amount of your translucent slick. you’re in a euphoric daze — huffing out short breaths as he takes one good swab of his digits inside of your pussy, snickering behind you.

“did you just squirt on me, pretty?” and you were so dumb off his fingers you could barely register anything he said. his words were a sly whisper, he gradually pulls his digits out before slowly spreading them apart. as his black rings were all sheeny with arousal, he holds his hand up right in front of your face before waving it by your nose. “yeahh you fuckin’ did, guess you really are a messy girl, huh?”

you were completely too stunned to speak — you glance at his fingers with droopy eyes, feeling a cold breeze of air ghost against your cunt as your legs sprawled open even still. “s- suguru,” your full lungs could barely keep up with your irregular pants.

it was chaotic, your thighs continued to shake as your jaw tightens on its own. you could barely even murmur out any words and that’s when geto drags his fingers toward his own lips — popping them right into his mouth, savoring your sweet candied taste.

“mhm,” he lolls his tongue around the stringy honeyed slick that coats all down his twin digits. you’re still panting, hearing him sloppily suck his fingers clean before he uses a free hand to reach down between your legs - tugging on the lacey fabric of your panties. “good girl, ‘s so sweet. open ‘n taste it yourself, princess.”

with hooded half lidded eyes, you moan, parting your lips apart—pink twitching tongue curling around his incoming fingers. as you shamelessly lap your own mess on his digits clean, he gives the back of your head a kiss. “thaaaat’s it, clean my fingers for me.”

after you finish, geto couldn’t resist but have you lean over his keyboard stand. giving the left side of your ass cheek an autograph, he signs his stage name in bold cursive letters.

as you’re bent over, you puff out a single breath, the twisting of the strong scented marker tickling against your bare flesh. “heh, i hope you enjoy the show tonight,” and as the cap of the marker’s sticking out of his mouth, he gives your ass an abrupt smack.

geto hums at the little whiny squeal that rips out of your throat, witnessing the letters smear a bit from your ass and leaking onto his palm. with a sly smile, he pulls the center string of your underwear back toward its original position, spinning you around to place a vip pass inside of your bra.

the rockstar’s sexily slouched — manspread on a velvet red seat, the fur of the chair providing him luxurious comfort. with his head lazily cocked to the left, unkempt black strands flowing down his shoulders, a simple wolf cut, he simpers. “come ‘n see me after, baby, yeah?”

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whateveriwant · 8 months ago

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NSFW Size Difference HCs with Simon Pt 2

F!Reader, Part 1

Before you, Simon never had a partner that was able to take him more than halfway. So the first time you took his cock all the way down, he knew right then and there he was going to marry you

This man is thick everywhere, which is fun when it comes to stretching your pussy open, but not so fun when it means you can’t fully wrap your legs around his waist :(

Lube is a must-have when you’re having sex, but cum is a decent alternative when you’re in a pinch (good thing he’s always making sure to pump you full of it 😊)

Thinking about trying anal? Go right ahead! So long as you’re okay with not sitting right for the next week

You thought the reason he has such a big car is because he needs the leg room. While that’s partially true, it’s also because he likes to fuck you in the backseat without bumping his head on the ceiling

Speaking of which, you’ve had to rein him in when it comes to getting adventurous on where you have sex. You can only break so many dining room tables before he realizes maybe it’s better to stick to the bed

He got you one of those clone-a-cock dildos because he knows none of your toys can satisfy you like he does. In return for such a nice gift, you make sure to send him videos of you using it when he’s off on deployment

You never understood his obsession with raising your hips up everytime he took you on your back – that is, until you looked down and saw for yourself how your stomach bulged from where his cock was hitting you from the inside 😳

Beast of a man that he is, he doesn’t let himself get too rough with you in bed. He’s not trying to break you, poor little thing :(

That being said, if you give him permission, he’s not above pinning both your wrists to the mattress with one hand as he fucks you within an inch of your life

One of his favorite things to do after pulling out of you is spread your lips apart and watch how your little hole gapes for him

It’s okay, baby. He knows how puffy and swollen your pussy gets after having two loads fucked into it. But you can take another one, can’t you? That’s a good girl…

#simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley smut #ghost smut #cod smut #ghost cod #ghost mw2 #simon riley x you #cod x reader #call of duty x reader #cod mw2 #call of duty #modern warfare 2 #female reader

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heavenbarnes · 9 months ago

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anyways, as i was saying about older bf!simon and his willingness to please learn

pt 2 to this

“you ever heard of a nut video with sound on?”

obviously, he hasn’t- far as he’s concerned, if you haven’t told him about it then it doesn’t exist to him.

no skin off your nose, you’d spend the rest of your life teaching him about the ‘latest trends’ if it meant he kept sending those filthy fucking videos to your phone.

(your favourites on tiktok were purely filled with ideas)

he’s holed up in a remote location, killing time till he can be home and actually do something to you rather than send you a bloody video about it.

your instructions come through clear and concise, just how he likes:

“it’s what’s written on the can, si- you can pick the setup but i just want to see you cum and, most importantly, i want to hear it”

you’re lucky simon is such a practical guy and maybe you could thank price one day for making him so good at following orders.

when he’s got his alone time he’s setting his phone up to record on the edge of the window sill, moonlight fighting through the curtain to illuminate him.

he’s lost the bulkiest of his gear, down to his tactical trousers and a compression t-shirt. the images in his tattoo sleeve almost move when the light catches them right.

balaclava on (the one that just shows his eyes above the painted image of a skull) and he’s standing up to undo his belt (that you think looks like an airplane seatbelt).

you can hear his boots against the floorboard as he steps back to give you the full view of him undoing his trousers, taking his sweet time because he knows it drives you fucking batty.

he’s so big that the phone is working overtime to get all of him in the frame but you see exactly what you need to- thick thighs at your eye line and massive hands drawing down his fly.

on (you assume) the other side of the globe, you’re at home in your shared bed and you’re propped up right in the middle with the smell of simon engulfing you as you watch the video play out before you.

(if you’d thought about it you should’ve cast it to the bedroom tv, hoping the neighbours didn’t mind)

simon sits back down with his legs spread wide, one hand gripping his thigh as the other rubs himself over his boxers. his eye contact with the camera was fucking intense, like you’d hoped, just like when he’s on top of you.

he’s dressed in all black and the moonlight is obscured but you can still see him firming up in his pants. his eyes flutter, an infinitesimal amount but you’ve been tuned into his every move since you met him.

your thumb leans hard on the volume up button and you can hear the diegetic sound of the building expanding and that usual technical hum that comes with a video. but at this pitch, you could hear him.

his breathing was chopped, chest expanding visibly as he pulled his cock out into clear view. jeeeeesus christ, it was never something you just got used to.

long, reasonably straight, fucking thick. even his hand struggled to make it look smaller as he wrapped around it, giving one dry tug.

as he closed his palm over the tip, you saw him make a swipe before he brought his hand back down considerably smoother than before. you’d had your hands down his pants enough times, man leaked like a fucking faucet.

simon’s head tipped back as he started to pull himself off, balaclava raising just enough to expose some of his throat. if you were there you would be perched in his lap, letting him do the work but running your tongue under the lip of the fabric.

one of the best things about the videos simon sent was, he didn’t really understand how sexy he was. he didn’t think any of the videos particularly watchable so he’d just send them on first take. if you liked them, you liked them- yours was the only opinion that mattered.

what that meant was, you never got b-roll. everything he sent you was unbridled perfection. captured exactly as it happens with no faffing about.

always whatever you’ve asked for, whenever you ask.

(simon’s nothing if not inexplicably obedient)

he brings his hand under his chin to spit into the wide span of his palm, wrapping back around his cock and tugging. his foreskin moved over the head, rolling back down and thick veins bulging under his grasp.

you’d almost forgotten the conditions of your request, totally fucking enamoured by the sight in front of you when it caught you off guard.

a guttural moan ripped out of simon’s chest as he twisted his wrist.

his free hand moved to cup his balls, big and heavy, he rolled them in his palm as another groan sounded out of him. what you wouldn’t give to be knelt between his thighs with the whole lot in your mouth.

you knew how much of an ask this was, you really had to work him up to making noise when it was just you two in bed. these days? you couldn’t shut the man up when he was balls deep and his face was buried in the crook of your neck.

but this was another step, this was him on his own with his crew just through the walls. he’d be a plain liar if he said there wasn’t that rumbling trepidation in his chest. he’d put it to bed though.

all he had to think of was you, one hand gripping your phone and the other between your thighs as you watched him through with a hazy smile- that kept him going.

with the thought still heavy on his mind, you didn’t have to strain to hear your name drift off his lips. his hips bucked into his hand as he did, speeding up the motion of his strokes.

you were going to black out, his tattoos flexing and his chest expanding with every stuttered breath. simon looked like a god among men and he fucking sounded like one too.

“fuck, sweetheart- you’re so fucking filthy giving me orders like this”

your cheeks were burning, he wasn’t wrong but you weren’t expecting him to call you out quite like this.

“what does that make me? always so fucking eager to do what you say? make a dirty old man, yeah?”

wheeeeeew that’ll do it, your thighs snapped together around your hand as your eyes nearly rolled back in your head. whenever you thought you couldn’t take any more, he was always there to do you one better.

“only for you, pet- you can always get whatever you fucking want from me”

and you knew he was serious, that’s what made it all the more debilitating. simon was unshakeable, you’d seen him go out of his way to defy orders if he didn’t think the person worth his time.

when it came to you? you could tell him to kill and he would.

(he probably had)

simon’s hips were twitching, back arching in a way he’d rather die than have anyone else know about. his mouth was hanging open beneath the balaclava, your name and a string of expletives falling off his tongue.

so quick you nearly missed it, the hand that was cradling his balls moved to grip the fabric of his shirt and push it up his toned front. you couldn’t call his abs cut and defined, there was aged layer to them, but they were undeniably there.

you’d rested your head on them, pressed your palms against them, even ridden them enough times to know they were there. regardless, he looked fucking perfect under the moon glow as he stroked himself hard and long.

eyes locked onto the camera, broken moans on his lips, you saw his hips lift one last time as thick spurts of cum began to paint his stomach and chest.

scars illuminated under the night sky, mirrored by shiny patches of hot cum splattered across the same stretch of skin. the hairs on his chest were matted with sweat and were now being splashed with how far he was shooting.

you could only watch with your mouth hung open as he tugged himself through his orgasm. soon it was only the sound of his laboured breathing, chest rising and falling as he tucked his soft cock back into his pants.

just when you thought that was it, you found one of his hands lifting up the edge of his balaclava till his lips were exposed. two fingers of his other hand swiped up some of his spend before he lay them on his tongue.

knuckles in your mouth, biting down to suppress a scream, simon readjusted his clothes as he stood and took a heavy step towards the camera.

one hand braced on the window sill, the other gently gripping himself through his trousers- his voice was so fucking gravely it could’ve reverberated round your room.

“what’s next sweet’art? you name it, it’s yours”

#i actually went fucking crazy on this one i couldn’t stop writing #id give a fucking kidney to watch this guy jerk it on camera #anyways ANWAYS put a ghost mask in my bfs amazon cart- WHO SAID THAT?#simon riley smut #simon ghost riley smut #ghost smut #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley drabble #simon ghost riley drabble #ghost drabble #simon riley blurb #simon ghost riley blurb #ghost blurb #older bf!simon

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nereidprinc3ss · 2 months ago

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bambi

in which spencer reid and fem!reader fuck like they missed each other (because they always do) and he teases her for her shaky legs

18+ (smut) warnings/tags: softdom spencer, piv sex (riding, a first for nereidprinc3ss) /oral f receiving (in that order) mentions of him accidentally grabbing her hips too hard, slight somno SORT OF like he starts going down on her while she’s sleepy and then she kind of goes in and out but its all consensual, sorry haters i fucking love sleepy sex and I always will, teasing, lots of praise, fluffy, established relationship, he loves her badddd, aftercare, literally nothing bad happens no angst for once they just are having sex cause they are in love which is arguably the most superior kind of sex! a/n: I don’t think I’ve ever written smut that is so wham bam thank you ma’am like really we just get RIGHT into it!! also no gif no pics we r going old nereidprinc3ss on this one I hope you loveeee!!!

You roll over onto Spencer and kiss once, long and deep and sweet. He hums into it, too whipped to pretend like he’s got self control or respect, hands finding the soft skin of your bare waist and settling there.

How it got to this point so quickly, no more than fifteen minutes after he walked through the door, you can’t say. Usually the two of you are a bit more domestic when he gets home from a case, but eight days is a long time to be apart, and the trail of clothing leading from the welcome mat to the foot of the bed attests to that.

So does the lack of teasing, of begging—at least, a lack up until this point. Right now, there’s only him, patient and content to let you play at being in charge. You pull back and reach down to grab him gently, aligning him at your entrance with a trembling hand. This part, you’re not usually responsible for.

He assures you with a hand to the small of your back, rubbing soothing circles. “You got it. Slowly.”

You do as he says, brow furrowing in focus as you sink down an inch or two onto him. Spencer’s breathing grows erratic as you take more and more of him, and in a heroic display of overachieving, you take the rest of him at once with nothing but a squeak. He laughs breathily as his fingers dig into your hips.

“Fuck—I said slow.”

You can’t think. The overwhelm of it all is too much as you crumple forward onto his chest. The subtle rocking you’re doing to try and alleviate some of the pressure in your core is apparently too much as he stops you by the hips, fingers pressing into those same tender spots.

Spencer’s breath is ragged. “Don’t… do not move.”

“Fuck,” you breathe into his shoulder, long and drawn out as despite his wishes you wriggle around, trying to get comfortable. “Oh my god.”

“My lovely girl, please… please don’t move,” Spencer gasps, a plead, and you try to stop for him, nuzzling even deeper against his neck. “I need a minute.”

“It’s too much,” you slur, dizzy as you try to adjust to the feeling. “Please.” You don’t know what you’re asking for. Maybe relief from the sensation that he can’t offer you. Maybe more.

Spencer is undone by you—the way you writhe on top of him, the way your voice shakes, the way you’re so totally and completely overwhelmed and he can feel it and he loves it.

“Baby,” he breathes, and he meant to say a lot more than that, but it’s the best he can manage when he is this overstimulated. “Baby,” he whispers again, wrapping his arms around you in an effort to ground you, to give you something else to focus on as you both get used to the feeling.

It’s going well—for a moment, before your back is arching.

“Spence, I need to move, I can’t—”

“Okay, okay.” He takes a deep breath, returning his hands to your waist and mentally preparing himself not to cum early. He’s desperate to give you want you want, to feel you like this. “Go ahead. Move, honey. Please.”

By the time you slowly lift your hips up and drop back down with a low cry, Spencer’s lost. His head falls back against the pillow and his eyes squeeze shut.

“Fuck,” he groans. “Oh, angel, I missed you.”

You do it again, motivated by his praise, and he can hear your little gasps and desperate gulps of air.

“I missed you so much,” you whine and clench around him, pleasure so intense it’s a resounding ache in the far reaches of your body. “Oh, fuck, Spencer.”

Spencer shivers. He loves when you make it personal, when you say his name like that and it becomes clear this isn’t just about the physical.

“My girl. Just like that. Doing so well, baby, just like that.”

Each pass of your hips has you whining. Your lips skim over his neck, not cognizant enough to actually kiss—only to know that you want the contact.

“Please can I go faster?”

Spencer almost doesn’t realize you’re speaking to him he’s so lost in pleasure. The idea of faster is as compelling as it is troublesome. Spencer doesn’t know if he can’t take faster, not when he has you like this, but he certainly wants to find out.

“Yeah, lovely. Do whatever feels good.”

You readjust and begin to pick up the pace, stumbling over a few false starts as it’s clearly more sensation than you’d been prepared for.

Spencer, on the other hand, has his eyes screwed shut tight, and is attempting to draw a two-dimensional Császár polyhedron on your back, but he loses his place with every twitch of your hips, so eventually he decides to trace imperfect Mandelbrots down your spine—anything to avoid thinking about how the pH of your body interacts with sweet vanilla perfume to create a scent so deeply intoxicating he’d leave his entire life behind just to trail after it, or how you fucking feel against him, on top of him, around him, how miraculous it is that you keep letting him touch you—

“Oh—” you whine quietly, a strangled sort of noise that has his heart skipping. Your hand tangles desperately in his hair as you rock your hips faster and faster and he lets out a tortured groan. “Spencer, oh my fucking god.”

“I know, baby,” he manages, endeared by the fact that you feel so good you have to share it with him. Even now you’re trying to explain it because you want him to be part of it—as if he doesn’t know exactly what you’re feeling already. “That feels good, huh?”

“Mm—f—eels—” you cut yourself off with a cry into the crook of his neck, and he holds the back of your head, vision greying as he stares unseeing at the ceiling because if he looks down this’ll be over too soon.

“You’re so good,” he breathes, “you’re perfect.”He hears you gasp at the same time as your rhythm falters, and presses a kiss somewhere indiscriminately on your head. “Gonna cum?” He murmurs in your ear, and you nod desperately, rutting against him hopelessly as your thighs tremble from exertion.

Even the smallest drop-off in friction has his head spinning like he stood up too quickly, so he gives himself enough leverage to start fucking you. You cry out and shift your weight like you’re going to try and evade the feeling—self-sabotage, you always do this—and he again has to hold your hips in an iron vice, just to force you to feel it.

“You’re okay, I’m gonna get you there.”

“Fuck!” You very nearly yell, still trying to wriggle away up until the very last second like the tide going out before the tsunami comes. When you do cum, your demeanor instantly changes—you get heavy and clingy and whiny as you rock back and forth through your orgasm.

“Good girl,” Spencer murmurs, being careful in the way he continues to fuck you until he reaches his peak as well, not long after. You shudder, and Spencer feels the way your entire body tenses the way it sometimes does after a particularly strong orgasm, and he fights his way out of the brain fog to rub your back with the skimming tips of his fingers. “Shh. You’re okay. Relax, baby.”

And you do, unwound by the dance of his hand and with a few shallow breaths that gradually deepen, until you’re once more slack on top of him.

“You’re incredible,” he exhales, with his lips pressed to your hairline.

So clearly overwhelmed, the only response you can muster is a soft squeak. Spencer laughs fondly, still mapping the soft curve of your back. He feels the way you’re still attempting to train your breathing and kisses your hair again. “What do you need, angel?”

“I’m s’posed to be taking care of you,” you slur. Spencer chuckles again and his brow knits.

“According to who?”

“According to… I was on top…”

“Yeah. You did all the hard stuff. Your legs are shaking.”

You whine softly. “No they’re not.”

His hand slides down to your thigh, and he rubs the trembling muscles.

“No? No Bambi legs for me this time?”

You squeeze them around his waist like you could shrink away from his touch. “Spence…”

“I’m teasing you, honey,” he murmurs, pressing kisses wherever he can reach. “You’re cute.”

“Hm.”

“Look at me,” he murmurs, angling his head expectantly as you slowly raise yours. The look on your face is so sweet—eyes half lidded, lips swollen and much higher in color than usual. Your cheek is warm to the touch. His heart flutters like it did on your first date, and the first time he kissed you, and the first time you fell asleep on his shoulder. This view will never get old. “Wow. Look at you, beautiful girl. Can I have a kiss?”

And you grant him his wish, with a long, soft kiss that’s worth every second of that burning feeling in his lungs, every time.

Eventually you huff out the remainder of your air against his well-kissed lips and your head flops to his chest.

“I’m sleepy.”

“So go to sleep,” he murmurs, so warm from your kiss he feels nothing could be wrong in the world at this moment.

“I can’t.”

“Why’s that?”

“’Cause you just got home ’nd I missed you and I wanna spend time with you.”

“We have three days to spend together. If you go to sleep now, we’ll actually get more time together tomorrow.”

“But it’s more about, like, how it feels—how much time it feels like we spend together right when you get home, and if I go to sleep now, it’s gonna feel like less time, and—basically you’re just not understanding my math.”

“What math?” He laughs, continuing to rub your legs all the way up to your hips, at which point you hiss and buck—a very visceral feeling when he’s still inside of you. “What? What hurts?”

“You tried to fucking tear my hip flexors from my body, is what hurts,” you grumble.

“Tender?”

“Mhm.”

“I’m really sorry, angel. Tylenol?”

“Mm-mm. Can you kiss me better?” Sleep stains your voice. Spencer smiles to himself.

“Yeah?”

“Mhm.”

“Lie down.”

Again you whine as you slip off of him, landing heavily on your back. He sits up, watches with so much affection the way you squeeze your thighs together and arch ever so slightly against the empty feeling.

“Spencer?” You whisper as he cups the top of your knees.

“Hm?”

“I love you.”

He pushes your legs apart gently so he can settle in between them and kisses you again. “I love you. So much.”

“Glad we’re on the same page.”

He presses a kiss to your head, down your neck, taking the scenic route to your hip bones, but you don’t seem to mind.

The feeling of his lips gentle on the tender flesh has you humming softly, eyes fluttering shut as he showers you with gentle kisses. His traces every place his fingers had pressed earlier—feels the way you relax further underneath him. Nobody’s ever let him in this deeply before, but you trust him with everything you have; your body, your soul, in life or death, awake and in sleep. He’ll never take that for granted. He will never pass on an opportunity like this, to be the one who takes care of you, who puts you back together, as long as you’ll let him.

Still dancing the line of consciousness, you part your legs, the slow drag of your bare thigh like a jumper cable to his heart. Fingertips trace desirous paths up your inner thigh and back down again. He recognizes this invitation for what it is, and he knows exactly how to give you what you want, but he asks first anyway.

“Was that on purpose?”

“I d’know what you mean. I’m so sleepy,” you slur, and he believes the second half of your statement to be fact.

Spencer pushes your thigh a little higher, and you’re completely pliable for him, completely gorgeous. As soon as he skims your thigh with a barely-there kiss, exactly the way you like, you’re lacing a hand in his hair.

“Please, Spence…” you murmur, and he can’t argue with that. He especially can’t argue when you widen your legs just that slightest bit more, and your arousal is opalescent between your legs.

He hums, trailing more kisses up until he’s setting the softest one yet against your clit. “Beautiful girl…”

The following gasp is so tiny he could’ve missed it if he wasn’t so attuned to your noises—and then he gets lost in you, making sure to keep his ministrations light as you already came twice recently and are sure to be sensitive. He doesn’t want to wake you from whatever twilight half-slumber trance you’re in, either, sensing that if he does you’ll fight all over again to stay up.

And admittedly, he adores being trusted to take care of you like this.

Your back arches as much as you’re capable of in this state, and he can’t help the way he just barely suctions onto you at that moment, coaxing a sighing moan so sweet and vulnerable and open it gives him chills. Fuck. He really wants to make you cum. But instead he practices patience, tracing you with the tip of his tongue, pressing gentle kisses everywhere you need them—he draws it out. For he doesn’t know how long.

The first time you get close, your hips begin to roll, and you spout little ah’s, but he talks you back down again, laughing lightly at your angelic cooing, your little sounds of sleepy pleasure. Even now you’re so responsive, moving against his mouth as he slips a finger into your soaked entrance, fucks you for a moment, and then retreats. Maybe he’s being unfair, but you don’t seem to mind.

In fact, you’re slipping in and out of sleep as he devours you for what feels like hours, one hand pressed lovingly to your stomach, stroking the soft skin there. Spencer’s never had this long to explore you with his mouth and he takes full advantage of every moment, but he keeps all his kisses and licks and touches gentle and reverent and so loving.

You don’t know how long it’s been, or how many times he’s made you cum when he finally retreats—you half-wake just as he’s finishing cleaning you up. Soon he tosses the towel aside and presses feather-light kisses to each of your cheeks, tear-stained and warm with pleasure. You feel completely drained and completely loved.

“Hi, sleeping beauty,” he murmurs, climbing into bed with you, at some point having gotten dressed.

You manage an embarrassed little laugh. More tears crawl down your cheeks as you roll to your side. Spencer brushes them away and pulls you into him, slinging your thigh over his waist. He chuckles.

“Shaky?”

“Stop,” you whine, embarrassed by his teasing, and hide your face against his chest. “That’s not my fault.”

“It’s nobody’s fault. It’s sweet,” he insists as he rubs your back. And then, a moment later, “So—do you think we’ve spent enough time together for tonight?”

“No.”

He sighs good-naturedly.

“You’re gonna wear me out, you know that?”

“’F you… can’t handle the heat… get outta the kitchen.”

When he next speaks you can hear the smile in his voice.

“Go to sleep, Bambi. Let’s see if you can walk in the morning.”

#spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer Reid fluff #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds smut #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfic

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kamitv · 2 months ago

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Higuruma’s the kinda guy that has no idea how the hell he pulled you so every time your eyes linger on him a little bit too long, he gets nervous as fuck. Sweat will trickle down the back of his neck and he gulps loudly enough for you to hear it, to which you start smiling at him.

Those wide-set eyes of his carefully drag back over to you and he notices the way you’re staring at his nose. You always gush about how much you love that part of his face and ever since then he can’t control the twitch beneath his slacks as he replays exactly why you love his nose so much in his head.

And hey, it’s no help that you’re sitting right on top of him right now. Your manicured nails that he paid for grazing all over his skin, touching his neck, his jawline, and soon his face too. Then you lean in and kiss the bridge of his nose so softly that it makes him grunt.

“You’re so perfect Hiromi,” You’d hush out to him in that tone you know drives him craze.

Higuruma is left slouching further back into the couch and spreading his legs further apart with a not-so-subtle roll of his hips upwards against you. “Please. That’s all you, sweetheart.” He tries to play it off as if he’s not complete putty in your hands but lord knows when you start trailing your touch down his breath his hitching in his throat.

You smile—a sight he can never get enough of, truly. “Take the compliment, Hiro. I’m bein’ serious…” Your fingers are wrapping around his tie now and his eyelids are all low on you.

Still trying to play it off, this time with a chuckle, he hums. “…Thank you, love.” He’s such a gentleman too, all easygoing and relaxed for you.

Which says a lot considering the kind of man he becomes while he’s fucking you.

Higuruma isn’t exactly mean, nor is he much of a talker during sex but… His cock damn sure says a lot as he later fucks up into you just to hear those sweet praises you give him.

You just love complimenting your man and he loves being complimented—honestly the perfect match for each other.

Every moan of his name that leaves your lips only drive him deeper and deeper inside you. He’s so stupidly in love with you and most times it shows through sex instead of words. Despite how he’ll have you bouncing up and down on his left curved cock for hours, this is the most passion you’ll get from the overworked man.

And when he does open his mouth to speak, your cunt is fluttering around his thick head. Whispering a crisply husk utterance of, “Fuck. Ride me, love. Ride me juuus’ like that. Y-Yeahhh. Shit. Love these fuckin’ hips, don’t stop movin’ ‘em.”

Your moaning grows louder by the second and he’s guiding you up and down his dick, eyes rolling to the back of his head with every perfect slam of your ass down onto him. His groans are so deep that they practically bounce off of the walls of your living room, leading you to clamp around him tighter than before.

Higuruma especially loves your nails for some reason. He can’t get enough of how they feel ghosting his skin every time you move your arms or whenever you move to grab ahold of his face and lean down to kiss him. That’s why he’s always paying for them (even though he secretly loves spoiling you too).

Then, when you get a bit more confident and slip your hands down to hold onto his arms, he groans again. His grip on your hips would tighten and there’s just one wet plop after another while you ride him in earnest.

Which is what prompts filthy words to pour out of his mouth like, “Uhuh, fuck yourself on my cock, pretty girl. C’mon, you can do it. Make yourself feel good. Use me baby, use me.”

Again, he’s not much of a talker but sometimes you cause the words to just spill from his lips. While he’s spewing filth out to you, you’re getting closer and closer to a messy release. It’s right as you’re about to cum that he demands you look him in the eyes (no matter the position) so that he can watch them gloss over as you cum all around his girthy cock.

You look so fucking gorgeous when you come undone too—it’s a sight Higuruma simply can’t get enough of. Half the time, he ends up fucking his cum up into you just because of that look alone. You wouldn’t even be able to move or run from his deep thrusts, feeling every inch of his carry against your walls until his cum is fucked all the way in to the point that it’s dribbling out of you.

It’s messy but, he loves it. He loves you. And even after sex, he still doesn’t understand how the hell he’s managed to bag a beautiful woman such as yourself…

#jjk smut #jjk x you #higuruma hiromi #jjk higuruma #higuruma x reader #jujutsu kaisen higuruma #higuruma smut #higuruma x you #higuruma x y/n #hiromi jjk #hiromi x reader #jjk x reader smut #jjk #jjk x y/n #jjk x reader #anime smut

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webism · 2 months ago

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ᯓ Kento Nanami doesn't even know he has a breeding kink until he cums inside of you for the first time. It's like a flip switches in his brain, and the second that sweet release floods your womb he is plagued with the instinctual need to fill you over and over and over until something takes.

And breeding you doesn't have to mean a baby, but rather the primal possession that comes with having you spend the rest of the day with a part of him inside of you. No other man has the privilege, the right, or the reason to claim you as he has, and it does something nasty to the way he fucks.

He's still the gentleman he's always been: still makes sure you cum at least once on his fingers or tongue before he graces you with the hard-to-manage length of his cock. But rather than in the spirit of purely giving you pleasure, he's trying to ensure you're so wet that he can force himself just that little bit deeper inside of you.

A guilt of his, perhaps, but Kento read that if he were to edge himself between moments of intimacy with you, that his loads would be bigger, more forceful—and the idea of giving you even more of himself than he already had been is enough to get him hard. So, he starts touching himself whenever the thought clouds his mind, which is more-often-than-not nowadays. He fucks his fist to the thought of breeding you out until he's cumming dry and you're so full of his cum that it has nowhere to go other than down your legs. Stopping before he cums is a pain like none other, but his new adopted thought process claims a load spent anywhere other than balls-deep inside of you is a load wasted.

And he doesn't say a word of it to you. You only pick up on it when you realise he won't cum anywhere else. When you're sat between his legs after a long day of work, serving him with your mouth and coaxing those lovely groans from his chest. How his hands try and guide you off of him before he gets close enough to lose control, sys he doesn't want to cum down your throat. Once upon a time he would get hard all over at just the sight of you swallowing his lust.

"I just... want to be inside of you, honey, is that okay?" He says, and you oblige because the way Ken gets once he's finally seated inside of you is nothing other than animalistic, euphoric. But you have to wonder if there's a reason he avoids spilling his seed over your tongue or tits like he used to.

"You know I like the taste, right?" you glance over at him when he bends you over the arm of the couch and slips his aching cock into you. You doubt you'll ever get used to his size—he always has to take a moment to let you settle once he's in.

"I know, love," he claims. "I just... prefer it this way."

"Don't you like fucking my throat anymore?"

"God," he groans, presses his body into your back so that his breath fans over your ear. "No. I love your throat. I love all of you."

A thrust to test the waters— at your moan, another. Kento rocks his hips, drags his cock out of you and then drives forward until you and him are as connected as you can be... almost.

"You wanna breed me, is that it?"

Kento's hips stall. You're not stupid, and he doesn't even realise he's got an arm wrapped around you so he can splay his fingers over your stomach. His wedding band presses against your skin, sets it alight with burning need. Hearing you say it, though, makes him nearly cum on the spot—he wouldn't be so selfish.

"How'd you—"

"You say it, Ken," you drawl your words out, tease him with your tone. "When you cum, you say you're gonna fuck a baby into me, that you're gonna 'breed me like the pretty whore I am'. Don't worry, I like it. I want it."

He can hardly believe it, such words feel foreign to his mind. But they taste familiar on his tongue, like a part of his subconscious speaks on his behalf when he's all blissed out like that. He wonders just how deep the instinct to breed you runs, because his cock twitches and all of a sudden he's thrusting into you at a speed that seems only supernatural.

The snapping of his hips, the sound of skin against skin and the curses that slip from his lips like wine. It doesn't take long for you both to cum alongside each other, Kento, of course, deep inside of you.

And it takes a very strong part of him to pay attention to himself this time, and you aren't a liar: the song of need and primal lust that spill from his mouth are made for porn. Not that he can find it in himself to be embarassed, you seem to like it, what with the way your whole body shakes in orgasm as he fills you up.

Yeah, you'll be throwing out every condom you've got stashed away in the house.

kinktober tags: @medusamara5 @echodead @curiositykilledthecatx3 @hirainne

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#kento nanami smut #nanami smut #kento nanami x reader #nanami x reader #nanami kento smut #nanami kento x reader #kento nanami x you #nanami x you #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #kinktober 2024

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sttoru · 3 months ago

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tags. dad!toji x wife!reader. fluff. reader gets called ‘doll’

“toji, you’re gonna break that thing,” you stifle a laugh as you watch your husband’s muscular form squeeze into one of the playground equipments. megumi is on his lap, giggling as he gets to experience what it’s like to go down a slide with his parent.

toji rolls his eyes and grumbles something along the lines of ‘the damn brat forced me to’. you know how weak that man gets when his son looks up at him with those big, sparkly blue eyes. you’d have given in to megumi’s requests as well if you were in his place. thus you don’t blame your lover at all.

“papa, go!” the little boy pats his dad’s thighs, excitedly smacking the muscles. the pure glee on his tiny face makes you smile as you witness the scene from the bench nearby.

“give me a sec, kid,” toji responds with a grunt. his legs are pressed tightly against each other, trying to wiggle down the slide. his body isn’t going anywhere— not even moving down one centimetre.

you can’t help the laugh that erupts from your throat while you watch toji struggle. the confused and impatient look on megumi’s face as he glances up at his father is pure gold. “papa go?” your son pouts and squirms.

this is embarrassing for toji. he can’t wait to get off and go home. the only thing he can do is pray that no one else sees this view of a grown ass man stuck on a slide.

you pull out your phone and start recording the hilarious sight. “hun,” you call out to toji, covering your mouth while giggling behind the camera. “you can do it!”

your humorous encouragement makes the dark-haired man kiss his teeth, “tsk, quit that.” he manages to move his legs in a certain way so he could glide down. the process however is quite. . slow.

toji’s body stutters and goes down the slide in a wonky way. megumi is not amused at all as he sits there and stares downwards, cheeks puffed up. he expected to go much faster than this.

the toddler looks like he’s about to complain the moment he reaches the bottom.

“mamaaaaaa!”

as expected, the little boy quickly hops off toji’s lap, leaving his humiliated dad sitting at the end of the slide. megumi runs off to you and jumps up onto your lap, an angry yet adorable frown on his face. he whines and hugs you, refusing to face your husband who’s walking towards you.

toji scoffs at the sight. “oi, you ungrateful little shit,” he comments and crosses his muscular arms over his chest, “y’ should be thanking me for squeezin’ my ass up on that tiny thing.” he glances down at his son who’s clearly sulking in your arms, disappointed in his performance.

you’d usually scold toji for using such foul language around the kid, though you can’t stop yourself from giggling at the situation. megumi actually got offended by his dad being unable to properly go down the slide with him; it’s adorable.

“no, papa shit!” megumi retorts unexpectedly, causing you to laugh even louder. you shake your head and try to make a serious face - to reprimand your child from saying such words - only to fail.

toji clearly didn’t expect the boy to mimic him again. he raises an eyebrow and you know he’s not going to hold back. that man will fight anyone, even his own son who’s only a toddler.

“whadd’ya say there, bud?” your husband huffs and takes a step forward. megumi squeals as he feels the intimidating aura of his dad get closer to him. he squirms off your lap and runs off into the playground, squeaking.

you watch your child scurry off in attempt to escape toji. you grin to yourself, seeing the excitement return on megumi’s face at the aspect of playing with his parent.

toji runs a hand through his messy black hair as he sees the toddler run around the park, excepting him to follow and play with him. he wouldn’t admit it out loud, but it’s adorable how his son never stays mad at him for long.

it perfectly describes the father-son relationship they have. he wouldn’t want to have it any other way.

toji then shoots you a smirk, leaning down so you’re face to face. he flicks your forehead gently and pinches your cheek, reminding you of one thing before going off to chase after megumi;

“i’ll be dealing with ya later for that video y’ made, doll. don’cha think i forgot.”

#sttoru writes.#jjk x reader #jjk fluff #toji x reader #toji fluff #toji fushiguro x reader #jjk x you #toji x you #jjk x y/n #toji x y/n #jjk x female reader

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viridescentelf · 4 months ago

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Yandere elf x reader - Bath time :)

Character and Art belongs to @meo-eiru! Please check out her blog ✨ Another BIG thanks for creating him!

This is a follow-up to my last fic: if you want to read that one, click here. I'm not sure if I'll do another one, a bit out of ideas lol.

Warning: 18+ content, drugging, general nsfw, explicit

—————

The water stung your damaged knee. Silas was preparing something in a wooden pail, humming some tune, while you sunk deeper into the hot spring. The water brushed your chin, as you glared at the back of the stupid elf’s head, bobbing back and forth as he dunked colorful fluids from flasks into the bucket. His long, luscious hair was levitating on the water's clear surface, covering his butt.

You were so close to freedom. He told you he’s enchanted the area now, stopping you from leaving entirely. No idea how that worked, but he showed you by pushing you gently against an invisible barrier. Your cheek had squished against the unseen partition, like when a human tests their cat’s intelligence against walls in those videos. “To protect you”, he explained in his sing-song trill.

If you hadn’t been injured, you would’ve made it. Away from this maniac.

“Look what Mama made!”

Silas held the bucket under your nose, smiling serenely. The liquid was a mix of pinkish goop and specks of sparkles. Your eyes lingered on the strange soup, then turned up to meet his excited face.

“What the fuck is this”, you mumbled crossly.

“No swearing, darling!” He patted your head. He didn’t know what the word “fuck” meant, but he read that it is bad for children to use. “It’s my healing salt! Doesn’t it smell amazing?”

Silas kept holding it under your nose. It did smell good, damn it.

“It will heal your poor leg. Plus, it makes everything feel a bit tingly. Healthy for cleaning up down there.” He gestured to his crotch.

Fuck.

Without warning, he dunked the solution into the bath. The mixture oozed slowly into the clear spring. The effect of it was almost instantaneous. You felt the biting pain ebb from your limb and you sighed in relief. Elf magic was so fascinating. If only Silas wasn’t such a freaking psycho. You would love to learn more about it. And then go back home and sleep in a bed without tits in your face.

He was right about the prickly sensation. You felt a warmth pulsate down there, as you absentmindedly sunk deeper into the water. Your gaze blurred and you felt the comfort of the heat engulf you.

Silas pulled you to him and placed you in his lap. His towering upper body remained out of the pool, the breezy touch of his skin a great juxtaposition to the searing heat of the water. To be fully engulfed, he would have had to spread himself across the whole spring, leaving no room for you.

You felt him grow below you. The effects of the water seemed to work on his form as well. His cheeks blushed.

“Be good, darling.” He breathed into your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. “Let’s heal you completely.”

Your leg was fine. You didn’t need any more healing.

Silas’ lips brushed yours, his tongue slinking quickly and entangling in yours. The potion and his saliva were making you go crazy, your lap roaring with want. It was impossible to bottle up.

The potion made movement slow. You were attempting to push away with the last of your wits, but it came across as you gently pressing his chest together. He misunderstood and held your face up to his breasts.

“Drink up…”, he trebled, leading your mouth to his hard teat. It was hopeless.

Your wet lips traced around it and you felt the elf jitter under you with excitement. His hands were softly trailing down your back and took hold of your bottom, squeezing the soft tissue. The water delayed his movement, but you felt him lift you slightly, hovering dangerously above his throbbing shaft.

You could feel him against your entrance, nudging slightly. The heat consumed you, thrumming in the area, wanting. You released your lips from his chest, gazing dozily into his red face. If he was blushing more, you could not tell. He looked so enthralled; the big, dumb eyes full of devotion to you.

Silas crashed into your lips again, kissing desperately, lapping up every part of your mouth. The more saliva you exchanged, the more you felt yourself pulsate. The waves within you crashed, begging for relief. You tried to use your arms to push him off of you, but they felt so limp.

You hated this effect he had on you. You couldn’t stop yourself. This surge and needing the release - it drove you insane.

Floating above him in the spring, you felt him twitch there in unfair expectation. He was far too massive for you.

Silas wrapped one arm around your waist, pushing you closer into his body. Your breasts compressed against his and he moaned shakily at the sensation.

“Mama will heal you, dear…”, he huffed after releasing himself from your lips, with bits of drivel escaping his mouth. “I lov-“

You couldn’t take it anymore. You sat down on him, letting the beginning of him enter you with a strong jerk. He filled you up, with just so little of him inside. Your entire body shook from the flash.

Silas head knocked back; his eyes crossed as he let out the loudest yelp you had ever heard from him. He had never felt you like this before. He only dared milking himself in your sweet mouth, for fear of tearing you apart. But this… the feeling of your tight, velvety walls, the little he could feel of it was enough to make his world spin.

He instinctively grabbed your hips with a jolt and lifted you up and down on him. He wanted more of that sensation, more. More. More!

You were bouncing on top of him and felt every sinew explode with electricity. He bucked his hips slightly when you bobbed back down, but not too much in fear of breaking you, slowly deepening each thrust.

Although you could hear his pitiful “Ah! Ah! Ah!”s, your entire environment seemed to muffle. All you could feel was the inconsolable penetration. The way every jab made your groin burst into flames. The water splashed vigorously around you, as he guided your body into his. He lifted you like you weighed nothing. His head was still jerked back with his eyes in the back of his head, it seemed he was unable to do anything other than plunge halfway into you.

You couldn’t help but release low moans yourself, the note of your bellows making him tense up more. His large hands were clasping your ass, the flesh spilling out between his long fingers. You whimpered and let him consume you, every thrust splitting your walls further. The loud clapping of your bodies and the vigorous splashing, you were intoxicated. The sounds. The sensation. It was diabolical.

You let out a string of deep moans, as you came, the wetness around his shaft increasing as you tightened your grip around him. Silas couldn’t hold it any longer, either, as he erupted within you, squealing from the overwhelming pleasure.

He spilled out of you. A puddle of white foam bubbled around you. Silas heaved loudly, blinking excessively and tilted his head back forward, staring dumbfoundedly at you.

He looked like you beat him up. Tears were escaping his rippling eyes, as a tiny sob hiccupped out of him.

Fucking baby.

“D-Do you feel better now? Have I healed you?”, he squeaked, pulling you into his arm cages again.

You rolled your eyes and nodded out of sheer vanquish. There was no point explaining to him that this wasn’t how you heal humans. There was no point explaining to him that mothers don't do this.

Silas kissed your head and swirled his hand in the water, making his semen drift away from you. “Oh…all the precious milk. Gone…”

He grabbed a sponge from behind him and started cleaning you feebly, his hands still shaking from the massive release. You saw a tear fall from his cheek. Without thinking, you brushed another one off his cheek.

He gaped at you after the gesture, pausing his scrubbing.

“O-oh darling. You really love me, don’t you? That’s why it felt so good…”, he smiled widely, more tears splashing out of his googly eyes.

You didn’t answer. You didn't know why you just did that.

Silas hugged you so tightly, you let out a wheeze.

“I love you too, my sweet!!” he squeaked and squished you more. “It’s getting late. We still need to have dinner! And you need a proper portion of milk!”

You closed your eyes, sighing.

Another milking session...

#yandere elf x reader #yandere elf silas #male yandere x reader #yandere smut #smut #silas #male yandere #yandere fanfiction

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sh1-n0bu · 5 months ago

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hehehehheheheee pretty birb bf

winged bf who pick you up into their arms, gently cradling you as if you were made of glass and the finest jewelry as they tell you to “hang on” before unfurling their wings and taking off into the sky

winged bf who show you the beauty of flying, holding you securely in his arms as you take in the way how the world below you looks so small and beautiful. who only has a gentle smile on their faces as you point out the big apartments and parks where you go to for a picnic date. who only has eyes on you as you admire the twinkling lights of the world under you

winged bf who wrap their wing around you whenever you shiver, even if it was one of those annoying sudden ghost bump things you get out of the blue. he’s still worried, let him worry for you in peace😠

winged bf who plucks a feather out of their wing, gently tucking the soft feather into your hair, or on your jacket — wherever you want. he wants you to carry a piece of him to remind you by even though you regularly steal his clothes

winged bf who allows you to be only person to touch his wings, to care for them, to brush them, to just… well, touch them to your heart’s content really. he doesn’t care if you put the tip of his long feather ends over your lips, mimicking a mustache, he doesn’t care if you want to use it as a blanket, he doesn’t care if you wanna use the ends like a cat toy in front of his face. he’ll indulge in your silly shenanigans

winged bf who sheds at least once a year, filling your shared home with the old feathers. who is either smug about it or is apologetic as he helps you broom the excessive fallen feathers. at this point you could probably make a plushie or some sort of art project from the amount of feathers that he shed. to which he objects, saying these are all old and weakened feathers, offering his wing for you to pluck feathers from if you really wanna make an art project

winged bf who hides the two of you under his wing when cuddling in bed, the added layer of his own extra limb making the scene feel more intimate than it is. as if the entire world is blocked out, just a meager existence passing by as you two enjoy this moment of comfort as his wing becomes a curtain to give you two privacy

winged bf who sometimes gets too sexually frustrated and pent up with your curious hands constantly touching the place where his wing is connected to his back, the skin and muscles there are sensitive, making him jump in his seat whenever you do it to tease him

winged bf who knows that it isn’t your fault. you probably don’t know, you don’t have a wing after all, so you don’t know what it means when someone touches your wing. who only calms your worries with a forehead kiss, usually handling his problems himself

winged bf who lets out a whine into his hand, muffling the embarrassing noise as your hand wraps tighter around his cock. he was way too sensitive than usual and it was all because of your wandering hand on his wings. he probably should have explained it all to you but right now, he found his words escaping him, mind melting into a muddled mess as he finds his hands clawing at your own in desperation

winged bf who mumbles out a weak protest of being “s-sensitive! aaah… f-feels too sen—♡︎ sensitive! y-your haaandd♡︎” as his legs start to shake, staring through teary eyes as you coax out yet another climax out of him. his tip an angry cherry red from the continued torture of your hand, his slit weeping precum over and over again despite having just came, getting hard in your hand embarrassingly fast

winged bf who gets tortured by your loving hands for who knows how many times. his eyes are getting blurry and breathing started to hurt. even more, his dick was stinging, twitching every time your tight fist comes up to the tip, letting go briefly as if to taunt him, touching the dripping slit with the tip of your finger and making him whine loudly before fucking his cock into your hand again and again. this was just pure torture, he wanted to escape and run away but you were whispering such nice words to his ears. calling him your good boy, your angel, how you loved being with your beloved like this… could he really ever refuse you?

winged bf who gets more and more twitchy in your gentle hold as your hand picks up speed, the filthy wet noise of his earlier cum being used as a lube filling the room alongside his loud moans. who begs for you to not to touch his wing as it flutters around, dropping a feather or two onto the floor due to moving around so much. who only lets out a pathetic whimper of a “cuz’ ahh haamgh—! [n-name], please! please don’t—♡︎ d-don’t touch them...? they’re sensitive too aanh haagh mfgh♥︎!!” when you ask him why

winged bf who felt like his skin was on fire. everything felt too much but felt too little at the same time, his cock painfully hard again in your hold the moment you ran the tip of your finger over the bane of it. his muscles were getting tense, a strange sense of feeling coiling around in his stomach as you kiss the place where his wing and back connects, shifting around frantically with a chirp or a preen falling from his swollen lips

winged bf who weakly paws at your hand around his dick, wanting to push it away but chasing right after it with his hips as the strange feeling in his stomach just continues to grow worse. it didn’t felt like his usual orgasm, the way he would just fall apart in your hands. it felt more intense and that scared him. who cries out through loud whines and bitten back sobs that “f-feels weird!! aanhh haah [n-name]—! it mnggh♡︎ feels weird! my c-cock feels unnck haah ahh amhh weird♥︎♥︎!!”

winged bf who throws his head back into your shoulder, hands covering his beet red face as a scream tears through his lips, muscles tightening, body going taut in your arms when you gently bit into the base of his wing, your other hand keeping his wing in place so it wouldn’t flutter and knock you away as he fucking squirts into his stomach, painting his muscles and your hand white. who lets out soft chirps and noises, legs twitching and hands struggle to decide whether to hold onto you or to muffle his embarrassing noises

winged bf who only lets out weak noises and chirps when you try to communicate with him, asking him if he was doing alright and if your angel was with you right now after that overstimulating experience. who immediately hides within his wings the moment a sliver of sobriety hits him, too humiliated to even look you in the face because what was that? and why did he felt… so good?

winged bf who gives you a weak glare that you know isn’t exactly serious, pouting at you and complaining about how you messed up his mind and stuff. who lean into your touch as you push his hair away from him, getting to see the still reddened face and the few tear stains on his cheeks. who grumbles about how you have too much power over him when you chuckle, leaning in to plant a kiss to his pouting lips. who chase after you with a demand for a proper kiss this time

⇨ sephiroth, genesis, angeal, hawks, xiao, venti, angel devil, vash, knives, sunday, simeon, raphael + anyone you can think of!

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imaginedisish · 5 months ago

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Liquid Smooth (Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader)

A/N: Started writing this last night...sooo happy you guys wanted a sex pollen fic! Hope it lives up to everyone's expectations! This one is (obviously) inspired by "Liquid Smooth," by Mitski. ENJOY!

Summary: A simple mission deep in a forest alone with Logan quickly gets out of hand when you just have to go and pick a flower...

Warnings: 18+ EXPLICIT SEXUAL CONTENT MINORS DNI! Dry humping, Oral (f!receiving), Fingering, Unprotected PIV (wrap it up!), Sex Pollen (so dub!con just to be safe, but not really), Multiple orgasms, Porn Without Plot...literally, implied!age gap, cursing, friends to lovers, fem!reader/afab!reader, probably some grammatical errors, I think that's it.

Word Count: 3,797 muahaha

“I don’t need a goddamn babysitter,” you murmur as Logan thumbs through the controls of the X-Jet. “Could’ve done this by myself.”

Logan scoffs. “I’m not your babysitter, princess.” You roll your eyes at the nickname Logan has specially reserved just for you. “Charles said we’d be safer going together. He knows you can handle yourself.”

The X-Jet cruises effortlessly through the clouds. The air is still today. Calm. You and Logan are on your way to get some sort of flower that Charles claims to have extensive healing properties. It’s an easy mission. No fighting. No violence. You’re unlikely to have to use your powers at all. And yet, you’ve been paired with Logan.

It wouldn’t be a problem if you weren’t—admittedly—a little into him. Or rather, pining after him. There’s just something about the sarcasm that’s always thick in his voice; the way he squeezes himself into those thin beaters. How he’s always so self-assured, so thoroughly convinced he’s right. You just can’t help it. You want him. But he isn’t yours, and he probably never will be. He’s a little older—well, a lot, considering he’s been around forever. And you know it’s safer not to make attachments—not to fall in love.

Unfortunately, it’s a little too late for that.

But having him here with you now, alone, with no buffers…it’s overwhelming. You can smell him—that mix of tobacco and pine and musk and him. He’s suddenly everywhere, and there’s nothing you can do about it. You watch as his long fingers press different buttons, his hands gripping the steering wheel, adjusting thrusters. You stare at those fingers for far too long, your thoughts drifting to what else he can do with them. You think about him curling them deep inside you, stretching you open and—

“Everything okay?” You snap your head to face Logan, swallowing harshly as his voice pulls you back to reality.

You force a smile, nodding. “Yep!” You say, overcompensating just a bit. “All good,” you lie. You close your eyes, trying to push thoughts of Logan out of your head, denying the heat growing between your legs.

“Good, because we’re almost there,” Logan says, the X-Jet descending carefully. You look out the window to see the trees below. There’s a lake in the distance, but that’s it. No civilization, no houses—no one. It’s empty, peaceful.

“We’re really in the middle of nowhere, huh?” You say, glancing at Logan.

His eyes meet yours and he smiles. Warmth blooms in your heart at the sight. “My kind of place,” he says back. The X-Jet descends further as you approach a clear spread of grass to land on just ahead.

This is, in fact, not your kind of place. The humidity creeps up your back and settles under your skin. The forest is overgrown and impossible to navigate. You let Logan slice through the plant life with his claws, swiping back and forth whenever something gets in your way.

You haven’t been walking for long, but you’re already done. Perhaps Charles was right; a partner is not the worst idea on a mission like this.

You can see the flower just ahead—yellow petals and a long, green, viny stem. It glows brightly even under the dense forest canopy. “Semper in tenebris lux,” Charles had said; there is always light in darkness. And he was right. The flower illuminates everything in its path. Next to it, you can see a pretty, lavender-colored flower. You stop in your tracks, letting Logan wander ahead as you crouch down to stroke the purple petals.

“Charles didn’t say anything about not taking other flowers too, right?” You call out, watching as Logan swipes carefully at the stem of the yellow flower. He holds the dainty stem in his large hands as he walks back over to you.

“No, he didn’t. But you should be careful. It could be poisonous or—”

You ignore Logan, picking the flower anyway. You hold it up to your nose and breathe in. It’s sweet and fragrant. You twist the stem and realize the flower is sticky with sap and pollen. Your twist shakes some of the pollen up, and it lands all over your face.

“Shit,” you mutter, wiping it away. A gust of wind sweeps through the forest, knocking the flower out of your hand and spreading more of its pollen in the air. You can feel it in your nostrils, getting caught in your throat.

Logan furrows his brows as the pollen falls to the ground. “What the fuck did you do?”

You roll your eyes. “All I did was pick a flower!” You lift your hands, feigning innocence. “I’m sure it’s nothing.” You stand up, glancing once at the yellow flower in Logan’s hands and then back at Logan. “It’s pretty.”

He parts his lips, his stare focused on you. “Yeah, it is.” There’s something else in that stare, in those words. Like maybe he isn’t only talking about the flower. You shove those thoughts down as you turn around and walk back to the jet.

Your steps are suddenly very heavy. You scratch at your shoulder. Heat blooms in your chest, your stomach, across your face. You’re irritated and overheated and itchy. Your breath grows heavier and rougher with every step.

Logan notices immediately. He stops, grabbing your arm. You can’t control the way you lean into his touch, nor the way you’re craving more. “Hey,” he soothes, eyes searching your face. “Are you okay?” There’s a hint of panic in his voice.

You swallow harshly, nodding. Your throat feels thick, your skin tight and oppressive. “’M’fine,” you mumble.

“Quit lying. I can tell something’s wrong,” Logan demands. You open your mouth to persuade him otherwise, but he doesn’t give you the chance, his grip tightening around your arm. “Your skin is on fucking fire, princess. What did you do?” He cocks his head, sniffing as he furrows his brows. His voice is darker now, slower as his eyes widen. “What the fuck did you do?”

You take in a sharp breath. And that’s when you feel it, the ache between your thighs, the slick arousal soaking through your panties. The realization smacks you in the face. For a moment, you’re clear-headed, but still terrified. The pollen. That goddamn, fucking pollen. “Logan, look, I think that purple flower had some—"

He cuts you off as he yanks your arm, tugging you towards the ship. “We need to get you back to the jet, okay?”

“Oh, I am so fucked,” you cry. You know you only have a few seconds left before the effects really kick in. “L-Logan,” you stutter, almost moaning as your core burns stronger with need. “T-the pollen was everywhere. What if you got some too?”

He ignores you, handing you the yellow flower you came here for in the first place. He sweeps one hand under your legs and keeps the other at your back as he lifts you in his arms—bridal style. You can feel his heart beating in his chest. You lean into him again, searching for relief. Wetness pools between your legs. You have never felt this needy before. Your desire hurts, burns, scorches you. You rut your hips, clenching down around nothing.

“S-stop doing that,” Logan spits, restrained and quiet.

“C-can’t,” you whine. “It hurts, Logan. It hurts so fucking bad. How come you aren’t like this too?”

He pulls you tighter to his chest. “I feel a little something, but that might just…”

You tilt your head up to look at him. He works his jaw, that perfect jaw. You want to bite it, to bury your face in the crook of his neck. “Might just be what?” You ask, tentatively brushing your lips against the hollow of his throat.

“Nothing, just—fuck,” he groans as you press soft, open-mouthed kisses all around his neck now. “Don’t do that, princess. You don’t want this.”

“But I do, Logan,” you beg. The ramp to the jet lowers as you and Logan approach. “N-need you.” You bury your face into his shoulder, breathing him in. “Need y-you all the time.” The confession slips easily from your lips.

Logan’s eyes widen as he walks up the ramp and into the ship. It lifts and seals shut behind him. “You don’t mean that, sweetheart. Let’s just get you back to the mansion as quickly as possible, yeah?”

He places you down on the seat next to him, taking the flower from your hands and putting it in the jar Charles had given you. The leather cold at your back almost feels good, almost relieving—until you realize Logan is no longer holding you, touching you. You reach out towards him, grabbing his arms, pulling him back in. “Don’t go,” you plead, nails digging into his biceps. Your body is on fire. Everything is unbearably painful. “Please,” you whimper. “Need you so fucking bad, just you.”

“Fuck,” Logan curses. “I am not taking advantage of you. I am not doing this.” He stands, freeing himself from your grasp and walking over to the pilot’s chair. “I’m getting you back to the mansion and we’re going to fix this, okay?”

But that’s not good enough for you. You stand up and walk over to Logan. Your steps are shaky, your legs trembling. Your chest heaves, your heart beating rapidly. You climb into Logan’s lap, straddling him, one leg on either side. “Logan, I can’t fucking wait,” you cry, grinding down onto his lap. The pressure feels delicious. He grabs your hips, stilling you, forcing you in place. And that’s when you feel it: his erection, hard underneath your core. “This isn’t you. You don’t really want this, don’t really want m—”

“It is me,” you protest, squirming against his hold. “Logan, I’ve wanted you for months. I-I was thinking about you t-touching me the whole way here.” You remember the way his fingers dexterously pushed all the right buttons. Need courses through you like a river, and as Logan’s hold on your hips softens, you grind down into his lap, against his erection. “S-so good,” you cry out.

His hands are still on your hips, but now he’s guiding you, rocking you against his cock. “J-just this though, okay?”

You hum, pressing your forehead to his, rolling your hips faster. The relief is like heaven. His arms wrap around your back, his fingers trailing up and down soothingly. Logan ruts into you, his erection straining against his jeans. You can feel yourself getting closer, but the pain, the need, it’s all still the same.

“Logan, it’s not gonna be enough,” you whisper, his lips ghosting yours. “N-need more. Hurts so bad.”

He presses a chaste kiss to your lips, like he’s scared to truly touch you. But he wants to consume your pain, to take it away, to feel it for you. You can see it written across his face, in the way his cock throbs against your swollen clit, how he snaps his hips into yours.

“I know, princess,” he coos, his hands like fire on your back. Your walls contract around nothing, begging for something to hold onto, to feel something sink deep inside. “Gonna take care of you.” He kisses you again, with more vigor this time, more passion. “I’ve got you, darlin’.”

You moan into his mouth. His composure is slipping, disintegrating with every roll, every rock of your hips against his. His cock notches against your clit, sending a jolt of pleasure up the base of your spine. He hikes your shirt up, the cold air hitting your overheated skin. “F-feels good,” you stammer. You’re almost there, almost hitting that peak. “S-so close.”

“I know, pretty girl,” he soothes. “Let go for me, know you can do it.”

You moan his name, your orgasm crashing into you like a crescendo. You know you’re soaking through your clothes, and probably onto Logan’s too. He’s still rutting against you, giving you more. He knows it’s not going to be enough, and he’s right. Need builds back up just as quickly as you found your release.

“Lo…” you trail off, looking up at him under lust-filled eyes. You swallow harshly, squirming in his lap helplessly. “G-gotta have you.”

He presses his forehead to yours. He works his jaw, parting his lips. “Y-you meant it when you said you wanted me before this?” But he already knows the answer. He knows you wouldn’t lie to him about that, not even now.

“Yes,” you whine, pulling him closer. He tugs your shirt all the way over your head and picks you up, hands firmly gripping your ass. “Still gonna want you after this, too.”

He curses under his breath as he places you down in the pilot’s chair. He’s frenzied and frantic as he hooks his thumbs into your pants and panties, yanking them down your legs and casting them to the side.

He spreads your legs with the palms of his hands, his thumbs brushing soft circles into your inner thighs. He’s kneeling, looking up at you. Your breath catches in your throat as his face settles between your legs.

“Could smell you before, pretty girl,” he husks, his breath fanning over your clit. “Wanted this so fucking bad.” He doesn’t keep you waiting, licking a long stripe through your folds and up to your clit. “Knew you’d taste perfect. Pretty fucking pussy.”

You throw your head back as his lips latch onto your clit, sucking harshly. He slips one hand across your back, keeping you close. His free hand climbs up your thigh, fingers exploring your folds as his tongue flits across your swollen bud. He spreads your arousal, prodding against your entrance before shoving two fingers deep inside you. “Logan!” You cry out, your walls clenching around him. He’s stretching you out, his fingers dragging inside you. He pulls out and plunges back in. He isn’t taking his time, isn’t teasing. He’s giving you what you need, pump after pump.

You look down at him, his face buried in your cunt, consuming you, swallowing you whole like a starving man. He’s lost inside you, lapping at you with unwavering hunger and desire. His tongue swirls around your clit, his teeth grazing ever so slightly. You moan his name again, and he hums against you, the vibrations of his bassy voice rocking through your body. He’s wrecking you, but it feels so goddamn good.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he goads you along. He’s adding a third finger now, and you suck him in. You’d take anything he gives you, anything at all. “Doing so good for me, taking it so well.”

He sucks roughly, your walls clenching around him at the feeling. “Yeah?” He grunts, sucking again. “You like that? Feels good?”

“Y-yes,” you stammer, stumbling over that one simple word. “S-so fucking good.”

“I know, beautiful,” he groans, nipping at your clit in between his rough sucks. “Gonna make that hurt go away, okay?” His voice is like honey, sugar; it’s sweet, addictive. “You just gotta come for me again, can you do that?” His tongue strokes your clit, his fingers pumping faster now.

You nod your head emphatically, pleasure surging as you near your peak. “Yeah, I-I can,” you huff.

Logan smiles against your cunt between rough laps. “I know you can, sweetheart.” His fingers scissor inside you, deeper than before. He takes your clit between his lips again, sucking hard.

And that’s all it takes—you’re screaming his name, coming undone, unraveling underneath him. The release is even better than the first, more full, more complete. Logan thrusts in and out a few more times before slowly pulling his fingers from your cunt. He licks one more long stripe through your folds and looks up into your eyes.

For a moment, the fire inside has been quenched. You feel clear, levelheaded. But it doesn’t last long. “Fuck,” you moan, your head hitting against the headrest of the chair. The fire is back, spreading across your stomach, your chest. “Logan,” you whimper. “I n-need more.”

“It’s okay, pretty girl,” he coos, taking you back up into his arms. He hoists you out of the seat, his hands finding your ass, squeezing softly. You wrap your legs around his waist as he carries you across the jet, setting you down on a storage container.

You bring your hands up to his biceps. “Need you this time, Lo,” you choke, stroking up and down his arms as the heat builds painfully between your thighs.

“Are you sure?” He asks, eyes searching yours.

“Always wanted you, always sure,” you whisper, wrapping your legs tighter around his waist.

His Adam’s apple bobs in his throat. “Wanted you too,” he husks. “But I wanted it to be different, to—” You cut him off. “Just want you. It’s okay like this. I promise.” You grind against him, his erection still straining inside the denim of his jeans.

He takes the hint, and quickly unbuckles his belt, casting the leather to the metal floor with a clunk. He’s unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans, shoving them down his legs, and lining himself up with your entrance. You push your hips forward, giving him better access. His other hand pushes your bra above your breasts, exposing you completely to him.

With one hand on his cock and one squeezing your tits gently, he thrusts himself into you. He’s so deep—down to the hilt—stretching you out and working you open. He groans, flicking your nipple with his thumb, his lips at the shell of your ear. “So fucking beautiful,” he whispers, sending a chill down your spine, quenching that fire inside. “So warm, so tight.” He pulls out and plunges back in again, filling you up.

“Lo,” you whine. “More.”

“I know,” he growls, his hips snapping into yours, bottoming out with every thrust. “Gonna take care of you, pretty girl.” He squeezes your tits once more before sliding his hand down your body and slipping between where the two of you connect. His fingers find your clit, drawing rough circles around the bud. “That feel good, beautiful?”

“Y-yes, Logan, so fucking good,” you cry out as he rocks into you. His other hand grips your hip tightly, holding you in place. You hope there’s a bruise there later—proof that he touched you, proof that he fucked into you like the world was ending.

His cock rubs against your walls, your muscles contracting around him, sucking him in deeper. “Squeezing me so good, sweetheart,” he praises, his lips crashing down onto yours, swallowing your moans. He’s taking all of you, hard and fast. You can feel him twitching inside you, throbbing with the same need you feel pulsing through your veins.

Logan kisses your jaw, and then just underneath, biting down on your pulse point. You arch your back, your chest meeting his. The contact is delicious, the friction a necessity. He thrusts into you faster now, doing his all to satiate your every need. He’s getting you there, pump after pump, hitting that sweet spot inside you every time.

It’s working. You can feel yourself slipping again, melting. “Logan,” you hum, too fucked out to say anything other than his name. That beautiful name, like a song in the air, a gentle prayer, a holy ghost. He’s all you need—all you’ve ever needed.

Your walls contract, squeezing him tightly. “Fuck,” he mutters. You know he’s close too. He strokes your clit, circling roughly. “Come on, pretty girl. You can do it, let me get you there again.”

“Lo,” you cry, your eyes fluttering open and shut as he fucks into you, rutting his hips, plunging deeper still. It’s all too much. You can feel the pleasure drumming inside you, coming to a head.

Logan loosens his grip on your hip and slides his hand behind your back, pulling you into his chest. You rest your forehead against his. “Come on my cock, princess, let go.” And you do. You’d do anything for him. You moan as your orgasm tears through you. It’s all blinding white heat, liquid smooth, pleasure wracking your body.

Logan curses under his breath, close behind. He pulses inside you once, and then he’s coming undone. Your arms wrap around his back, keeping him close, letting him know it’s okay to finish inside. He fills you up, whispering praises in your ear as you both come down from your high. Such a good fucking girl. Did so good for me. So fucking good. Perfect little pussy.

He’s still inside you, pumping slowly as you ride out your orgasm. His fingers let go of your clit, his hands running up your back and tugging you closer to him. He slowly pulls out, keeping you tight against his chest.

“Are you okay?” He whispers against the shell of your ear. You take a deep breath, waiting for the heat to build again, waiting for that need to surge every cell of your being. But there’s nothing. Your nerves are suddenly quiet—silent.

“I-I think it’s over,” you stutter, still nervous that maybe it’s not. He keeps you there, holding you tightly, ready to start again if necessary.

After a few minutes, you let yourself relax. It’s not coming back. It’s over.

Logan presses a chaste kiss to the side of your head. “I’ve still got you. Not going anywhere.” Your heart rate has finally slowed down. The heat is gone. You feel comfortable in your skin again. You take a deep breath.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper into Logan’s chest.

“Nothing to be sorry for, princess,” Logan reassures, his voice gentle and soft. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

You nod against him, but you still feel a sting in your heart. You need to make him know that you meant what you said—need him to know exactly how you feel. You swallow nervously, ready to bite the bullet.

“Logan,” you breathe. “I-I meant everything I said. It wasn’t just the pollen.” You pull yourself from his chest, looking up at him. “I wasn’t lying when I said I wanted you…” you trail off. “S-still need you now. Nothing’s changed.”

He smiles down at you, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “I know, darlin’,” he husks. “I wanted you before, and I still do, too.”

“I know you wanted it to be different. I know it wasn’t—” But he cuts you off, his lips capturing yours, quieting your anxious rambles. “We’ll have other chances. Other times to do it the way I want.” He smirks, running his hands up and down your back.

Other chances. Other times. More. More. More. “Yeah?” You ask.

“Yeah, princess.”

tags: @wolviesgirl @dojacatswink @dilf420 @spiderset @pleasantlycrazyworld @imwithyoutiltheendofthelinebucky @y-ns-things

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dollfacefantasy · 2 months ago

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kinktober day 20 - size kink jason todd x fem!reader cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, size kink, tummy bulge

"That's it, baby. Take it all. Oh, look at you go. Being so brave for me."

On the surface the words are soothing, but the tone of Jason's voice fills each syllable with condescension. Not in a bad way. The sickly sweet lilt strikes the perfect chord that has you wetter than any body of water on this earth.

Your hips rise and fall in measure rolls, your cunt embracing his thick cock with every motion. You have to take it slow. Otherwise, you feel like you'll tear yourself in half.

"Jay…" you whimper, lip wobbling and eyes gleaming with the need for him to coddle you, "You're so…"

A sharp whine from your throat cuts off your own words. Your head tilts back and then hangs forward. His tip brushes your sweet spot every time you sink down on him. It makes it nearly impossible to remain coherent. You'd never met somebody who could make you malfunction like this.

"I'm so what?" he coos, prompting you to finish your statement. He already knew the words on the tip of your tongue, but he still wanted to hear them spoken into the drafty air of your apartment.

"You're so big," you choke out.

Another moan falls from your lips before you grit your teeth. Your face scrunches up in tandem with your walls clenching around his length. Vaguely, you hear him chuckle. He then pulls you close and cradles you against his chest.

"And you like that, don't you?" he whispers.

He slumps further down on the couch. His feet press hard against the smooth wooden floor beneath the two of you. The muscles in his thighs flex as he begins to pump his hips up and down. You whine and clutch at his meaty bicep, melting against his warm skin and letting him do all the work right now.

You nearly forget he asked a question at all until he continues speaking.

"I know you do, doll. You like that when you're with me, you're helpless. Don't have to think. Don't have to move. Don't have to do anything but let me use this sweet, little pussy till I'm satisfied," he says.

Your toes curl, your thighs clamping around his own. The pressure doesn't stop him from moving though, not in the slightest. You inhale sharply before nodding against his neck. Of course, you like this. You love it.

You could never get enough of Jason's body. You'd study it forever if he let you. Your pupils felt magnetized whenever they had the chance to drift along his chiseled torso or mentally map the pathways of his scars. Adoration wasn't a strong enough word for how you felt in regards to his figure. Obsession seemed more appropriate.

Fortunately for you, Jason behaved much the same about your body.

In the mornings when he thought sleep still had a strong hold on you, he'd run his fingers over every curve he could find. He'd knead the swell of your ass and press tender kisses between your shoulder blades. As you'd start to wake, he'd wrap his hands around your waist and nearly pop a boner right then and there from how large they looked in comparison.

His favorite thing in the world after a long grueling patrol fast became coming home to you. Not even thirty minutes with your delicate body washed away all the stress caused by hard and rough people he dealt with beyond these walls. Some nights he'd prop your dainty legs over his broad shoulders and dive into your slippery cunt. Other nights he'd get right down to it, shoving his fat cock inside you and watching your belly bulge with the intrusion.

Tonight hadn't been either of those. He'd been home for a change. But having you curled up to his side and pressed against him while he read a book got him worked up pretty fast. It wasn't his fault the two of you just seemed to fit so naturally together.

"My good girl. Soft and sweet all for me," he praises as he continues fucking up into you. His heavy balls lightly slap against your ass with each thrust.

Your nails dig into his shoulder as the repetitive strokes start to build on one another. Small, whimpered expletives drip from your lips like a leaky faucet. He knows you're getting there. All he has to do is ramp up his efforts a little.

His hands lock around your waist like they do on hazy mornings. Just like then, he's obsessed with the way your skin dimples beneath his digits now. He boosts you back and starts bouncing you up and down in addition to his thrusts.

Your eyes roll back at the sensation and you take your bottom lip between your teeth. You don't have to do anything in this position still. He's strong enough to hold you upright all by himself. The only thing you had to do was like he said - stay still and let yourself be used.

"Can never get enough of you, baby, fuck," he grunts. His head falls back against the sagging cushion as he keeps working himself into you over and over. He glances back up at you slightly. "Is it feeling good?"

"Mhm," you whine, "So fuckin' good. So deep. All the way inside."

Your head bobbles around with the way he jerks you up and down on his lap. He smirks at your words and the airy way you say them.

"I know. I can see it," he responds, eyes flitting down to that faint and familiar bump. Evidence of his place inside you.

You only whimper in response. He drops you back down against his chest so one of his hands can slot against your center and rub your clit in fast, tight circles. The flickering feeling draws even more noises of pleasure from you.

The edge sneaks up on the both of you fast. You fall over it first. Your body spasms and seizes between his hands, but his strong grip is enough to keep you in place. For him, it explodes in a muted burst of ecstasy before burning into a brighter one. He wraps his arms around your smaller frame and keeps you flush against his sweaty skin as he fucks his load deep inside.

The both of you stay there while you come down. His chest puffs up and down with deep breaths. Even with all his exertion, his hand rubs soothing stripes along the column of your spine. You lie against him completely motionless, limp against the muscles of his chest. A little pleasure doll all for him to play with.

#jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd imagine #jason todd x y/n #jason todd smut #red hood x reader #red hood x you #red hood smut #dc x reader #dc imagine #dc smut #ch: jason todd 💌

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whateveriwant · 1 year ago

Text

The 141 getting you to stay in bed

It gets a little spicy towards the end so 18+ please

Soap

Waking up to the feeling of a numb arm is extremely unpleasant, but you suppose it comes with the territory when trying to cuddle 200+ pounds of rugged Scotsman

You manage to free your trapped limb and roll to the other side of the bed, but that space behind you remains empty for only about three seconds before Johnny's pressing himself flat to your back

Now with his arms around your waist, he holds you tight to him, mumbling unintelligibly against the back of your head

He drifts back to sleep quickly enough, his grip on you starting to loosen, only for it to tighten again when he feels you try to wriggle out of his hold

The incoherent grumbles from his throat grow increasingly displeased the more you try to shift away from him, until finally he huffs a grumpy, “Quit it,” into your scalp, hooking his leg over yours

If you still don't listen, he'll have no choice but to take drastic measures to keep you still. Fed up with your squirming, he simply rolls on top of you, pinning you to the mattress below him

You can try beating on his back, telling him that you can't breathe, but he just shrugs and says, “Use my breath.”

Don't even bother trying to explain how oxygen doesn't work like that, because he doesn't care. “Tough,” he mumbles into the crook of your neck. “‘Cause I'm no' movin’.” And by extension, neither are you

Gaz

Kyle is also a stage 5 clinger, but he's less boa constrictor and more baby koala

So when your alarm goes off at 8am precisely, it's no surprise that the man behind you grumbles in protest

“It's Saturday,” he bemoans. “Why you getting up so bloody early?” When you tell him you like to keep your routine even on the weekends, he just groans and mutters, “Five more minutes.”

You can try to squirm and wrestle out of his hold, but he'll just tighten his arm around your midsection, keeping his front firmly glued to your back

But you need to get up! You have to pee for goodness’ sake!

“Use the empty bottle on your nightstand,” he mumbles into your hair, peeking an eye open as you crane to look back at him. The look you give him at such a horrid suggestion has him sighing. “Alright, fine,” he relents and releases you. “But be quick. Bed gets cold without you.”

Once you've answered the call of nature, don't be surprised to find Kyle waiting for you directly outside the bathroom. He's wrapped up in your comforter like an oversized burrito, only his face and feet visible as they peek out from under the plush cover

With a sleepy pout, he holds his hand out for you, tugging you back to bed with him. Oh, he’ll make sure you get those five more minutes alright. Even if he has to drag you kicking and screaming

Ghost

First of all, don't even kid yourself into thinking you'll stand a chance of waking up before him or sneaking out of bed without him knowing. This man is the epitome of a light sleeper, whenever he does sleep, that is

So when you do finally wake up, it comes as no surprise to see Simon already up too. But just because you're both awake now doesn't mean you have to immediately be productive; quite the opposite, in fact

With how busy and stressed he is all the time, Simon loves nothing more than to just lie in bed with you and do nothing for hours

If you try to get up, he's stopping you with a gentle hand on your wrist, his voice quiet but firm as he commands, “Stay.”

You'll lay back down for a bit to appease him, but it won't be long before you feel guilty since you have so many things you should be doing instead

But actually, no, you don't have anything to worry about. He's already taken care of everything before you woke up, he humbly informs you

The cat's been fed, the bin’s been taken out to the curb, he's even gotten your breakfast typed up on his phone – just give him the word and he'll place the order

So now when he opens his arms for you, having you bury your face in his chest, you've got nothing to worry about except savoring this moment with him

Price

John is also a very light sleeper, so it only takes .02 seconds of you trying to stand from the bed for his bear-like snores to cease and his eyes to flit wide open

He'll grab you by the shirt hem, mumbling, “Where’re y’ goin’?” But it doesn't really matter what your answer is because his response is always the same: “No y’r not.” And pulls you back down. “Y’r stayin’ right here.”

He'll lie on his stomach, face smushed in the pillow, a big, warm hand tucked under your shirt resting against your belly

With nothing better to do, you scroll through your phone, catching up on your socials, the news, etc., but it's not long before you hear him grumble, “Put that away, will ya? ‘S too early to be meltin’ your brain with that thing.”

Well, what does he expect you to do? Lie there and stare at the ceiling for an hour? “Expect you to be good,” he tells you. “Don't make me get the handcuffs out again.”

Now that you have to laugh at. If he thinks it's too early to be on your phone, it's definitely too early for that

He smirks, opening his eye just a sliver, and the hand on your stomach begins to rub soft circles. “Is that so?” he taunts, his touch sneakily edging downwards. And when he slips beneath the band of your shorts, well…

Let's just say you're not leaving that bed anytime soon

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